Chapter 579: Time to Collect the Debt (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 579: Time to Collect the Debt (2)
Dante’s request to Nameless was simple: assassinate the Emperor and bring back his head.
He would have preferred to demand the Emperor be captured alive, but Oul had already assigned Yona to the assassination. No one could find and kill the Emperor faster than she could, and Oul worried the Imperial family might secure the Emperor before a Nameless assassin could reach him.
That was why Oul had refused the request for a live capture. While Yona possessed assassination skills that surpassed even his own, she was impossible to control. There was no way she would leave the Emperor alive once she laid eyes on him. The Emperor’s attack on Hairan hadn’t just been an assault on the clan; it had threatened Jin, the younger brother Yona cherished more than anything else in the world.
Though it was a shame, Dante had no choice but to agree. He shared Oul’s reasoning. No matter how great his resentment, Dante was not the type of person to hold the Emperor captive and torture him. He needed the Emperor’s head secured by the swiftest and most certain means possible, so he could hang it in the plaza and announce that the empire was no longer under his rule.
However, defying everyone’s expectations…
Yona brought the Emperor back alive, a bright smile on her face. She arrived at Hairan’s second castle in the imperial capital, where Jin and Dante were waiting.
“Hee-hee, little brother! You have no idea how much I wanted to kill this scrawny lump of meat.”
Oul was the most shocked of all. Seeing Yona dragging the unconscious Emperor along like a sack of luggage, he nearly dropped the cigarette he was holding.
“Yona… what possessed you to bring him back alive?”
“I thought my little brother would want to deal with this thing more than me, hee-hee. Did I do a good job?”
As Yona casually tossed the Emperor in front of them, Oul’s eyes narrowed with concern.
“Are you… alright?”
Ever since Gliek’s chaos had swept through the world, Yona’s own chaos—which had only recently been brought under control—had begun to torment her once again. Her power was reacting to Gliek’s, the very source of that dark energy.
Oul was aware of this and had come here specifically to discuss it with Jin.
“I’m okay for now, hee-hee. At least, I’m not at the point where I’ll kill everyone I see. And if it makes my little brother happy, I can endure it a little longer!”
Despite her words, Yona’s face was pale. Suppressing the murderous intent that the chaos was forcibly amplifying was no easy feat. Though she had been born a killer, tainted by chaos from birth, her essence was composed of a kind and pure energy—something uncharacteristic of a Runcandel.
Jin had been the first to recognize that inner self during their time as reserve flagbearers. Thanks to him, she had gained control over the chaos, and she was still holding on now, even as it grew unstable again.
“I won’t assign you any more capture missions in the future,” Oul said, his tone firm.
“Thank you, Sister,” Jin said, turning to Yona. “But please, always prioritize your own condition from now on.”
“My little brother is worried about me.”
“Of course I am.”
“Hee-hee, good, good. Well, I need to rest for a bit. I’ll be fine by tomorrow evening, so you’d better wait for me, little brother. Let’s play!”
“I will.”
As Yona vanished out the window, Oul pressed a hand to his forehead. Jin’s expression also darkened. They returned to the conversation they were having before Yona arrived.
“Lord Oul, was it really that bad?”
“Yes. The moment that fellow Gliek awakened, she had a violent seizure and went on a rampage. Fortunately, I and all the top assassins were nearby, so there were no casualties. But if we hadn't been there… I don’t even want to imagine it.”
Jin looked at the wounds on Oul’s face and hands. They were injuries sustained while subduing the rampaging Yona.
To think Lord Oul was injured, even with ten of his top assassins helping.
He had never imagined that Gliek’s awakening would trigger Yona’s rampage.
Back then, Lord Amela and the Prochi siblings also showed signs of seizures because of Gliek’s energy. But my sister rampaged even though she was so far from the battlefield.
There was still very little known about chaos. Even Jin, who had faced Gliek directly, only knew that the Kings of Chaos were born from the gods' mistake—the Origin Stones—and that they could never be opposed without the power of Creation.
Still, he could deduce a link between the events.
“The remnants of Gliek’s energy left in the world aren’t causing the same reaction in every chaos-infected person as they are in Sister Yona.”
The seizures that afflicted Amela and the Prochi siblings had subsided shortly after the Barmul Alliance left the battlefield with Runcandel’s help. Now that only the creature's lingering energy remained, they were no different than they were before the incident.
“Are you saying this phenomenon only occurs in those infected with chaos above a certain level?” Oul asked.
“That is what I believe. Lord Oul, have you ever seen the true nature of the chaos Sister Yona possesses?”
“I have.”
“Lord Amela is also infected with chaos. My sister once came to subdue Amela’s chaos because she sensed it, and the difference between my sister’s chaos and Amela’s was so vast they couldn't even be compared.”
