Chapter 256
Chapter 256
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 256
Chapter Title: Blossoming in Turbulent Times (2)
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Idrian Leonberger, the young crown prince who had erased his past notoriety and infamy as if by magic, transcended the savior of the North to become known as the kingdom's future—his every move stirred people's curiosity and ambition.
Naturally, the kingdom's folk gathered to praise this young hero born to their realm until their mouths went dry.
Only when the endless tales of Crown Prince Idrian Leonberger's legendary exploits finally tapered off did they turn to the five knights who followed him, spittle flying once more.
"Vincent Ballerhard, head of the famed Ballerhard family—the kingdom's shield—and the first duke in nearly a century, the staunch supporter of the crown prince known as the Northern Duke."
"Arwen Kirguyen, the Steel Knight, renowned at a young age in her twenties for earning the Silver Lion title, her swordsmanship and knightly character the epitome of perfection, and her rare beauty known far and wide."
"Bernard Ilai, heir to the fallen noble house of Ilai, who shook off his infamous past through brilliant feats in the imperial war and the half-year monster subjugation campaign, now the pride of the kingdom's greatest knightly lineage."
"Kals Yulihi, the court knight who drew attention after Count Schrumhilde Stugart—current Captain of the Royal Knight Order—publicly named him as his successor. His refined features and exceptional grace only amplified his fame thereafter."
"Adelia Bayern, the genius knight who rose from a mere handmaiden, untouched by a sword before, to claim the Silver Lion title in just a few years, proving her prodigious talent."
They had all risen to fame with astonishing speed, each one young with a promising future ahead.
And among them, Adelia Bayern was the most shrouded in mystery.
All that was known about her was that she had started as a handmaiden, caught the crown prince's eye to become a knight, and endured mockery as the infamous prince's concubine until her Silver Lion title silenced the rumors.
Even Kals Yulihi, who unlike the others had no notable battlefield feats, had his striking looks and dignified demeanor spread by noblewomen and maids traversing the palace.
Yet Adelia alone remained an enigma—no one knew what kind of woman she truly was.
The handmaidens from the 1st Prince's Palace who once served with her now held their tongues out of respect for her elevated status. And when northern knights or soldiers were pressed about her, they paled as if by prior agreement and clammed up.
"Gentle and kind, yet timid... but also sensitive, cruel, and fearless."
Even on rare occasions when their lips could be pried open, one only heard contradictory, baffling accounts.
"A kind woman who couldn't harm a fly."
"A ruthless one who treats lives like flies."
They inevitably arrived at two irreconcilable conclusions, leaving people utterly confused about the truth.
Some chatty folk dubbed her the "Cruel Angel" on a whim.
"Spot on!"
"Whoever came up with that's a genius!"
The northern men slapped their knees in fervent agreement at the bizarre moniker.
Even the crown prince himself, her lord, reportedly marveled that no nickname could suit her better. From then on, people began calling her "the Cruel Angel, Adelia Bayern."
But few among those who used it truly grasped its meaning.
And now, among that rare few, the Turk mercenaries who had visited the kingdom were on the verge of joining their ranks.
Of course, they hadn't known her true nature at first either.
"Finding a gem like this in some backwater."
"Yeah. Everything else seems average, but that skin and those eyes are killer."
Turk and his mercenaries had simply admired Adelia Bayern's uniquely radiant allure, appraising her like a rare treasure.
"Can't pass this up. Kill 'em all, and I'll take her for myself."
Enthralled by her savage glow, they even plotted to seize her by force.
"Slaughter the men, old folks, and kids. Spare the women."
"And those women..."
"Do whatever. I only need that one."
The mercenaries cheered at Turk's words.
"Captain! Look at her clothes! That's the Leonberger royal crest! She might be royalty!"
Only his vice-captain-turned-regular Yolss protested vehemently.
"Shut it. How big a deal can a princess from this podunk kingdom be?"
"We were supposed to hide, build our strength! Build our own kingdom! Touching her will bring the Leonberger army down on us!"
"Ugh, seriously. This guy's jinxing us to the end. The empire's too busy with its own mess to chase us—what makes you think this dump has the manpower? They scraped together thirty knights and a hundred ragtag soldiers for us just now! Acts all smart but misses the obvious!"
"That's exactly why it's suspicious! Please, Captain!"
Yolss practically wailed his plea, but Turk wouldn't hear it.
"What're you waiting for? Move! We hit fast before pursuit catches up! If things go south, we bolt—since when have we ever planned for the aftermath?"
The mercenaries, who had hesitated at the army's mention, finally charged into the village with renewed vigor.
Turk watched his men advance spiritedly, then turned back to the woman.
"The more I look, the more she's a vixen."
He tugged at his pants and stepped forward boldly—only for her to suddenly burst into tears.
"Don't be scared, pretty thing. I won't hurt you."
Even that struck him as alluring, stoking his lust as he rubbed his crotch with a lecherous grin.
Oblivious to what those tears truly meant.
"I promise. Serve me well, obey faithfully, and as your master, I'll cherish you..."
