novelraw Chapter 432: Address to the Entire Commonwealth
Chapter 432: Address to the Entire Commonwealth
The British Isles, London.
Panic was still spreading. The march of the nobles and capitalists toward the Apocalypse continued unabated.
Business at the funeral parlors and crematoriums boomed with each passing day. The death toll climbed relentlessly, but this time, the victims were not merely claimed by the curse. The rising numbers also included those who died in the special slaughter wrought by people driven to absolute despair!
Naturally, the people wielding the greatest power and holding the most means of production in this nation were unwilling to die so easily. However, as they watched their peers drop dead one after another, they began to simply give up and let things rot.
This was especially true for those whose ancestors had built their fortunes on bloody plunder. Once they realized they would not be spared, they unleashed their vengeance.
They lashed out against ordinary citizens. They took revenge on their colleagues whose families had only risen to prominence during the World Wars. They even targeted the factory owners who had succeeded by treating their workers kindly!
Naturally, those people had no choice but to fight back.
As a result, neighborhood watch alliances sprang up in the streets, and factories established their own security teams. Even the declining old money families were forced to dip into their life savings, hiring local youths to protect them.
Surprisingly, these defensive forces proved significantly stronger than the aggressors. Compared to those ruthless capitalists, they were genuine, undisputed "good people," and they received far more support than the bloodshot, doomed men who had lost their minds to murder.
However, this mutual slaughter and the near-constant echo of gunshots gave the city of London a grim and twisted sort of vitality."So this is the source behind the recent surge in mortality data?" Even though he had braced himself, William still looked deeply sorrowful. "Our people slaughtering each other has surpassed the death toll of the curse?"
"Yes, Your Highness. Many who were completely unaffected by the curse ended up dying in these conflicts entirely due to their own panic!" Sunak replied. He was currently serving as the acting Chief of Police, as the previous director had already perished from the curse.
"A guilty conscience at work!" William knew exactly what was happening without even needing to ask. These were likely people whose families had committed far too many wicked deeds. They had mapped their own sins onto the curse formula compiled by internet users, assumed they were doomed, and chose to lash out.
Many of these individuals had actually made their fortunes in the modern era. They had merely claimed distant ties to ancient lineages or bought themselves a noble title, convincing themselves they were genuine descendants of wicked aristocrats. In the end, they had quite literally scared themselves to death.
But it made a twisted sort of sense. Great Britain had committed countless atrocities over the centuries. No one knew for sure if their ancestors had been part of it, leading to a state of extreme paranoia where every shadow looked like an enemy.
"Forget it. There is no way for us to intervene in this mess. If they want to die, let them!" William shook his head, gazing at the sparsely populated Number 10 Downing Street. The Prime Minister's residence had now become their main hub for handling government affairs. With government officials so drastically reduced in number, everyone easily fit inside, rendering the parliament building unnecessary.
The one silver lining to this arrangement was that he was likely the first Crown Prince since 1688 to hold genuine, absolute power over the British Empire's military, politics, diplomacy, and finances.
Ironically, the very foundation of his power was likely to be buried along with the sinking of this nation.
"Sigh... These monsters, can we even defeat them?" Sunak asked pessimistically. It wasn't that he looked down on the Royal Navy, the Royal Air Force, and the Army of Great Britain, but rather that they simply hadn't earned his respect.
This army of pampered brats had more international scandals to its name than their government. He genuinely feared that once on the battlefield, these idiots would simply turn tail and run, completely selling them out.
And honestly, it was exactly the sort of thing the armed forces of Great Britain would do. After all, this was an army that boasted more generals than tanks—though the good news was that there weren't quite as many generals anymore, as the curse had already killed half of them.
"Just because we might not win, does that mean we shouldn't fight?" William shot back. "Our families are in London. Do we have any other choice?"
For now, only the two of them knew about the immortal monsters lurking underwater. They didn't even dare breathe a word of it. Given the atrocious confidentiality of the government of Great Britain, one person knowing meant the whole world would know, and then they would truly be finished.
Bringing this crisis to light wouldn't unite this decadent nation against a common enemy. It would only cause them to completely lose all combat power, leading to an immediate collapse on the front lines!
"Prime Minister, please turn on the television. His Majesty the King is about to deliver an address to the entire Commonwealth!" At that very moment, a notification echoed through the office.
"His Majesty the King? He woke up?" Startled, the two men hurriedly turned on the television in the room and saw King Charles on the screen.
The king seemed to be in much better condition. The previous exhaustion and decay were gone, replaced by a radiant, spirited energy.
