Chapter 143
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 143
“Lucaus Custoria?”
“That… Irregular? Wait.”
The soldiers at the checkpoint entrance panicked. A veteran standing behind them recognized me, his face twisting into a frown.
“If you’re heading to the Upper District, go quietly by yourself. Don’t cause trouble.”
The soldier who recognized me stepped up to the yellow boundary line. We’d never spoken, of course. I only knew his face.
“I’m sorry,” I said, a crooked smirk playing on my lips. “But I came here specifically to cause trouble.”
The soldier scowled and retreated back into the checkpoint.
Chaos erupted at the entrance. Unsure how to handle me, the soldiers scrambled to contact their superiors.
“Waaaaah! It’s Luka! The real Luka is here!”
“I knew he’d be on our side!”
Cheers erupted from the protesters behind me. Those who recognized me passed my name through the crowd. Like a spreading wave, they began chanting.
Yes, I was the man of the hour. Anyone with even a passing interest in gossip would have heard my name.
“The Noble Hunter!”
“Luka! Luka!”
They called me Luka, not Lucaus.
Suddenly, a medium-sized hologram flickered to life from within the crowd. Someone was replaying a recording of my speech.
“My name is Lucaus Custoria. Every Imperial subject has the right to be protected under the shield of the Empire… This is a right of the Imperial people, declared by the first Emperor, His Majesty Dino Cracia.”
A life-sized projection of me repeatedly declared the rights of the Imperial people, my voice echoing far and wide.
Emboldened, the protesters edged closer to the boundary line. Each time they advanced, fierce warnings of live fire rang out.
Bang! Bang!
The soldiers fired warning shots into the air, and the protesters momentarily shrank back.
Step. Step.
A man emerged from the depths of the checkpoint. I tried connecting to the Upper Network to verify his identity.
Static.
Only static flickered across my retinal display. My access had been revoked. It seemed Kinuan had already taken care of it. I was completely blacklisted.
Lieutenant Colonel Shuwell Casert. Commander of the 7th Checkpoint, most likely.
I read the man’s name tag and rank. A lieutenant colonel here would hold the position of checkpoint commander. One of the insignias on his chest was a golden sword, marking him as former Imperial Guard. I never expected to run into a former superior here.
Salute.
I gave a brief salute. Lieutenant Colonel Casert returned it as he walked up to the boundary line.
“Your fame is irrelevant; you’re overstepping your authority. You are, at best, a cadet with no standing to interfere in checkpoint operations. But that’s stating the obvious. You’re no fool, so you must have known that. Are you here to commit mutiny?”
How deeply involved was Shuwell Casert in this?
It wasn’t as if the entire military and Imperial Guard had turned on the Imperial Family. The vast majority were completely in the dark. A tiny minority was carefully orchestrating this coup, and once they succeeded, the neutral factions would naturally fall in line with the victor.
Most people probably see this as nothing more than public unrest.
But there would be collaborators scattered everywhere, covertly manipulating events. Lieutenant Colonel Casert could easily be one of them.
“I have no desire to commit mutiny,” I said, righteous arguments flowing smoothly from my lips. “I am merely representing the rights of the Imperial people. They want safety and protection. They are not rioters.”
But righteousness was just an argument. Reality couldn’t be overcome with mere principles. Naturally, I didn’t believe a single word I was spouting. It was nothing more than a plausible pretext.
Reality was cruel. Insidious elements were hiding in the crowd, just waiting for a chance to turn this protest into a full-blown riot. Keeping them out was, in fact, the wise decision.
“There are rioters mixed in with them. The Upper District isn’t entirely safe either. Over thirty percent of its sectors have been locked down due to riots. This is unprecedented. And…”
Lieutenant Colonel Casert hesitated, then seemed to communicate with someone. He took a step back and raised his hand.
“…Lucaus Custoria. Your transit authorization has just been revoked. If you cross that line, we will open fire. Please, value your life.”
It seemed orders had come down from on high.
The checkpoint’s defenses tightened further. Soldiers lined the hundred-meter boundary, the elevators and stairs behind them looking like fortress walls.
