[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-the-reborn-king":3,"chapter-the-reborn-king-the-reborn-king-chapter-365":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","The Reborn King",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":20,"prevChapterSlug":21,"totalChapters":22,"novelImage":23},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":16,"volume":17,"translator":18,"content_hash":19},1100822,1437,"Chapter 365: Side Story 6: The Final Ceremony","the-reborn-king-chapter-365",365,"\u003Cp>Esmond sat in Alfred’s office, his skin pale white and dark circles under his eyes. Walking, Alfred froze, seeing the ill man who suddenly coughed, his hand dyed red. \"Esmond, you should rest.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I’m here for that reason.\" Esmond lowered his head and started coughing again. Alfred could see him wincing in pain with each one, the old man failing to hide it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Are you retiring?\" Alfred asked casually, but Esmond shook his head and sighed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Horace finally got that woman pregnant. It is time for him to go through with the Final Ceremony.\" Alfred froze at those words and looked at Esmond with slight pity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Taking a deep breath, he nodded and stood up. \"Count Esmond Underwell. Rise.\" Alfred said the name respectfully and watched as the old man before him struggled to stand up. Just a year ago, he was running around the Empire enforcing his regime, but now he could hardly move without feeling pain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Taking a step back, Alfred lowered his head towards Esmond and placed his hand on his chest, \"I thank you for your years of service. I hope you find peace.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This is too much, Your Majesty.\" Esmond shook his hands and reached out to lift Alfred, but stopped, seeing the dried blood on his hand. Alfred smiled and shook his head. Straightening his back, walking over to his desk, he grabbed a pair of gloves and put them on.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Old man.\" Alfred grabbed Esmond’s hand and said, \"You have done enough. Lowering my head to you is the least I can do.\" Esmond grasped the handshake as best he could, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride as if his life’s work meant something.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"No Matter the Sacrifice, Your Majesty. The Underwells live for the Lindonfalls.\" Emsond stepped back and smiled. The usual coldness he displayed was gone. \"I wish I were younger. I wanted to see where you would lead the Empire.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Yeah.\" Alfred said sadly, \"I guess Horace will have to be the one to see it through.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Esmond walked over to the window and looked at the city below. \"He is likely to be the best Underwell patriarch in history. Use him well.\" Esmond turned to Alfred once again and bowed. Walking off, he left the room and stood in the hall. Coughing again, he covered his mouth and felt thick blood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He knew it was over. The servants in the Palace no longer looked at him in fear but pity. He struggled to walk for extended periods of time, and when he travelled, it became a guessing game of whether he would survive the journey. Sighing, he walked down the Palace halls and took in the sights. He had spent his life walking the halls, and soon it would be over.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Despite that, Esmond didn’t fear what was coming next. He didn’t believe in a second life or that paradise was waiting for him. All that mattered in his life was what he did alive, and he was happy knowing that his work would survive. He was filled with pride knowing that he had helped forge the Empire. He was content letting Horace be the one to see its future rise to the pinnacle of the world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, he was the one who helped birth it. History didn’t need to remember him, and his name could be forgotten. His actions would be what was remembered. Only the Underwells had to live.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stepping out of the palace, a small carriage waited for Esmond. Stepping in, it slowly rode back to the Obsidian Castle. Esmond had made all the preparations. The entire Castle had been clear of life, and only he and Horace were allowed entry. Reaching into his pocket, he held a set of keys and grabbed and held a random one. Other than the family’s crest being etched on it, it blended in perfectly amongst the others.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Leaning back, he closed his eyes and held the key, enjoying the carriage ride home.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Esmond knelt in a dark room, and all around, portraits of the previous Underwell patriarchs looked down with cold eyes, as if judging what was about to transpire in the room. The room was the most secret place of the obsidian castle; no one other than the family head had access to it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Coughing, blood splattered the white gown he wore. He tried his best to hide his pain, but even he couldn’t mask his heavy breathing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The door opened behind him, and Hroace walked in wearing a dark suit, his eyes empty with a slight sadness. \"Father, \" he called out to Esmond. The old man heard the slight resignation in his son’s voice and chuckled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Horace.\" Esmond didn’t turn to look at him and remained kneeling, looking at the family banner hanging in the centre of the wall. The grim atmosphere was heavy and seemed to weigh down on both their shoulders.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Horace walked past Esmond to the table below the family banner. Opening a box on the table, a long, sharp blade rested on a soft cushion. The knife looked evil. The black hilt seemed to absorb any light that touched it, whilst the blade looked like it could cut anything. Horace stroked it and picked it up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The hilt was cold, and as he dragged his fingers across the smooth steel, he admired its craftsmanship. It wasn’t a knife used for war or cooking. It was purely ceremonial, only ever meant to be used a few times.