Entering the Imperial Capital
Caric and Annette reached the gate of the Great Wall.
The massive iron portcullis was already open. Following the agents, they stepped into the gatekeeper's station.
"This way, please."
One of the agents pushed aside a heavy weapon rack in the corner, revealing a hidden passage leading down into the earth. A cold, damp breath of air drifted up from the darkness below.
They descended the spiral staircase without end.
"A deep underground tunnel beneath the Wall itself... surely the wall isn't about to collapse, is it?"
Annette asked uneasily.
"Don't go planting ominous foreshadowing."
"Foreshadowing? Ah... um."
"I'm joking. They didn't dig through dirt—they carved this out of solid bedrock, and reinforced it with magic, no doubt. What's there to worry about?"
And indeed, they reached the bottom without incident. While the agents worked to activate the gate, Caric and Annette leaned against a massive stone pillar and waited, listening to the branch manager's voice coming through the communication crystal.
[Lord Caric, your transmission coordinates are the Underground Sanctuary beneath the Imperial Palace. The Imperial Guard keeps it under strict control. You will not run into the First Prince's faction.]
"Good."
It was a receive-only channel, but Caric nodded along anyway.
[However, there is one thing you should be aware of.]
Concern crept into the branch manager's voice.
[His Majesty finds Lord Caric most intriguing. There may be a small... 'test' awaiting you.]
"Oh, there definitely will be," Annette agreed from beside him. "He's a thorough meritocrat. Nothing satisfies him unless he's seen it with his own eyes."
Caric knew this well, thanks to his notes on the original novel. If anything, he probably understood the Emperor better than either of these two.
[I'm certain His Majesty will want to know what kind of man you are, Lord Caric.]
As if he were talking about setting up a blind date.
[Even so, he'll know to restrain himself—you're the benefactor of Her Highness the Princess. So please, I beg of you, do NOT massacre the Imperial Guard...]
Massacre?
Had the branch manager just say massacre?
"Honestly, I don't know what this man takes me for. Good people like me are a rare breed, you know."
Caric muttered indignantly.
"All I do is spread the wisdom of barbarism that civilized society has forgotten."
"Th-that's right! There's no one else like you, Caric."
Annette voiced her complaint with more sincerity than she probably intended—yet even as she did, she glanced back at Caric with a flicker of unease.
"R-right? Caric, you're not going to just... massacre anyone, are you?"
"Sometimes, one must have the courage to be hated..."
"Wh-what? What is that supposed to mean?"
"Ahh, you wouldn't understand... that is... no, the time is not yet ripe."
"Tell me!"
Around about then, the agents finished powering up the gate.
"The connection is complete!"
After a few of them passed through and back to confirm its stability, they bade the pair farewell.
"From here, you two must go on alone. May you return safely."
"Thanks."
Caric and Annette stepped into the gate.
Whooosh.
Their vision flared, and in an instant the scenery around them transformed—from a gloomy underground stone chamber to a vast hall of gleaming white marble inlaid with gold leaf.
Ooooooh.
Caric marveled inwardly.
This temperature, this humidity, this fragrance! It's like walking into a luxury hotel or a department store.
The taste of civilization hit him all at once.
This. This is why I decided to come to the Empire!
It seemed the branch manager had kept his word, too. No assassins from the First Prince's faction, no ambushes lying in wait.
Instead—
"We welcome the safe return of Her Highness the Princess."
There were people waiting to receive them.
A dozen-odd knights clad in silver armor. The Imperial Guard.
The middle-aged knight standing at their head walked slowly forward, then knelt on one knee before Annette with impeccable courtesy. The ten or so knights behind him bowed their heads in unison.
"I am Valerion, Vice Commander of the Imperial Guard."
"...I remember you. It's good to see you again, Vice Commander."
Annette answered calmly, and now a princess's poise flowed from her as naturally as breath.
"Where is His Majesty?"
"He awaits you in the audience chamber."
"Good. Then will you escort us?"
"Before that, there is a matter on which I must ask your indulgence."
The Vice Commander rose at Annette's gesture and turned his gaze toward Caric.
"First, let me express my gratitude for rescuing Her Highness and bringing her home safely."
