Chapter 49
Chapter 49
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: Saladin's Crushing Victory
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Saladin's control over Mimi and Nene was the picture of elegance.
It was almost impossible to believe they were smack in the middle of a brutal duel.
But Mimi and Nene, dancing to the tune of Saladin's fingers, were terrifyingly lethal.
Mimi unleashed a relentless barrage of hidden weapons at Guren from the most unexpected joints.
Meanwhile, Nene lay in wait for openings while Guren clashed with Mimi, ready to slip behind and douse him in poison.
Guren might have been one of the more talented young nobles in the southern regions, but that was as far as it went. Just "talented."
Through the brutal battles he'd fought alongside me, Saladin had reached mastery in shattering foes with puppets and wielding poison.
No telling for sure, but in one-on-one combat, he could stand toe-to-toe with me.
Against a mere mid-tier Sword Expert like Guren, he couldn't lose even if he tried.
'The fight's already over.'
I tore my eyes from Saladin's training ground and glanced across at the opposite seats.
Coincidence? Or had he sensed my gaze?
Either way, the man opposite was staring right back at me.
'So, how are you going to play this?'
This wasn't the scenario you'd painted in your head at all.
You'd always lorded over everyone from on high, aloof and untouchable.
The only one you'd ever looked eye-to-eye with was probably my brother Ares from our family.
But this feeling? Utterly alien.
For the first time in your life, someone was sizing you up from a higher perch.
I was dying to know how Victor would react.
Papapapak!!
"Guh... guaaahhh!!"
Guren had dodged Nene's poison for a good while, but a momentary lapse let Mimi's shattered projectiles slam home.
Darts studding his body like a pincushion, he clutched at himself and rolled across the dirt.
"I told you."
Thud, thud.
Saladin strode forward, utterly unscathed, pristine as ever.
"D-don't come any closer!!"
Guren, drenched in blood and filth, scrambled backward on his heels.
"I'd make it so you couldn't walk for two months."
Without even glancing, he plucked two awl-shaped darts from Mimi's body.
Pfoook!
"Gyaahhhh!!"
Guren's knee took the first one point-blank, his scream shaking the arena.
Saladin didn't flinch, gripping the second tight.
Pfoook!
"Aaaahhhh!!"
Both knees pierced clean through, Guren foamed at the mouth in shock.
The outcome was clear enough for a child to see.
Saladin finished his work(?) on Guren's knees and turned calmly to Prince Julius.
As if to say, Any reason to keep this farce going?
The prince wasn't an idiot; he read the look plain as day.
He rose and bellowed,
"The winner of this duel is Saladin, eldest son of Viscount Edwin's house!"
With the official declaration, Saladin hoisted the moaning Guren upright.
Clap clap clap!
Cold as ice during the fight, but tending to the loser afterward? The nobles rewarded it with applause.
'Doubt that's the real reason.'
I had a pretty good guess at Saladin's true motive.
And sure enough, his lips moved as he slung Guren's arm over his shoulder.
He murmured low,
"Pig. Touch my little brother one more time... and you're dead for real."
A brief duel amid the banquet, but the fallout was anything but small.
Nobles at the Spring Festival rushed to spread the shocking news back to their territories.
But among them all, the most rattled had to be the one sitting right in front of us.
"What... what the hell is going on? Big bro, that infamous—no, wait. Big bro's a Black Lion? When the hell did you even learn that?!"
Flinging questions in a jumble, thoroughly bewildered, was none other than Charles de Edwin—Saladin's little brother and heir to Mano territory.
Saladin just scratched the back of his head at Charles's barrage.
"Ah, shit. This wasn't supposed to blow up like this. Got carried away... Look, little bro. I'll explain one by one, so calm down a bit..."
"Do I look calm right now?! You got kicked out of the family, went dark—no word! I was worried sick if you were even alive, eating okay...!!"
"S-sorry, yeah."
Seeing Saladin sweat bullets like that was downright bizarre.
The pervert who was all corpse unless snarking? At a total loss?
Money couldn't buy a scene this rare.
'Huh. Fresh.'
Saladin shot me a telepathic gripe, annoyed at my quiet observation.