He didn't speak immediately; instead, he seemed to be waiting for something.
Beside Charles stood an unfamiliar old man, causing both men to frown sharply. What were Harry and the Royal Guard doing? How could they allow a stranger to stand right next to the king?
"Citizens of England and the entire Commonwealth, I am Charles," the old king finally spoke, his opening words instantly capturing everyone's absolute attention. "It is with deep sorrow that I tell you we are facing the most severe trial since the founding of the British Isles!"
"A curse from an ancient era has left all of Britain riddled with scars, and those lingering souls rising from the River Thames covet the very lives of this entire realm!"
"Beside me stands a highly respected old man, Mage Merlin, who has come personally to warn us:
The rust on the Sword in the Stone has spread to the very core of our nation's destiny, And only a sinless hand can reignite the radiance of the holy sword." 'Merlin?' Hearing that name, a look of sheer disbelief erupted in the eyes of both men.
They had been scrambling desperately to find some sort of Transcendent backing, yet couldn't find a single person. And now, their own old king and father had managed to locate arguably the most famous Transcendent Being in all of Celtic lore, Great Mage Merlin?
Did this even make sense?
However, when a king staked his own reputation, the prestige of the Windsor family, and the legacy of the entire British Empire to endorse an identity, it was impossible to question. They had no position from which to raise doubts; they could only continue watching.
Charles's address continued:
"Today, I stand before you not as a monarch, but as a guardian of the British soil, pouring out my heart to you!"
"This land has reached its most critical hour. A terrifying curse has blanketed all of Britain, even stirring the elves and fairies of the unknown Otherworld!"
"Mage Merlin has informed me that the radiance of Avalon is already shining upon this land!"
Beside him, the incredibly frail-looking old man raised his holly wand. It transformed into an astoundingly colossal World Tree, manifesting its magnificent form in the sky!
The sheer majesty of this tree left all of London gasping in awe. Even Australia, on the other side of the world, could see its phantom projection in the sky!
This made it abundantly clear to everyone that this was not the delirious rambling of a dying old king, but a choice straight out of Celtic mythology, from the god of Wales—Great Mage Merlin!
On the screen, the old king lifted an oak casket. Resting on its velvet lining was a severed sword tassel. Behind him, resting on a stone pedestal, a sword emitted a faint glow, leaving everyone utterly mesmerized!
"Therefore, I declare: The selection of the Sword in the Stone is immediately restarted!
This is no reenactment of a fairy tale, but a crucial choice concerning the very survival of our civilization.
The new King of Britain shall emerge here. He will no longer be a monarch of the nobles, but the ultimate savior of this land!
Who will become the new king of the British Isles? I do not know.
But I swear as the king of the Windsor family, regardless of whether you hail from:
The fishing boats of Belfast
The IT offices of Mumbai
Or the snow-swept streets of Toronto
As long as your heart still remembers the knight's oath:
To bear the shield for the weak
To draw your blade against lies
To hold reverence for nature
As long as Celtic bloodline still flows in your veins
As long as your heart still harbors devoted reverence for this land
And your hands remain clean and holy
You shall possess the right to pull forth this Sword in the Stone!
I swear upon the blood of my ancestors: The entire selection process will be overseen by Merlin's holly wand—it shall stand in the center of the Palace of Westminster, and the legislators are already clearing a path for it!"
At the end of the broadcast, the old king removed his crown and bowed to everyone:
"Mr. Merlin told me that the Windsor family could still retain their royal titles, but I chose to refuse. Because the selection by the Sword in the Stone will become a new tradition. If one day our descendants return to claim it, that will signify the true reunification of the throne!"
"As for now, let it be left for the monarch of the next generation, to serve as the glorification for the new king's coronation! Windsor Castle will also become the new king's royal court—while I will return to Tintagel Castle, to become the watcher of King Arthur!"
"With this, the mission of the Windsor family has reached its end! For the continued survival of this land, come and participate in the king's selection. This is the only way to save our home!"
Hearing those words and watching the old king relinquish the crown in his hands, William slumped back into the sofa, utterly dismayed.
His reign, before it had even begun, was already over?
He wanted to be furious, but he couldn't even muster the strength for anger. Deep down, he knew this was the right decision. Relying on Transcendent power to save this country still offered a glimmer of hope. If they relied entirely on themselves, he would never have hope of ascending the throne anyway.
The far more likely outcome was that he would die alongside this realm in the midst of the Supernatural Crisis.
This was the true root of his dismay: the utter lack of hope, the absolute inability to fight back...