Lost in his delusions, Turk prattled on until a strange unease made him snap his mouth shut.
He scanned the surroundings, his face twisting.
His men, heading into the village on orders, had inexplicably frozen like statues.
"What the hell are you..."
He spat irritably, but before the words finished, a thud echoed as something dropped.
Turning, he saw a head roll across the ground, eyes bulging.
Whoosh!
A headless body beside it sprayed blood and collapsed with a thud.
That was the beginning.
Thud, roll.
Dozens of heads tumbled across the dirt. Blood fountained from dozens of necks.
"What the..."
Turk stared blankly at the rolling heads.
"I don't want to hurt anyone."
A choked, tearful voice echoed from somewhere.
Turk whipped around.
"But I hate being useless to His Highness even more."
There stood the woman, long sword dripping blood, her face on the verge of collapse in sobs.
"It pains my heart."
She gazed sadly at the corpses.
"But."
After a long pause, she turned back to Turk.
"Not as much as I thought."
"What the hell are you saying—no, what have you done?!"
Turk bellowed.
"His Highness is always right."
But she ignored him utterly, murmuring to herself.
"Everything he says is correct. We must never doubt his words."
She raised her sword.
"So this time is no different."
Her sobbing lament hardened abruptly.
"If His Highness calls you beasts instead of men..."
Then, like a serpent's hiss, it turned sinister and lethal.
"...then you're no longer human."
The red-and-yellow glint deep in her eyes intensified.
"And I've cut down non-humans like you more times than I can stomach."
Turk felt suffocated, his gaze locked on her glowing eyes.
Instinct screamed.
Those two lights he'd deemed mystical and beautiful were the predatory stare lurking in a dark forest shadow.
His battle-hardened body reacted first.
His hand flew to his sword hilt. Mana surged from his heart toward it.
But neither reached their mark.
Swish.
Turk felt a faint graze on his shoulder. Realization dawned too late.
His eyes dropped.
There lay a chunk of flesh—once someone's arm—covered in foul hair.
Staring dazedly, he glanced at his own body.
Severed cleanly at the shoulder, empty socket gushing blood.
"My arm? Why?"
Turk muttered like a madman, scooping up his severed forearm from the dirt.
Swish.
A golden flash streaked like it had been waiting.
Thud.
His remaining arm hit the ground.
Turk gaped at the useless hunks of meat—once vital parts of him.
"Ahh?"
His mouth hung open in shock,
"Ugh..."
became a pained groan,
"Gaaahhh!"
and erupted into a horrific scream.
"My arms! My aaaarms!"
Turk shrieked wildly.
"One swing scatters them,"
the woman whispered softly.
"Blood flows into rivers, flesh enriches the soil."
In that instant, radiant golden light blanketed the world.
Then it faded.
Only mangled, unrecognizable corpses remained.
"Ugh..."
Turk flopped to the ground, mouth agape.
His eyes caught a bisected corpse—half a body gone.
Vice-captain Yolss's remains. His lone remaining eye stared at Turk.
'Mark my words, Captain—you'll die by that woman's sword someday.'
Yolss's final words echoed like a phantom.
"Aaaahhh!"
Turk screamed.
Swish.
A golden flash silenced him mid-cry.
Thud.
His head rolled away.
**
"No chance for us to step in at this rate."
A ranger watching the village from afar quipped playfully.
"Villagers'll have to relocate now."
"Yeah. Houses are all wrecked."
The others chimed in.
But despite their feigned cheer, their faces were ashen white.
In the end, the rangers dropped their pointless banter and fell silent.
With quiet settling in, the distant screams sharpened.
Save me.
Forgive me, please.
Pleading wails and terrified cries seeped through intermittently.
But pleas soon turned to death rattles, then faded entirely.
"Looks done."
One ranger finally spoke up.
"'Done' ain't good enough! His Highness ordered us not to enter till it's completely over!"
"To be precise, stay put even after and observe. Said it'd be best to wait for Lady Adelia to return first."
"Right. More waiting then."
The rangers shut up again.
Unable to bear the silence, they soon resumed chatter.
"But you're sure no villagers left?"
"Positive. None there. And if there were, not anymore."
"Don't say it like that!"
"Just facts. Look—anyone survive that?"
"Ugh. Can't look. Too gruesome."
No bluff—their gazes deliberately avoided the village.
Yet duty-bound, they stole glances now and then.
"Ah. All clear."
One peering that way announced.
"Urgh. Let's go."
The rangers trudged toward the village reluctantly.
Corpses littered the outskirts and paths alike.
"Hell on earth."
They stepped gingerly around bodies and blood pools, faces queasy.
But with so many corpses and so much blood, their leather boots soon soaked red.
Squelching through, they reached the village center—and spotted the perpetrator amid the crushed corpse piles.
Adelia Bayern, standing blankly.
Creak.
She twisted her head with a grind.
The rangers meeting her unfocused eyes shouted.
"Ballerhard Rangers! Friendlies! Friendlies!"
As if scripted,
tossing beloved crossbows into the blood,
hands raised high in desperate signal.