Chapter 227
Episode 227
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
Amidst the deafening roar of over ten thousand galloping horses shaking the earth, a middle-aged man with fiery red hair and crimson eyes at the forefront shouted hoarsely, veins bulging in his neck.
"Charge! Keep charging!"
The MacLaine crossbow cavalry, forming the core of the ten-thousand-strong mounted force, had been hastily assembled after the battlefield cleanup—composed only of elites capable of sustaining a relentless march. But even for them, pushing forward with minimal rest for over a full day was grueling.
Finally—
Hiiiiing!
A horse at the rear of the formation collapsed weakly, unable to keep up.
"Jenson!"
Comrades nearby cried out in desperation, but—
"Leave the stragglers! Eyes forward—keep moving!"
At Instructor Kaisolon's merciless bark, the crossbow cavalry snapped their attention back to the front.
This had already happened several times.
Though every soldier was pushing their limits, their lord stood ahead, roaring with bloodshot eyes.
"Don't slow down! Rest only when absolutely necessary!"
His shouts carried the resolve to close the distance with Logan, who had raced ahead while they were delayed by battlefield cleanup. With their lord setting such an example, the soldiers had no choice but to grit their teeth and follow.
But as they continued their punishing advance—
A contingent of troops appeared in the distance, approaching them.
"It's the banner of Count Armored!"
At a soldier's shout recognizing the family crest, Patrick's brow furrowed deeper.
'We don't have time for this.'
The approaching force numbered barely fifty knights and perhaps ten times that in foot soldiers.
Even without its knights, the MacLaine crossbow cavalry was an elite among elites—confident they could melt down a small knight order with their rapid-fire crossbows alone. If these fools dared oppose them just because they saw no knights, they'd be crushed without hesitation.
"All troops—prepare for battle!"
At Patrick's bloodthirsty command, the charging soldiers' eyes sharpened.
Crossbows were readied, swords and spears drawn—battle preparations completed in just a few breaths.
That alone spoke volumes about their discipline.
But they never got the chance to swing their weapons.
"Marquis! It's Samuel Armored! We've come to join MacLaine's forces!"
A portly middle-aged man at the front waved his banner frantically.
True to his words, neither the knights nor soldiers behind him showed any hostility—none had drawn weapons, and some even bowed their heads as if afraid of being misunderstood.
'Hm?'
Patrick scrutinized them with a piercing gaze before nodding curtly.
Two days had passed since the battle's conclusion.
By now, no one could deny MacLaine's unstoppable momentum. It was only natural that some would flock to their side—no, many would.
But Patrick's response was simple.
"Keep charging!"
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
As if deaf to the count's shouts, the MacLaine forces continued their relentless advance.
Samuel Armored, who had been shouting eagerly, paled instantly.
"W-wait—!"
Facing the charge of ten thousand head-on was an overwhelming pressure.
"Count Armored! Clear the path! If you don't move, we'll ride right through you!"
Patrick's thunderous voice echoed across the plains, startling the count and his men.
"M-Marquis! I came to offer my support—!"
"Shut up! If you want to help, keep up on your own!!"
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
The ten thousand cavalry stormed forward without pause, forcing Samuel Armored—who had raised his banner high to ride the tide—to hastily scramble aside.
"Damn it...!"
A humiliating moment.
But why had he come here in the first place?
MacLaine had already won the battle—their momentum was unstoppable.
If he wanted a place in their ranks now, he had no choice.
"Follow them at all costs!!"
Gritting his teeth, he could only chase after the rear.
Hiiing!
But Samuel Armored's hopes wouldn't be realized so easily.
Over the next two days, the trailing forces of minor nobles trying to latch onto MacLaine's coattails grew to over five thousand soldiers from ten different houses.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
"How many are there now?"
"MacLaine, indeed..."
"The world really is changing."
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
The flood of troops pouring through the city gates drew fearful gazes from civilians hiding in their homes or watching from the streets.
Just moments ago, they had seen over a thousand knights charging toward the royal palace—and now, this massive army followed right behind.
While noble politics were beyond ordinary citizens' concerns, even they couldn't ignore the palpable tension in the air.
And Patrick's orders upon entering the outer city only amplified their unease.
"Units 1 through 5—search the eastern inner city! 5 through 10—south! 11 through 15—north! The rest—west! Arrest every noble and drag them to the palace! Kill any who resist!"
"Yes, sir!"
"M-Marquis! What should we do?"
After barking orders to his troops, Patrick turned his murderous gaze toward Samuel Armored.
Gulp.
The count instinctively shrank under that bloodthirsty glare.
