Chapter 51
Chapter 51
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: Netori or Die—Choose Now
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Sunny, warm room bathed in sunlight.
A girl with a cold atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the room. Clarit.
Her straight black hair reached down to her waist, paired with a breathtakingly beautiful face.
That beauty was like ice, blending with her anguished expression to create an aura that made it hard to approach her carelessly.
"Haaah..."
She had the cold demeanor of someone with no worries in the world, yet she let out a massive sigh as if the world itself were crumbling.
And it was all because of one man.
The Outsider Dre.
At first, she'd thought he was just another Outsider.
Beating Yulis had been surprising, but Outsiders had powerful perks, so she figured he might've just gotten lucky.
But seeing him in person, he exceeded even the rumors.
'Apocalypse Dragon Prostia.'
A living legend and calamity whose name was recorded even in ancient texts.
Even the Ten Heroes, founders of the Ten Great Families, had avoided fighting that dragon.
No, it was a fairy tale, but even the gods were said to have shied away from battling Prostia.
Even in its incomplete descent, Dre had stopped such a being all by himself.
30%.
Just 30%, but even if the heads of the Ten Great Families stepped up with artifacts handed down from antiquity, could they have stopped the Apocalypse Dragon?
At the very least, as Prostia itself had said, three families wouldn't have cut it.
'Prostia said Dre's strength wasn't from any perk...'
She hadn't even asked, but Prostia, hating how humans looked down on it, had rambled endlessly about Dre.
Things like how it could naturally seal Outsiders' perks, how their ancestors' artifacts could be sealed if there weren't enough, how its descent was only at 30% so it wasn't full power, how it would've won if fully descended, and so on...
But the dragon had acknowledged Dre's combat prowess.
His absurd attack power and defense weren't perks—they were uniquely his.
'Is that even possible?'
As far as Clarit knew, Dre's level was still under 30.
A low level.
His specs and gear were accordingly modest.
He lacked the massive-scale attacks typical of Outsiders.
Yet he wielded attack power that could fell a top-tier being and incomprehensible invincible defense techniques.
Prostia, which scoffed at ultimate attacks from top Outsiders, wizards, and warriors alike, had been terrified of Dre's strikes and stunned by his impervious form.
That bastard was the only one whose balance was off-kilter, Prostia had said.
He seemed weak but was strong; seemed strong but fragile at a glance.
Yet he never broke.
Rambling nonsense, but the conclusion was clear.
There was a price for that power.
'It said there must be a cost to that strength, but even it wasn't sure...'
A ancient dragon that had lived thousands, maybe tens of thousands of years, spoke uncertainly.
'Prostia isn't the issue anymore.'
If they hadn't stopped it in time, it'd have been a global catastrophe, but now that its descent was halted and it'd sworn not to harm the surface, it was no problem.
As a dragon of its stature, breaking the oath would trigger immense compulsion—and even without that, its pride and Dre's presence would keep it from invading the surface.
Above all, karma.
The term only those at the level of the Ten Great Families knew: powerful beings consumed karma with every action.
Prostia had said it needed to expend its vitality to repay borrowed karma and had no interest in surface invasion anyway.
In the first place, it had just been playing around for fun; destroying the human world was someone else's scheme.
'It never said who, though...'
Clarit thought of Dre again.
Even at his low level, he was that strong—how powerful would he become?
She couldn't imagine.
A greedy sort would've been easier to predict and handle, but she couldn't grasp his motives.
'I have no idea what he's thinking.'
When she heard he'd gotten revenge on Yulis, she'd thought he had normal emotions.
But his actions after?
He showed no interest in money, power, or even women.
Rare for an Outsider.
She'd heard a few of the Outsider leaders, called 'Transcendent Beings from Another World,' abstained from material things in pursuit of honor.
Was Dre like that, chasing honor over wealth?
No.
At least the Dre she'd seen had kicked away even the shortcut to honor: ties with the Ten Great Families.
To gauge him, she'd prodded extra nastily, but he hadn't even gotten mad.
Impossible to read.
Unknown was scary.
An uncontrollable unknown was terrifying in itself.
Clarit had a skill to read minds and emotions with simple words.
For some reason, it didn't work on Dre.
She could tell he sometimes thought negatively of her, but nothing precise.
