Chapter 228
Chapter 228
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 228
Chapter Title: Golden Lord (1)
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“...That’s exactly what happened, my lord!”
Untana’s savior, Duncan, proudly finished recounting his tale of bravery and puffed out his chest. The golden medal he’d received from the Delutana council gleamed proudly on his breast, while outside the window, the departing sounds of the Untana brass band echoed into the distance.
...Dung, dududung, buuu, buuuu....
“...”
Kadim finally pieced together the whole story. The traveling merchant who’d set off to rescue his family had somehow returned at the head of a ragtag circus troupe. It was almost impossible to believe.
“Hey, kid. Did your dad really take down that holy knight all by himself?”
The little boy, who was the spitting image of his father, nodded so vigorously it looked like his neck might snap.
“Yes! My dad was so cool, Mr. Kadim! That mean holy knight was being all nasty, but Dad went whoosh, dodging everywhere, then ‘take this!’ and bam... When I grow up, I wanna be a great hero just like him!”
“Ahem, hem... Well, hero might be a bit much... Densen, if you work hard, you could definitely turn out just like your dad...”
“Except without that ugly chin beard, hee hee!”
“...”
Duncan took a heavier blow from his own flesh and blood than he had from that high-ranking holy knight.
The little assassin, who’d landed a perfectly innocent critical hit, skipped away gleefully. Only Kadim and Duncan remained in the reception room. Before he knew it, Duncan had become the founding head of House Wheeled—and the master of this grand estate.
Kadim lifted his glass for a sip, then glanced at Duncan’s tattered right ear.
“That wound on your ear—was it from one of the Decagram?”
“Ah, ah... Yes... I let my guard down for a second, and their blade pierced right through...”
“If you want, I could heal it in no time.”
Kadim casually drew his Blood Ghost and held it near his own forearm. Duncan waved his hands in panic.
“N-No! I’m fine! A true warrior needs at least one glorious scar...”
“...If you say so.”
Even after all this time together, the merchant still jumped at the barbarian’s casual willingness to draw blood.
Soon, Duncan cautiously broached the topic he hadn’t dared mention earlier. The fact that the “Star That Illuminates Sleep” had been tracking them all this time, and the warnings he’d heard from the Forgotten God’s followers disguised as councilors.
As expected, Kadim didn’t seem particularly surprised. He’d already heard about the Elga Church archbishop’s obsessive thirst for revenge and the warnings regarding the “Star That Devours Darkness” from Hendark.
What caught his interest, however, was something else.
“...And they warned you that openly using dark holy arts would make it hard to escape ‘divine punishment’?”
“Yes, they said even the night isn’t entirely safe... Oh! And that young lady Ilenia asked me to pass on her apologies for leaving without a proper goodbye!”
“...”
Kadim brushed off the last part and sank into thought.
He’d glossed over it until now. But at this point, he couldn’t ignore the question any longer.
Why didn’t the fake Elga use “divine punishment” to exterminate all nonbelievers and heretics?
“Light and Order”—that was Elga’s true domain. Yet the fake Elga’s actions seemed more aligned with “tyranny and persecution,” and the same went for its followers.
But if the fake Elga’s goal was truly to wipe out nonbelievers and reign as the one true god... there were too many inconsistencies.
He could understand the Forgotten God’s followers going to lengths to hide their identities. But it made no sense that its allies—who worshipped humans as gods—or Atalans who revered war gods, elves who served the World Tree, or even Duncan and himself, who had openly slain a Decagram member, hadn’t been struck down.
It wasn’t a lack of power or reluctance to intervene on the mortal plane. Far from it—there was the distant precedent of the “Night of Divine Punishment” slaughtering a thousand dragons, and more recently, reducing Rapustran to rubble. If the fake Elga willed it, it could rain down divine punishment and obliterate any who defied it.
So there had to be some reason—whether by choice or necessity—for holding back against nonbelievers...
‘...Like cunning devils, giving a sliver of hope to breed greater “pain and despair”?’
Ridiculous. Setting aside why a god would need pain and despair, it would’ve been more efficient to hurl all humanity into hell and dangle hope from there.
No matter how he turned it over, no answers came. Incomprehensible. For now, Elga’s true intentions remained utterly inscrutable.
But Kadim knew one way to turn the absolute incomprehensible into something solvable.