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Your final test,\" Emsond said coldly, finally looking at Horace, who was admiring the blade. \"What does it mean to be an Underwell?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Horace slowly circled the room, looking at the painting hanging on the wall. He knew his fathers would soon be added, and one day his own would be too. \"To do what others cannot.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Why must we take this role?\" Esmond carried on, his voice getting colder and colder with each word. Any time he needed to cough, he swallowed the blood in his mouth, not wishing to tarnish the ceremony.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Because others won’t,\" Horace answered and stopped before one painting. Unlike the rest, it wasn’t a portrait; instead, it was a blank, black canvas. No one knew the founder’s face, and the painting was the only surviving relic of his time, along with the knife.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Who do we owe ourselves to?\" Esmond didn’t bother with what Horace was doing and carried on. He was like his son when he was in his position.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The Lindonfalls,\" Horace spoke with pride, saying the name.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Why do we owe ourselves to them?\" Esmond couldn’t hold it anymore and coughed, dark blood covering the floor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"They allowed our family to live. Gave it purpose when no one else did.\" Horace finally stood behind his father. \"They saved our miserable existence from being forgotten.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Esmond took a deep breath. \"And what does it cost?\" Esmond looked at the family banner one last time before closing his eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"No Matter the Sacrifice.\" Horace placed the sharp knife to Esmond’s throat. He had forgotten the last time his hands shook when taking a life. He tried to think and realised it was when he was still a child, during his training.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"No Matter the Sacrifice,\" Esmond said proudly. The family motto was more than words. It was a way of life for the Underwells. The head had to be willing to destroy any bond—family, friends, and lovers. The ceremony was the final test to prove that the patriarch could break any bond. Loyalty to the Lindonfalls was all that mattered to the head. It was the only thing that could give them meaning. That was what had been instilled in them for generations.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Esmond had done the same with his father, and his father had done the same with his grandfather. It was a cruel, irreversible sin, one that was forced upon the heir. However, it was the only test proving they were worthy of following the motto.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Horace closed his eyes and stopped his hand shaking. Plunging the blade into Esmond’s throat, he dragged it across, slicing his throat. His hand started to shake again, and pulling it out, he took rapid, shallow breaths. Esmond’s body fell to the ground, his blood pooling under his corpse as the light in his eyes slowly vanished. Horace watched. It was the only thing he could do for his father in his final moments.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had wondered why his father had followed the family motto as if it were a holy text before, but now he understood. Every head was damaged in some way. It was the only way they could do what they did. His father could only do what he did because he worshipped his own family.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Horace saw his father try to breathe his last but failing to do so. Going over to the table, he grabbed a cloth and cleaned the knife to perfection, slowly putting it back in the box. Looking back at his father, he flipped him over and picked up his body, carefully taking him out the door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Walking through the halls, they were emptier than usual. Horace walked outside, and with the sun beaming down on him, he smiled, heading to the grave that had been prepared. It was unmarked and looked like it had been hastily put together.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Carefully getting in, he put his father in the coffin and closed the lid. Looking at the sun once again, he sighed and slowly got to work filling the grave. Hours passed, and his clothes had gotten filthy, but Horace knew it wasn’t over yet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Going into one of the servants’ rooms, he grabbed cleaning tools and headed back to the room. Walking over to the pool of blood, Horace cleaned it up. He took his time, not wishing to leave traces of what had happened. An hour passed, and Horace, happy with his work, moved to the final part of the ceremony.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heading to his father’s study, he saw the painting Esmond had prepared of himself and carefully picked it up. Walking back, he grabbed a ladder, climbed up the wall and gently fitted it in its place. Getting down, he looked around. The cold eyes that were watching him looked different. Before they judged him, but now they were empty. His father blended in with the rest of them, the artist who made the portrait seemingly able to capture their snake-like coldness in them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Looking at the empty place next to Esmond’s portrait, Horace knew he would join them all one day. He knew that he would be the one kneeling as he let his child take his life.\u003C\u002Fp>",1779,"2026-06-03T11:17:48.775Z","2026-06-03T11:17:51.400Z",1,"novelbin.me","b6713e354c9eb9b8af12abe65c3ca16bc9adf969aa79d94d8fcfc0c95c9e4b90","the-reborn-king-chapter-366","the-reborn-king-chapter-364",487,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-reborn-king-cover.jpg"]