I Start with 13 Hidden Traits Chapter-405

**Chapter 405. Heir of the Emperor’s Blood**

—

The world had once been destroyed.

The continent sank into the Abyss, and not a shred of hope remained.

At that time, the twin goddess *Pina* succeeded in lifting land that had not yet been corrupted out of the Abyss.

…It was a miracle.

To evade, even partially, the accursed curse of Ruin.

Thus rose the land that ascended into the sky—*Pangaenia*.

But early Pangaenia was a lawless hell.

A dead land where not a single blade of grass grew.

Survival was impossible unless one devoured another.

Moreover, though the land had been lifted, the continent itself was fragmented into countless pieces.

It was chaos.

Utter disorder.

Though they barely managed to connect the lands using *warps*, Pangaenia’s order remained in shambles.

Humans suffered the worst of it.

—The fall of the Old Empire!
—The death of all heroes!

…There was no central pillar to bind them together.

Instead of uniting, they plundered one another, and the weak humans became the first prey of other races.

The elves settled in the *Primordial Forest*.

Many races scattered to the south and north.

For the Primordial Forest held the last remaining *World Tree*, while the north and south had powerful leaders—

The White Tiger Clan and the Black Lion Clan.

After that, countless races gathered around the strong.

But not humans.

Humans became slaves.

Those who had once flourished a radiant civilization were the first to be branded the lowest race and trampled upon.

Their numbers dwindled exponentially.

At this rate, extinction was inevitable.

—Please, grant us a powerful leader of our own!

Thus, humans yearned.

They wished and wished again.

And then… at last, he appeared.

The first ruler of the Arhon Empire.

**“He descended upon the light, cradling eleven eggs in his arms.”**

The First Emperor revealed himself riding upon the light.

The moment he appeared, he rallied the humans.

First, he founded the Arhon Empire, inheriting the legacy of the Old Empire.

Upon the races that had ravaged humans, he brought down a merciless hammer.

That was not all.

He spread magic and knowledge that had been lost to the Abyss, restored shattered laws, and once again raised humanity as the supreme power of the central continent.

He was so overwhelmingly powerful that all races bowed before him.

It was said that even the glorious champions of the ancient age paled in comparison to his might.

Humans, once hunted as the lowest species, became apex predators.

Other races reversed their roles, offering tribute to the Empire and prostrating themselves in supplication.

But for reasons unknown, the Emperor fell into an eternal slumber.

Leaving behind eleven eggs in the Arhon Empire.

—Hatch all the Spirits of Souls.
—When the Golden Spirit opens the *Gate*, and all Spirits of Souls become one, the Emperor shall awaken.

The Empire devoted itself desperately to hatching the eggs.

They discovered that to hatch the eleven eggs, humans capable of becoming *vessels* were required.

Of course, such refined vessels could not exist from the start.

They had to be crafted one by one, like works of an artisan.

Thus began the creation of *cloned humans*.

Under the leadership of the *Dersian* family, countless clones were produced.

But… they failed.

Not a single human capable of serving as a vessel for a Spirit of Souls was born.

In the end, they reached for the forbidden.

—We must create clones using the Emperor’s blood.

The sleeping Emperor.

They resolved to create humans bearing his blood.

However, the Emperor’s blood was far too powerful.

Every human cloned from it exploded.

Thousands, tens of thousands—perhaps more.

They repeated the process countless times, wasting immeasurable time, yet the result was always the same.

Just as everyone cried for surrender—

—S-success!
—The first child to inherit the Emperor’s blood!

The Emperor’s son was born.

The problem was that, at that time, the Arhon Empire was in turmoil.

Hundreds of years had already passed since the First Emperor’s appearance.

The Emperor still slept, and the scattered noble families had grown monstrously powerful, each proclaiming themselves the rightful master.

They could no longer tolerate the Emperor’s vacant throne.

…Once again, a central pillar was needed.

And the child destined to become that pillar was born.

Had things gone according to plan, there would have been no issue.

But the Emperor’s son was far weaker than they had expected.

—He’s too kind.

—Magic, swordsmanship, even learning ability… he has talent in none of them.

—Is this truly a child forged from the First Emperor’s blood?

—If this child becomes Emperor, the Empire will fracture even further.

—Make another one.

—Not with the First Emperor’s blood, but with *this child’s* blood.

The Emperor’s child was lacking in every regard.

A dullard beyond mere mediocrity.

A half-wit who failed to excel in anything.

Yet they had no time.

Even if they tried again with the Emperor’s blood, there was no guarantee of success.

It could take hundreds, thousands of years.

So they used the child’s blood.

They attempted another cloning—this time using the blood of the cloned child.

And *he* was created.

The problem was that his creation did not rely solely on the child’s blood.

For rapid growth, greater power, and charisma, things other than *human* were mixed in.

The child that was born met their expectations.

Smarter than anyone, stronger than all.

—T-the egg…! The egg is hatching!

One of the eleven eggs finally reacted.

But the child was far from an ordinary human.

From the moment of his birth, he was aware of himself.

Likewise, it did not take long for him to realize that he was a clone.

