Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: 3. And So the Story Begins. (5)
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“Instructor! Please!”
Yeah, no way. For the sin of trying to strike your sky-like instructor in the back of the head.
Writhe in agony and repent!
“Arrrgh!”
“Spare me!”
“No, just kill me instead!”
I smack the back of the hand of the guy crawling on the floor, reaching for his dropped sword.
“I won’t allow death.”
“Nooo!”
-Do it! Ahh, this is the taste… This is the taste I’ve been craving…
The ecstatic moans from the Iron Bat are polluting my mind. At this rate, I’ll turn into a sadist.
That’s why I didn’t want to use this thing, but now I have no choice.
“P-Please… just kill me…”
“Arrrrgh, nooooo!”
I beat them around the ones drooling and crawling on the floor.
The ones who’ve already taken enough punishment are groaning “Ughhh” and stuck to the floor like gum, so I just need to hit the ones still moving.
Especially my disciple—I have to give her extra. She’s beastkin with high endurance, so she holds up well.
“Arrrgh! Stop, please stop!”
-Long time no see, bro. You still got that satisfying punch from back in the day!
The joyful cries and pain-filled screams overlapping is driving me nuts.
So, first things first, let’s quiet at least one of them down.
“Grraaak!”
-Perfect 17-hit combo! Master’s combos are flawless!
One by one, I reduce their numbers.
I consider landing the finishing blow to end it completely, but here, I should just tie up the Imperial Army’s feet.
-Master, Master! Why stop hitting? Hurry, hurry! Ar’s in a great mood right now, so hit more quick!
Ahh, this damn sadist. Her whiny voice ringing in my head is annoying, but I still do what needs doing.
They seem abandoned by the organization anyway, so no need to take evidence of the anti-Empire rebels. I scatter it around and fire the signal flare I snuck out.
-Master, Master! Playing with fire at night’ll make you piss your pants!
Hell, if the princess catches me, I’ll piss myself more anyway!
Becoming an ego after all those experiments was a stroke of luck, but damn if it didn’t get the wrong soul attached.
They say the emperor’s sword is quiet and heavy, teaches a thousand sword arts just by holding it, and acts as the imperial swordmaster. But this one’s going “Ahh ahh” and dragging its wielder down the sadist path.
-Huh? Master, you dissing me right now? Saying I’m worse than the Empire’s sword?! Me, the cute and beautiful goddess Ar, worse than some old sword?!
And it’s annoyingly good at reading my thoughts sometimes. Such a pain.
I’d make something else if I could, but the dwarves refuse, and among countless failures, this is the one success—miraculous, they said.
Plus, I need a new job right now…
Remaking the one built with massive funds embezzled from the Empire and the organization would cost a fortune.
Mithril’s the cheapest metal used—poured in every legendary alloy, engraved with spells and magic circles stitch by stitch, over a hundred linked, an ego sword—no, ego bat—with 108 curses and 256 blessings. The cost rivals the imperial budget.
Thanks to goodwill from other races, they dropped it to cost price, but still astronomical!
Sold nobles’ fancy underground market goods during the great war to barely escape debt.
Only to pile it up again soon after.
“No, you’re the best.”
-Huh, obviously.
Alright, the Imperial Army should be here soon. Time to run.
Dark Sword’ll probably get caught somehow. The princess might kill him for letting me escape, toss him in jail since she didn’t trust him anyway.
Or secretly absorb him to hunt me down.
Hm. Should I have just killed him here?
But the signal’s already fired.
Whatever happens,
It’s none of my business.
#5 Their Circumstances: A Certain Empire’s Circumstances.
“Your Majesty, please understand.”
“Please understand.”
“Man, even the neighborhood market’s quieter than this.”
“Your Majesty, even during a meeting, such words…”
“You’ve got soundproofing magic up anyway.”
“Ahh, you bastard. If you know, shut your mouth before I cast it.”
“Heh heh, look at this guy. I’m the emperor?”
“Then should I commit treason?”
“Sorry.”
Arten, head of imperial security and the emperor’s old friend, sighed at the un-emperor-like emperor bowing his head.
“Why mess with quiet Howling? We leave it alone because it’s a hassle.”
“My scary daughter’s smashing it because some guy kidnapped her man.”
“Like father, like daughter. What’s with the scale? Smashing the Empire’s top organization over one guy.”
“Dunno, but if Atia says it, we listen.”
“Ugh… Who’d think it’d survive this long.”
“Yeah, I didn’t either. Hurts as a dad, but as emperor, no choice.”
