Chapter 47: What’s Going On? (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 47: What’s Going On? (3)
Crunch—!
Sergius’s hands were smashed to pieces by an invisible force, and a horrific scream tore from his throat.
“Aaaargh!”
It wasn't just his hands.
His arms,
His shoulders,
And his legs were hideously distorted, as if flattened by a hydraulic press.
The blood-curdling scream was loud enough to ring through the entire mansion where Yutia stayed.
However.
Yutia, watching the scene, spoke to the broken man with an indifferent expression, as if delivering a sentence.
“I told you, no matter how much you scream, no one is coming.”
“S-Save me—please, I beg you!”
Sergius cried out toward Yutia, who was looking down at him within the crimson world, his face masked in pure terror.
Already dripping fluids from his eyes, nose, and mouth due to the excruciating pain, he no longer cared for his dignity as a Cardinal. He simply shrieked to escape the agony.
“What are you talking about?”
Yutia met Sergius’s eyes as he rolled on the ground and spoke with a look of genuine confusion.
“Naturally, there’s no way you’re going to die, right?”
At those words, a white light began to flow from Yutia’s hands.
That powerful divine power immediately began to mend Sergius’s body, but...
“N-No! Stop it!!”
Instead, Sergius screamed at the sight of his flesh knitting back together.
The moment his body was fully restored.
“Gasp—!”
Sergius, his eyes filled with terror, looked up at Yutia while trembling uncontrollably.
It was a pathetic sight, hard to associate with a Cardinal of Rosario.
The horrific pain he had already experienced several times and the fear blooming from it had devoured what little remained of his pride and convictions.
Despite suffering through the nightmare multiple times, he still couldn't understand the situation.
Not the Paladins, who never came no matter how loud he screamed.
Not the crushing pressure that prevented him from moving his body as he wished.
Not even his own body, which crumpled like paper at a single gesture from her.
There was nothing he could comprehend.
It was utterly incomprehensible.
And so.
“Save me... please... please save me...”
He simply begged for mercy.
Even though he didn't truly understand why he was being subjected to this, he begged for forgiveness.
As if praying to a god.
However—
Creeeeeak—!!
“Aaaaaargh!”
Contrary to Sergius’s wishes, his body began to slowly compress once more. Amidst his frantic screams, Yutia’s voice drifted into his ear.
“I keep telling you, you won't die. You have work to do.”
It was a voice that would sound sweet to anyone else.
“But—”
Elegant.
“You must pay for the sin of trying to harm that person, right?”
And bone-chilling.
“Aaaaaaaargh—!!!!”
Sergius’s screams echoed once again.
* * *
It had been about a month since Alon returned to the earldom.
While recovering from the fatigue of his somewhat long desert journey, Alon had been investigating the signs of the Outer Gods he’d heard about from "that entity," as well as the source of the "Abyss Body"—an item that shouldn't have appeared yet. Now, he was preparing to leave his territory once again.
There were two reasons he was preparing to head out so soon without rest.
One was to attend the Magic Society meeting, which he was able to join thanks to an invitation from Rian Argulus, the daughter of the Red Tower Master.
The other was to make an appearance at the Symposium before that.
The Symposium.
In truth, it was more accurate to call it a social club for nobles rather than by such a grand title.
After all, all the nobles did there was work hard at networking.
If there was one difference, it was that unlike places like the Grand Social Gathering where only nobles could attend, the Symposium allowed famous individuals who weren't nobles to participate as well.
‘...Honestly, I don’t really want to go.’
Alon thought, clicking his tongue.
Nevertheless, the reason he intended to stop by the Symposium before heading to the Magic Society was that he needed to maintain some level of face as the leader of Kalpa.
Whether he wanted to or not, he was already the head of the faction.
Of course, that didn't mean he was forcing himself to do something he truly hated.
...Actually, until halfway through, he was filled with the thought that he was being forced, but that was cleanly cured by a single letter that had arrived for Alon a while ago.
“Whew.”
Alon looked at the magical letter that made him feel good just by looking at it.
It wasn't enchanted with magic or anything; it was simply a certificate stating that Alon had become the legitimate head of a faction, along with a letter detailing the money he would receive periodically from now on.
“...Magnificent.”
The amount of money a faction leader could legally receive, as written inside, was truly beyond imagination—enough to make him mutter those words unconsciously.
It was enough to make him finally understand why the leaders of the other two factions had been gritting their teeth and clinging to their positions for years without stepping down.
‘...At this rate, it’s worth enduring all sorts of hardships every single day.’
Just how was the faction structure designed for them to make this much money?
Regardless of that question, Alon, satisfied once again by this "financial therapy" as he calculated his future income, was tucking the letter into his breast pocket when Evan spoke.
“Count, isn't that the letter that arrived two weeks ago?”
“It is.”
“You’re still carrying it around.”
“It puts my mind at ease.”
At the unexpected answer, Evan looked at him with a strange expression.
“...Sometimes, I really can't tell if you're being serious about everything or not.”
“I’m not particularly serious, but I’m not not serious either.”
Evan shrugged at that and brought up a new topic.
“Come to think of it, I heard a few interesting stories while we were staying in town yesterday.”
