Chapter 74
Chapter 74
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: Tiger Hunt (3)
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“Your Majesty, I support it, but the other nobles will oppose.”
Late at night, Count Denitz said in a quiet voice as he visited Raymond's personal tent.
Raymond nodded in agreement. It was practically the Emperor marching into a death trap, so there was no way the nobles would meekly vote in favor.
“In cases like this, it would be best to follow the 'act first, explain to the nobles later' principle.”
“You mean take action first and justify it to the nobles afterward?”
“Exactly. If Your Majesty and a large contingent of Royal Guards suddenly vanish, the nobles will grow suspicious, but I'll handle the cover story.”
“It won't take long.”
“Of course not. There's a limit to how long I can keep up the ruse.”
A chuckle escaped at Count Denitz's lighthearted grumbling.
“The invitation specifies a limit on the escort as well. Fifty men. Have you decided on the composition?”
The invitation explicitly stated that the escort would be capped at fifty. It was a measure to prevent a massive army from marching in. If the invited Emperor brought his forces all the way to the central city, even success in assassinating him would leave the city in ruins—it was obvious.
“The escort will consist of Gestain, Desia, and Royal Guards.”
“Won't the Azure Tower Lord and Crimson Tower Lord be joining us?”
Heading into the heart of enemy territory with only a small escort—Count Denitz had naturally assumed he'd bring the two highest-ranking mages from the towers.
“The Azure Tower Lord and Crimson Tower Lord need to stay on the front lines. Bringing them along would play right into the Mountain Duke's hands.”
If the two tower lords, masters of powerful magic, left the front, it would create a massive gap in magical firepower. The mages from the Azure and Crimson Towers could help, but they couldn't fill the void left by top-tier high mages.
“But Your Majesty... without high mages, the risk increases dramatically.”
“I'll bear the risks of this venture myself. The front lines won't shoulder them. Speak of it no more.”
“Understood, Your Majesty.”
Count Denitz bowed slowly and took a step back. Knowing the Emperor's stubbornness, he chose cooperation over confrontation. He believed it was the best way to ensure His Majesty's safe return.
“Your Majesty, I won't try to stop you from going to the Belfiang Ducal Territory. But please allow me one way to assist.”
“Speak.”
“I'll draw up an internal map of the Belfiang Ducal Territory's central city. I know all its secret passages.”
“Excellent aid, Count Denitz.”
A smile spread across Raymond's lips.
Preparing the secret map would take Count Denitz a few days. Raymond told the envoy he needed time to assemble the escort, and the man readily agreed. The Mountain Duke had given a week, so a few days was no issue.
Meanwhile, Raymond found himself with some free time. Battles continued unabated, but with the visit to the Belfiang central city scheduled, joining the fray felt awkwardly timed.
On the day Raymond made his decision, orders went out to the Royal Guards to prepare personnel for the escort to the Belfiang Ducal Territory.
“The Belfiang Ducal Territory is far too dangerous. It's no different from walking into the enemy's lair.”
One Royal Guard voiced concern for the Emperor's safety. The others nodded in agreement.
“What does Sir Gestain think?”
At someone's words, all eyes turned to Gestain, leaning against a pillar. He had been silent for some time but now slowly raised his head.
“It's His Majesty's decision. Do you think my words will change it?”
Shamefaced, the Royal Guards couldn't meet his gaze under the weight of his words.
It was, in a way, obvious. Yet for the Emperor's closest Royal Guards to forget that fact was disloyalty in their own eyes.
“Our duty is to protect His Majesty with our lives, wherever we go.”
The Royal Guards reflected deeply on Gestain's words, laced with profound loyalty.
Meanwhile, oblivious to the minor uproar among the Royal Guards, Raymond pondered alone. Meeting the Mountain Duke was already set, so that wasn't the issue.
“Can fifty Royal Guards really kill the Mountain Duke and escape the central city...?”
Cold analysis said no—their forces were insufficient. The Royal Guards were an elite unit, but the Mountain Duke's subordinates were no pushovers, and deep in enemy territory, they'd face thousands of foes.
“Not enough.”
That was Raymond's conclusion after deliberation. His current prowess plus fifty Royal Guards could barely handle the Mountain Duke and his revealed forces as per the story's setup.
Moreover, this world's incomplete elements—like the Apocalypse Association—were surfacing one by one, so he had to account for variables.
So what now? Raymond bit his lip, eyes darting anxiously.
The reason for his hesitation was simple.
There was risk, but he knew a way to grow stronger quickly.
Should I use it?
The First Magic Swordsman Deirian had left behind countless 'secret arts.' Through the 'Blessing of Sword and Magic,' Raymond had acquired some, with their usage etched in his mind.