Outwardly, he brushed off her words with blank indifference. Just when she thought him introverted and harmless, he'd turn and utterly destroy types like Sor, the Kiss Merchant Group, and Lamnert.
Suddenly, she recalled his fight with Prostia.
Burning in flames yet grinning as he fought—he was borderline madman.
Incomprehensible. Could such a person exist?
'What do I even tell Father and Mother about him?'
Her family came to mind.
The strict, cold Blija Family.
If she failed to grasp Dre and trouble arose later, what reprimand would she face?
Clarit shuddered involuntarily.
'I need a more thorough investigation. But I have to put a leash on him somehow... At least until the capital, meet His Majesty, get some reward or whatever to restrict his movements.'
Lost in tangled thoughts, Clarit sighed.
She seemed cold-blooded, but her heart wasn't frozen.
Clarit felt genuine gratitude and goodwill toward Dre for saving her life.
But her position as the Blija Family's lady constricted her.
'It's an heir position that might go nowhere anyway... I just want to abandon it.'
Suddenly, she thought of Gold and El from the same Ten Great Families.
Unlike her, they showed deep fondness for Dre.
Gold's free-spirited boldness was expected, but El felt no wariness, only friendliness.
Even Asita, who avoided men, was the same.
'I trust Asita's eye for men. But relying on that alone... Haa.'
If she could use herself to bind him to the Blija Family, great—but she was already engaged.
And Dre showed no interest in her.
'...Am I not attractive?'
Clarit looked down at her body.
Her face, she was confident in.
Her figure was voluptuous. Not the best among girls she knew, but ample enough to ignite any man's chest.
She was one of Sers's famed Twelve Beauties, after all.
'Well, after shooting my mouth off like that, of course no goodwill.'
She knew she'd been petty and dishonest—hard to admit, but true.
Clarit sighed once more.
Bang bang!
A knock. But more urgent than usual.
"Come in."
At her words, her direct knight entered with polite haste and knelt.
"Miss. The one you ordered watched is causing a ruckus."
The man she'd ordered watched.
Dre.
Her face paled as she'd just been thinking of him and her family.
"Ruckus? What's happened?"
"He's brutally subdued the Sertun Count's knights and is now threatening the count himself."
'What the...'
She'd hoped he'd stay quiet until the capital at least—what now?
"As I recall, Sertun Count is under the Hart Clan, right?"
"Yes. Gold Hart's direct knight Kaisir is already heading there."
"I'll depart too."
Really, stop giving me headaches.
What do I tell the family?
Clarit hurriedly prepared to move.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 'That bastard!!'
Kaisir was flying there literally at top speed upon hearing the news.
Using flight magic, he could reach the Sertun Count's estate faster than any knight in the Whirlwind Knights.
What was that Outsider Dre thinking?
Kaisir thought of his liege, Gold.
Word was, he'd been chatting amiably with his lord just two hours ago.
How, in that short time, did he end up rampaging at a count's estate?
A subordinate house of the Hart Clan, no less.
'Thinks he can act out relying on Gold's prestige? Damn it. Time to teach him reality.'
Gold did view Dre specially.
Originally, subordinates grumbled.
Yulis was trash to Dre, but reliable to the Hart Clan.
Grumbles were inevitable.
But the Prostia fight turned distrust to respect and fear for most.
Dre had sensed that and was acting out—that much was certain.
He needed a taste of bitterness for his own good.
The ancient dragon Prostia had just had bad matchup and wasn't at full strength against Dre.
It'd said he still couldn't match top-tier powerhouses.
Kaisir considered himself a solid powerhouse.
'Even I can tie him down long enough to cool his head.'
Soon, Kaisir arrived above the Sertun estate.
And felt astonishment.
"Blood smell?"
Blood.
Thick blood scent no single body could produce.
Kuuaaa.
Kaisir plummeted to the ground like a shot.
Thud. Upon landing and looking up, he saw it.
Carnage like a battlefield.
"Ugh, uwaaa..."
"Aaaaaah..."
Even if rated low among ordinary knights, these were proper knights of the Sertun Count—and all writhed on the ground, limbs severed.
'The incident was just ten minutes ago...?'
The Sertun mage's urgent report of Outsider Dre rampaging had come ten minutes prior; he'd flown straight here in three.
