I Married the Beautiful Female Protagonist In Order To Survive

27. How Kefier was born

Zerola knew his own strength very well. If calculated according to the “method used throughout the entire continent” provided by the Royal Academy of the Great Ing Empire, the result Zerola got last time he secretly tested himself was around Seventh Rank, or rather, “just breaking through.”

Of course, that was only in terms of martial arts. Zerola didn’t bother attending any magic classes. After all, he figured that after he caught up with Filora, he could just have her deal with it when necessary~ A real man shouldn’t be in the back row, he should be charging in front~

Having said that, Zerola still felt the pressure when facing this Henry III. From the moment he seemed genuinely angered, every move, every stance, was as precise and methodical as if representing the Great Ing Empire itself, naturally… and impenetrable.

“Zerola, do you really think you are worthy of her?”

With a downward slash, Zerola retreated again and again, drifting further from the emblem he was about to grab, not to mention that the next moment this murderous Henry III actually knocked the thing even further away with yet another slash.

“Freedom, recklessness, she loathed every bit of it. You prattle on about letting her choose for herself, but do you truly grasp what she’d choose?”

“I tell you plain: Philola’s final choice will be to heed the arrangements of our Great British Empire. She *is* a part of it, through and through. You’ve been trying to spirit her away since the start, ha! She’d agree? Unlikely!”

“Give it up, you penniless rogue. You can’t even graze the fringes of the British Empire’s elite!”

Was it…true? Could it be…that he was merely ‘arranging’ Philola’s life according to his own desires! Did…did she think that of him!?

A moment’s inattention, and Zelora ate a fist, square on the jaw. But he wasn’t about to let Henry III off easy. He’d sworn to turn him into Peppa Pig, and he *never* went back on his word!

Ignoring the searing pain, Zelora returned the favor, landing a solid punch on Henry III’s face! Like bumper cars, they flew apart in opposite directions.

It mattered little if *he* misunderstood him. What mattered was…that Philola *mustn’t*!

He wasn’t ‘arranging’ her future, not really. He simply wanted her to know: her future brimmed with possibilities, more than just ‘accepting the plan’! Whether she chose to yield in the end, or to rebel, he would gladly accept it, and then…

Depending on Philola’s choice, he’d decide his next move. If Philola yearned to change things, then to hell with Henry III, even if Queen Louise III herself showed up, he’d give her a piece of his mind! If Philola still chose to concede, then…for as long as his feelings endured, he would simply watch over her, until…he couldn’t bear it any longer.

He had to tell Philola *all* of this! And now, this oddly serendipitous chance was within reach!

Zelora managed to keep his feet! Next, he dashed towards where the badge had fallen. This time, not only did he firmly grasp the fallen badge, but…he also plastered Henry III’s other cheek!

Knocking him flat on his arse!

“I won! The thing’s mine! Don’t let me ever see your face again!”

Then, without a second thought for whether he should unleash a flurry of tiger-taming fists on Henry III, Zelora clutched his swelling cheek and staggered out of the training grounds.

This was likely his last chance!

Zelora stepped forward!

Time froze.

Everything shifted from the “chessboard” back to reality, and I gazed at the tiny fairy sitting opposite me.

“First move. I win, Horus.”

“Do you now?”

The game was far from over. Horus, having lost the opening gambit, seemed utterly unfazed by the setback.

I said coldly, “Henry III is your ‘pawn’, isn’t he? Obstructing Cefiel’s parents’ relationship.”

And just now, the ‘pawn’ uncle had thwarted Henry III’s plans. In my script, a promising outcome had already emerged.

[Zelora confesses his love to Philola.]

A bit cliche, perhaps, but I reckon a confession at this moment had to succeed. And, after this round, I had grasped the essence of Horus’s so-called ‘chess’, her ‘game.’ At least just now, it seemed like I was defending while she attacked. The ‘arrangements’ for Cefiel’s mother, Philola, the emergence of Henry III – each was an obstacle.

If those obstacles couldn’t be overcome, the result was plain: the uncle wouldn’t get together with his wife.

Luckily, the outcome was clear. With Henry III unable to interfere, no one else would be able to stop the uncle and aunt from meeting. The slightly corny period drama might fast-forward to a cheesy confession, but…I was still rather interested in watching.

“You lost the first round, fairy.”

“Hee hee, you’re surprisingly gifted, Controller of Order. But, you know, sometimes moving a piece isn’t about valuing the gain of a single pawn. On the chessboard, winning is the key, not who eats the most, eats the fastest.”

[Horus is warning Euclid!]

The script appeared, but this time I couldn’t quite grasp Horus’s intention. Alarmist? Or…

“Don’t overthink it, because this is just a pleasant and friendly sparring session~ As long as you hold onto hope, everything will become wonderful~”

“Then when will you be done, when will you willingly leave this era?”

“I don’t know~”

Horus delivered a quality answer, then added, “The chessboard never has a clear standard for winning or losing. When the result appears, I will naturally choose to stay or disappear. Don’t be impatient~ Being hasty while playing chess will lead to mistakes, won’t it? So… let’s continue. Actually, I’m also quite eager to see the confession scene between the two of them, hee hee hee…”

Instinct told me: This sprite was probably hiding something, just like an opponent might “hold a card” in chess. However, at this moment, there was no way for me to know that, within this domain of the Hope Sprite, all attempts to glimpse her script were futile, and might even… be impossible to manifest.

Besides biting the bullet and continuing, there was no choice. Fortunately: I had gradually understood the method of this “game,” and the next situation shouldn’t be so unfamiliar and difficult.

Hah… Let’s relax a little and take a look at Uncle’s next actions. After all, according to this development, the upcoming “plot” is the origin of Kefer’s “birth.”

Heh heh…

In the next moment, my gaze and the Hope Sprite’s gaze were both cast upon the “chessboard” on the table.