Most were beyond his current level, so he'd held back. But now, with risks mounting, it was time for one—hesitation was no option.
“Royal Guard!”
The tent flap opened, and a Royal Guard entered, bowing deeply. Raymond regarded him calmly.
“Until I give further orders, let no one enter my tent.”
“Yes, understood.”
He asked no questions—just obeyed.
As the Royal Guard withdrew with a bow, Raymond rose from his chair and traced a magic circle in the air. Once complete, space split open, revealing a void of dense darkness.
“Who would've thought I'd use the Training Chamber now.”
Raymond muttered with a wry smile. The 'Training Chamber' was one of the secret arts passed down among magic swordsmen.
He'd expected to use it someday, but not so soon.
“No time for hesitation.”
Muttering again, he stepped slowly into the rift.
The void's thick darkness swallowed Raymond. Enveloped in pitch black, he soon lost consciousness. When he came to, he was in an entirely different space.
Still dim, but not the impenetrable blackness before. Looking up, he saw a black night sky with a bright moon at its center.
“Awake, successor?”
“I pay respects to the Founder.”
At the unfamiliar voice, Raymond scrambled up and bowed. If this was indeed the Training Chamber and the author's setup held true, the man before him—crookedly clad in a purple uniform with platinum hair—was undoubtedly the First Magic Swordsman Deirian.
Of course, not his true self.
It was a 'will' Deirian left to safeguard the magic swordsman's legacy.
Historically, magic swordsmen who opened the Training Chamber received the Founder's teachings in a timeless space, emerging stronger. But not all did—not all mastered the art, and some who knew how avoided it deliberately.
Because it's dangerous.
The Founder's training was notoriously brutal. Four disciples died during it in his lifetime.
Thus, among magic swordsmen, opening the Training Chamber became taboo. Quick growth came at the cost of low survival rates.
This space transcends time and space, but since my real body crossed over... one misstep, and I could die.
With his life on the line, tension was inevitable. Calming his nerves, he slowly raised his head. There stood Deirian's 'will'.
The very 'will' that had trained luminaries like the Swordflash Marquess and Lava Sword. It stood before Raymond now.
The thought of reaching their level made his heart race.
“Successor, opening the Training Chamber means you're prepared, yes?”
“I am prepared.”
Raymond's eyes gleamed sharply. Pleased, a faint smile touched Deirian's lips.
“Good eyes. I sense desperation.”
“When do we begin?”
Though time barely flowed here, Raymond couldn't shake his impatience. He needed to reach a higher realm quickly and return—that dominated his thoughts.
“Ha! Already so eager?”
Deirian drew his sword from its sheath at his waist.
“You look pressed, and your resolve seems firm, so we'll start now... but...”
His previously jovial expression turned icy in an instant.
“One piece of advice, successor. If you want to survive, shed that impatience.”
A sharp aura spread through the air—clearly killing intent. Though just a 'will,' the Founder's presence infused it, enough to crush Raymond.
“Kuh!”
The pressure and killing intent bound his body. A rough groan escaped, earning Deirian's pitying gaze.
“Groaning at this level?”
“Urgh... ngh...”
“You're newly advanced to upper magic swordsman rank, I see.”
The pressure eased. Raymond steadied his breath and struggled to his feet.
“Upper magic swordsman isn't low. But in a sense, it's merely the true 'entry' to being a magic swordsman.”
Deirian stated coldly.
“You must've marveled at your achievement, but sorry—this world has far more powerhouses.”
Mana cloaked Deirian's drawn sword. A 'will' capable of aura blade, yet he drew only mana sword out of consideration.
“Draw your sword, successor.”
At the sharp command, Raymond gathered his energy. White aura formed a blade at his hand.
“Soul Sword... A 'secret art' impossible by ordinary means. Impressive.”
Deirian's tone was flat, but he was genuinely astonished. The Soul Sword required tempering hundreds of souls via a medium—classified as a formless blade close to an ethereal sword, rare due to its demanding formation and technique.
“I sense cold, fierce resentment at its tip.”
It was inevitable. Forged from the vengeful souls of a thousand forgotten knights—that birthed the Soul Sword in Raymond's grasp.
“I won't ask where you got it, successor. But wield that power carefully.”
Resentment's might overwhelmed others but carried equal danger.
“No need for long explanations. You seem aware of its backlash.”
Deirian's mana sword sharpened, deep blue mana dancing with a shrill ring.
“Come. Let me gauge your level.”
“Full power allowed?”
Deirian smirked and nodded.
“You'll need it. Anything less, and you won't leave alive. No mercy for a rare visitor—expect none from me.”
The keen blade targeted him. As the cold, murderous gaze landed—Raymond kicked off first.
Red blood splattered.