Chapter 172
Chapter 172
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 172
Chapter Title: Martin's Final Request
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“Ugh… ah… aah…”
A figure sewn into countless thin, transparent tubes like some grotesque knitting project, its purpose unknown.
“Kill… me… please…”
Whatever magical treatment had been applied to the body submerged in the solution kept it from dying even after its limbs had been severed, leaving only the torso behind. It yearned for death.
Wriggle, wriggle!
Among the things floating in the solution were some that weren't quite human—mere organs twitching in unnatural motion.
Rampang had weathered every kind of slaughterhouse battlefield as one of the Black Lions' supreme leaders, the White Wing. He'd personally wrought countless atrocities with his own power.
Yet the sight he now faced in this fortress basement was so wretched it made even him grimace.
What in the world was the Holy Empire—pretending to be holier than any other nation—plotting down here?
“Empire scum… what the hell were they doing in this place?”
Perhaps because he'd slaughtered every last guard, leaving the area silent, Rampang's mutter echoed louder than expected through the basement.
And in response, a voice answered from deeper within.
“Not… the supervisor… who… are you…?”
“?!”
To think someone could cling to their sanity amid such torment.
Rampang slowly advanced toward the source of the voice. There, bound to a chair, sat a man turned into a bloody mess from the gore dripping off him.
His eyes had been gouged out and wrapped in cloth; his face was so mangled that his identity was impossible to discern.
“Well… the super…visor… wouldn't be… this noisy…”
Snicker.
Even in this hellish situation, the man forced a strained laugh.
The very fact that he could maintain his wits here spoke volumes about his extraordinary nature.
“I'm Rampang of the Black Lions. What is this place? What were they scheming here in the Empire?”
Rampang saw no need to hide her identity.
No one left in the basement could overhear this conversation anyway. More importantly, she could sense the man's life force flickering at its very end.
But the man's reaction to hearing her name was far from what she'd anticipated.
“Black Lion… Ram…pang?! Are you the White Wing?!”
As if her name had ignited some spark of hope, strength flooded the man's broken voice.
“Ha… haha! They say no one just drops dead without a chance for vengeance. Heaven's granting me that final opportunity.”
His cloth-wrapped eyes were hidden, his face twisted in agony, but Rampang could clearly feel the man's ecstatic joy.
“My name is… cough! Martin.”
This time, it was Rampang's turn to be stunned by the bloodied man's revelation.
“Martin? You don't mean the Poison Blood Master?”
“Haha! …To think the White Wing knows a nobody like me. What an honor.”
The man spoke humbly in response, but in truth, he was no lightweight even among the Black Lions—a heavyweight not to be trifled with.
The Poison Blood Master, Martin.
A radical figure who confronted the Holy Empire's outrages against the Black Lions with raw force.
True to his title, he was the grandmaster of poisons, infamous for his brutality toward Empire agents. Many saw him as a toxic current stirring chaos.
Yet to ordinary folk, he was kinder and warmer than anyone.
How many had mourned his sudden disappearance from the continent just a few years back?
For the man rumored to have gone into seclusion to be secretly imprisoned in the Empire's fortress basement…
If word got out, it would spark an uprising among countless Black Lions.
“…cough!”
Splurt!
Martin vomited blood again. But this time, it wasn't the black dead blood from before—it was fresh crimson.
Organs failing, blood spilling out. A sign that death was imminent.
“Haa… t-time's short. You must have questions, but I'll stick to the essentials. This place is…”
As Martin's explanation continued, Rampang's expression grew increasingly grim.
According to him, this was a biological experimentation lab of sorts.
A facility where they captured Black Lions with Heterogenous Powers, then dissected, melted down, and incinerated them in research.
Just as not every knight training with the sword could reach Sword Master, many Black Lions never advanced past the first stage.
And those weak ones made perfect guinea pigs for the Empire.
No fame meant no one noticed their abductions. No power meant even ordinary holy knights could subdue them easily.
The ones sewn into those mysterious tubes, limbs torn off like toys—they were Black Lions kidnapped by the Empire in the same way.
“…Martin, what about you? You're no small fry—not White Wing level, but still renowned.”
Indeed. Martin had reached the third stage—a powerhouse on par with a Sword Master.
No matter how mighty the Holy Empire, snatching someone who'd been operating on Five Nations Alliance soil without a whisper was next to impossible.
“…Because I learned the truth about their atrocities.”
Martin answered weakly.
He'd witnessed a young Black Lion being abducted near Dalton Kingdom's border and had secretly tracked the Empire's forces.
In doing so, he'd uncovered their covert research into Heterogenous Powers—and rage had consumed him.
“Naturally… I got caught clean and turned into one of their lab rats.”
Suddenly, vitality flickered in Martin's gaze toward Rampang.
The brief clarity that sometimes precedes death.
“Lady Rampang, I have a favor to ask. Can you destroy this place?”
Desperation filled Martin's face.
“They're all our kin. It might hinder your movements if we cause a commotion… but still, please…”
“I'll do it.”
Rampang replied calmly to his strained plea.
“Who do you think I am? The pinnacle ruling over all Black Lions.”
