Chapter 146: A Choice Between Two (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 146: A Choice Between Two (4)
Count Douglas was in a panic.
Roman Dmitry’s sudden intervention made it impossible to easily choose between the options laid out before him.
‘Damn it. To think Dmitry would join the war.’
His blood ran cold. With Dmitry entering the fray, the North's victory was no longer a certainty.
‘Now that war has been declared, there is no turning back. In that case, just as Roman Dmitry said, I must choose between an all-out melee and a Great Warrior Battle. Which of the two will secure victory for the North?’
A Great Warrior Battle?
That was absolutely out of the question.
During the war against Hector, Roman Dmitry had slain Butler, a swordsman ranked on the continent. In truth, he was a monster with no equal in the Cairo Kingdom save for the Knight Commander of the Royal Knights. And it wasn't as if his subordinates were pushovers, either. Count Douglas had recently heard rumors of a tournament Roman hosted. He had sent out six of his subordinates, and they had all secured overwhelming victories.
Three wins were needed. With Roman's victory practically guaranteed, the North couldn't even be certain of winning the remaining bouts.
In particular, the presence of Chris—whose renown was rapidly catching up to Roman's—ruled out any possibility of winning a Great Warrior Battle.
‘It's a guaranteed defeat. We brought this massive army only to be routed without a proper fight. The problem is, we can't choose an all-out melee, either. While the forces of the North are more than enough to overwhelm the Northeast Association, Roman Dmitry's participation changes everything.’
The war with Hector.
The rumors trickling down from the capital had thrown all of Cairo into a frenzy.
When Roman Dmitry was isolated in the south, he had slaughtered hundreds of enemies. During the capture of the rear base, he had breached the castle gates entirely by himself. Those were not the deeds of a mortal man. No matter how much battlefield rumors tended to be exaggerated, Count Douglas knew there was no smoke without fire.
One thing was certain: the hero of the Southern Front was Roman Dmitry.
With such a monster standing in their way, there was no telling what kind of massacre would unfold in a chaotic melee.
‘What on earth am I supposed to do?’
Count Douglas was known as the Beast of the North.
He was a man who leaped before he looked. Yet, even someone like him, who usually charged headfirst into danger, hesitated before Roman Dmitry's monstrous reputation.
He was trapped in a dilemma.
The Dmitry Family had merely joined the Northeast Association, yet their presence had thrown the entire situation into utter chaos. The northern lords were no different. Normally, they would have stepped forward to urge a swift decision, but now they only watched Count Douglas in silence, unable to utter a single word. Given everything Cairo had been saying about Roman Dmitry, none of them wanted to become the next stepping stone for his heroic legend.
A heavy, suffocating silence hung in the air.
Then—
"May I make a proposal?"
Roman broke the silence.
* * *
Roman knew his opponent's dilemma.
If he offered a compromise that saved their face to some extent, they might reluctantly back down.
However…
‘I do not wish for peace.’
The Douglas Family and the northern lords were excellent prey. They were invaders threatening the Northeast Association, and he would be the one to vanquish them.
After much deliberation, the Northeast Association had ultimately chosen to join hands with Dmitry. Rather than a pledge of loyalty, it was more accurate to say they had compromised with a reasonable rival to resolve the immediate threat before them. If so, what process was needed to complete his final plan? Even if only for a moment, the Northeast Association had entered Dmitry's fold. From now on, Roman needed to show them just how sweet and comfortable holding hands with Dmitry could be.
The Douglas Family had been chosen as the sacrifice.
The moment they let their anger get the better of them and set foot in the northeast region, they had walked straight into an inescapable trap.
Roman spoke.
"My proposal is simple. We will proceed with the Great Warrior Battle, but how about I face three of your swordsmen at the same time?"
Instantly, looks of bewilderment washed over the northern forces.
They acknowledged Roman's strength, but they hadn't expected such an absurd proposal.