“Interesting stories?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of stories?”
“It’s still just a rumor, and I haven't had the information guild confirm the details yet, so it’s not certain, but it seems Deus defeated Reinhardt.”
“If it’s Reinhardt, are you talking about the First Sword of Calliban?”
“Yes.”
“...Deus defeated the First Sword?”
Evan nodded at Alon’s question.
“As I said, it’s not confirmed since I haven't checked with the information guild yet... but seeing as the rumor has spread this far, I suspect it might be true.”
“Hmm...”
Alon thought of Deus.
Deus, whom he had naturally lost contact with after they went on the Northern Expedition together six months ago.
‘...Isn't Reinhardt a difficult opponent to beat?’
Of course, he knew Deus was strong.
He was one of the Master Knights, just like Reinhardt, and Alon had clearly seen Deus’s strength himself.
However, Alon, who knew just how powerful Reinhardt was through the game Psychedelia, couldn't help but be a bit puzzled.
As far as he knew, Reinhardt possessed a level of strength that was on a different dimension compared to other Master Knights.
But then again, he didn't think the rumor was necessarily wrong either.
‘...If he can beat Reinhardt in just half a year... just how much talent does he have?’
Just as he was marveling at Deus’s talent anew.
“There’s other news as well.”
“Is it about Seolrang this time? Or Yutia?”
“Well—I suspect it might be a rumor related to Yutia, but it’s technically a different story.”
“?”
Alon listened to the following words, and after hearing the whole situation, he asked back.
“Duke Rimgrave was taken to the Holy Kingdom?”
“Yes. Ah, for the record, this isn't a rumor; it seems he was actually taken.”
“Why...?”
“I heard he received a Re-education Letter.”
“A Re-education Letter...?”
“You know, that thing. The letter the Holy Kingdom sends to a nation when there are suspicious circumstances suggesting someone has conspired with heretics. He received one of those.”
“And so he was taken to the Holy Kingdom?”
“Yes. They say he went voluntarily, but he was essentially dragged away. I heard it was about two weeks ago, so you probably won't be seeing Duke Rimgrave’s face at this Symposium.”
Alon nodded at Evan’s words, thinking it wasn't a bad thing.
In fact, he was still a bit reluctant to meet Duke Rimgrave or Marquis Philboyd.
It was because whenever they met, they would glare at him as if they wanted to devour him whole.
“Hmm...”
Of course, no matter how much hostility they showed, it wouldn't actually cause Alon any harm.
Still, it was true that being in the same space as someone who was hostile toward him was uncomfortable.
“It’ll be a bit more relaxing, then.”
Muttering that, he noticed the Veritun territory, where the Symposium was being held, appearing in the distance.
A short while later, he arrived at the estate of Marquis Veritun and headed straight for the ballroom.
“We have arrived, Count.”
At Evan’s words, Alon naturally stepped out of the carriage.
‘There are a lot of people.’
As soon as he stepped out, he couldn't help but think that to himself as he saw the crowd.
There had been many people at the Grand Social Gathering, but there were far more at this Symposium.
‘There are definitely many non-nobles here. Mercenaries over there, merchants here, mages over there... even priests.’
Alon walked along, observing the various people attending the social gathering who clearly looked different from the nobility.
Before long.
He encountered Duke Altia and Count Zenonia, both wearing black dresses as if they had been waiting for him.
“You’ve arrived.”
“Have you been well?”
“Yes.”
Alon gave a short reply to the two masterminds as they naturally exchanged greetings.
Even though he knew he was in the same boat as them, he somehow felt intimidated whenever he stood before the two of them.
It was because he was naturally mindful of the misunderstandings(?) between them.
From Alon’s perspective, he couldn't afford to let them realize there was a misunderstanding.
And so, after exchanging brief pleasantries with the two, Alon was having a small conversation while picking at the refreshments laid out across the ballroom.
“Ah.”
Unfortunately, his eyes met those of the man he least wanted to see: Marquis Philboyd.
“...”
Duke Altia and Count Zenonia, who had been talking until a moment ago, fell silent the moment they saw Marquis Philboyd. Their expressions hardened as the Marquis began walking toward them.
In the underworld, they were undoubtedly powerful, but in the political world, they were still below Marquis Philboyd. They were tense because they didn't know how a man who had survived all sorts of political battles might use his tongue to damage them internally or externally.
At the same time, the moment several nobles participating in the Symposium noticed Marquis Philboyd standing before Count Palatio Alon.
“...I, I have lost...! So please, spare me...!”
A mournful mutter escaped Marquis Philboyd’s lips.
At that, not only the nobles watching the Marquis but also Count Zenonia and Duke Altia, who were watching from the side, were all shocked.
It was only natural, as the nobles here knew.
They knew just how much influence Marquis Philboyd wielded in the political world.
They also knew that since the Marquis first started in politics, his head had never once been bowed.
Therefore, all the nobles watching the scene were simultaneously horrified as they looked at Alon, who had extracted a declaration of defeat from Marquis Philboyd.
‘...? Me...? What did I...?’
...Meanwhile, Alon, who had been giving adequate responses to the two young ladies while snacking on a financier, could only wear a look of utter confusion.