Path To Godhood Begins With Marrying Wife And Gaining SSS Rank Skill

Chapter 283: 283:Clara De Rudius

Claira De Rudius.

The fifth Princess of the royal family was to be married to the Baron of Blanks.

The moment these words spread through the capital, shock and horror followed. People could hardly believe it. To them, it felt like marrying cow dung to the most beautiful flower in the world.

Young maidens who had fallen in love with Ethan after seeing him in the capital cried openly in the streets.

“Wuuuhh…”

“What is this bullshit!”

“Why not me!”

Their jealousy turned into curses, and all of them were directed at Claira.

No one had truly seen her, yet the rumor of her being cursed had already spread everywhere. Her infamy was brutal and deep. People whispered her name with fear and disgust, as if it itself carried misfortune.

Because of this, there would be no grand wedding. No celebration, no feast, no ceremony. Ethan only had to pick her up and leave. That was all.

Outside the royal palace, the knights of Blanks stood in formation. A massive crowd had gathered around them. Young women screamed and cried as Ethan appeared.

“Lord Ethan!”

“Look at me!”

“I love you!”

Their cries echoed endlessly. It felt eerily similar to Ethan’s past as a model, when people would crowd around him just to catch a glimpse or take a photo.

Then a voice rang out.

“The Fifth Princess is here.”

Under Auster’s command, the guards escorted a woman forward.

She was tall and had a well-shaped figure. However, as everyone caught sight of her, disgust welled up in their hearts.

The woman was completely covered in black robes. A thick veil hid her face, and not a single feature could be seen. Everything about her was concealed, making it impossible to judge her appearance.

Still, everyone felt the same thing.

She looked like a black cuckoo standing beside a swan.

Black was seen as a sign of ill omen, and her presence only deepened that belief.

“Ahhh!”

“Why is God so unfair!”

“Why does she get to marry him!”

“She should have been given to some drunkard instead!”

Abuse poured out without pause. Harsh words flew through the air, yet Princess Claira kept walking. Her steps did not falter, and her posture did not break.

Ethan could feel her gaze on him. Her eyes, hidden behind the veil, watched him closely, as if praying for something he could not understand.

He stepped forward.

Auster and the Star Knights moved aside.

“Here is the Princess,” Auster announced. “From now on, she is yours.”

Ethan stopped in front of her.

A deadly silence spread across the crowd as everyone waited for his reaction.

“Tsk.”

A sharp clicking sound left his tongue, filled with open disgust.

“I have never seen such filth,” he said coldly.

He turned to Auster. “What is this?”

“Isn’t this what you chose?” Auster replied, frowning.

“She is too ugly,” Ethan said. “She is hurting my eyes.”

People around nodded in agreement.

“It is what it is,” Auster said. “You cannot step back now.”

Ethan’s expression darkened. He looked at Claira as if she were something unpleasant stuck under his shoe.

Claira did not react. She stood still, silent.

“Follow me,” Ethan ordered.

He turned around and stepped into the carriage without another glance.

Claira followed him.

As she passed, the knights stared at her with open hostility, as if she were some kind of contamination. Her dress was heavy and awkward, and climbing into the carriage was difficult. No one offered her a hand.

Just then, a hand appeared.

For a brief moment, she thought it was there to help her.

Instead, the hand grabbed her violently and dragged her inside.

Ethan pulled her in like an object and slammed her against the carriage wall. His hand wrapped around her neck, choking her as he tore off her veil.

What was revealed made his eyes widen for a split second.

Half of her face was covered in dark patches, and scars ran across her skin in twisted patterns.

Claira stared straight into his blue eyes and spoke in a cold voice.

“Have you seen enough?”

PAH!

Ethan spat on the floor in disgust.

“Who in their right mind would look at you,” he said harshly.

“Listen carefully. You have no right to be my wife. If you had any shame, you should have run away.”

His grip tightened for a moment before he threw her onto the seat.

“But it seems you have quite a thick heart, you dirty bitch.”

He slammed the carriage door shut under Auster’s watch and shouted.

“Go!”

Outside, Randall shook his head and raised his voice.

“Go. It’s time to depart.”

The carriage began to move, carrying them away, while the capital watched in silence.

They looked at the fading carriage sighing heavily and asked the heavens.

’Why is God so unfair?’

…..

A man quietly entered a secluded chamber. The room was dim, and the air felt heavy, as if it pressed down on the chest. At the center of the chamber, an old and frail man sat alone. His back was slightly bent, and his breathing was slow and steady.

In front of him stood a small table. A chessboard lay on it, with pieces arranged neatly. The old man moved them one by one with thin, trembling fingers. Each soft click of wood against the board echoed unnaturally loud in the silence.

He lifted a pawn and paused midair. His eyes did not leave the board as he spoke.

“What happened?”

“They have departed,” the man replied softly.

The old man placed the pawn down with care and asked, “Anything dramatic?”

“Yes. Baron Ethan seemed to hate it.”

“Hm.” The old man nodded faintly. He then slowly turned his head toward the entrance. His gaze was calm, yet it carried a suffocating pressure.

“You look confused,” he said.

“I am,” the man admitted. “I just wonder why he chose her out of all of them.”

A dry chuckle escaped the old man’s lips. It was faint but sharp.

“There is nothing complicated about that,” he said.

The man hesitated. “Then why?”

“He knows he cannot trust someone from the royal family,” the old man replied. “So rather than choosing a beauty, he chose someone he could truly hate. Or perhaps someone he believed he could hate.”

“Why perhaps?” the man asked.

“Because even I am not sure,” the old man answered. “Making a sure conclusion is the biggest mistake a strategist can make.”

He moved another piece, his fingers shaking slightly.

“Still,” the man said carefully, “I am sure that girl is going to suffer.”

For a moment, the old man’s hand froze above the board. His fingers trembled, and the air in the room turned colder.

“Her being alive,” he said slowly, “is already the greatest mercy.”

His eyes flashed with deadly coldness.

“Otherwise,” he added softly, and the silence that followed was far more terrifying than words.

“I hope you don’t kill yourself soon.”