‘They won't be able to refuse this offer.’
He had laid a trap, and it was an incredibly tempting one.
No matter how they looked at it, a three-on-one handicap match was far more advantageous than a standard melee or a traditional Great Warrior Battle. Furthermore, Count Douglas had the Twin Swordsmen—famous throughout the North—under his command. The older and younger brothers were at the 3-Star and 2-Star realms respectively, and they had proven their skills by defeating numerous strong opponents with their flawless coordination. Roman had offered to face three opponents simultaneously despite knowing this fact.
It was intentional.
He had deliberately set the stage to make his opponents feel they had the upper hand, waiting for their response with a calculated silence.
Count Douglas was likely furious. His blood had to be boiling. For a man who had always lived doing exactly as he pleased, when had he ever been treated with such blatant disrespect?
Yet, he still did not open his mouth.
The fact that Roman had defeated Butler instilled a fear too overwhelming to face him in a standard Great Warrior Battle.
Seeing this, Roman added, "If you are truly hesitant, you may increase the number to five. I simply wish to wrap up this war as cleanly as possible."
Roman deliberately spat out those arrogant words to push Count Douglas over the edge.
* * *
They took a brief recess.
Count Douglas stepped aside with the northern lords. With an expression that failed to hide his seething rage, he spoke.
"We will accept his proposal."
Roman's intentions? He knew them. He knew Roman was trying to provoke him into accepting the Great Warrior Battle. He had tried his best to suppress his emotions, but the moment Roman offered to fight five people at once, all rational judgment flew out the window.
"I am well aware that Roman Dmitry is strong. He defeated Homeros and even killed Butler, so his martial prowess is practically proven. But we are talking about five people. No matter how great a swordsman he is, there is a limit to how many opponents one can face with only two arms and two legs. If we send out the top experts from each of our families instead of some random rabble, is it really impossible to bring down a single man?"
"...Still, it is too dangerous. Defeating Butler implies that he might have reached the 5-Star realm."
"Do you think I don't know that? But it's not like we have any other choice, do we? Whether we fight a Great Warrior Battle or engage in an all-out melee, we have to face that monster anyway. If so, fighting him under the most advantageous conditions possible is the only way to increase our chances of victory, even if only by a fraction. And this is something I haven't revealed publicly, but the Twin Swordsmen under my command once defeated a 4-Star swordsman in a coordinated attack. Granted, their opponent had only just reached the 4-Star realm, but it proves just how flawless their teamwork is."
"Is that true?"
The nobles were visibly shaken. To claim they had defeated a 4-Star swordsman… If that was true, they really stood a chance.
Count Douglas continued.
"I will send the Twin Swordsmen into the Great Warrior Battle. If it weren't true, I would have no reason to make such a risky decision. I only need three of you to lend your best men to support my choice. Roman Dmitry may be as strong as the rumors say, but he is still only in his mid-twenties. When one gains great power at a young age, their blood is bound to boil. He has made the reckless choice of making things unnecessarily difficult for himself just to show off his martial might. This is our chance—while he is still running wild without knowing his place. If we cut Roman Dmitry's throat right here, we can completely swallow up the entire northeast region."
His eyes turned bloodshot.
Whether his reasoning was sound or not didn't matter anymore. Roman had crossed the line, and Count Douglas knew he wouldn't be able to sleep a wink unless he exacted his revenge.
In the end, the lords relented.
"Understood."
"We will follow your lead, Count."
"I agree with the Count. Roman Dmitry has made a fatal mistake. I acknowledge his strength, but choosing to face five swordsmen at once is an act of sheer arrogance."
A consensus was reached.
One by one, the nobles stepped forward. They were certain of one thing: Roman Dmitry would surely regret his arrogance.
* * *
A noble from the Central Government stepped forward to act as the observer.
The rules were simple: Count Douglas and the northern lords would send out five swordsmen, and Roman would face them all alone.
"Whew."