Three hundred years ago, in the Demonic Realm, his first encounter with the “Archdemon” had felt less like facing a living being and more like confronting some supernatural will or unstoppable catastrophe. Witnessing its immortal colossal hearts and powers beyond human comprehension, understanding it or grasping its motives had seemed eternally impossible.
Yet as the hero’s party destroyed heart after heart, that enigmatic presence plummeted. And on the brink of death...
‘Kuhaha, kuhahaha! You think the likes of you can kill m—’
...it thrashed like any lowly demon before having its throat slit.
‘Survival.’ Make that the utmost priority, and even transcendent beings reveal their true nature.
There was no problem force couldn’t solve. As long as Elga held back, this war was a golden opportunity to slay its mighty followers, raise his own rank, and grow stronger. Plus, he’d heard from the dragon about the “fake Elga’s weakness”...
‘If the war drags on, I’ll have to test just how weakened the divine punishment really gets...’
With that resolve, Kadim snapped out of his reverie.
Looking closer, Duncan had changed a lot too. Sinewy, compressed muscles. A solidly reinforced frame. Slaying a Decagram must’ve finally pushed him into superhuman territory.
But the biggest change was in his eyes. The gaze of one who’d awakened to his potential and resolved to fight for what mattered.
Kadim let out a light chuckle and stood.
“Anyway, well done, Duncan. Looks like I’ve been underestimating you lately.”
“...!”
“Keep up the good work like this from here on out.”
Duncan watched the departing warrior, a smile soaked in emotion spreading across his face.
No matter how much praise he got from others... only this great berserker’s approval could fill the deepest cravings of his soul.
For the first time in ages, a public execution took place in Delutana’s central square.
In the Golden City, such executions were one of the few entertainments enjoyed by one and all, regardless of age, gender, wealth, or status.
Usually, the atmosphere was festive. Drunks vented their spleens with curses at the condemned, lovers clung together in mock horror to reaffirm their bonds, parents used it as a lesson for unruly kids, children begged for snacks to fill their bellies...
But today was different. Instead of reveling in the criminal’s death, every citizen seethed with rage, lamenting and glaring murderously.
The condemned were councilor Ramulek Volgaruis, who’d colluded with the empire to trigger the Gospel Body incident, along with his wife, Mrs. Volgaruis, and the entire household.
“Damn filthy mutts!! Empire’s lapdogs who slurped up that dogshit!!”
“Was the armband promised by those Elga freaks that tempting, you milk-sucking bastards!!”
“Rot in hell, you maggots not even fit to roll in dogshit!!”
Given his notoriety for raising vicious hounds, the insults leaned heavily on canine vulgarity. Stones flew alongside the curses, led by the bereaved families who’d lost kin in the Gospel Body crisis.
Ramulek himself had died when his back exploded during the “Star Proclaiming the Gospel” summoning. Still, they hanged his corpse from the gallows as a stark example of a traitor’s end.
His fate was almost merciful, though.
“Kek, kehk, guuu...”
“Guk, s-save... meee...”
Mrs. Volgaruis and the household, yet to perish, writhed in agony before soiling themselves in miserable death throes.
“Die, traitors!!”
“Glory to the Free City Alliance!! The blade of Remillion’s judgment awaits all betrayers!!”
The entire citizenry cheered the traitor clan’s annihilation. Among them, Gullak the Iron Hammer’s bereaved family rejoiced the most.
Ramulek, as a former councilor, had crippled Gullak and forced his family apart. Their grudge predated this incident. Finally avenged, the survivors wept and embraced. One girl, heir to her grandfather’s will, gripped her iron hammer tight with renewed resolve.
Nor were the emotional beneficiaries the only winners. The biggest practical gainer was right here.
“...Shall we keep watching, milords? The execution’s done; now it’s just desecrating the corpses.”
“No need for that. Let’s head out.”
“Ah, y-yes! Allow me to accompany you, milords!”
Enrico rose from the viewing platform near the scaffold, flanked by the two heroes who’d felled Elga’s star. Spotting them, the crowd shifted instantly.
“Look there!! The hero who crushed the vile empire’s holy knights and saved the Golden City—the Demon Slayer!!”
“Untana’s savior! The Reaper of Silvermirror Lake! Lord Duncan Wheeled too!!”
“Waaaaah!! Glory eternal to the heroes who saved our city from the empire!! Glory eternal to the Turis Family who invited and sponsored these champions!!”
“Remillion! Bless these great heroes and the noble Turis Family that supported them!!”
Thunderous cheers rained down on the departing heroes and the Turis councilor.
