The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness

“My... qualification.”

Celicia murmured under her breath. Her cool expression still gave away nothing.

“What, exactly, counts as ‘qualification’?”

Age?

Disposition?

Wisdom?

Breadth of mind and magnanimity?

No... all of that was too vague. And besides—if every emperor had to pass such a harsh selection and win the recognition of the King’s Sword, then under generations of enlightened rulers, the Empire would have conquered the entire continent long ago. But looking back through history, the thousand-year Empire had also produced plenty of foolish, incompetent emperors.

Meaning: there had to be some... hidden condition she didn’t know about.

Gender?

After turning it over and over, that was the only thing Celicia could think of that she couldn’t change or accomplish.

But if she looked at it from another angle...

No.

If the Empire truly could not tolerate a female emperor, then Father would never have said those words to her.

Celicia lowered her lashes. Her memory suddenly returned to that conversation with Father before the incident where she was placed under house arrest—the very thing that had sparked their argument.

【Celicia, are you interested in the Empire’s throne?】

【No.】

That had been her answer back then.

To the her of that time, the throne was nothing but an enormous nuisance. She didn’t want to get dragged into the conflict between her two older brothers.

But...

In her mind, countless images spun back—crying children, grieving women, and one after another turning into grotesque monsters... pitiful people.

In the corner of her eye, Celicia looked toward the massive city’s reflection hidden beneath the gray mist. Those images were carved deep into her mind. The current her—her resolve and obsession—should not be inferior to anyone.

So why?

“Forget it.”

Thinking alone wouldn’t produce an answer. Celicia temporarily reined in her thoughts, drew a slender sword from the parasol’s handle, and walked toward Albert again.

“If I can’t control the King’s Sword, then I’ll kill you first. It’s only a matter of order.”

“You can’t kill me!” Albert’s expression stiffened, and he said in a low voice.

“Not right now. But not forever. A magic tool can’t protect you for that long.”

Cold gathered again.

Celicia’s silver-white hair was lifted by the wind and snow.

Frost-flowers formed at the tip of her sword. Heavy snow swirled, and every single snowflake, in that instant, became stained with a cutting sword intent.

The snow fell harder and harder. The sword intent grew more and more terrifying. The entire hall was swallowed by a sharp, howling wind, like a ghost domain.

The protective barrier around Albert was gradually weakened by the sword intent. Its radiance dimmed further and further, and Albert himself shivered in that cold.

When everything had condensed to its peak, Celicia didn’t hesitate. With graceful poise, she thrust her sword out.

And then all the snowflakes, carrying that long-fermented, utterly vast sword intent, surged toward Albert at the same time.

Pff. Pff.

The magic tool’s protective radiance was finally torn apart.

Next came the fragile human body being ripped open, blood spraying.

Albert collapsed to the ground.

Crimson blood flowed out, dyeing red the snow-covered floor—

like a blooming rose.

It was over.

Everything settled in silence. The “Eldest Prince,” who had stirred up so much storm and turmoil across the Empire, came to an end so quietly.

“So this is what it feels like... to kill your own older brother with your own hands. Even though you’re not truly my older brother.”

Celicia lowered her lashes. “How unpleasant.”

The wind and snow howled again, like a dirge.

Celicia turned around and walked to the King’s Sword. She pondered for a while, and in the end, she didn’t try to control it again. Instead, she bent down and reached for its scabbard.

But at the instant she was about to touch it again... Celicia’s hand abruptly stopped.

In eyes as still as a frozen lake, ripples rose...

No way...

Those three words flashed ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ through her mind for a moment. Before she could think through the possibility, she turned around without hesitation—swinging her sword in a slash.

Clang.

This time, blood did not spray.

Instead, there was the sound of metal striking metal.

Specks of golden light rose, drifting like fireflies, illuminating this ruined Throne Hall.

On Albert’s body, golden threads—delicate and supple, yet unbreakable—easily blocked Celicia’s slash.

And those golden threads came from...

the King’s Sword.

From the narrow scabbard—barely two fingers wide—that Celicia had just pulled out, dense golden threads surged forth. Following those bright red traces on the ground, they drilled swiftly into Albert’s body.

His finger twitched.

Then his arm.

Then his leg jerked upward.

Finally, his whole body convulsed for a moment.

The golden threads, like roots, wove through his body. Like thread mending a cloth doll, in no time at all, every wound rapidly healed.

The fear and pain lingering on his face gradually faded, turning into an arrogant smile.

Albert opened his eyes, sprang up, and laughed as he stared at Celicia in a frenzy.

“Ha... hahaha! I told you, Celicia... you can’t kill me!”

The King’s Sword trembled. Celicia’s gaze sharpened. She suddenly swung her longsword down to suppress it—

only to be blasted back by a terrifying, enormous force.

Celicia staggered back. Unable to contend with this powerful sacred artifact, she could only watch helplessly as the King’s Sword, symbol of the Empire’s imperial authority, automatically slid from its sheath and flew into... Albert’s hand.

On the blade were engraved profound, mysterious inscriptions—said to be the First King’s oath.

“Do you understand now? I am the chosen one! I am the qualified one! I am... the Emperor of the Empire!”

Albert raised the King’s Sword. In an instant, its golden radiance brightened countless times over.

A golden great tree, in that moment, thrust up from behind him, piercing through this sealed-off Berland’s Shadow. Its branches and leaves spread vast and wide, instantly covering the entire city.

Albert sat upright upon the throne beneath the great tree, coldly looking down at Celicia at his feet.

“Rebel—why aren’t you kneeling and bowing your head to the Emperor of the Empire at once?”