The knights annihilated?
Kaisir looked up.
There, blood-soaked Dre slowly closing in on Sertun Count and his son.
"......"
Dre turned slowly, sensing Kaisir's presence.
His eyes held hostility.
'Ah.'
A chill. Battle intent drained away.
'What was I thinking...?'
Why'd he think he could stop him?
Why assume Dre was riding Gold's coattails?
He acted solely on his own will, trusting only himself.
"Kaisir."
Dre dropped the hostility upon recognizing an acquaintance.
Kaisir felt relief, then defeat.
For a split second, he'd admitted he could never win against Dre.
Rebelling against that, he shouted.
"Dre, stop!"
"Ka, Kaisir Gong!"
Sertun Count, face lighting up, had one side of his stylish mustache torn off.
His comical look would've drawn laughs, but he kept crying Kaisir's name.
Dre, staring blankly, turned to Kaisir and said.
"Why should I stop?"
"Why? Obviously? It'll trouble Gold!"
"...Is Gold close with him?"
"......"
He looked the same outwardly, but the atmosphere differed.
Kaisir's instinct screamed: choose words carefully, or something irreversible would happen.
"...No, the family head has ties with Sertun Count. Gold isn't close enough to call it that, even politely."
"Ah, I see!"
Seeing Dre brighten, Kaisir concluded he'd answered right.
"Y-You bastard! The family head outranks the heir, yet you look relieved...? Gah?!"
Dre's casual sword swing tore off his crown.
'He killed him?!'
Momentary shock, then realizing it was just hair, Kaisir sighed in relief.
"Hey, Dre! He's still Hart Clan subordinate. Killing him...!"
"It won't trouble Gold."
What nonsense? Kaisir was frustrated to madness.
"Even if you think you can handle it, this'll cause huge issues for the Hart Clan!"
Like rumors they couldn't handle one Outsider's rage, tarnishing reputation.
"If it does, the Hart Clan can come kill me then."
"......"
Kaisir was speechless.
Not arrogance.
Resolve.
Dre fully grasped the situation.
Realizing he was prepared to die saying that, Kaisir got chills.
'Madman.'
How'd he ever think he could stop him?
He was ashamed even for that instant.
"What'd Sertun Count do?"
"I don't know about him, but his son tried grabbing an innocent citizen for a sex slave."
"S-Sex slave? It's a servant!"
"In your family, servant and sex slave seem synonymous."
The picture formed.
Sertun Count abused servants but avoided filthy acts, earning Hart Clan's tolerance.
But his son, young as he was, indulged in vile deeds.
Hence vague talks of removing the Sertuns lately.
"Kaisir."
"Huh? Yeah?!"
Suddenly called, Kaisir startled, Dre asked.
"The royals summoned me to the capital, right? Said they'd reward me."
"Y-Yeah."
The count's eyes bulged—news to him.
Ignoring, Dre continued.
"That reward. Would they grant my requests too?"
"His Majesty... not sure, but the Queen is generous, so probably most."
Dre frowned briefly at Kaisir's words.
Minor gesture, but Kaisir's heart dropped.
Luckily, more puzzled than angry.
"Then, the Queen, not His Majesty—would she overlook exterminating one count's family?"
"......!"
Kaisir shut up; Sertun's face went white.
'He's serious!'
Realizing Dre meant to kill him for real, Sertun trembled.
If truly summoned, royals would give big rewards to uphold prestige.
The king might grant even that petty request.
A count's life mattered less than treasury funds.
The Queen, sensible and just, might punish but spare extermination.
Begging her required survival first.
"L-Look... seems there was a misunderstanding between us..."
The count tried obsequiously.
Dre raised his fist without hesitation.
Pow!
"Guh? Urk?!"
"Hey, hey!!"
Solar plexus hit, count knelt vomiting.
Kaisir tried intervening, but Dre just bowed apologetically and continued.
"Count. A misunderstanding?"
"Kgh... ugh... urk..."
"Shall we oath it then? Release the servant you bound by force, return all assets, retreat to quiet countryside, never show your face again."
"What...!"
Absurd demands; terror forgotten, Sertun gnashed teeth.
Regretted instantly.
"Or die here?"
"......"
Mockery.
