Chapter 107
Chapter 107
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 107
Chapter Title: The Mercenary Nation
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The timing was absolutely perfect.
Had the war already broken out, it might have been a different story, but at this moment, neither the Holy Kingdom nor Rzhev had a single reason to refuse.
No, at this point, it was something they would welcome with open arms.
Besides, no matter how they were bound together as a resistance, no matter how they resolved themselves under the name Prometheus, they would eventually have to look past those bonds and consider the interests of their own organizations.
The same was true for the mercenaries. That was why the proposal had been made, with the thought that it was better in many ways to sort things out from the start.
At what was deemed the most opportune moment.
“A mercenary nation… and in the Demonic Realm, no less.”
Krain Rzhev stared blankly at the map, lost in thought.
The Demonic Realm was right behind them. They had served as the Empire's shield, holding back the Demonic Realm from the very front lines.
“Rzhev will gladly offer its aid.”
Now, it was directly at their back. One might feel uneasy about a mercenary nation forming there, but Krain Rzhev readily gave his permission as if there were no problem at all.
Because he believed. In the name Prometheus. In Mike Hoare and Kratos.
“The Holy Kingdom will, of course, help.”
Mike Hoare let out a short laugh.
[Neither Rzhev nor the Holy Kingdom will be able to refuse. The Holy Kingdom needs my purification ability, and Rzhev is clearly indebted to the mercenary corps and to me.]
How was it that Kratos's predictions were never off by a single inch?
[All you have to do is accept, establish the mercenary nation, and stand as one of the three pillars in the coming war. Even looking ahead to after the war, it's better to have things clearly organized from the beginning.]
To think he was already looking past the war. Most people in the Northern Alliance were still worrying about whether they could even win this war. Even he himself was.
[Once the mercenary nation is established, it's simple. You just need to accept all the freelance mercenaries, including those already under our command. And you, Captain, must ascend to the throne of the Mercenary King.]
[Your current skills are sufficient, but if you were to reach the rank of Grand Sword Master, no one would be able to object. Not even the other mercenaries.]
This was a part he hadn't considered himself. It meant becoming a clear focal point. One that no one could doubt.
[Additionally, Hattie Shaw says she will send Haveron and his daughter, Anya, to the Demonic Realm. As you know, Haveron is a top talent in planning, executing, and organizing supply lines. Anya was born with the blessing of mana, so please take good care of her.]
He had heard from Hattie Shaw. That the incident in the capital had been orchestrated to save Haveron and Anya.
It was astounding. The sheer audacity to wreak that much havoc in the Imperial capital to rescue people who had no direct connection to him.
That drive to charge forward without a second thought when he had a true goal—wasn't it just like Lord Prometheus? Of course, the way he moved according to a plan within that chaos was also similar.
“And Haveron, of all people. A talent like that is more than welcome.”
Especially once war broke out, a situation would arise where every single talented individual would be precious. Even Peri Batoni, who had served as his second-in-command and advisor, would have to go to the battlefield.
When that time came, Haveron was someone he could fully trust to manage the mercenary corps.
In some ways, Kratos seemed even more developed than Lord Prometheus.
“Was this a case of the student surpassing the master?”
And he probably didn't know what a great comfort it was to have him here in these chaotic times.
***
Once the decision was made, the preparations were meticulous and the execution swift. In that regard, the leaders of the three nations gathered here were in perfect agreement.
A grand declaration ceremony was quickly prepared in the heart of the Demonic Realm. Of course, its scale might have been small considering the current situation, but looking at the stature of the attendees, it could hardly be called small.
“A mercenary nation? What's that?”
“I know, right? It's not like mercenaries enjoy being tied down to anything.”
“It's just child's play. A gimmick to bulk up their numbers for the war.”
“Exactly. How long will it last? Once the war is over, it'll just dissolve. The mercenaries will all scatter on their own.”
Opinions were sharply divided over the term 'mercenary nation,' something they had never heard before.
“If it's war, it's better to belong to a nation. For getting paid later, too.”
“Whatever you say, it's still Mike Hoare.”
“Still, mercenaries founding a nation. Man, how cool is that?”
Whether their opinions were negative or positive, most had no objections to the rumor that Mike Hoare would become the first Mercenary King.
They figured that with his level of skill, it was only natural for him to become the first Mercenary King.
And on the day of the declaration.
The mercenaries gathered at the venue let out wry smiles at the large, square stage set up in the center.
“Yeah, this is what mercenaries are all about.”
“And Mike Hoare is the one who understands mercenaries best.”
“This is gonna be interesting.”
Their worries had been for naught. After all, Mike Hoare was a man who had lived, and was still living, the life of a mercenary in the truest sense.
Even the opening ceremony's schedule was incredibly simple. Like an appetizer for the main course.
As the main event drew closer, the people gathered there couldn't contain their pounding hearts.
Once the Mercenary Nation was officially declared open, Mike Hoare descended from the dais where he had been seated onto the stage and met the people's eyes.
