Chapter 204
Chapter 204
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 204
Chapter Title: Father's Authority
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I left Ryzen behind and climbed the stairs.
Come to think of it, he said he'd be waiting on the rooftop?
The fact that the place reached by the stairs was the rooftop rather than ground level meant, just as I'd initially figured, the Abyss Auction was held in a high-rise building.
Whoosh—.
The moment I pushed open the door, a fierce wind slammed into me. It was a gale fierce enough for some high-altitude mountain ridge.
"Oh......"
It was the top of some tower.
Not a magic tower, or at least it didn't seem like one—and honestly, I had no clue if this was even the capital.
At this staggering height, the entire area around the tower was blanketed in fog, and even peering through it with my Flame Eyes Golden Pupils, I couldn't make out what lay beyond.
Meaning it wasn't ordinary fog.
The tower's rooftop had an incredibly precarious layout, with no railings whatsoever.
One strong gust, and you might plummet right off.
There at the very edge of that rooftop.
The Iron-Blooded Duke stood in a spot where a single misstep would send him tumbling down a bottomless chasm.
"......"
The man took the blasting wind full in the face without so much as twitching, rooted to the spot like a tree. Only the cape draped over him to conceal his identity fluttered faintly.
He somehow blended perfectly with the rooftop's eerie vibe.
The Iron-Blooded Duke stared out into the fog-shrouded void and spoke languidly.
"Talk over?"
"Yes."
As I approached the Iron-Blooded Duke, Maxim stepped back a pace.
A wordless signal for the two of us to converse alone.
A touch of embarrassment creased his face—it looked like he'd tried persuading the duke in his own way while I'd been chatting with Ryzen, but gotten nowhere.
I cut straight to it.
"Please forgive Ryzen."
"I plan to."
"What?"
My head cocked at the unexpected response.
In his usual flat tone, the Iron-Blooded Duke said,
"If he wasn't actually trafficking demons, taking his life would be excessive."
The words sounded reassuring on the surface, but coming from the Iron-Blooded Duke...
They struck me differently.
"...Sounds like there's more to it."
"Even so, Ryzen undeniably disrupted the capital's order. Punishment is unavoidable."
"Punishment?"
"Sever his right arm. Then three years of rigorous reeducation at the main house."
"Hah."
Why was this deranged family so damn fond of chopping off limbs?
Sure, with me it'd stopped at slicing tendons, but declaring outright to lop off Ryzen's arm...
They clearly viewed demon trafficking as far graver than hawking the family sword.
'And three years of 'education' at the main house?'
Education, my ass. It was a fancy way of saying 'locked in the estate for three years.'
He could live it up there, sure, but for a wild card like Ryzen, it'd be prison without the bars.
More importantly, Ryzen had his uses.
I didn't want him squandering three years any more than he did.
"Too harsh."
I met the Iron-Blooded Duke's gaze.
"He didn't actually traffic any. Ryzen's young. Can't you chalk it up to youthful impulsiveness?"
"He's plenty old enough to know better. He's been drilled since childhood to steer clear of the Cult and demons. Meaning Ryzen knowingly used a demon as bait. Careless. Inappropriate. Sloppy to boot. One slip and he could've lured in zealots. Punishment's warranted."
"Not warranted."
"......"
The Iron-Blooded Duke's eyes fixed on me.
Beneath those purple irises a shade darker than mine, something like pity rippled.
'As expected, words alone won't sway him.'
No helping it, then.
Wasteful as it was, I'd cash in my reward for thwarting the Demon King's advent.
I opened my mouth to speak.
"-Overlooking Ryzen's punishment here"
The Iron-Blooded Duke beat me to it.
"Would expose a chink in the Iron-Blooded Duke's armor."
"...Pardon?"
"The Cult's baring its fangs in earnest now. You know that better than I. Times like these demand even more of me. I must serve as the empire's deterrent—the one thing they truly dread. But if I yield here? If whispers spread that Ryzen Bednicker peddled demons and faced no consequences?"
"......"
"They'll say the Iron-Blooded Duke goes soft on kin. It'll paint me weak. An opening. My foes stop fearing me. The cowards who balked at Cult dealings out of dread for me start thinking 'what if.'"
His impassive eyes bored into me.
"Can't have that."
"......"
I clamped my mouth shut.
He was so tight-lipped usually, I'd never guessed he pondered this deeply.
His reasoning wasn't overreach.
Think of what the Iron-Blooded Duke meant to the empire—to the Cult scum above all—and it was downright justified.
Folks said it plenty.
Ruthless. Cold-blooded. No tears, no mercy. Thank the gods his bite targeted only the Cult.
But...
For the first time, it felt like I faced not the Iron-Blooded Duke, but the man called Delac.
Even I, his son, might never have glimpsed this side without the chance.
No one else ever would. And he'd never allow it.
"......"
All at once, the Iron-Blooded Duke teetering at the precipice looked fragile in a way he never had.
Maybe this wasn't how he wanted to live. Maybe he had no choice.
