Chapter 82
Chapter 82
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 82
Chapter Title: Must Find
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There are times when it happens.
Like when a car plows into a pedestrian, or a sign falls from overhead—
when something utterly unexpected hits you, you can't even think of how to react and just stare blankly.
That was exactly what Kang Geohan's strike was like right now.
What is this?
The Wolf Queen blinked once.
To her, unleashing her fear aura was as natural as reaching out to grasp an object, and its effect was an undeniable certainty.
When she released her fear aura, everyone cowered in terror.
But what was that? Why isn't it moving?
In that moment, the blade of the Giantslayer's axe came down spewing flames. A scorching gust of heat brushed the Wolf Queen's nape.
Only then did the startled Wolf Queen arch her back like a cat and leap sideways.
BOOM!
The Giantslayer's blow shattered the ground. At that sound, focus returned to the dazed eyes of the riders who had been lost in a trance.
They saw it.
ROOOAR!
Three red golems predicted the Wolf Queen's movements and stuck to her like glue.
The golems seized her nape and legs, bulging their massive, rugged muscles.
KAOOH!
The Wolf Queen shook them off her body like repulsive insects, flinging her whole frame and slashing at the golems with her razor-sharp claws.
Chunks of flesh and muscle were torn away in clumps, red globs of blood spilling out.
Yet the golems clung on to the bitter end.
The Wolf Queen thrashed wildly to shake them off and leaped away, putting distance between them once more.
It was right then.
The instant her attention fixed on Kang Geohan and the golems, creating an opening—
Annihilation Beam—Burst!
Count Kali Stehold charged forward.
From the long, thick hilt gripped in both of Fenrir's hands, dazzling beams erupted alongside devastating iron spheres.
The pure white flash engulfed the Wolf Queen's red eyes.
KABOOOOOM!
A raging blast of heat and explosion.
CRACK! CRUNCH!
The gruesome sound of iron spheres embedding into flesh and bone.
The Wolf Queen's blood scattered like driving snow.
Kyaa....
A groan leaked from the Wolf Queen's crimson maw.
Blood dripped along her fangs, her legs were broken, and her pristine silver fur was matted with gore and chunks of flesh.
But even in that wretched state, the Wolf Queen did not die.
Sizzle—
White smoke rose from her wounds, and they healed slowly but surely, wriggling back together.
The Wolf Queen wrinkled her muzzle, glaring at Count Kali Stehold and Kang Geohan with eyes brimming with murderous intent.
As if vowing she would never forget those two.
KYAAAH!
KAOOOH!
The wolves charged in like mad to save their queen.
Count Kali Stehold shouted.
—Retreat! Fall back!
'This is enough.'
Killing the queen would force a desperate battle to the death with the wolves. Withdrawing now was the right call.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
At the count's command, the 18 surviving Linekarl golems left the battlefield in unison.
AOOOOOH!
Behind them, the wolves howled while protecting their queen.
Their positioning was perfect. Unintentional, but the wolf pack ended up guarding the retreating Linekarl forces' rear.
The enraged wolves forgave no human who approached, and Rogot's golems, lacking the confidence to break through the pack, had no choice but to abandon the pursuit.
—Damn it...! Damn it all...!
Whether they accepted it or not, the fierce battle came to an end just like that.
The devastated battlefield was left with tattered golems, overturned and wrecked vehicles, and the wretched cries of Rogot soldiers.
* * *
The Linekarl Kingdom had no slaves. There were serfs and corvée laborers who effectively provided slave-like forced labor, but it was accurate to say there were no slaves in the Rogot sense.
Rogot, on the other hand, had a vast number of slaves. What they provided their masters wasn't just labor—it was their very lives.
"Hey! Requisition a hundred waste-class slaves! Too many wounded!"
"Y-Yes, sir! Right away!"
Slave merchant Massimo prostrated himself flat on the ground as he replied. His voice trembled with tension and fear.
He had heard something important was arriving from the homeland today. But what actually showed up were defeated remnants.
Pitifully crumpled golems and soldiers torn and crushed everywhere.
Watching that miserable procession, his master's face had twisted like a demon's.
On days like this, he couldn't afford even the slightest slip-up.
Only after the messenger delivered the order and hurried away did Massimo lift his forehead from the floor.
"A hundred...."
Sadness flickered in his eyes. But there was no helping it.
Step by step.
Passing through the slaves' living quarters, Massimo was starkly confronted with the reality bearing down on them.
"KYAAAAH!"
"AAAAAAGH!"
Screams never ceased from the workshops on the outskirts of the slave quarters.
A long line of slaves stretched out in front of the workshops.
They stood there listlessly, heads bowed, shoulders trembling, eyes vacant.
Why were those slaves standing there like that?
Simple math.
By adding actual humans as material, it was possible to produce superior prosthetic limbs at low cost.
In other words,
Kill one slave to grant new limbs to twenty dying soldiers.
Rogot was a nation that deemed that far more profitable.
That's why Rogot always kept a steady supply of disposable slaves—waste-class slaves—ready for "material procurement."
In Rogot, slaves were just another commodity.
But for Massimo, who had to requisition a hundred today and knew each of their faces, names, ages, and stories, he couldn't comprehend that horrific calculus.
