Chapter 93
Chapter 93
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 93
Chapter Title: The Traitor King
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Continental chroniclers, when speaking of wars that engulfed the entire continent in a maelstrom of bloodshed, bestowed upon them the title of Great War.
In the long, storied history of the continent, only a handful of conflicts had earned that grim distinction. But among them, the most ferocious was given this name:
The Sacred War.
The colossal conflict ignited by the Holy Empire in the north—a war without precedent in the annals of history—devoured the blood of countless souls.
That blood-soaked war birthed the continent's greatest conquering Empress, and in exchange, consigned myriad kingdoms to oblivion.
Yet amid the carnage, one kingdom endured to the bitter end. Nay, it was more fitting to say it rose from the ashes stronger than ever before the war began.
The Philador Kingdom.
A treacherous realm that betrayed the alliance—desperately thrashing to reverse the tide amid one setback after another—and threw its lot in with the Holy Empire.
The war's momentum shifted dramatically as a result, and in recognition of that deed, Philador earned the Empress's mercy.
-Eh, whatever. These guys are decent at farming. Just let 'em till the fields. If they get any funny ideas, we steamroll 'em.
...Whether that was true mercy or a ploy to redirect the hatred of those resisting the Holy Empire elsewhere, no one could say.
But considering her keen insight, the latter seemed far more likely.
Which is precisely why we were here now.
The royal castle of Philador, renowned across the continent for its singular grandeur. Countless visitors had flocked here to marvel at its architecture, but as of today, that stream of tourists would dry up cold.
After all, no one came to gawk at a pile of ashes.
Roarrrrr!
The Philador Kingdom had amassed its fortunes selling grain and basking in the Holy Empire's graces.
In turn, the audience chamber overflowed with treasures so rare that no amount of gold could buy them, heaped high like mountains.
But now, beneath the raging inferno, everything in that chamber crumbled to cinders.
And yet, not a soul among those present spared a glance for the treasures.
At the center of the audience chamber, upon the throne, sat the man who had beheaded all his brothers after claiming the crown—his heart as cold and venomous as a viper's.
"Cough! Cough! Heh heh... so this is the end."
The man spat blood and a mocking laugh. These days, he was known by another moniker: the Traitor King.
Versailles Khan Philador.
That was the name of the man now drawing his final breaths.
"Stigma Mercenary Corps... I figured you'd show up eventually. Heh heh. Still, I lasted longer than I thought."
"Traitor Versailles. Any last words?"
Set Vulcan—the final hope of the East, hailing from the Osiris Kingdom and wielder of Solar Flame—spoke as he conjured a flicker of fire on his fingertip.
Versailles's betrayal had claimed the lives of countless alliance members.
Set likely planned to hear his final atonement before burning him clean away, but I ignored the question and moved to finish Versailles off.
A man like him would never give Set the confession he craved. It would only sour the mood for nothing.
But Versailles's tongue proved swifter than my blade.
"Heh, heh heh heh! Hilarious. What, did you think I'd regret it? Repent?"
Bleeding from Nene's tongue dagger plunged into his chest, Versailles sneered.
"Not a chance. I regret nothing."
"You bastard!"
Whoosh!
Unable to contain his rage, Set unleashed flames that charred Versailles's leg.
"Argh!"
"Countless innocent lives were snuffed out because of you! You dragged all those souls into the abyss of death, and you feel no remorse?"
"Ha, ha ha ha. How absurd."
Sweat beading from the agony of his burns, Versailles refused to stop laughing.
"The alliance, the Empire—they both see us as nothing but livestock to produce food... or taxes. So doesn't it make sense to side with the one... that offers the better feed?"
Roarrrrr!
The flames, starting at his leg, slowly consumed his entire body.
"Heh, ha ha ha ha! Can't wait... You'll meet... the same end as me... I'll be waiting... in hell..."
The last king of Philador, Versailles Khan Philador, breathed his final breath without ever ceasing his mocking laughter.
"Tch."
Maybe it was because I'd spotted that unwelcome face in the corridor last night, but I'd had a thoroughly unpleasant dream.
"Couldn't care less about a traitor's sob story."
Even back when we'd raided the Philador royal house and cut Versailles down, I'd never once felt a shred of regret.
'If this guy's on the throne, the alliance is done for.'
Vile, suffocating dream. But it had the silver lining of steeling my resolve anew.
Bang!
"Oh, Young Master. You're up already?"
Miron had apparently been out for morning training; he returned drenched head to toe in sweat.
"Miron, go wash up. You stink."
"Ha ha! This is a man's passion, isn't it?"
Though he said that, he obediently headed off to clean up as I'd told him. Yeah, good kid.
Soon enough, Miron returned, now clad in his armor.
"Since you're awake, Young Master, you should change into your formal attire."
"Hm? Why?"
"While you were sleeping, a messenger from the royal family arrived. Said to head to the audience chamber once you're up."
Hm.
For a banquet that was all for show, this felt surprisingly serious.
'Well, Marquis Midas had seen through the royal ploy.'
Which meant the royals had their own spies embedded in the marquis's household.
'Midas's people claim to have identified every royal plant. So how many of their spies has the royal house sniffed out?'
"Ah."
As Miron and I made our way to the audience chamber, a familiar voice called out.
I turned to see a beautiful face.
Aria von Wendinel.
"Well, if it isn't Lady Aria. Only been two days."
