Chapter 1418 - 654: Pyrenees Empire, World War I (Part 2)

"No matter how brilliant and far‑sighted a Monarch is, once he hits old age, he usually finds his own youthful, dazzling heir especially unpleasant to look at.

He’ll also do all sorts of baffling things to prove he’s still young, still able to grip power tight.

So being an Emperor is hard; what’s even harder than being Emperor is being Crown Prince.

Especially those heirs whom some Heroic Rulers set up very early—how many of them actually manage to sit safely on the throne in the end?

’Your Majesty, please call me Crown Prince!’ — that’s the truest inner voice of many princes and Crown Princes.

Luckily, our Empire may have many dominions, but we don’t have that particular headache."

Nasser Din finished reporting official business to Byron, then, thick‑skinned, went to say goodbye to his own daughter, the "ugliest princess."

His face was full of awkwardness and guilt. Looking at the youngest daughter before him who should’ve been his precious jewel in the palm, his lips trembled twice:

"Amita, you’ve been wronged all these years.

But I believe Saint Byron will be your best destination. In the future, take good care of His Majesty, and also take good care of yourself. Come home often when you have time."

In the common tongue, the word "Bita/Beeta" means "one and only." She used to be uniquely ugly; now she’s uniquely beautiful.

The [Desert Eagle] Nasser Din’s mindset may have completely changed, but his Honor is clearly much lower than that of his Old Deng father‑in‑law, the [Whale Hunter] Jack Harold.

I’m afraid that even if Byron, who’s about to take his daughter away, were to wave his fancy hand at him right now and say:

"Old Deng, is my pirate ship safe in the harbor?"

He’d only slap his chest and guarantee: "Has to be safe. I’ll go move a stool down there and personally watch it for you. Whenever you call me, that’s when I’ll come back."

"Mm. I understand, Father King."

The level gazes — even stunned, admiring gazes — from everyone made Amita feel strangely out of place.

As for guilt toward her own royal father, she didn’t feel much at all. It’s been twenty‑two years; this remorse is coming way too late. She’s long since had only one person to rely on; her heart is too small to fit anyone else.

’And His Majesty isn’t just perfunctorily humoring me; he truly has the resolve and drive to change the West Coast’s power structure.

I believe our compatriots on the West Coast will definitely have a better future.’

"Weigh anchor! Set sail!"

With the [Pirate City] in the lead, the great Fleet filled its sails and slowly left the harbor.

Only after they’d passed out of each other’s line of sight did Byron take Amita into his own Captain’s cabin.

She set a bottle filled with [Blood of Transformation] down in front of Byron.

Like a naive little girl waiting to be praised, she clasped her hands behind her back, tilted her head up at him, and said:

"Your Majesty, mission completely accomplished. All Sabah Family members are already here.

Not just the hounds — we didn’t even spare a single egg.

Per your request, they’re all classified as missing, without leaving any signs of having been murdered.

There may be some turbulence inside the Assassin Sect, but as long as I don’t speak, no one will deliberately pursue the matter.

Most importantly, all Anchoring points for the [assassination] Divine Position have been cut off; there are no lingering threats anymore.

Once you drag that hidden client into the light, I’ll go personally butcher him."

Byron nodded in satisfaction, but didn’t accept the spoils. Instead, he stuffed the bottle of Blood of Transformation back into her hand, and praised:

"Very good. Miss Amita, nicely done.

Keep this Blood of Transformation for yourself.

You’re now also a Night Demon Pseudo God; you can cultivate loyal subordinates and develop your own Bloodline.

Before we completely change the general ethos of the West Coast, there are still many girls out there with experiences similar to yours. Perfect candidates to become the followers of you, the future [Assassination God].

If women don’t want to become someone else’s appendages and truly wish to obtain freedom and independence, they must have careers of their own. I hope you’ll be the same."

Hearing Byron consider her in every way, Amita felt a rush of sweetness and secretly swore in her heart:

’When I give First Embrace, I’ll definitely only bite cute girls.

I’ll prepare a huge... harem! worthy of Your Majesty’s status as Emperor!

That way, you’ll come to see me often in the future.’

Poisoned quite deeply by feudal residues, the girl suddenly thought of something. She lightly brushed her small hand over her lower belly, her face flushing red.

After confirming no one was around, she suddenly mustered her courage, stepped forward, and leaned close to Byron’s ear. The girl’s sweet body fragrance was intoxicating:

"Um... Your Majesty, I’d like to ask you a question.

Does First Embrace also have a full‑body repair effect?

Because when I took a bath the day before yesterday, I suddenly discovered that, um... that girl’s... that thing... had actually reverted!"

At this point, the girl who’d earlier been filled with confidence reverted to her original shy, bashful self.

She finally managed to gather the courage to lift her head and make a request:

"Could you help me one more time?"

The earlier [Deceit] effect had long since dissolved.

Only the memories from another timeline remained. For a Pseudo God like her to notice discrepancies between her body and her memories was only natural.

She’d simply mistaken it for an effect of First Embrace.

Byron had been too busy these last two days and had forgotten this detail. Only when she brought it up did he finally remember; his body went a bit stiff.

He dry‑coughed, trying to cover it up:

"Ah? Well, uh, hahaha..."

But the girl’s face was utterly serious, pressing him step by step. Without anyone noticing, her pupils shifted into blood‑red vertical slits, and a faint black mist slowly seeped out from their depths:

"No ’haha’!

Please, I’m begging you, just teach me one more time, pro‑fes‑sor~"

...

A little later.