And when he grasped the fact that he was nothing more than a copy—

*I resent you.*

The child became a perfect substitute for the one who had been cloned.

The child created from the Emperor’s blood was marked for execution.

Though he succeeded in escaping the Empire, it was said that he died after entering the *Forest of Nibelung*.

…After that, the cloned child donned a *Golden Mask*.

At the same time, he founded the Reaper Cult, gathered clones like himself, and found vessels to hatch the remaining eggs.

For over centuries, clones had already scattered across the continent of Pangaenia, and among them, enough suitable vessels had emerged.

All eleven eggs hatched.

The Reaper Cult grew incomparably powerful.

…The problem was that, around that time, the *Knight King* appeared.

*Wilhelm…!*

The Knight King’s name was Wilhelm.

But Wilhelm’s face was unmistakably identical to his own.

It was him.

The original—said to have died in the Forest of Nibelung!

His teeth ground together.

Rage surged.

To think he was still alive!

Alive, and disgracing him.

As long as Wilhelm lived, he himself would be nothing more than a clone.

He had to die.

He could not be allowed to live.

He employed every possible method to kill Wilhelm.

Yet Wilhelm always survived—miraculously.

Before long, Wilhelm launched the *Grand Expedition*.

*He died in the Grand Expedition… This time, he must truly be dead.*

The Empire provided the Knight King with no aid whatsoever.

They did not join the expedition—rather, they ensured that those who did would betray him from behind.

They manipulated mercenaries and filled soldiers with fear.

In the end, the Grand Expedition failed.

More precisely… they spread the rumor that it had failed.

Wilhelm must never be remembered forever as the Knight King.

He must not become a hero.

He had to be buried and erased from history…

—The Hero Association, huh… Fine. I’ll make you into “true” heroes.

They unearthed humans who would bury Wilhelm’s achievements.

The rapid spread of their fame across Pangaenia was all orchestrated by the Golden Mask.

After dulling Wilhelm’s feats, they planned to bury him forever.

**Maxim.**
**Gracia.**
**Master.**
**Darkstar.**
**Blackflame.**
**Banhee.**
**Lucifer.**
**Wilhelm.**

All of them were chosen by the Golden Mask.

The initial rumor claimed that Wilhelm had not led the Grand Expedition alone, but merely begun it together with them.

Dilute him among eight heroes.

Then, when people grew curious about their names, disappointment would follow.

That disappointment would inevitably reach Wilhelm as well.

Maxim was a trash mercenary.

Gracia?
He never even participated in the expedition.

Master—
A selfish aberration obsessed only with himself, adept at exploitation and utterly unfit to be a hero.

Darkstar—
A coward who accomplished nothing and was always busy running away.

Blackflame, Banhee…
Their pasts were flashy, steeped in life within the shadows.

Lucifer—
A demon.

…What more needs to be said?

If *Wilhelm* stood at the end of such names, could anyone truly exalt him as the Knight King?

Or would he be buried as the same kind of trash?

People would think the Grand Expedition was doomed to fail—that with leaders like them, failure was inevitable.

Wilhelm would be reviled by all and vanish from history.

Forever.

*But why…?*

…Why, then, does Wilhelm’s name begin to surface again?

Serengeti appears, the Round Table Knights are revived—

And Wilhelm’s achievements are being reevaluated.

His traces are resurfacing across Pangaenia.

Like a stain that would not disappear no matter how often it was scrubbed away.

*Phantom. I should have killed you from the very beginning.*

The Golden Mask realized it.

That the indispensable prerequisite to erasing Wilhelm had been the elimination of *Phantom*.

Phantom—Randolph.

Pretending to be the guardian of the Twelfth Lineage, he appeared casually and toyed with him.

Hiding his identity, secretly amassing power, and bringing Wilhelm’s legacy back into the light.

…All because he knew that he himself was Wilhelm’s clone.

To remind him that he was nothing more than a *copy*!

How amusing it must have been.

How easily he had been deceived.

How he had opened the Imperial Palace without even knowing he was Phantom.

How he had invited him to the Reaper Cult’s banquet and shown him everything…!

He must have laughed himself sick.

But—

*I won’t be fooled anymore.*

I will destroy the labyrinth, kill Randolph, and erase Phantom from this world.

There wasn’t the slightest intention of letting that incarnation of evil live.

Besides, Phantom was no match for him.

*I am superior to Wilhelm.*

He had always been superior.

By birth.

Designed and completed to be more perfect.

To even compare him to the weak, pitiful Wilhelm was laughable.

And the proof was right here, right now.

*His Majesty the Emperor chose me, not Wilhelm.*

The Emperor had awakened.

Right beside him.

Not Wilhelm—*him*.

This was the declaration that he was the Emperor’s true successor.

He could feel it.

That the Emperor and he had become one.

That the *Gate* had fully opened!

Now, at last—

“I am the Emperor.”

He had become the true Emperor.

The second Emperor of the Arhon Empire was not Wilhelm.

It was him.

The Golden Mask removed his mask.

Half his face was Wilhelm’s, the other half burned and grotesquely scarred.

“I am… the real one.”

Now, he would become real.

There was no longer any need to hide—

Nor any need to remain hidden.