But there was no helping it.
He had to do what his master ordered.
Select a hundred and send them to the workshops.
Whether he understood or not didn't matter.
The world was a monster that kept turning regardless.
Massimo steadied his trembling shoulders.
One fact to keep in mind.
A major battle had occurred, and the damage to his master was immense.
He had to stay sharp and survive this ordeal.
* * *
Eastern border fortress.
A room that had once been Count Kali Stehold's office.
In the conference room opposite, Rogot Empire's commanders gathered.
THUD!
A man with stiff, boar-like whiskers slammed the round table and raised his voice.
"What? I said we should've wiped them out from the start, didn't I?!"
The man seated across from him frowned.
"Come on! Don't bring up what we all decided together like that."
"What do you mean 'all decided'? I said from the beginning we needed to eliminate the remnants first! How are you going to take responsibility for this now?! What face do we show House Harris?!"
An awkward silence fell over the conference room.
The man ranting as if trying to dodge blame was annoying, but no one had a retort.
Ragna von Harris, one of the Empire's Five Heroes called the Giant, had fallen.
His house would grieve and rage.
In Rogot's nobility society, woven with spiderweb-like connections, this was no one's business but their own.
As allies, they would share the loss and sorrow; as those responsible, they would have no face; most would fear innocent sparks flying their way.
Of course, those with enmity would secretly gloat.
Though they wouldn't show it, usually.
"Ha, really. As if dying to the enemy is something honorable. Since when did that become a campaign boast?"
Early thirties. A young noble with gray hair slicked back froze the room cold.
"...Say that again."
"Why? Is my voice that sweet to you?"
THUD!
The boar-whiskered baron slammed the table,
SCRAPE!
And three or four other nobles shoved their chairs back, rising as if to lunge.
All from houses allied with House Harris.
In response, nobles from the young noble's faction straightened their shoulders, ready to jump in.
Just as a brawl seemed imminent in that tense moment,
"Please, everyone, calm down for a moment."
A calm voice cut through the conference room.
The Rogot Empire was a nation where nobles' and emperor's authority were evenly matched.
Like the relationship between a Republic of Korea captain and a warrant officer—on the surface, the emperor held higher status and power, but he couldn't ignore the nobles.
Especially in decision-making, like a parliament speaker and members, the emperor couldn't rule unilaterally; he had to gather nobles' opinions.
Clans divided into factions vied sharply against the emperor's faction, which held undeniable though not overwhelming power.
Military balance was the same.
If the nobles had the Empire's Five Heroes, the emperor had the Three Lords.
Knights raised by the imperial house, loyal only to the emperor—the strongest of all.
Not born noble like great aristocrats, they were living legends who seized ducal-level prestige through effort and skill.
Knowing the insane trials to reach the Three Lords' ranks, nobles respected their authority.
Even if not genuinely, they pretended to.
For each word they spoke represented the emperor's will.
Thus, when Lainel von Rogotgard—one of the Three Lords and supreme commander of this war—spoke, the fired-up nobles halted their clashes and turned to him.
"The Empire has suffered a great loss. It is right to mourn and devise countermeasures. But isn't that for the imperial palace and senate to decide? We on the front lines must focus on the battles at hand. That is the path to maximizing the Empire's and our houses' interests."
Irrefutable straight talk.
As the nobles listened intently, Lainel von Rogotgard continued calmly.
"The key fact we must note is that the enemy was far stronger than we anticipated."
He tapped the round table with his finger.
"Especially Count Kali Stehold's prowess exceeded all expectations. Reports say he wielded an ability manipulating space itself."
"Hmm...."
"Indeed...."
Groans erupted here and there.
The mere existence of a space-manipulating ability was shocking.
What oparts would you need to find for such parts? Even if found, how could a human wield that power?
Yet Count Kali Stehold had accomplished it all.
"And she's not alone. Viscount Lux Heyend, rated as strategically gifted but militarily weak, held out to the end against a master-class rider. Even... one elite-class rider with a bright future perished this time. The Black Titan, highly acclaimed... what a pity."
GRIND!
Someone gnashed their teeth fiercely.
The rider of the Black Titan was his nephew. A knight who reached elite class in his mid-twenties.
In Linekarl terms, among the top silver knights—elite of the elite.
If he had grown naturally, he would have become ace-class, then master-class, shining glory on his house.
Losing such a precious talent to a rider from a minor nation like Linekarl fueled uncontainable rage and shame.
"Quite the famous one. Piloted a giant axe-wielding machine. Made waves riding a Cyclops against titans, but looks like he switched to a Yotun this time."
Tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.
Lainel von Rogotgard's fingers drummed a rhythm on the table. Then, abruptly, they stopped.
"So, the conclusion is this: They're strong. They may grow even stronger. They're a threat to the Empire, our mortal foes. It's regrettable we didn't kill them sooner, but we must find and crush them now, no matter what."
Killing intent coiled thickly around his previously calm, level voice.
"That's the way to serve the Empire and our houses! Dispatch all your houses' best pursuit specialists. Wherever they hide...."
SLAM!
He struck the table with his palm, finishing.
"We must find them, kill them, and impale their corpses on pikes as an example."