Chapter 257
Chapter 257
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 257
Chapter Title: One Empire, Three Legends (16)
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"....It was you."
At the werewolf's eerie voice, the marquis lifted his chin with the tip of his halberd, meeting his eyes.
“That's right. It was me who captured you all and runs the arenas. Now that we've met like this, I suppose I should at least thank you. Thanks to you lot, a concubine's son with no claim to succession rose to become a marquis. The Second Prince's mother, Empress Therene, prepared everything from when he was young. After rolling around in the eastern boonies with beasts for a few years, I came back to find all my brothers dead. For the price of selling those beasts, it was quite impressive. We raised you well enough, turning you into proper members of society, didn't we? Better than being sold off as playthings for pampered nobles, right? Living as gladiators was far superior.”
Drip—
Seeing the red blood trickling from where the spear tip had dug slightly into his Adam's apple, the marquis offered his sincere congratulations.
“Congratulations on your victory, Benad Pang. I'm glad I can give you the truth you wanted. So, you've gotten what you desired. Feeling good?”
“Not.... bad.”
“Hahaha. It's fortunate everything ends well. I'll cover today's losses by selling your head. As a legend who's seen the end of two arenas, some noble collector will want it.”
Shing—
Seeing Borca's dazed eyes, the marquis lost interest and raised his halberd high. As the spear tip rose to the ceiling of the tall chamber and the broad blade caught the light, flashing brightly.
“Any last words?”
"....Do it.”
“Hm?”
Borca wasn't looking at the marquis, but behind him. The balcony overlooking the city. Sensing the promised time approaching, Borca opened his mouth as he saw the shadow falling over the balcony.
“Wolves.... hunt in packs, Marquis.”
“What do you—”
“If you're only watching the fangs charging from the front. You'll get your throat torn out by the one coming from behind!”
Kwaaaang!
Before the marquis could question the dying werewolf's smile, something massive flew from the sky, smashing through the arena's ceiling and crashing down.
『Graaaah! Too. Far. Holy Punch. Sent my. Body flying. All the way here? Ahh, Saint good job.』
“Wouldn't it be better if 80% of the crap coming out of that maw just didn't exist, Hide? Hey, Borca! You started without me! How's it feel? Worth the revenge?”
Pretending to fight the red mutant (Hide).... while gleefully smashing up the Marquis of Bildrant's domain and slyly inching toward its edge, Professor.
After confirming Notum emerging from the marquis's mansion clutching stacks of paper-like documents and entering the colosseum, Professor shouted loudly for all to hear as he punched Hide in the face. The wicked monster let out a hideous screech from the holy punch and had just plummeted into the colosseum right beside them.
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- Jokasss: Kekekeke! Ma! Our Saint single-handedly pulled off the Blood Rite too! One straight punch and he sent a house-sized monster flying—that's what I'm saying!
- Take a Look: Marquis's face is insane lololol Suddenly a fusion monster saint flies into the top of the colosseum, absurd enough, but through that smashed wall lololol
- Deer Drug Please: ??? : Arena wall shatters so I look over. And my whole territory beyond it is collapsed. Tears came the moment I saw it.
- Holy: Our Saint is great at smashing!
- Deer Drug Please: Hero landing (crushed about 12 people with back and knees.)
- Take a Look: Kid seemed kinda high earlier, turns out he was rolling in the marquis's drug fields 10 seconds ago.
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As people said, the marquis's face looked like the word "absurd" had been etched onto it.
Just this morning, he'd eaten breakfast gazing at the golden fields spread before that balcony, yet in less than half a day, his castle was dust, raging priests were swinging maces and forming a siege, for some reason.
“Heh heh heh. So flat~ and empty, not even a shadow in sight. Lord Haram will love it, Marquis of Bildrant.”
『Annoying.』
The monster—whatever it was—with the saint and the pitch-black thing stuck to it was winking with its two heads and thumbs-upping.
Bang!
“Grok, couldn't find 'cause too many rooms, came at breaking sound. Contracts. Important stuff brought.”
As if that wasn't all, the troll burst through the dented door, clutching the contracts that absolutely shouldn't be here like priceless treasures, squeezing them crumpled tight.
“Gah, kehiiik! L-Let go! I'm an imperial noble, goblin noble—Kiyaaaaak!”
The marquis, certain something had gone wrong, tried to command the mercenaries and gladiators gathered here, but even they were dragged away by pale hands crawling from the shadows.
“What.... What in the world is this? You there! What have you done!”
In the chaotic inferno that would drive even an elf mad, the equally deranged marquis raised his halberd, while Borca, supported by Notum, met the marquis's trembling eyes.
“I told you plainly enough for even a beast to understand. Watch your back. You even said yourself, 'I can't fathom why you'd provoke me so boldly.' Didn't it occur to you that if it didn't make sense, there might be some trick?”
“Bait....?”
“To take down an arena alone, you can't be picky about methods. Oh, and four years ago, poison in the water and incense burners. Even a beast has the brains to use tools against an overwhelming foe.”
“Thanks to that, all the important ones were gathered here, made it easy to rampage. Man, I just wanna list out where your life went wrong step by step, but our friend's missing an arm, so time's short.”
He didn't need to say it. The territory vanished without a trace. The time and money poured into it included not just his, but the Second Prince's. His private soldiers that formed his foundation were gone, his wealth missing, and now his own life in peril.