"No."
I buried the impudent thought and spoke up.
"Follow my plan. Your image stays intact."
"Plan?"
"Just a silly skit. Stomach a little embarrassment, and it all wraps neatly."
I'd never meant to lay it out so plainly.
But right now, it felt right for him.
"Out with it."
"First, mind if I fetch Ryzen? Got a question for him too."
The Iron-Blooded Duke nodded, so I hauled Ryzen up from the stairs at once.
Then I eyed the guy and asked,
"Any goat beastkin among your crew?"
"Goat beastkin? Why?"
"Plan needs one."
I laid out the scheme I'd cooked up.
Ryzen's face twisted through every phase till, at the end, he cracked up roaring.
"Kuhahaha! There goes the merchant league's hard-earned rep—in the gutter."
"Don't like it? Arm off per the Family Head's word, then three years rotting."
"That's..."
Ryzen blanched and shook his head.
For a freewheeling soul like him, three-year shackles equaled a death sentence.
He said,
"Plan gets my vote, but no goat beastkin on payroll. Shame."
"Figures. Hmm..."
With all those beastkin hires, I'd banked on one. Guess not that easy.
As I tallied fallback options, Ryzen tossed in a curveball.
"Among my crew, though..."
"Yeah?"
His gaze drifted somewhere.
There stood Maxim the Sky-Cleaving Sword.
Maxim scratched his head, looking pained.
"You knew?"
"Bunch of sharp ones in the crew. Kept it quiet, naturally."
"...Right."
I eyed Maxim's sour grin.
"No shit?"
"Afraid so. Beastkin here."
Sudden twist? Hardly.
I'd suspected from the jump that Maxim the Sky-Cleaving Sword cozied up to the Iron-Blooded Duke over the beastkin at this auction.
I asked him,
"Rude, but—you sturdy enough?"
"...Huh?"
* * *
Auction winding down—no time to waste.
I rounded up Ryzen, Haro, Giar—and the beastkin we'd taken down earlier—and briefed them on the op.
"Demon lot goes berserk, busts loose. That's our hook. Maxim plays the demon."
"Beast-shift and makeup'll mimic the pic demon decently... but close inspection spots the diffs quick."
"No sweat. You drop in smashing the ceiling. Dust cloud sells the illusion."
"Hmm..."
"Chop chop, time's short—positions."
"Start signal?"
"You wreck the stage ceiling and drop. That's go-time."
"I'll kick it off. Roger."
Maxim nodded and ghosted toward the stage ceiling overhead. Guy that hulking moved scary quiet.
"Whoa..."
Wolf—Ryzen's apparent number two—gawked at the scene in a daze.
Still hadn't clocked it fully.
I clapped before the beastkin crew.
"Shake it off. You lot carry the heaviest load. Chaos drops soon enough—don't zone out pregame."
"Yes..."
"Got the plan cold?"
"Yeah, but... first phase."
"Phase one: [Chaos]."
Op broken into three phases, for the record: Chaos, Destruction, Oblivion.
"Right."
Wolf nodded, face sour—didn't dig my codenames, apparently.
"How's phase one—the key [Chaos] setup—supposed to work?"
"Flash the demon bolting. Chaos ensues."
"Hmm. Maybe... Could pass for staging."
"Staging? You pull this crap often?"
Wolf wryly grinned.
"Boss digs spectacle... Ceiling-crash entrance? Twice in my memory."
"Huh..."
Yeah, vintage Ryzen.
I mulled a beat.
"Fan the flames as hype men, then."
"Hype?"
"Screech 'Demon loose!' 'Danger—run!' Total panic bait."
"Hmm... Got it."
As Wolf barked orders to the beastkin, I scanned the stage.
Auction nearing endgame.
Demon lot next.
Maxim's cue any second...
Right then—crunch—the ceiling caved.
Splintering wood rained amid frantic shouts and yelps.
Grrrrr...
Out of the gloom, beast-shifted Maxim emerged.
'Oh...'
Exceeded expectations.
Makeup crew nailed it; dust-shrouded, those flashing eyes screamed sinister.
"D-Demon...!"
"Demon broke free!"
"Run—everyone!"
Fuss exploded everywhere at once.
Our ad-lib cheer squad, right on cue.
Wolf nailed it, though.
Murmurs rippled.
Startled faces, half-risen asses...
Zero bolters.
Higher tiers worst of all.
No survival instinct?
Real demon loose, and they're chill?
Maxim-as-demon couldn't rough 'em up, though...
'Shit, now what?'
Quick think—a brainstorm hit.
"Iron-Blooded Duuuuke—!!!"
My bellow shook the auction house.
Instant bedlam.
"Wh-What?!"
"Iron-Blooded Duke?! He's here?!"
"Eeeeeek—!!!"
"Mercy!"
"O-Outta my way! Gotta survive!"
Pandemonium swallowed the hall.
Glued-ass types bolted up en masse, scrambling for exits.
I stared, a bit dumbfounded.
Father, just what the hell are you...?