Chapter 126
Chapter 126
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 126
Chapter Title: Forces Assemble
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“Keeeh~ Sparkly sparkly Golden Castle~ Shining so beautifully~ From this side of the sky~ From that side of the sky~ Sparkly sparkly Golden Castle~ My lord is super tough~ Kkiek!?”
“Shut up.”
The spirit bobbed around on top of the bathtub, humming a bizarre song that had neither theme nor context, until it got flicked on the forehead and put on a sullen face.
“Hey, why’d you do that? I’m gonna hire a bard later to spread the legend of me and my lord far and wide.”
“Cut the nonsense and scrub my back.”
“Yep.”
With a *pororong~* , Mirian flew up and landed on Eugene’s back, where she spat and scrubbed away vigorously.
At first, it had felt a bit gross somehow, but now—aside from the *ptoo ptoo!* sounds—it was actually pretty refreshing and invigorating.
“Oh, but my lord. These tattoo thingies here. Only seven left now, huh?”
“Is that right?”
The tattoos, which had started at twelve, now had five erased.
Each time, he’d gained a new ability, and all of them had been a huge help.
Black Scale Mail, camouflage, transformation, language deciphering, and most recently, the berserker ability.
‘The berserker one... I should avoid using it if at all possible.’
Amplifying all abilities twofold for a few minutes was an incredible effect, but the drawback of total exhaustion afterward was way too severe.
It was an ability he absolutely shouldn’t use unless it was a do-or-die moment.
‘But as the tattoos disappear, my innate vampire abilities keep awakening one by one.’
First came the power to wield Fear, and after that, it had steadily grown stronger. Now, Charm had emerged.
No, it was more accurate to say it was an existing ability that had awakened.
And Eugene was convinced it was connected to the tattoos vanishing.
‘The tattoos were a kind of seal. And the ones who placed that seal...’
Three figures—a man and two women—growing clearer bit by bit each time he consumed a red mana stone and a tattoo faded.
Eugene was half-convinced that they were the ones who had tattooed him.
Because.
‘The ones I saw as a child weren’t them. It was from looking up while collapsed.’
This time, he’d clearly realized the smiles they wore were blatant sneers.
‘It’s highly likely those three did this to me. But why?’
They could’ve just killed him, so why seal him and leave him alive? And when and where had it happened?
‘One thing’s for sure: I need to erase all the tattoos.’
Seven still remained, but fortunately, Brantia was full of mana realms.
Red mana stone-bearing monsters were exceedingly rare, of course, but if he kept up this pace, he could wipe them all out in as little as a year, or at most two or three.
‘For now, I need to keep taking over Brantia.’
“Yeah, yeah! You’re basically king now. The Demon King Overlord! Keehehehehe!”
The spirit of desire laughed frivolously, as if Eugene were already Brantia’s king.
Eugene considered telling him something completely at odds with his expectations, but let it slide.
He didn’t want to disappoint the guy prematurely, and besides, he was aiming for something greater than mere kingship of Brantia.
* * *
“Whoa? What’s all this?”
“Your armor.”
“Ooooh!”
Ulfgan and the Beowulf warriors lit up with joy upon receiving custom plate coats and wolf-head helmets.
Other beastkin warriors might’ve invoked their warrior pride and refused, but the Perseus Beowulf warriors—who had clashed with continental knights—thought differently.
They knew from bitter experience just how tricky heavily armored foes could be.
“It’s not as good as our armor, but it’ll block most spears, swords, or arrows just fine.”
“Thanks for this. Dark Lord!”
“Man, never thought I’d get to wear gear this fancy in my lifetime!”
The material and finish weren’t top-notch, but these custom pieces were sized for the massive Beowulf warriors with twice the usual plate thickness, so they’d cost a fortune.
“Make it worth the money. I’ll bill you all later. Keep that in mind.”
“Kuhuhu! Of course. Oh, right—word is you’re heading out soon? Who’s the target?”
“The Riward baronial family. Ring any bells?”
“That half-orc sword master? Heard he’s pretty tough.”
The title of sword master clearly wasn’t some playground prize.
Even Beowulf warriors who brushed off most knights were buzzing about him.
“Heard he lopped the heads off those church knights from the continent, too?”
“Yeah. Rumor is he grabbed a ton of armor and weapons as spoils.”
“Made a killing on slaves, too. Man, we should’ve kept some alive instead of killing ’em all.”
“What good’s slaves you can’t even talk to? They’d just eat us out of house and home anyway.”
“Eat? Now I’m craving meat outta nowhere.”
“Me too. Wanna hit Marin Forest and bag a deer?”
“Hold up. Slaves?”
Eugene cut into the Beowulf warriors’ conversation, which always veered off into the weeds if left alone.
“Yeah. Word is they took a bunch of prisoners and turned ’em into slaves. No way the continentals are coming this far to pay ransoms.”
Eugene turned at Ulfgan’s reply.
“Lanslo. They pushed all the way to Riward barony during the Prayer Book War, right? That’s elite-level.”
“Likely. Probably the first expeditionary force. And I hear those were made up of high-status, renowned nobles from each kingdom.”
“Holy knights too?”
“Not necessarily from Caylor Kingdom, but probably.”
“Hmm.”
Eugene sank into thought.
From all he’d heard and experienced in this life, the nation that despised beastkin and vampires most was Caylor Kingdom.
Other countries varied in intensity, but none matched Caylor’s fervor.
Yet Caylor hadn’t always been that way.
It had changed because of the current king and his regent-cum-shadow-puppeteer, the cardinal.
‘Especially since Caylor’s central church worships only Gahvain as the sole god.’