Jin then pointed to the documents lying on the table.
“And these documents summarize other cases of demonization and rampages. The Barmul Alliance’s informants and reporters gathered them; similar things are happening all over the world.”
However, none of the other rampaging individuals displayed martial power as formidable as Yona’s. Of course, they were still at a level that required at least 7-star or 8-star knights and mages to subdue, but they were nothing compared to Yona.
If the degree of reaction to Gliek’s energy was truly dictated by the magnitude of one’s chaos, it meant Yona’s chaos was on an entirely different dimension from theirs.
“Sigh.”
Oul let out a heavy sigh of frustration. As of now, there was no way to stop the rampages of the chaos-infected. And Oul truly cherished Yona, viewing her as more than just his successor.
Jin felt just as frustrated.
“I will continue to look for a way.”
“Nameless will also share any relevant information with the Barmul Alliance as soon as it comes to light.”
Oul was now treating Jin not merely as a Runcandel flagbearer, but as the Commander-in-Chief of the Barmul Alliance. It wasn't just because he personally held Jin in high regard or because of his gratitude regarding Yona. Since the world’s landscape had shifted after the Sword Emperor Holy War, the day when Nameless could no longer maintain its neutrality might not be far off.
“At any rate, I should go keep an eye on Yona. With this, the commission is fully complete. Jin, and Dante Hairan.”
Throughout their conversation, Dante had kept his eyes fixed on the Emperor sprawled on the floor.
“Yes, Lord Oul. I will pay the additional reward for the live capture as soon as you inform me of the amount…”
Oul shook his head at Dante’s words.
“There is no need for that. If you think about it, Nameless also owed a debt to Lord Ron, did we not? Besides, I personally owed Lord Ron a debt in my youth.”
Oul pulled a single condolence flower from his robe.
“Since I cannot pay my respects at Lord Ron’s memorial in the Sword Emperor Castle just yet, please place this at the temporary memorial within the empire on my behalf.”
After Oul departed, Jin and Dante looked down at the Emperor. His torn clothes, wretched appearance, and gaunt body showed exactly what kind of life he had led while on the run.
“It seems he received no protection from the Imperial family,” Jin observed.
Dante nodded. The two of them were well aware that the reason the Imperial family hadn't protected the Emperor wasn't just because of ‘public sentiment.’ It meant the Emperor no longer held the Imperial family’s most vital trump cards, including ‘Demonization.’
“I must inform the people of my regency at noon.”
Slap, slap!
Dante slapped the Emperor’s cheeks and pulled him to his feet.
“Urgh, ugh…!”
“Amir Viment, perpetrator of civil war.”
“Dante… Hairan?”
“In two hours, you will stand in the Imperial Palace Plaza, the very place where you incited the people by calling Hairan traitors. Your life and death will be decided there.”
The Emperor seemed to have already let go of his lingering attachments, as he didn't appear particularly flustered. He, too, knew that the Imperial family had abandoned him. Furthermore, since Zipple had broken their promise during the first battle, he truly had no allies left.
“Heh… Do you intend to publicly execute me and declare that the era of Hairan has arrived? Will you cut off my head yourself with that sword?”
“No. It won't be Hairan’s vengeance that kills you…”
Swish! Dante pulled back the curtains and opened the central window, revealing the crowds gathered in the distance like clouds.
The people were screaming. They demanded that Amir Viment be handed over so they could tear him apart. They looked ready to riot at any moment if their demands weren't met.
“It is the will of the empire’s people.”
The Emperor’s calm eyes darkened rapidly and began to tremble.
What Amir Viment had feared was not death or torture. It wasn't being abandoned by the Imperial family, nor was it losing his status as Emperor.
It was the voices of the people, steeped in resentment. Even he hadn't realized it until this very moment.
Amir Viment was a cruel and eccentric man, but his love for the people as their Emperor had been sincere in its own twisted way.
— They have no power to stop me anyway, nor the will to do so. Even if they like Hairan more than me, they won't truly put their lives on the line. I find that foolish and annoying side of the people quite cute and lovely.
Those were the words he had spoken to Alton Hairan in the Imperial Palace Plaza just before the Sword Emperor Holy War.
Unlike then, the people now showed a determination to kill the Emperor, even if it meant risking their own lives.
That sight was shattering the Emperor’s inner self, which had been built on arrogance, self-righteousness, and pride. He was not yet ready to part ways with his people.
A wretched man who had spent his entire life in a misguided, one-sided love was now to meet his end at their hands.
Amir Viment found it more painful that he had only just realized this than the fact that he was losing his throne and facing death.
Two hours later.
The Emperor, cast into the plaza, was pelted with stones by the people until not a single trace of his form remained.
Even after all that was left on the ground where he had stood were stains of blood, flesh, and bone, the people did not leave, continuing to pour out their curses.