Online Game: Starting With SSS-Ranked Summons-Chapter 349: The Reality of the Betrayal (2)

His pragmatic response was twisted by Nikolas’s poison into proof of betrayal.

To a grieving daughter with a snake whispering in her ear, pragmatism looks like complicity.

Footsteps echoed down the marble hallway.

Prince Alaric rounded the corner and stopped short when he saw his sister.

"Elara? Are you okay? Why do you look like that?"

His voice carried genuine concern, brotherly love untainted by any political schemes that Nikolas had spoken about.

Elara didn’t respond.

Didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

She simply turned and walked away, her movements lifeless.

"Elara?" Alaric whispered, reaching out to touch her hand.

She knocked his arm away with surprising violence, the sound of flesh striking flesh echoing through the corridor.

Alaric stood frozen, his face a mask of confusion and growing concern as his sister disappeared around the corner.

Another relationship is poisoned. Another connection severed.

Arthur watched the future king stare after his sister, helpless to understand what had changed. What had turned his loving sibling into a stranger who recoiled from his touch?

Nikolas isolated her perfectly. Cut her off from every source of truth except himself.

The scene shifted again, this time showing Elara packing belongings into the storage ring.

Beside her, Nikolas helped arrange supplies while maintaining his mask of reluctant support.

"Are you certain about this?" he asked, his tone suggesting he thought it was a mistake while secretly encouraging her decision.

"I won’t stay in a kingdom that betrayed everything I loved," Elara replied, her voice hollow.

"They destroyed my husband, my future, my daughter’s life."

She lifted a bundle from a nearby chair—three-year-old Jasmine, sleeping peacefully in her mother’s arms.

So young. So innocent of the web being woven around her.

In the corner of the room, Regulus sat in a wheeled chair, his aged face vacant. Occasionally, his hands would twitch, but nobody paid it any attention; it had already become a norm after all.

"Where will you go?" Nikolas asked.

"Somewhere they can’t find us. Somewhere, Jasmine can grow up free from their poison."

Free from their poison, but not from his.

The irony was devastating. In fleeing imagined enemies, Elara was delivering herself and her daughter directly into the hands of the true betrayer.

The vision dissolved once more, reality shifting to show a vast cave system deep in mountain wilderness.

The natural caverns had been modified into living spaces, with rough but functional furniture, magical lights providing warmth and illumination. It was primitive compared to royal chambers, but it was a home for the widow and her daughter.

Elara sat by a small fire, now holding the hand of a slightly older Jasmine, perhaps four years old, while Regulus rested nearby on a mattress.

Years have passed. Years of isolation.

"Elara?" Nikolas appeared at the cave entrance, carrying supplies. "Are you sure you want to continue living here?"

His voice carried perfect concern, as if her exile pained him rather than served his purposes.

"I’m sure."

Elara’s response was immediate.

"I don’t want to stay in the kingdom where I was betrayed by my own family. They killed my husband before I could enjoy my time with him. They destroyed my life... my daughter’s life."

How many times has she repeated those words? How many times has he encouraged that narrative?

Arthur could see the weight of years in Elara’s posture. The isolation, the grief, and the constant reinforcement of Nikolas’s version of events had worn her down to a shadow of the vibrant princess from earlier visions.

He’s broken her completely.

Jasmine played quietly near her mother’s feet, building small towers from smooth stones.

Innocent.

Unaware that every moment of her exile was orchestrated by the man she’d learned to call uncle.

The scene began to change again, and Arthur felt his blood run cold at what emerged.

A smaller cavern, furnished as a makeshift bedroom. Young Jasmine—perhaps seven now—lay in a simple bed, covers pulled up to her chin.

Nikolas approached, carrying a small cloth pouch. From it, he withdrew two pills.

One was unmistakable—the same crimson colour as the demonic transformation pills Arthur had encountered before.

No. He wouldn’t. Not to a child.

But the second pill was different. Smaller, darker, with an oily sheen.

"These will help you grow strong, little princess," Nikolas said softly. "Strong enough to avenge your father from those evil nobles when the time comes."

Manipulation from the very beginning. Shaping her into a weapon.

Elara stood nearby, watching with complete trust. Years of isolation and emotional manipulation had left her utterly dependent on Nikolas’s guidance.

She didn’t question the pills. Didn’t ask what they were or why they were necessary.

She trusts him completely. Has no idea she’s watching her daughter’s corruption.

Young Jasmine took the pills without complaint, trusting the man who’d helped raise her, who’d been their provider of healing potions and other kinds of supplies that could only be found in the kingdom, through years of exile.

Arthur’s hands clenched into fists as understanding crashed over him.

The red pill—demonic corruption. But gradual, delayed. Something he could trigger when she was old enough to be useful, perhaps. Otherwise, it would be impossible that she hadn’t activated it yet.

And the black pill... what does that one do?

The scene in front of him had staggering consequences. Every aspect of Jasmine’s life, from birth until now, had been shaped by Nikolas’s long-term planning.

Her life was shaped to meet his goals before she was even born.

Her exile.

Her mother’s hatred of the noble houses.

Her own burning desire for revenge.

All of it orchestrated by the man who’d actually killed her father.

What kind of monster plans this far ahead? What kind of game is he playing?

The vision began to fade, but not before Arthur caught one final detail.

Nikolas, thinking himself unobserved, allowed his mask to slip just slightly.

For one brief moment, his expression showed no concern, no affection.

Only coldness at a plan proceeding exactly as intended.

He’s been playing this game for decades.

The chamber returned to its state, leaving Arthur and Jasmine alone with the terrible revelation.

Every truth she’d held sacred was a lie.

Every enemy she’d planned to fight was innocent.

And the true architect of her family’s destruction had been the one person her mother trusted above all others.