Chapter 412
Chapter 412
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 412
>Chapter Title: This Is How Villains Usually Get Ruined
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We departed from Oukan's camp and linked up with Pushk's warriors.
The great warriors were startled once at the sight of Yongyong soaring through the sky, then again upon realizing no pursuers were on their tail.
‘Come to think of it, we decided to keep Oukan’s death under wraps, didn’t we?’
They’d only instructed the tribes holding the front lines to fall back.
It seemed they worried that news of Oukan—a Geyar Driman—dying would tank morale, and it wasn’t a bad call.
‘Morale drop aside, the Empire wouldn’t benefit from knowing either.’
And so, after joining the warriors, we pressed on with a cautious journey.
With Pushk set to abandon the great plains, running into frontline tribes felt awkward as hell.
The camp tribes had witnessed my and the parasite’s power, so they let us go without fuss, but to the frontline ones, Pushk was nothing more than a plain traitor—nothing less, nothing more.
“It doesn’t sit right with me, feeling like we’re the only ones running. This must be another burden I have to shoulder.”
“What... They even said they didn’t want to come.”
Truth be told, over the past few days, we’d floated the idea of heading to the continent to other tribes too. Not me proposing, of course—Yurbuke did.
Not a single one took us up on it.
Seemed like the parasite offing Oukan had played a big role in that...
“Even so, I can’t help feeling uneasy.”
“Yeah, then keep feeling uneasy real hard.”
Staying or leaving.
Honestly, no telling which was right.
No guarantee the continent would be any better than the great plains.
‘Might even be Yurbuke regretting it instead.’
Well, that’s a problem for future us.
In any case, to stay out of sight, we hunkered down in the hills during the day and moved only after sunset, repeating the cycle.
Crossing the front lines wasn’t too tough.
“No need to worry. The night is my domain.”
A vampire lord’s power to summon night even in daylight shone even brighter at midnight. To the point where it could cloak all of Pushk’s tribesfolk and warriors in darkness.
‘This guy’s seriously turning into some myth out of legend.’
You know how there are those old tales?
Master knights and archmages swarming in droves, barely repelling... demons or whatever sketchy beings from folklore.
‘I always figured they were just tall tales from overactive imaginations...’
The parasite, the wyvern—same deal.
Seeing mythical beings alive and breathing right in front of me made me wonder if the rest from those stories once walked the continent too.
Like tree-hugging elf types, or dwarves who handled iron like pros.
Which brought something to mind.
Suppose elves really existed?
‘Nah, elves don’t really interest me.’
Most fairy tales say they’re arrogant by nature and look down on humans... nothing to gain there.
Dwarves, though—that piqued my interest.
‘Masters of iron, huh?’
Picture it.
A mage tower full of dwarves huddled together.
Furnaces glowing hot through the night, unceasing clang of hammers on metal.
‘And all those weapons they forge become the tower’s property.’
Not like I’d enslave them.
Mutual benefit.
Dwarves probably couldn’t live peacefully with their skills, so the tower protects them, and they lend their craft in return.
How great would that be?
...Of course, idle fantasy.
Even if they existed, they’d be long extinct by now.
Vampire clans were much the same.
Anyway, after days of trekking like that.
As we entered Lamburk Duchy territory, Yurbuke gazed around with eyes brimming with emotion.
“...So this is the continent. To think it could be this warm in winter...”
This is warm?
His senses must be off.
‘Well, at least he’s happy.’
Arapur was on the cooler side compared to central continent temps, thanks to those massive mountains looming large.
I’d worried he might be disappointed since he seemed to crave the continent’s ‘warm lands’...
‘If this counts as warm, we’re golden.’
Relieved and a bit proud at Yurbuke’s awe, I guided the Pushk tribe to the Grand Duchess’s camp.
Not to throw them into the war.
More like...
‘...Time to wrap things up.’
To tie off unfinished bad blood.
* * *
Truth be told, when I first heard Otto had fled, I wrestled with this a bit.
‘Do I really need to chase down Otto at this point?’
Originally—pre-parasite rescue op—finishing Otto wasn’t strictly about him, but the Urbuna House’s overall might.
‘Say what you will, they’re a famed magic house.’
Even up north, geographically distant, making enemies of a magic powerhouse is a hassle.
So, had to nip future troubles in the bud.
But things changed.
Why?
‘...Big bro stepped up more than expected.’
This war was meant to end on moderate terms.
Or... with Lamburk crushed.
