Fate: I Will Eventually Become the Hero of Justice II

Chapter 281

Since a young age, she had always admired her father, Uther Pendragon.

Oh, how impressive her father was!

Amidst the chaos of the battlefield, amidst the bloodshed and scars, he remained unyielding, undeterred by the wounds inflicted upon him by his enemies. With swift and decisive actions, he severed their heads, further cementing his reputation of honor and glory.

Witnessing her father in action, everyone instinctively bowed their heads in submission. Even the most formidable warriors dared not display impudence in his presence.

That was true power, that was a king.

All were required to bow before the king, and the feeble were deemed fit only to be subjugated.

Hence, from an early age, a seed of conquest took root within her heart.

She stood apart from her peers, distinct in her disdain for weakness, her abhorrence of fragility, and her profound admiration for strength.

The sight of girls who wept and fawned over men, as if their very existence depended on them, was particularly vexing.

Her two sisters, in particular, would adorn themselves and, with delicate expressions, insist that they were simply women. They didn't need to navigate survival like men did. They should embrace their femininity, lean on men more, and strive to be pleasing to them.

She found it utterly laughable.

As the daughter of the king, a powerful conqueror, ravager, how could she be a weak rabbit?

Furthermore, the fact that men could accomplish certain things did not imply that women were incapable of doing so. Why must women constantly rely on men? Why should they constantly seek validation from them?

Perhaps society dictated such notions from the very moment she was born as a female.

Many surrendered to this belief and complied with it, but she was unlike the rest.

She refused to become a feeble rabbit. She wanted to become a lion, a conqueror, a king.

She also possessed the inherent potential to claim the title of a King.

Within her flowed the dormant power of the island, an inheritance that should have faded with the passing of her father's generation.

Her father, recognizing this unexpected revelation, took the extraordinary step of sending her, at the tender age of five, to a convent renowned for its specialized teachings in magecraft.

She believed that her father's intention was to pass the throne onto her, and with that in mind, she dedicated herself wholeheartedly to her training.

By the time she reached fifteen years of age, she had already emerged as the most exceptional sorceress within the confines of the convent.

To her dismay, her father displayed no indication of passing the throne to her. Instead, he orchestrated a clandestine scheme by forging a vessel to contain the essence of the ideal king, while simultaneously arranging her betrothal to the young King of Orkney.

The revelation ignited a blazing fury within her, an anger that surged through her veins. She wanted to curse her father and that child to their very demise. Yet, in the end, she restrained herself.

Because she was a woman, destined to never inherit the royal power and family lineage. Meanwhile, that child was a boy, capable of inheriting the throne and continuing the lineage.

So she swallowed her anger and resigned herself to her fate.

Perhaps no one noticed, not even herself, that her supposed strength, her so-called toughness, deep down, was no different from that of an ordinary woman—fragile.