Other nations’ churches acknowledged gods beyond Gahvain.
Even the theocratic Holy Empire—which fused church and state—recognized Gahvain and two others as the Three Main Gods, treating them equally.
What if the slaves under Riward were continentals not from Caylor Kingdom?
“Galpredic, Lanslo.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
Eugene flashed the two knights a meaningful smile.
“Let’s not just fleece the Riward barony. Grab some extras while we’re at it.”
* * *
The next day.
Galpredic, Lanslo, and Partek’s team quietly departed Krolmarin Castle.
Galpredic felt a twinge of regret at missing real battlefield action, but he understood the gravity of his mission outweighed mere fighting and followed Eugene’s orders without complaint.
Victory didn’t always require spilling blood on the front lines.
Strategy and tactics had to adapt fluidly to the enemy, and in that regard, Galpredic was as exceptional a knight as he was mighty.
After the five departed, Luke—the new Count Krolmarin—issued a muster to all his vassals.
The vassals, well aware of the vampire high noble and Beowulf warriors behind Luke who’d slain the Lycanslope King of Marin Forest, showed up without a single absentee.
It was also the perfect way to demonstrate loyalty to the young count who’d rule the territory for at least the next twenty years.
Five days later.
Eight knights (generous to call them that) and two hundred-odd soldiers arrayed under Krolmarin’s banners.
“I’m Marindorf of Pathos Manor, my lord Count!”
“I’m Reidman of Pensil! For you and Krolmarin, I’d gladly lay down my life...”
The vassals vied to shout their loyalty to Luke.
But despite their fervent tones, their faces were uniformly anxious.
They’d come in person with their troops to prove their loyalty, but they knew exactly what kind of man Baron Riward was—and how vast his forces.
‘What if the count dies right after taking the title?’
‘That monstrous half-orc sword master won’t bother with ransoms.’
‘We won’t all die, right?’
‘Maybe slip away if things look bad...’
Luke seethed with pity and fury at the vassals openly broadcasting their unease through expressions and glances.
But he was Count Krolmarin now.
And his sky-like master watched from right behind.
“I offer my deepest thanks for your honorable resolve.”
“No need for such words, my lord.”
“It’s merely a knight’s duty, Count!”
Luke swallowed his anger at their mismatched words and faces.
“Your noble spirits run so high that I’d love to put you all at the vanguard.”
“...!”
Their uniform startlement only fueled his inner rage.
“But I know your forces are strained from the vicious war incited by the continent’s wicked church. Thus, I’ve decided on a defensive battle.”
Ooooh!
The vassals finally brightened.
Far better to fight from a castle or fortress than face two or three times their number on open plains.
They could negotiate if the situation allowed, and if things turned utterly hopeless...
‘It’ll be easy to betray him then.’
Amid the cheerful mood, as vassals boasted of loyalty and valor, they all harbored similar thoughts.
That was when Eugene stepped forward.
“Milords, you won’t have to fight. Just hold the castle.”
“Pardon?”
The vassals blinked at the words from the vampire high noble—the top contributor to the new count’s ascension and a figure of terrifying power.
“Exactly as I said. Don’t even think of stepping outside. Just stay put. Anyone getting ideas...”
Eugene trailed off and glanced back, and the vassals’ heads swiveled as if entranced.
*Grrrrowl.*
Beowulf warriors in wolf-head helmets and custom armor bared sharp fangs in grins.
“Eek!”
Eugene’s cold voice rang in the ears of vassals so startled some crumpled ungracefully.
“Disobeying orders means summary judgment. Execution. Remember that.”
“Y-Yes, my lord!”
Only then did Krolmarin’s vassals grasp the true power holder.
No amount of professed loyalty to the young count mattered.
The vampire high noble who commanded those foul-tempered, wicked Beowulf warriors with a mere glance—that was their real master.
* * *
Uwaaaaaah!!!
Cheers for the Krolmarin count’s forces—led by the Beowulf warriors—poured from the populace.
The old count had been executed and hung, and a fresh young one now ruled, but the ignorant commoners didn’t care much.
The nobles had hammered home the new count’s legitimacy, and besides, the masses were too busy scraping by to fuss over who sat at the top.
Plus, to these simple folk, handsome and sturdy Luke beat the previous count hands down.
Especially seeing those vile, evil “Perseus mongrels” marching behind the young count brought an inexplicable thrill.
“The count is the best!”
“Krolmarin will triumph!”
“Hooray! Long live the handsome count!”
Some Beowulf warriors grumbled as their mouths protruded a good two feet amid the adulation.
“This makes it look like we’re the count’s underlings.”
“Not wrong, though? Dark Lord’s behind the count, and we’re hired by the Dark Lord.”
“True enough. Tch.”
Truth be told, the Beowulf warriors were quite content with the situation.
Back in the mountains, going three or four days hungry was routine, but since hiring on with Eugene, they’d feasted on meat daily.
From day two, he’d treated them warmly and generously, and now he’d even gifted them splendid armor.
Eugene, the Dark Lord, was peerlessly the best employer.
“But we’re not heading to Pathos Castle?”
“Nah. Just Ulfgan and a few of the guys are going there to guard the count.”
“Then us?”
Eugene, who’d overheard every whisper amid the cheers, turned his head slightly.
“You all—no, we’re doing what we do best.”
“What we do best? What’s that?”
Vampire and Beowulf—once of the same bloodline. One supreme in cunning, the other unmatched in tenacity.
Those two races combining forces for a war where knightly honor meant nothing?
Eugene gave the foregone answer with a cold smile.
“Ambush. Raid.”
(To be continued in the next installment)