Chapter 147: A Choice Between Two (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 147: A Choice Between Two (5)
"The Beast of the North."
That moniker originated from a single incident.
He had clashed with a neighboring noble, and while others debated justifications and politics, he challenged his opponent to a duel without a second thought. With a single stroke, he severed the man's head. People stood speechless at the sight of blood spraying like a fountain. From then on, rumors spread about just how dangerous Count Douglas's explosive temper truly was.
It was a remarkably convenient title.
If he so much as scowled or showed the sheerest hint of anger, his opponents would flinch and scramble to appease him.
As time passed, Count Douglas thoroughly enjoyed the perks of his hot-tempered reputation. Since he possessed the martial prowess to back it up, he faced no repercussions for acting with complete impunity—at least within the North.
This incident was supposed to be no different.
The Northeast Association. With the fall of Barco, the Central Government's protection over them had vanished. He saw no need to suppress his temper when dealing with the northeast region. Nor was he particularly worried about Dmitry's presence. He had never had any conflict with them before, and he judged there was no way they would interfere in his attack on the Northeast Association.
The plan was perfect.
Just like always, he expected to rage, and his opponents to tremble and beg for forgiveness.
Trickle.
Blood pooled across the floor.
The Twin Swordsmen, the absolute pride of the Douglas family, lay completely motionless. The crimson spreading beneath them drew everyone's gaze.
Count Douglas's mind was in utter chaos. Just moments ago, when they charged forward, he was certain they would easily take down Roman Dmitry. Yet, the scene that followed was shockingly one-sided.
A single strike.
Unable to block even one blow, the Twin Swordsmen had died. Knowing exactly how lethal their coordinated attacks were, the shock hit Count Douglas all the harder.
Is this the strength that defeated a continental ranker?
A realm beyond the heavens. He looked up at the sky. Roman Dmitry was an existence far beyond his grasp.
"I will give you a chance to call off the Great Warrior Battle right now," Roman said. "It seems a bit too anticlimactic for a war you went through the trouble of requesting a Central Government observer for. How about we settle this with a melee instead?"
It was an absurd proposal. To offer to nullify his own victory in the Great Warrior Battle and engage in an all-out melee instead.
Goosebumps broke out across the crowd. Roman wasn't just proving his martial prowess; he was punishing the northern lords who dared trespass into the northeast. He was showing them the sheer, terrifying might of the Dmitry family. By forcing them to face an inescapable reality, he was offering to butcher them in whatever manner they preferred.
Under normal circumstances, Count Douglas would have turned red with rage. But confronted with a true powerhouse, he quietly averted his gaze.
...If we engage in an all-out melee, countless soldiers will die. It is a far better bargain to lose only five men.
He turned away from the corpses before him and the three surviving, trembling swordsmen. They cast desperate, pleading glances at him, but Count Douglas spoke without meeting their eyes.
"Rules are rules. Since we agreed to settle this through a Great Warrior Battle, let us conclude it as such."
A smirk played on Roman's lips.
Of the people gathered here, not a single one failed to understand the meaning behind Count Douglas's words. Even when handed the chance to fight a wider battle, he had raised the white flag. This permanently established the future 'hierarchy' between them.
Dmitry had thoroughly crushed the head of the North.
Roman withdrew his gaze and looked at the three terrified swordsmen.
"If you say so. We shall proceed with the Great Warrior Battle as scheduled."
* * *
A death sentence.
The grim reaper had descended. Unable to withstand the terror of impending death, the swordsmen representing the North cried out.
"Must you really go this far?"
"The battle is already decided. Why not end the duel here?"
They were raising the white flag. Surrendering without even clashing swords was a disgraceful act that dragged the honor of the North through the mud.
And yet, the northern lords did not blame them. The corpses lying nearby proved just how overwhelmingly one-sided this fight was, allowing everyone to fully understand the great warriors' plight.
Roman spoke.
"From the moment we faced each other with our lives on the line, there was never a middle ground that could satisfy everyone. One side must bleed. It is only natural for the outcome to be cruel. If you truly do not wish to fight, I will end this here—provided you acknowledge that the warriors of the North surrendered like cowards. However, if you feel even the slightest resentment toward my words..."
Clack.
He tossed his sword aside.
As the blade clattered against the ground, the northern swordsmen visibly wavered.