Dre's politeness was never respect.
The madman used honorifics to taunt.
The count knew now but couldn't resist.
Decades of lording over others—noble pride crumbled before overwhelming violence.
Submission spilled from his lips.
"...Lower the terms... a bit... Graaak!"
Dre stomped his head, pondering.
"Hmm. Need to lower them?"
Crunch, cruuunch.
Pain worse than hobnailed boots from adventurer's hard soles.
Sertun screamed, enduring unprecedented agony.
"Gaaaaah!"
"Fine. Depends on your sincerity."
"Si-sincerity?"
"Count. You told me earlier to smash my head till satisfied?"
Count's eyes wavered.
"Demonstrate yourself."
"Ho-how dare...! I'm a noble... Guk!"
Stomped as he lifted head; Dre drew sword.
"Hate it? Farewell then."
"Damn...!"
Frustrated Kaisir flung magic ropes; they shattered instantly.
"Wha..."
"Kaisir, stay put a moment."
Magic dispelled so effortlessly—Kaisir speechless.
Even non-lethal binding, unreal ease.
Dre bore no hostility toward Kaisir.
Yet terrifying.
"Then..."
Sertun shrieked desperately as Dre slowly raised his sword.
"I-I'll do it!"
He'd nearly died for real.
Felt his pants wet.
Citizens watched from afar, clear view of his disgrace.
Murmurs.
Sertun had no room for humiliation.
Just terror.
"Then, clearly state your wrongs and smash your head. Unsatisfied, we'll continue."
Dre stepped back two paces, sword ready.
The count began apologizing.
"I-I failed to raise my son, overlooked his evil..."
"And."
"I-I abused authority to persecute your just protest, and..."
"And."
"Ugh, a-and..."
Nothing came.
So he acted.
Bam!!
Head smashed floor. Blood sprayed.
Lifetime without bleeds—now forehead gushed.
"Aaa...! So-sorry."
Bam!
"Hurts?"
Bam!
"Then why not raise your son right?"
Bam!
"Good effort. Keep going."
Bam!
"Your son should share the pain... Tsk. Just watching."
Bam!
How long?
Citizens, initially savoring, now uneasy—yet Dre unrelenting.
Count pleaded mid-pain with pitiful eyes; Dre's reply was stomps.
Eventually, sobbing, he continued.
Just before passing out from dizziness.
"Good. Now oath."
"...Tha-thank... you."
Dre forgave; count felt pure gratitude, no other emotion.
Trembling in pain, son clung.
Reg, shocked at father's beating, tried supporting tearfully.
Fear-frozen kid whimpered.
"F-Fa... Aak!"
Count slapped the whimper, yelling.
"If you hadn't been a moron...!"
Watching, Kaisir foresaw Sertun doom.
Prestige loss aside, rift between sole heir and head permanent.
Dre watched, grinning amusedly.
Kaisir silent.
He'd thought Dre good at core.
But now? Deliberately widening father-son gap, enjoying it.
Thud thud thud thud.
Far off, two carriages and knights in differing armor poured in.
"Outsider Dre!"
Clarit disembarked shouting. Gold from the other.
The carnage.
Clarit speechless.
She'd imagined worst... but this?
'No clue.'
This nonchalant perpetrator—is he the Dre I know?
He approached her.
Her knight tensed; Dre halted.
What? Intentions?
His dragon-level power's whims terrified.
She knew: Dre earned arrogance.
And she'd been rude; no right to intervene.
How to clean up? What to family?
Her agitation plain.
.......If he yielded, smooth resolution.
Resigned thought surfaced.
Eyes met.
Clarit swallowed as.
"Sorry."
Dre bowed.
"Caused trouble. No harm to you two."
"......"
"Gladly accept due punishment, but please penalize the count's crimes too."
"......Uh."
Unexpected; delayed reply.
Grasping meaning, Clarit widened eyes.
Sincerity in apology.
He bowed excessively, placing her and Gold above.
As if no intent to infringe authority.
"Y-Yes. Okay."
Who'd feared bloodshed, she could only say.
Dre turned back, awaiting judgment seemingly.
'Considering me?'
Unlikely, but her headache eased a bit.
Moreover.
In cold nobility, rare consideration—novel feeling stirred in Clarit.