He placed a hand over his chest and bowed with considerable formality.
"Think nothing of it."
Caric nodded, satisfied. The Vice Commander continued.
"You will be rewarded handsomely, and you will be granted the qualification to join the Imperial Guard. You would have the chance to learn the Empire's supreme secrets."
"Uh... I see."
Yeah, that's a bit of a problem.
Silver armor isn't really my aesthetic.
"However, as of yet, you are not an Imperial Guard knight."
"That's right. I have my own personal philosophy of fashion. Even if it doesn't look like it."
The Vice Commander brushed past the remark without missing a beat.
"Before an audience with His Majesty, you must disarm. You will also need to entrust your subspace pouch to us."
And here it comes.
"That's a bit inconvenient."
"I ask for your understanding. I, too, am a knight—I can sense that you are no ordinary man."
The Vice Commander went on.
"I cannot allow a man of your caliber to stand before His Majesty armed. Surely you can understand that?"
"Of course. But what can't be done can't be done. You're asking me to part with my trusty axe."
"It is for this one occasion only. Once you become a Guard knight, you will be free of all such procedures."
"One time becomes two, and two becomes three. Besides, I already told you—I pursue my own fashion. I'm not joining the Guard."
Frankly, Caric wouldn't have minded handing over the axe at all. To him, weapons had always been consumables—nothing had ever lasted long under his strength. His fists and his knees were harder than most weapons anyway.
But this wasn't simply a matter of cooperating with a security protocol or not.
This was the Emperor testing his chess piece. Checking whether it would swallow the bit and go where it was led.
There was no need to comply meekly.
"My axe suffers from separation anxiety, you see. Without me, it would weep bitterly."
Caric said this while stroking the axe like a puppy.
"Don't you feel sorry for it? Taking it away from me would be axe abuse."
"Hoo..."
The Vice Commander let out a short sigh.
"Caric. Let me offer you one piece of advice."
He continued with barely a trace of anger showing.
"If you have come to the Empire, you must follow the Empire's laws. This is no place for barbarism. You must learn when to bow your head."
"Vice Commander. I think you're a rather decent man."
But—
"Your view of civilization is warped. Civilization is built on respect, not blind obedience."
And furthermore—
"Who said barbarians don't know how to bow? We bow when it's necessary."
Caric drew his axe.
The Vice Commander's face hardened.
"And this is precisely one of those times. I don't lose staring contests."
"I will offer my counsel one last time. You are an uncut gem—a gem that could shine brighter than any other. You are beyond comparison to the likes of me."
The Vice Commander spoke with heavy, sunken eyes.
"There is no need to suffer an unnecessary defeat here. First, let the gem be polished."
"I beg to differ. A barbarian can do anything."
Caric leveled his axe at the Vice Commander.
Seeing that, the Vice Commander finally seemed to abandon the attempt at persuasion.
"I had hoped to cross blades before His Majesty himself..."
He drew his sword.
At that, Annette finally stepped in.
"Vice Commander! How dare you show such insolence to my benefactor! Sheathe your sword at once!"
But the Vice Commander did not lower his blade. He only bowed his head and answered with steely resolve.
"I beg your pardon, Your Highness. But this is His Majesty's strict command. He said there would be no exceptions."
"Even so—!"
"It's fine, Annette. Something I anticipated before coming has simply happened. Leave this to me."
Caric said.
"...Please be careful."
In the end, Annette stepped back.
Watching her retreat, the Vice Commander donned his helm.
"...I had best take care not to shatter the gem."
He did not harbor the slightest thought that he might lose.
True, he too was Expert Peak—but unlike Crowell, who had carried only minimal equipment for covert operations, the Vice Commander stood in full battle array.
Vuuuum.
The Vice Commander's armor blazed to life. The engraved magic circuits showered him with enhancement spells of every kind—from raw strength and stamina to reaction speed and combat instinct. The sum total of imperial civilization settled into his body.
"Caric."
His eyes glowed white with surging mana.
"Do try not to di—"
CRUNCH!
The Vice Commander's head snapped backward.
The Flying Barbarian Knee Kick.
The very same move that had turned the faces of human hunters into bloody pulp.