Whirrr, whirrr.
A heavy, metallic hum echoed through the air, a sound that instantly snuffed out the protesters’ courage. One by one, those at the very front of the crowd began to back away.
Myrmidon full-armor prosthetics.
Two pitch-black exosuits stepped forward. Though considered entry-level, mass-produced models compared to the Legion, they were still indisputably an elite Imperial military unit.
The appearance of the Myrmidons shifted the atmosphere entirely. The weapons they carried were so massive they were practically cannons, the barrels wide enough to fit a human head. Their firepower wouldn’t just blow a man’s head off; it would vaporize him.
“The Sword of the Empire is pointing its blade at the very people it’s meant to protect,” I said.
Lieutenant Colonel Casert just chuckled.
“Say what you will, we will hold this position. That is my duty, and it is theirs. Do you think Imperial soldiers are so weak-willed they’d be swayed by the words of some greenhorn? If our blades changed direction every time someone spouted idealistic nonsense, the Empire would have collapsed long ago. The Empire has stood firm against countless threats because of the heroes who silently hold their posts.”
At Casert’s words, the wavering in the soldiers’ eyes vanished. They remembered their mission. A capable commander always gives his soldiers a justification.
“You won’t be able to hold them back forever,” I said, taking another step forward. The Myrmidons’ barrels pivoted toward me.
“No matter what a prodigy of the Imperial Guard you are, you’re absurdly arrogant. Do you truly believe you can break through here by force?”
I closed my eyes, listening. The hairs on my neck felt like antennae, a sensory organ I never knew I had suddenly coming to life.
Rustle.
I opened my eyes and looked back.
Pushing through the heavy wind and rain, more people were gathering. I saw the elderly and the weak, those who hadn’t participated before. Individual by individual, they were coalescing into a massive torrent.
“You can scoop up spilled water with your hands, but you can’t scoop up a flood.”
I couldn’t change the existing current with my strength alone. In that case, I had to create a new one and crash it against them.
A crowd is a massive, uncontrollable torrent. I had no idea if this current would work for or against me. I could be swept away and killed by the very turbulence I was creating.
But I needed chaos—a chaos so deep that no one could predict even a single step ahead. Even if it put me in danger, I had to endure it.
To hold a blade to the throat of the powerful from a position of weakness, one needs variables. The more complex and unpredictable the variable, the greater its effect.
…The grand principle of Akies Victima.
Always keep chaos by your side.
This was Kinuan’s realm. He was an indeterminate existence—an ally and an enemy, weak and strong. His every word and action was simultaneously truth and lie. Clad in the armor of chaos, Kinuan wielded possibility as his weapon.
Compared to him, I was still woefully lacking. It was only natural. I had only just taken my first step.
Drip.
I wiped the blood trickling from my nose with my thumb. My headache had become so chronic it was tedious to even think about.
“Come inside, Lucaus. We’ll speak privately.”
Sensing something was wrong, Lieutenant Colonel Casert stepped aside, clearing a path for me. The two Myrmidons lowered their weapons.
The protest was swelling to an abnormal size. They had gathered after hearing I was confronting the soldiers at the checkpoint. The crowd likely believed they had come of their own free will, but they were being guided by my intent.
Ilay is doing his part.
The people Ilay had planted throughout Akbaran were on the move. Even the life-sized hologram of me had been recorded by one of his agents.
Ilay’s own power and influence weren’t that great. Under normal circumstances, he couldn’t have started a movement like this. But now, with me as a focal point, even his meager strength could generate a torrent. Just as a slight push starts a snowball rolling downhill, the current was expanding on its own.
Now, my role is what matters.
Ilay had given the push; it was my turn to roll.
“According to orders from above, I’m not allowed inside, am I?”
“…That much is within my discretion. If you won’t come in, I’ll have you detained by force.”
The situation was on a hair-trigger. There was no telling when the protesters might become a mob, and their numbers were still growing. Soon, they would be impossible to control.
“It will be difficult to force me to do anything without killing me.”