It was nothing short of miraculous. With head Pellico’s death, House Turis had teetered on the brink. If word got out that Enrico had unilaterally assumed the chairmanship, the family might’ve faced extinction.
But fortune smiled absurdly. The Volgaruis clan—the biggest obstacle—had been wiped out, and the other rivals’ households were paralyzed by treason charges.
Instead, news of Enrico sponsoring the heroes and organizing the evacuation spread, skyrocketing House Turis’s public support. Calls to name him next chairman were now the majority. Good fortune piled up as if the gods favored them.
Yet for some reason, Enrico’s expression wasn’t bright.
“Hoo... Forgive me, but could you spare a moment, milords?”
Like their first meeting, the councilor approached Kadim and Duncan with a haggard face.
“First, allow me to thank you once more for saving Delutana and Untana.”
Enrico bowed deeply. It was gratitude not just for the cities, but for allowing House Turis to claim patronage of the saviors.
Kadim hadn’t permitted it lightly. He’d heard how this man had covered up the Arch Paladin’s death in the Twin Canyons, arranged shelter for the Atalans and Duncan’s family, and struggled to aid them in various ways.
But his charity had limits—and no free rides.
“From that look, you’ve got a favor to ask.”
“...”
“Unless it’s another Decagram showing up, handle your petty chores yourself, councilor.”
Called out, the councilor’s face hardened gravely.
“Of course... it’s no small matter. But it’s beyond my power alone, so I must beg your aid despite the impropriety. And those people specifically asked for you...”
“...What’s this about?”
Enrico laid it all out candidly.
Delutana’s populace had finally rallied against the empire. But the full alliance hadn’t coalesced yet.
Galentana and Vestana were still sitting on the fence. Rumors of a Decagram’s death had spread there too, but most dismissed it. After all, who’d believe the empire’s city-killing asymmetric force was gone?
One rumor they did trust, though: the “Demon Slayer” was in Delutana.
Thus, Galentana’s council demanded an emergency summit to probe the arena collapse, while Vestana’s sought answers on their elders’ deaths and the Magic Tower Lord’s disappearance.
“Of course, I know you couldn’t have done such things, milord. They must’ve misunderstood badly, so if you’d just step forward and clarify...”
“No misunderstanding.”
“...Pardon?”
“I said it’s no misunderstanding. Collapsing the arena, beating the Magic Tower elders and lord bloody— all me.”
“...”
Enrico’s soul briefly vacated to distant realms. His face drained to blue, then white, finally settling on ashen.
“Please... never breathe a word of that to anyone... I couldn’t clean that up if I died and came back twice over...”
“...”
Kadim crossed his arms wordlessly.
Enrico hadn’t sought him for denial or begging. His real point: at the summit, help persuade the other cities to stand against the empire.
“We’ve cleared one hurdle, but the war’s just beginning. Defending the borders, sustaining the fight, ultimate victory—all demand the other cities’ aid. But with slim odds, my last persuasion yielded nothing.”
“...”
“But with you two... it’d be different. You’re living proof we can beat the empire. If they demand your custody, I’ll handle it somehow...”
“...And if your persuasion works, but my deeds all come to light later—what then?”
“...”
“You said you couldn’t clean it up even in death? So then you’d ally with the other cities to oppose and threaten me?”
A piercing critique straight to the heart.
Shadows pooled in his sunken eyes. Enrico swallowed, rubbed his dry face, and forced words out.
“No. I swear on Remillion’s name and our house’s honor—it’ll never come to that. How could I betray the heroes who saved our city?”
“...”
“Just... understand. I can’t grasp how to solve this alone. Rallying these fractured metropolises, each guarding their own interests, to risk annihilation against the continent’s greatest power...”
“...”
“Late brother Pellico might’ve found a way despite it all... but I, I... guess I’m not cut from that cloth. Maybe a lowly Remtana councilor’s all I’m suited for...”
Enrico gazed at the ceiling, voice thick with despair.
No trace remained of the sharp glint that had even impressed Kadim. The death of his closest kin, mountains of accumulated fatigue—they’d crushed his innate resolve. From parched lips spilled vain mutterings.
“Hoo... If Remillion were still alive... he could’ve unified the shattered alliance with a single gold coin...”
Hearing that, Duncan—who’d stayed silent till now—went wide-eyed.
“Uh... did you just say Remillion?”
“...Yes?”
“...”
Duncan’s eyes drifted to the golden bead necklace hanging at his throat.