“You.... you beast! You said they were your spawn! Kill me, and those contracts live forever! By imperial law, dissolving a 'living property' contract requires a noble council of three or more nobles to judge its validity! Three nobles, two contract parties! Without meeting that minimum, those contracts can never, ever be voided! Kill me, and your spawn live as slaves forever! After I die, the next owner inherits my estate—or if none, it's reclaimed by the empire as imperial property! Forever!”
Seeing Borca's face stiffen, the marquis felt a sliver of hope. Yes, survive this mad scene first. He's a man who started from nothing. If he lives, he can use the countless connections he's built to rise again.
‘The contracts are for nobles anyway. Escape here, find a contract mage, recreate the documents from the records using magic, get the contracts back, then use the spawn's lives as leverage to drag out that damned wolf and slaughter him....’
“Aa~ noble trial? Cornered and yelling 'let's do it by the law'—classic thug move. Fine, by the law then.”
Cutting off the marquis's musings was the shrunken monster and the horrific saint who'd split the body half-and-half.
Grinning, Professor dragged over a chair where the marquis's retainers had sat. Taking the contracts from Notum, Professor bellowed before three empty chairs.
“Aa, no time for ceremony. Now~ we commence the noble trial on whether to void the contracts between Marquis of Bildrant and Borca Dalun et al., 378 slave gladiators~”
“W-What?”
“First, red corner~ from 21 to 42, climbed from noble wastrel to knight to marquis on dirty money alone, Marquis of Bildrant. Blue corner~ contract parties, excluding 74 gladiators unable to attend due to personal circumstances, the 304 who 'were' gladiators. This insane contract deals with ownership of skin, blood, flesh, and [everything] after the subject's death, so you survivors were still bound as parties.”
『Uuuu.... Uuuuuuu!!!』
At Aldrich's quiet gesture ascending the stairs, vengeful spirits flooded the chamber. Beneath the dim sky with falling snow, eerie wails filled the colosseum.
“Let me see.... Need nobles, right? Anyone with imperial noble status, come forward one by one?”
At Professor's call, Yggdrasil stepped forward from behind.
“As an elf who witnessed the inaugural emperor's coronation. By imperial law, the representative elf holds rights equivalent to a permanent duke. I'm not from the elf forest but the branch house equivalent, Carnean—the only elf out in the human world, thus holding representative rights.”
With her declaration, as Yggdrasil sat, fire lit in one noble slot on the magic contract, acknowledging her right.
“Next, me. I, Black Mage Aldrich. Vanished without trace in an inexplicable incident, but never joined treason or disloyalty, so still formally on the imperial noble rolls as the last survivor of House Tel dmaier. Head of House Tel dmaier, Aldrich Tel dmaier, attends the trial.”
Flash!
Fire entered the second chair.
“And third. The third.... Hm....”
Thanks to Aldrich revealing a bit of his past last night, he'd learned how the empire worked, enabling this plan. The biggest hurdle was three nobles—even forcing it, religious figures couldn't exercise noble rights, so he'd agonized over it.
Bang!
“Hah, hah! G-Gently, hero! Paths and buildings all smashed, hard to walk! Hooo.... Not late?”
Professor pointed at the empty chair instead of answering, and Lucilla stepped forward boldly, catching her breath.
“I, Lucilla Aedran. Noble of Tel drat, child of House Aedran. Foreign noble, but having received a writ from the imperial family, treated as a single barony with rights within the empire, thus attending.”
.
.
.
.
Flicker!
After wavering ambiguously, the final fire lit on the contract.
Contractor and contractee. And three nobles for the trial.
Glancing at stumbling Borca, Professor knocked the broken table three times and shouted.
“Now, noble trial begins! Skip everything, straight to verdict! Nobles—?”
“I recognize the contract as null.”
“I acknowledge the contract as worthless.”
“I affirm the contract cannot stand.”
Thud thud thud!
“Done! Contract, voided!”
The slapdash trial lasted under five minutes. Instead of a gavel, a solid fist banged the table to end it.
『Oooo.... Aaaaaa.....』
As the contract binding life and death finally vanished, the souls it held began returning whence they came.
“This can't be.... How, how in one morning! My life's work, gone in half a day! Impossible, impossible! Th-This!”
He could see at a glance the magic-laced contract reduced to worn scrap paper. Sensing everything gone, the marquis lost his mind and swung his halberd wildly.
“Hm. The math doesn't add up for sure.”
Nodding at the sight, Professor snatched a sword from a nearby crushed mercenary's hand and handed it to Borca.
“Your dad over there did 15 years solo. 378 contracts, so roughly same years means 5,670 for the gladiators.... They took about 283.5 times the loss. Doesn't add up. Hey, surviving gladiators. Wanna collect the remainder?”
As he handed over the sword with a flourish, even Borca let out a chuckle.
“How much?”
“Let me see.... Mid-50s looks, bad guys live till they're shitting the walls, so to 100 means about 50 years payback.”
Borca gauged the sword's weight in his hand. Longer than a gladiator sword, but decent enough.
“....Not bad.”
The werewolf gripped the sword in his only arm and limped toward the marquis.
“You, it all went wrong after you came! You beast, you took everything from me—!”
The marquis's halberd whirled like a gale in blind rage, flicking aside Borca's weakened sword.
Crunch!
Borca released the sword, his fangs clamping the marquis's nape.
Crack, crunch.
The snap of neck bones and a brief death rattle.
The bell tolling the end of the Haunu Man Tournament.
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