My fingers brushed the hilt of my sword. My other hand slipped inside my coat, as if preparing to draw a pistol.
I shifted the focus of my senses, ignoring the protesters. Their shouts and curses vanished as if they had been severed from my reality.
…Silence.
My sight and hearing were trained solely on the soldiers. Their arms and hands kept twitching. At a glance, they seemed to be waiting for orders, but their emotional signals were clear: agitation and fear.
The soldiers at the checkpoint didn’t have the stomach for a massacre. There were children in the crowd, the elderly and the weak, all chasing the hope of finding safety in the Upper District.
“Just because water overflows doesn’t mean you have to scoop it back up,” Lieutenant Colonel Casert muttered, his pupils gleaming with a chilling light. “No, there’s no need to scoop up contaminated water.”
Damn it. As expected of a former Imperial Guardsman, his decision was swift.
Snap!
Lieutenant Colonel Casert raised his hand, ordering his men to prepare to fire. The soldiers reluctantly raised their barrels toward the protesters.
“Tsk. It’s best to drive them back before the crowd gets any larger. It can’t be helped.”
He sighed and drew his own pistol. If the commander led by example, the Imperial soldiers would pull their triggers, however reluctantly.
I need to buy more time.
My original plan was to maintain a standoff, swelling the protesters’ ranks while keeping the tension high. But Lieutenant Colonel Casert was no pushover.
Prevent a greater sacrifice with a smaller one. Even if hundreds died here, it was better than letting thousands of rioters run rampant. That was likely his judgment.
It will be difficult to break through with force alone.
Guarding the checkpoint were the lieutenant colonel, his soldiers, and two Myrmidons.
My mind raced, formulating a battle plan. A frontal clash was out. I’d have to capture Casert and use him as a hostage.
But he would choose death over being a hostage. He’d tell them to shoot right through him.
My own tactical assessment rejected the plan. I needed a better one.
I have to prevent a massacre while maintaining the standoff.
No suitable method came to mind.
And I had run out of time.
Click.
Lieutenant Colonel Casert was pulling the trigger. He wasn’t aiming at me, but at the protesters.
Whirrr!
My hand moved in an instant. The tip of my Crucis crossed the boundary line, striking his pistol at an angle.
Clang!
The bullet tore through empty air. The shattered pistol spun away, clattering to the ground.
I didn’t press the attack. If I drew his blood, we would plunge straight into combat, leaving no room for talk.
“Fast and sharp, just as your reputation suggests,” Casert said.
“I should hope so. I’m better than someone who’s retired from active duty.”
Under different circumstances, this might have been a pleasant conversation.
Step.
Without another word, Lieutenant Colonel Casert stepped back, raising his hand beside the Myrmidons. Their massive barrels aimed forward. The moment he lowered his hand, a barrage of high-output firepower would begin.
There’s no other way.
I have to fight. If the protesters disperse or are neutralized here, I’m finished too.
I prepared for battle, ramping up my output.
Whirrrrr!
At that exact moment, the roar of an engine echoed from above. An aerial vehicle was hurtling toward us at tremendous speed.
Everyone’s eyes shot upward.
Screeech!
The vehicle wobbled, shaking violently and even scraping against a high-rise building. Its flight was incredibly unstable. The no-fly zone hadn’t been declared for nothing; with normal traffic, this would have caused a chain reaction of major accidents.
Piercing the wind and rain, the vehicle drew close enough to be seen clearly with the naked eye. It couldn’t quite manage to land. As it maintained its precarious hover, the vehicle’s underbelly opened, and someone descended as if simply dropping. The first thing that caught the eye was a crimson cloak.
Lieutenant Colonel Casert and I recognized the situation faster than anyone. We dropped to one knee in a show of respect.
Thud!
A magnificent cloak fluttered, defying the heavy rain and gravity. The yellow boundary line cracked and split beneath the figure’s feet as he landed.
“The… The Crimson Crown Prince?” someone at the front of the protest screamed, forgetting all manners and pointing an insolent finger.
Fransek Cracia had graced this place with his presence. His pupils burned with a golden light, radiating an undeniable majesty.