Some showed anticipation, some a competitive spirit, some fervor. A wide array of emotions was plain to see in their eyes.
“Those who object, speak now.”
He slammed his sword into the ground, a corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.
“I object. I must confirm with my own hands whether you are fit to be the Mercenary King.”
A mercenary with a fiercely competitive look in his eyes stepped onto the stage.
“Good! Your name?”
“Hessen, Captain of the Hessen Mercenary Corps.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Mike Hoare raised his sword.
“Come. See for yourself if I am qualified.”
As an explosive energy erupted from him, Hessen grit his teeth and summoned his own.
Of course, he had no intention of defeating him and seizing the throne of the Mercenary King. He neither had the skill nor the thought to do so in the first place.
However, if this man was to be called their king, he wanted to acknowledge him with his own hands before paying him due respect.
“Here I come.”
Everyone watched with bated breath, marveling at Mike Hoare's unexpected strength and at Hessen, who didn't back down an inch against that energy.
But the match was decided all too easily. A single strike from Mike Hoare shattered Hessen's sword, forcing him to one knee.
The brief clash the two had displayed had something that wouldn't lose out even when compared to a duel between knights.
“My king.”
And Hessen bowed his head with the utmost respect he could muster.
With Hessen's declaration of defeat, the hands of countless mercenaries shot up.
How could one watch such a duel and not be moved? They all felt the same as Hessen.
If they were to choose their king, it would be with their own hands. They would enthrone a king with their own hands.
A second mercenary went up, then a third. And a fourth, a fifth.
The mercenaries in attendance endlessly climbed onto the stage.
And knelt.
They paid homage to their king.
When every mercenary present had paid their respects to the king.
Mike Hoare raised his sword and poured the aura from within his body into it.
To once again feel that edge he had sensed in the southern mountains.
And the aura Mike Hoare shot forth soared from the heart of the Demonic Realm, high into the heavens.
***
The founding of the Mercenary Nation swept through the continent. Mike Hoare, no longer the captain of the White Mercenary Corps, but now the Mercenary King.
Some scoffed, questioning what kind of kingdom it could be, but those with insight sensed the gravity of the situation.
It wasn't important who founded the nation. What mattered was that a nation had been established on this continent ruled by the Empire.
In other words, it signified a crack in the continent's power structure. And it also meant that war was truly not far off.
“As expected. They move fast.”
In a city near the capital, I raised a cool beer into the air, celebrating the beginning of the Mercenary Nation in my own way.
Since I couldn't attend in person.
Before I knew it, my bounty had soared to six million gold. Two incidents in Lubeck, one on the border with the Holy Kingdom, and on top of that, at least several hundred nobles, knights, soldiers, and mages who had met their end at my hands.
“They've drawn attention away well. A bunch of sly old foxes.”
It wasn't just the Mercenary Nation; Rzhev had also officially declared itself an independent city-state.
And to top it off, the Holy Kingdom had sent a congratulatory message, officially recognizing them as nations. Naturally, the Empire protested.
Time passed as all eyes turned to the Northern Alliance.
The Empire, too, was now stretching its coiled body, preparing to move, which made me think Van Helsing's role was coming to an end.
And if this is the end, it should be decorated with as much impact as the beginning.
Eight in total.
I've cleared all the ruins I could currently access.
The remaining two are on hold simply because I can't get to them right now.
And the more ruins I claimed—no, the more ruins that disappeared—the more the Empire's obsession grew.
They had already taken positions at all the ruins, and 'struggling desperately' seemed the most fitting expression for their attempts to open the gates.
It just shows how desperate they are.
“Isn't that right, friends?”
Ugh, this beer is bitter. No, beer was always bitter, but this is a different kind of bitterness. Bitter enough to make me circulate my spiritual power to burn away the toxins in my body.
“This isn't an elevator, but I assume no one else is getting off?”
At those words, the entire, once-boisterous tavern fell silent, as if it had become a library.
“To catch one person, you've really brought a crowd.”
There are even several Sword Masters. Outside the tavern, I can even sense the presence of experimental subjects.
No, this entire city was surrounded by a massive dragnet.
“I'll give you credit. High praise, even. For managing to catch my tail, that is.”
Honestly, you're a little late to the party. After all the disguises I've worn. It's idiotic that you didn't notice my face keeps changing.
“But even so, you're all idiots.”
Because you were so fixated on Van Helsing and the ruins that you failed to see what was most important.
I threw off the shabby cloak I was wearing and took out my hammer and crowbar.
I had maintained them here and there, but my weapons were stained with use, bearing the marks of fierce battles.
The immense spiritual power within me stirred.
“Did you not think that gathering so many people here would inevitably leave other areas neglected? And there should have been so much more to consider. I'm disappointed you only brought this many.”
What they should have considered.
That I am Kratos? My combat prowess? That I've grown stronger?
Or perhaps.
That while this massive force was struggling to capture me, the Empire's Minister of Finance, Fritz Schäffer, was about to be caught?