"...So it has."
For some reason, Aria averted her gaze slightly as she replied.
It would've been awkward to part ways after bumping into each other, so we headed to the audience chamber together.
Step, step.
"......"
"......"
An inexplicable awkwardness hung in the air for a moment. Seemingly unable to bear the silence, Aria spoke up.
"Did your business go well?"
"Ha ha, thanks to—"
As I started to answer her casual question, I trailed off.
This was the royal castle.
The family's eyes and ears could be anywhere. Consistency in my actions was key here.
"...Handled it perfectly. Can't have anyone coveting others' treasures, after all."
"......?"
I laced the end of my words with a subtle edge of killing intent. Aria shot me an odd look but said nothing more.
We arrived at the audience chamber midway through our brief exchange. The knights verified our identities and swung the doors open.
Creeeak!
"Lady Aria von Wendinel of the Wendinel Ducal House of the Fran Kingdom, and Jerome von Carviot of the Carviot Count House of the Ikenia Kingdom, entering!"
We were a bit late to the party; the banquet hall in the audience chamber was already packed.
"Ooh, Lady Aria looks as stunning as ever today."
"That must be Jerome von Carviot of the Carviot Counts? Why's he so late?"
"More importantly, isn't he supposed to be some kind of bug? What was Ikenia thinking, sending him?"
"Hey, watch your mouth! That's old gossip!"
Snippets of conversation floated through the hall.
'Looks like I was the last to arrive.'
This banquet had been thrown by the Philador royals to preempt Marquis Midas's rebellion.
Not to suppress the marquis, but to condemn the uprising itself—and gather witnesses to that effect.
Everyone gathered here hailed from houses qualified to serve as those witnesses.
Their testimony would lend real weight to Philador's claims.
But it beggared belief that such people had traveled all the way to Vertie just to play witness.
In truth, that role was mere pretext. Their real aim was to forge connections with foreign dignitaries.
They were all prominent figures known across the continent, and they knew my name as well.
'Some welcome faces, some strangers.'
Among them were names of those lost early in the war against the Empire.
And faces of old comrades from my Stigma Mercenary Corps days.
Like the red-haired man standing before me now.
"Jerome von Carviot?"
"Good to see you. Name's Set."
Dispensing with any family name, he offered a handshake as if I couldn't possibly not know him.
'Arrogance hasn't changed a bit.'
Set Vulcan.
Second son of the Vulcan Marquis House, one of Osiris's premier families—the powerhouse kingdom overseeing the alliance's eastern flank.
With our past-life ties, of course I knew him. But this cockiness rubbed me the wrong way.
I clasped his hand and shot back.
"Set, was it...? Forgive my ignorance, but which kingdom do you represent?"
"......!!"
"Pfft!"
"Heh!"
Chuckles erupted here and there from those eavesdropping on our exchange.
No need to see it; I could picture it. He'd been strutting around just like this yesterday afternoon, before I arrived.
Those laughs were karmic payback. But Set didn't see it that way—his face flushed crimson.
Whether from humiliation or whatever, fine.
'This guy's another success story.'
Just like me—a wastrel youth who eventually straightened out to lead the Stigma Mercenary Corps.
Set was a similar case. The difference? Osiris bucked continental norms by actively encouraging Heterogenous Powers.
Unlike his knightly brother, the family runt had mastered the Heterogenous Power of Extreme Yang and finally grown up...
much later.
-I was a total shithead back in my younger days.
Set always shook his head ruefully recalling those times—the period right after he'd awakened his power, drunk on a sense of superiority.
That timeframe...
'Lined up perfectly with his age now.'
Sure enough, Set couldn't hide his burning embarrassment.
"Ha, ha ha. Must be the fresh air. You're right—my insight's still lacking."
Squeeze!
He clamped down on my hand with all his strength. Sure, he'd pivoted to Black Lion talents over knightly ones, but he still had a decent grip from his training.
Crunch!
"?!"
But I'd honed Pankration, the martial art of the body. This was nothing.
"Ngh!"
Set grimaced, trying to wrench free.
But...
'Time you grew up a little.'
I had no intention of letting go so easily.
"...Urk!"
As I held firm and stepped closer, to onlookers it just looked like a friendly handshake and wave.
"This guy!"
Fwoosh!
Unable to endure the pain, Set tried to summon his Extreme Yang.
Eh, this'll do.
For a first encounter, it'd suffice.
Breaking his bad habit of judging by rumors alone would take time.
I was just about to release him when an unexpected interruption hit.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?"
A voice laced with ice.
Splash!
"Guh?!"
A massive blob of water materialized above Set's head and crashed down on him.
His gathering Extreme Yang fizzled out naturally.
Set looked like a drowned rat, utterly soaked.
"Young Master, you alright?!"
Miron rushed over, concern etched on his face.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
I'd been under the water blob too, but I'd dodged in time—unlike Set, not a drop on my clothes.
"Damn it! Who was that?! Daring to pull this on me—you won't get away with it!"
His hair plastered like seaweed, Set ground his teeth and scanned the room.
Daring to humiliate an envoy of Osiris? He'd make them pay.
"This kind of stunt."
A figure rose, shoving back their chair.
"You're one to talk—summoning flames against a guest who just arrived today. Are you in your right mind?"
...Huh?
'Why are you jumping in?'
The one coldly rebuking Set was none other than...
Aria.