"Don't be nervous, everyone. In the end, he's only human."
The five swordsmen representing the North stepped forward. Roman was already waiting for them. When they met his gaze, they couldn't help but tense up.
Roman Dmitry's reputation was legendary. To the swordsmen of Cairo, he was revered almost like a myth, so the prospect of facing him naturally struck fear into their hearts. Yet, they believed they had a chance. Before the duel began, Benton, the older of the Twin Swordsmen, had laid out their strategy—one specifically designed for a many-on-one fight.
Benton had said, "Keep my words in mind. The moment the battle begins, Bentel and I will split to the sides and target Roman Dmitry's blind spots. Left and right. Facing attacks coming from both directions simultaneously, Roman's hands are bound to get tangled. A coordinated attack starts with seizing the momentum. While we draw his attention, the rest of you will strike Roman from different directions. He will be pushed back in a frenzy right from the start."
"From then on, the fight is ours," the younger brother, Bentel, had added. "If he tries to attack, someone from the opposite side will strike his openings, preventing him from launching a proper offensive. We have superior numbers. If we make the absolute most of that, we can win against anyone, no matter who they are."
Because of the impressive track record the Twin Swordsmen had built, the other swordsmen trusted their plan implicitly.
"Everyone, take your positions."
Finally, the time had come. As they faced their opponent, Benton and Bentel circulated their mana.
‘This is our fight to win.’
‘The opponent made an arrogant choice. If we win here, we will gain the eternal fame of having defeated Roman Dmitry.’
It was a golden opportunity. They were confident they could defeat a monster who couldn't be beaten by ordinary means. Their mouths went dry. Gripping their swords tightly, they awaited the signal to begin.
Then—
Flutter.
The signal dropped.
Benton and Bentel immediately kicked off the ground.
Boom!
Their Aura exploded. Propelled by the explosive force in their legs, the two brothers split to the sides exactly as planned, aiming for Roman's blind spots. Neither was faster nor slower than the other. With timing as identical as their faces, they lunged at Roman. The three swordsmen rushing in behind them fully believed that their follow-up attacks would land perfectly in the opening created.
But then—
Flash.
"...!"
Spurt!
Blood sprayed into the air. They didn't even see what had happened.
The two swordsmen who had lunged simultaneously coughed up blood at the exact same time. Their chests were split wide open, their Aura-imbued swords cleanly severed. They collapsed on the spot, their eyes wide with disbelief.
Thud.
It was over. The Twin Swordsmen would never raise their heads again.
Faced with such a baffling turn of events, the three swordsmen rushing in behind them frantically halted their steps.
"What the hell..."
"He killed the Twin Swordsmen in a single strike!"
They were utterly bewildered. The horrifying reality before their eyes made them gulp dryly.
Ignoring the remaining enemies, Roman looked around and spoke.
"When I heard that Count Douglas had declared war, a thought suddenly crossed my mind. What on earth were you thinking when you crossed into the northeast region? Why is it that those who always tried to resolve things through dialogue back when the Barco Family was still standing didn't say a single word to us?"
Drip, drip.
Blood dripped from his sword. Across the vast plain, only Roman's voice echoed.
"In the end, it is a simple matter. You did not care about the existence of the Dmitry Family at all. Otherwise, there would be no reason for Count Douglas and the other northern lords to make such a reckless choice. And that fact is highly irritating to me."
His gaze, which had been scanning the surroundings, suddenly stopped. It locked onto one person: Count Douglas.
Looking at the Count's face, which was completely blank with shock, Roman spoke in a calm, chilling voice.
"I will give you a chance to call off the Great Warrior Battle right now. It seems a bit too anticlimactic for a war that you went through the trouble of requesting an observer from the Central Government for. So, how about we settle this through an all-out melee instead?"
The words were tossed out casually.
But at this shocking proposal—one that stood in stark contrast to his calm tone—Count Douglas's eyes widened in absolute horror.