Flick!
“Ow!”
Karma, riding piggyback, gave her a knuckle rap for the boast.
“You brat. Such arrogance in front of your master?”
“Ah, cut me some slack right now!”
“I taught you to stay humble. Tsk. You've got a long way to go.”
But hearing Rampang and Karma bicker, Martin couldn't laugh.
“Lady Rampang's master…? D-don't tell me… Lord Karma?!”
Realizing the presence of Karma—the father figure to every Black Lion on the continent, regardless of faction—Martin gasped in shock.
“Yes, Martin, was it?”
“Y-yes!”
“I've been silent due to my condition, but I heard everything. Once we escape, I'll ensure the full truth of these horrors is revealed.”
Karma reached out from Rampang's back and lightly patted Martin's blood-soaked shoulder.
“You've suffered greatly, child. A truly arduous task. Your efforts won't be in vain. Go in peace.”
“Ah… aah…!”
Blood tears streamed from Martin's empty sockets.
Captured in the Empire's conspiracy, eyes stolen, locked in darkness, subjected to endless experiments—he'd agonized endlessly.
Why must I endure this pain?
Did my vain sense of justice and half-baked compassion drag my life into this abyss?
Yet he'd endured, again and again.
Believing someone, someday, would notice and expose this tragedy to the world.
But as brutal experiments pushed his body and mind to the brink, he'd begun to think it all futile.
Then appeared one of the mightiest Black Lions: the White Wing.
Martin refused to believe it mere coincidence.
Not the Empire's trash god they worshipped, but true heaven was punishing the Holy Empire.
And above all, the father of all Black Lions on the continent acknowledged his efforts.
That his work wasn't wasted. That he'd walked the right path.
Those words freed him from all his past torment.
Hummm!
Suddenly, a purple aura rose from Martin's body.
Rampang tensed at the abrupt surge, but Karma lightly gripped her shoulder from behind.
No killing intent—stand down.
Ting!
As Karma predicted, the purple aura coalesced into a small gem and dropped to the floor.
“Haa… haa…”
Martin had never looked healthy, but after forging the gem, the last of his vitality drained away, making him seem even older than Karma.
“…You've forged a Poison Essence.”
“Ha… haha. As expected of Lord Karma. You see right through it.”
The Poison Essence was a unique treasure only Black Lions wielding the Heterogenous Power of poison could create.
Regardless of realm, it condensed one's entire life into a single mass of energy.
Thus, it demanded the creator's life as payment.
Even among Black Lions, only poison wielders could sacrifice their lives to produce it.
A gem incomparable to any continental treasure—especially one from the continent's famed Poison Blood Master.
If word spread, a bloodstorm would sweep the land.
“Can you… deliver this power to someone worthy? Someone who'll use it right?”
A plea from the renowned Black Lion Martin, his life melted into it.
Who could refuse the dying wish of one who'd lived such a wretched existence?
“…Yes. I'll make sure it reaches the right hands.”
Rampang picked up the Poison Essence and vowed.
Only then did a relieved smile bloom on Martin's face.
Shhh…
Having poured everything into the essence, his body began crumbling to dust from the toes up.
“Fortune… be with… you…”
Rampang silently stared at the dust that had been Martin, then cracked her neck toward Karma.
“…Master.”
Crack! Crack!
“Yes.”
Cracking her knuckles, Rampang spoke lowly, and Karma replied in a sunken tone.
“He asked, and… it's time to wreck this place, right?”
“…Yes. Let's. They told us to find our own way out anyway.”
With different missions and no way to sync perfectly, their prior agreement boiled down to three points.
First: Head to the rendezvous after completion.
Second: Retreat without hesitation if success seemed impossible.
Third—and last: If starting the op, leave no survivors to delay detection as long as possible.
Whether supreme confidence they'd never be caught, or arrogant blindness to intruders daring the Empire's fortress—or both.
No secret passages had tripped her senses on the way down.
Meaning no other survivors remained in this damned lab.
Grip!
“Grizzly for arms. Dire wolf for legs.”
Her slender limbs looked fragile, but as Rampang quietly channeled her power, the might of ferocious beasts infused her body.
“Ugh… ah…”
Sensing her savage aura, perhaps.
Hope glinted in the eyes of the nameless Black Lions suffering half-mad in the lab.
Though silent, their gazes conveyed the same plea.
Liberate us from this endless hell.
Grant us peace.
And… avenge us against this wretched Empire.
“…As you wish.”
Whoosh!
A casual swing of her arm, but the result was anything but.
BOOM!
One wall of the lab exploded outward.
“For every insult dared against the Black Lions.”
Swoosh!
KABOOM!
Mysterious solutions detonated from her monstrous kick.
“In the White Wing's name, I swear repayment.”
Crunch!
Ripping free the tubes that impaled a nameless Black Lion like yarn, she watched his lips move.
His mouth barely worked through the agony, but Rampang understood.
Thank you.
“……”
In response to that gratitude, Rampang clenched her jaw and rampaged even more fiercely through the lab.
Vowing to make the Empire regret this outrage.
BOOM!