"Martial law is now in effect across the capital! Sweep the outer city—capture any fleeing nobles you find!"
Fortunately, Patrick assigned them a role in securing the city.
"Yes!"
"Understood!"
"We'll carry out our duties faithfully!"
The minor nobles who had followed MacLaine shouted their acknowledgments, but Patrick was already sprinting toward the inner city before their voices faded.
"W-wait! There's nothing here—!"
"Move! Resistance won't be tolerated!"
"This is our home—!"
Crash!
As Patrick ran, he saw soldiers ransacking houses left and right.
Noble mansions, in particular, were being torn apart—utterly devastated. Some tried to resist, stationing knights or private soldiers at their gates.
"How dare you rebels oppress nobles?! Back off!"
At a portly noble's command, two knights stepped forward, pressuring the soldiers.
The faint crimson aura shimmering from their drawn swords marked them as mid-tier knights at the very least.
"Even lawless traitors must observe basic decorum toward nobles! Your soldiers' behavior speaks volumes about MacLaine's standards!"
The noble's fierce resistance made the soldiers hesitate—until Patrick personally intervened.
"Out of my way!"
Slash!
With a furious roar, Patrick cut through the crowd and decapitated the noble mid-sentence.
"Eek!"
As the noble's retinue recoiled in terror, Patrick barked at his faltering troops.
"Kill anyone who resists! Round up every noble in the capital with power or private forces! Hesitate, and you'll be the ones dying!"
"Y-yes, sir!"
The soldiers, pale-faced under his murderous aura, snapped to attention and resumed their search with renewed vigor.
Witnessing this, other nobles who had been preparing to resist immediately froze.
From then on, things went more smoothly.
"No exceptions! Arrest every noble!"
Spurred by Patrick's fierce command, MacLaine's soldiers grew bolder—smashing into mansions, tearing them apart.
Boom!
"Found some hiding here!"
"Drag them out and tie them up!"
"Ah! You madmen! Do you know who I—?!"
Thud!
"Ghk—?"
Slump.
"Tie them up and move out! Next mansion!"
The nobles' struggles no longer fazed MacLaine's soldiers.
"Hurry!"
As chaos erupted across Gran's inner city, some nobles took a different approach.
"Sp-spare my life! Just spare me!"
Some groveled and trembled the moment soldiers stormed in.
"We won't resist. Just guarantee our families' safety."
Others knelt voluntarily.
"Hahaha! We've been waiting. Take my private soldiers too. I'm Count Floyd's cousin..."
Some even claimed allegiance to MacLaine after the fact, offering assistance.
Thus, the capital descended into unprecedented turmoil.
'Good. The nobles are being dealt with.'
After contributing to the pandemonium by circling the inner city, Patrick marched straight toward the palace at its heart.
"Salute! My lord!"
Knights guarding the palace's shattered gates snapped to attention upon seeing Patrick.
Without responding, Patrick leaped off his horse.
"Where's Logan?"
"He went toward the Grand Hall! The entire knight order is securing the palace—we were left on perimeter duty in case—"
"Understood. Good work."
Without waiting for a full answer, Patrick vanished toward the Grand Hall.
The knights, momentarily stunned, soon returned to their posts—calmly observing the chaos outside.
The destruction had been wrought by the very lord they served.
—This is rebellion. If we don't crush it completely, we die.
That flawless logic allowed the knights to accept the ruined streets with detached composure.
"Ah! Salute! The outer city's Star Palace is secured!"
"Gasp! My lord! The inner city's Third Palace is secured!"
Amidst hurried salutes from passing knights, Patrick barely acknowledged them with a nod—striding swiftly toward where his son was presumed to be.
'The palace is secured. The capital's nobles are being rounded up. Some may have escaped, but they won't change the tide.'
Thump-thump.
Perhaps sensing the civil war's approaching end—the worst-case scenario he had braced for—his heart pounded unnaturally hard.
Before he knew it, Patrick stood before the Grand Hall's open doors—and froze.
The first thing he saw was the king's corpse, slumped over the throne in a pool of blood.
"Ugh..."
Even though he had prepared for this, his feet refused to move for a moment.
His gaze shifted to his son, standing motionless below the throne.
The king's blood, already congealing.
His son, lost in thought as he stared at it.
For a brief moment, Patrick noticed how spotless his son's sword looked—but—
'...There's no turning back now.'
A crushing weight pressed on his soul as Patrick bit his lip hard.
Only then did Logan turn and meet his father's eyes.
With great effort, Patrick forced out words.
"...It's done."