Either way, I’d assumed it’d wrap with Urbuna’s forces intact, but as mentioned, big bro handled it masterfully.
‘Missed Otto, sure, but nabbed top seat Gite, and Otto himself fled with major wounds.’
And that’s not all.
They rooted out Urbuna’s spies and turned the tables. Shockingly, one was among the Twelve Oathed.
Planted spies for ops, used enemy spies for counters.
Must’ve been hell for Urbuna.
Black Stone wiped out, patriarch wounded and routed, battles lost left and right.
The result?
‘...Urbuna’s done for.’
Even if Otto returned alive.
The ‘Shards of Reverse Heaven’ to replace the lost grimoire were already in my hands, Black Stone and their prized mage corps in ruins.
What Urbuna had left?
‘...Two archmages.’
Patriarch Otto and the former one.
Sure, two archmages were formidable.
But just two.
‘They can dominate a battlefield, not a war.’
No fancy strategies needed—just stretch the lines wide, and even archmages are helpless.
Point is.
‘Even if Otto lives, post-war, they’ll be too busy watching Lamburk’s moves.’
So, did I really need to hunt him down now?
Dragging Pushk’s people, wasting travel time, sneaking into the warzone heart, days maybe to assassinate Otto?
“...Doesn’t feel right.”
But I’d decided en route to off him anyway.
Reason?
‘Villains always fall like this.’
...Good enough. Other stuff’s more pressing now. No time for that punk.
Then what happens?
Throat slit.
Hero grows on villain’s contempt, overcomes trials—snick.
Sure, between Otto and me, I’m the hero.
But history’s written by winners.
“What if? We let Otto go here? He rises later? Then he’s the hero, not me.”
Preemptive stamping out, you know?
“That’s why I’m going after Otto.”
“...You sure gave a grand answer to ‘why bother crossing the battlefield?’”
Shine stared at me like I was hopeless, but honestly, that look felt unfair.
Why?
He asked first.
Anyway.
‘Problem’s finding Otto...’
Even big bro couldn’t track him after the escape.
Not back at Urbuna lands either.
‘Hope we find him quick...’
Lost in such thoughts while riding, Yurbuke—who’d been leading—wheeled his horse back right then.
“We’ve arrived.”
Far off, big bro’s camp came into view.
* * *
“Welcome. Thrilled to see you all again like this.”
The Grand Duchess welcomed Aster’s group with open arms.
Her face, after so long, bloomed bright.
War’s shadow lingered on one side, unavoidable, but way better than last time.
Seemed the tide was turning favorably...
“You must be Pushk Tribe’s Driman?”
“Indeed. Forgive my ignorance of imperial etiquette—I forgo the drink.”
“No need. I know little of plains custom myself, so we’re even.”
The Grand Duchess warmly received the Pushk tribe and Yurbuke.
Surprising, given how the Maharpat—raiders every winter—tormented the duchy.
After greetings with Yurbuke, her attention turned to Shine.
“But you...”
“Swordmaster. Name’s none of your business.”
Her brow twitched at the curt reply and blunt tone, but something else irked more.
An inexplicable sense of familiarity.
“Have we met? You seem... familiar.”
“Dunno... This body don’t recall.”
“Definitely familiar...”
Eyes narrowing, she scanned Shine top to bottom, but he shut his eyes indifferently and turned away.
Her reaction was natural, really.
Sometimes a battlefield comrade you synced with briefly feels closer than old friends who’ve shared endless words—and they’d shared that once.
Against the Destrow in the great forest.
A brief alliance.
But Shine, unwilling to dredge up his shameful Death Knight days, stonewalled her, and her déjà vu passed as mere fancy.
Greetings done.
...In the Grand Duchess’s tent.
She’d called Aster aside, personally pouring tea and asking after him.
“How have you been?”
“Eh, you know...”
A light silence fell. In it, Aster and the Grand Duchess realized.
They weren’t particularly close.
Distance confirmed.
Aster spoke first.
“Uh... Any luck finding Otto?”
“Perfect segue—we need to talk about that.”
“...?”
He tilted his head, and she handed over a letter stamped with Urbuna House’s seal.
“Arrived this morning from Urbuna’s former patriarch.”
“Former... patriarch?”
Why would he—not Otto—write now? As Aster pondered, she spoke.
“They surrender.”
“...Surrender?”
“Yes, they even fetched an imperial mediator quick.”
Aster’s face twisted.
...And they hadn’t even caught Otto yet?