But a Vice Commander of the Imperial Guard was a Vice Commander of the Imperial Guard.
Even after taking Caric's knee, his helm was unscathed, his stance unbroken. Above all, the light in his eyes hadn't died.
Twisting at the waist, the Vice Commander swept his sword in a wide lateral arc. Caric landed, bent his body out of the way, and evaded the strike. The moment he did—
CLAAANG!
He drove in again, hacking at the armor with his axe.
Huh, but what's with that sound.
It felt a little... off. Something like a plosive mixed in there...
Caric fell back for the moment, and the Vice Commander immediately gave chase. He seemed entirely unaffected by Caric's blows—no doubt thanks to the magic patterns glowing across his armor.
"Impressive!"
the Vice Commander said, swinging his sword.
"I can hardly believe it. A single strike, with no aura at all, has put a strain on the royal defense enchantment!"
"I'll smash it open soon enough."
"Give it up! The armor has an instant-repair function. Your weapon will never pierce it—not in a lifetime!"
"Instant repair, you say?"
Caric muttered as he dodged the Vice Commander's blade.
"That's right."
"Then I'll just hit it more times than it can repair."
"That's your theory!"
"Caric!"
Annette shouted from across the hall.
"I'll place Radiance on your weapon!"
"No, don't bother."
Caric grinned, baring his teeth.
"Watch me win."
With that, he swung his axe—and the moment it struck the armor, a crack split down the blade.
"..."
Caric tossed the axe to the floor.
Damn good-for-nothing trusty axe.
"Is that a surrender?"
"No."
There were plenty of ways to keep fighting. He could take Annette's buff. He could pull Crowell's gear, or any number of auxiliary weapons, from his subspace.
But somehow, none of that satisfied him.
As Caric clenched his fist, the Vice Commander gave an awkward laugh.
"Then at least borrow a sword from one of my men."
"I'll respectfully decline your toothpicks."
Caric charged at the Vice Commander bare-handed. Feinting a punch, he slipped past the Vice Commander's strike—then seized him by the waist and heaved.
A poor choice.
The Vice Commander smiled grimly. His armor had a weight-adjustment function. The momentum of a charge came from mass, after all.
And that settles it.
In less than a second, the armor's load increased exponentially—a weight so crushing that even the Vice Commander, whose entire body was built to distribute it, felt the strain.
Caric's waist trembled violently. Even the marble floor beneath his feet cracked and crumbled. It was the pressure of being crushed beneath a massive hunk of iron, plain and simple.
But—
"UL-BARAAAAAAA!"
Planting his feet on the shattering floor, Caric lifted the Vice Commander clean off the ground.
Blood flooded his face crimson; his muscles swelled to their absolute limit. And before the Vice Commander could counterattack—
Caric slammed him straight down into the floor.
KWAAAAAM!
The marble floor spiderwebbed with cracks.
"Kgh!"
The Vice Commander's face contorted. The impact the armor couldn't fully filter had reached him as well.
Still, this much was bearable—
"UL-BAR-AAAAAAA!"
Caric seized both of the Vice Commander's legs, lifted him high, and brought him crashing down again.
KWAAM!
KWAAM!
KWAAAAM!
Caric's mind went completely white with adrenaline. Only one thing mattered now.
As fast as humanly possible.
No matter how much energy it cost.
Pry that hard shell off his opponent.
KWAAM!
No complicated calculations were needed. Just, as fast as he could—before the man could react—
KWAAM!
Strike, strike, and strike again. Thinking was useless now. Caric surrendered himself entirely to the instinct to destroy.
KWAAAM!
KWAAM!
He simply repeated the same motion, over and over, like a madman.
How much time had passed like that?
At last, Caric came back to himself.
"Hoo... hoooh."
The Vice Commander's armor had been crushed flat and blown apart at some point during the barrage.
He seemed to be still breathing.
But he wasn't moving.
Caric tossed the Vice Commander carelessly onto the floor.
The Imperial Guard knights, utterly overwhelmed by Caric's ferocity, stood frozen—unable even to think of drawing their swords.
Caric steadied his breath, turned to face the pale, shaken knights, and said:
"Anyone else want a turn?"