But helping out that easy? No dice.
I knew why Saladin had been active down south, but how he'd picked up a Heterogenous Power? No clue. Figured now was a good time to ask. But he clammed up tight, even under Charles's onslaught. He wouldn't spill on that.
"Anyway! I'm crashing at this guy's place now. Eating good, living good, shitting good—no worries."
Saladin punted the ball my way slyly. Charles finally turned, bowing deep to me.
"My apologies for the late thanks, young master. Truly grateful for your help."
"Hey, I did the fighting..."
"Haha, no trouble at all. Unlike some loose-screw noble, you've got such a polite heir—bright future for Mano territory."
"Hold up, punk. Loose-screw noble? That's me? You talking about me?!"
Saladin yowled beside us, but Charles and I tuned him out, chatting on.
"Speak freely with me, Jerome. Friend of my worthless big bro might as well be my own."
"Mm. Guess I will."
Being all formal with his little bro felt off anyway.
"This mess gave us time to talk, at least. Not just you—the heirs from all three southern territories looked like they had words for me."
Charles hesitated at my bluntness. Tough topic, huh?
"It's embarrassing to beg the young master who saved our lands from a legendary High Orc like Hatan, but..."
He trailed off, then steeled himself, eyes squeezed shut.
"We need the Shield Family's protection—the kingdom's guardians! Please, Jerome. Help us!"
"Huh?"
What the hell? Mano hadn't seen real trouble since Hatan torched half of it ages ago. 'Thought they never recovered and got swallowed by the Sword Family.' They were fine now, untouched. What's the problem? 'Refusing the Sword Family's grain levy alone wouldn't force them to beg outsiders.' Sword Family pressure via seven southern territories? Nobles aren't that fragile. Charles got my doubt and explained.
"You've saved us once, so honesty it is."
He cleared his throat.
"Truth is, a massive ore vein turned up in the Mirage region—the tripoint of our three territories." 'Mirage?' Racking my brain for the name, "Eh? Mirage? That's the worthless dump! The salty trashland nobody'd take for free—now a vein?!"
Saladin beat me to the shock. South native, he knew the lay. Mirage: salty soil from nearby coast, poor crops; easy pickings for Punish Archipelago pirates. Straddling three territories' borders—ownership fuzzy. Saladin called it a headache nobody wanted, half-abandoned. A vein there? 'That's how the Sword Family exploded in power.' Unlike now, past life they'd been gutted by Hatan; Sword Family overseers took over. Somehow flush with cash, they'd dominated till the Holy Empire crushed them. 'Thought it was just famine profiteering. Nope.' With my famine haul, I'd figured they had depth—but not this. Swallowing the three territories' mines whole.
"After you saved our three territories, Jerome, we repaid the Shield Family by defying the Sword Family's grain levy. And then..."
Charles's rundown: Duke Braum of the Sword Family ordered grain mobilization for famine prep. Three southern territories refused. Sword Family hit back with open discrimination. Guren's earlier jab? Same vein. Kids sniping nonstop; adults worse. Life got lean, but they held firm. Fertile lands, Philador border to east—managed. Then, scouting abandoned Mirage for self-reliance... Jackpot.
"Eh? So what's the issue? Infighting over the mine? You three seem tight, though."
Saladin piped up. Charles shook his head.
"No, big bro. No issues between us. It was a breakthrough against Sword Family pressure. We agreed to split profits fair."
"Huh? Then what's wrong? Sword Family wants it—big deal. What're they gonna do?"
Exactly. Sword Family mighty, but distant from south. What leverage? Grind. Charles gnashed his teeth.
"No. The Sword Family—these lunatics—are starting to eye our mine openly."
Got it.
"Guren's poke earlier? Small potatoes. They're prodding nonstop, waiting for any slip to justify war."
Yeah. With seven of ten southern territories in their pocket, bold move. Thud!
"Please, Jerome. We know it's shameless without repaying last time's debt, but..."
Charles dropped to his knees, pleading. Sorry as I felt, my brain itched. 'Push a little more... and a path opens.' The Sword Family's prize, ripe for the taking.