“You still protect your kids? Then sort the succession properly first.”
“Imperial succession’s always bloody battle royale by history and tradition. I beat my siblings to sit here. My kids are no different. But I held back on killing, unlike my time?”
“Oh, you’re so great.”
“I’m pretty great.”
Arten nearly landed a punch but held back with supreme patience.
“He’s the emperor. The guy in front is the emperor. Trash that needs burning, but still emperor.” He gripped his staff tight, muttering.
“Fine, great guy. Your great daughter’s raging to wipe out Howling, and the guys getting beat by Howling are stirring for mercy. What now?”
“What else? Let it be. My son’s already listened to his big sis and taken troops anyway.”
“What the hell, idiot?”
“Hey, I’m the emperor?”
Arten’s fury made even the emperor flinch.
“Hey, how’s the crown prince leaving without me knowing? I’m head of imperial guard. My men guard this place tight—how’s he sneaking out without contact? Where’d he get the soldiers?”
“Oh, that? Take the imperial guard. Solves everything. Sneaks out unknown to you, elite and secret.”
“Ah, right.”
Arten’s face screamed, “Damn, didn’t think of that!”
Then to the smug emperor:
“Last words?”
“Hey, wait?”
Ignoring the panicking emperor, Arten finished his chant as the emperor clung to his leg, begging.
“Uh, Sir Arten? Hear me out?”
“Chant’s breaking. Sit and await peaceful death.”
“Hey? This is treason!”
“Huh? So what. Bucket list item—treason—finally happening!”
“Arrrgh! A great villain coveting the throne was this close!”
As the emperor screamed and jumped up, the spell completed.
“Now, burn in deathly flames.”
“Hey, wait! This ain’t a joke!”
Clang!
The emperor drew his sword, slicing white flames, yelling in panic, but Arten just clicked his tongue. “Tch, failed.”
“Hey, even as friends, this is real treason?”
“Beating works best on madmen, since long ago.”
“Hey, even if you overused my men, they’re my subordinates too?”
“Steal all imperial guard first—who stops real treason then?”
“You and me?”
“That possible?!”
“Maybe?”
Arten was speechless. Thinking about it, maybe.
He’s top-tier continent mage—only the magic tower master matches.
And this emperor? Not just crazy—actually insane. Called Sword Emperor, one of five top sword titles as crown prince.
Pure skill? Stronger than current famed Sword Saint.
“You’ll do it?”
“Yeah?”
Arten nodded, lowering his staff. Emperor relaxed, sheathed his sword.
This friend’s top talent. Beyond imperial chief mage, handles all affairs—even emperor’s work!
Must keep working for him—no, the Empire.
For his own leisure too!
“Sigh… What’s done is done.”
“That’s my friend.”
“Your friend’s talent is quick surrender and cleanup.”
“Alright then. The ministers.”
“Suppress with force again?”
Arten sighed, raising staff. Emperor stood, tapping scabbard.
The sole witness beside—the imperial knight vice-captain, subbing for absent captain as crown prince’s guard—thought:
‘Is the Empire okay like this?’
The loyalist truly worried for its future.
***
“The criminal always returns to the scene!”
-Master, Master. No one’s here, but don’t act crazy. It’s embarrassing.
“Even I don’t like hearing ‘crazy’ from you.”
I shove magic stone lamps into my subspace pouch, lightly retorting to the Iron Bat.
Where’s this, you ask? Courtesy demands an answer!
The training cave where I stuffed the trainees!
Recover used magic stones, head to my office via secret passage, dispose of remaining docs.
Grab key items, flee Empire? Or op name “Dark under the lamp”—execute plan? Decisions.
Oh, forgot something important.
“Hi, juniors?”
“Wanna get hit?”
“No, sir!”
The homunculi greeting me in perfect disciple pose get Iron Bat treatment—they scatter.
True to inheriting disciples’ memories.
“Our pact ends. Ah, not you.”
With those words, they melt into silver metal.
-Damn, finally over.
-Fucking hell. Thought I’d die from repair reports.
-No more monsters!
-Haha, hell, farewell!
-Wait, our home’s hell?
“It’s fine, it’s home.”
“Ah, wait! Take me too!”
Ignore the contracted doppelgangers’ grumbles, collect the metals.
Side products from making Iron Bat.
Some dented or cracked, but repairable.
“Shut up, you revert too. Job’s ending soon anyway.”
“Really? For real!”
“Yes.”
Last one melts to original form—I collect it, open secret passage to office. Hm? Huh?
“Still someone left?”
Clang!
Sword flies at me?