"From this moment on, as a handicap, I will not use a sword. If you are still too terrified to fight me even under these conditions, I will allow you to crawl back alive like dogs. Choose. Will you risk your lives honorably and strive for victory, or will you throw away your pride as swordsmen to cling to your wretched lives?"
Instantly, the onlookers were thrown into confusion. First, he offered to call off the Great Warrior Battle, and now he was refusing to use a sword. It completely defied common sense.
While they acknowledged Roman Dmitry's strength, his attitude was so outrageously arrogant that it provoked a natural urge to rebel.
Cling to your hope. Only then will you truly understand what kind of existence Dmitry is.
A choice between two. This message was not meant for the North alone. Roman was using the North to show the Northeast Association the harsh reality. Projected through the slaughter of the northern swordsmen, they would see exactly what kind of entity they had tried to oppose.
"...What do we do?"
"Fuck, I don't know."
The northern swordsmen exchanged uneasy glances.
Roman was strong. But the demand to crawl like dogs, coupled with his promise not to use a sword, shook their resolve. Roman was undeniably, overwhelmingly powerful, but they did not want to retreat in such a pathetic manner.
Frankly speaking, a swordsman without a sword was surely an opponent they could handle.
"It's do or die."
"Do not regret that choice."
In the end, they crossed the point of no return. Knowing they could not escape responsibility if they backed down now, they chose to fight with their lives on the line.
Everyone looked to the observer, the noble from the Central Government. As he nodded, the northern swordsmen charged all at once.
"Kill him!"
Whoosh!
Rumble!
There was no strategy. Their opponent had no sword. Since he had no way to block their attacks, they opted to strike Roman simultaneously from all directions.
The onlookers swallowed hard as Aura flared up from all sides. What their eyes saw clearly indicated that Roman was in a perilous situation, but his unwavering expression made it impossible to accept common sense at face value.
Step.
They reached him in the blink of an eye. Three swordsmen, each targeting a different area. Their Aura-clad swords struck at his head, torso, and legs simultaneously, showing their absolute determination to end this once and for all.
At that moment, Roman's hair fluttered.
His movement was astonishing. A slight sidestep evaded the attack aimed at his legs; a twist of his torso let another sword graze harmlessly past; and he casually raised his hand to catch the strike targeting his head.
An Aura-infused sword against a bare hand.
By all accounts, Roman's hand should have been brutally shredded, but the thin layer of Aura enveloping his palm held the blade without a single scratch.
And then, he shattered the blade.
The moment the shocked eyes of the swordsman met Roman's, the man's heart sank.
Crack!
His face caved in. Teeth and blood sprayed through the air as the swordsman who had targeted his head collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
Roman then raised his leg and brought it down hard on the head of the swordsman who had attacked his lower body. Protecting oneself with Aura was utterly useless against him. Fragile human flesh was instantly pulverized. In a mere breath, two more swordsmen lost their lives.
The last remaining swordsman hurriedly scrambled backward. He opened his mouth, desperately trying to surrender.
"I bear no ill will toward you," Roman said calmly. "It is simply that where you stand is the problem."
Roman grabbed him by the hair, dragged him forward, and smashed his fist directly into the man's face.
Crunch.
A gruesome sound echoed across the battlefield. As Roman pulled his hand away, thick blood clung to his knuckles. Clumps of hair fell from his grip as the lifeless corpse slumped to the ground.
It was over.
No one cheered. The crowd was utterly speechless, unable to process the brutal reality before them.
Roman looked at Count Douglas.
"We shall conclude this matter here. Do you have any objections?"
At those words, Count Douglas could only shake his head, his face deathly pale.
* * *
The incident was resolved.
Count Douglas conceded defeat and turned back to the North, looking far more pathetic than anyone could have ever imagined at the start.
It should have been a joyous occasion. The Northeast Association should have been cheering their victory, yet they could not hide their pale complexions. They looked like defeated soldiers themselves.
"Hic."
It was Viscount Conrad. He let out a sharp hiccup. At the sight of Roman walking toward him, his heart pounded frantically against his ribs.
"Hic. Hic."
His hands and feet trembled uncontrollably.
The conflict with Count Douglas. The Northeast Association had been certain that drawing the Dmitry family into the conflict was the most ideal outcome. It was the epitome of using barbarians to control barbarians. By using one enemy's strength to defeat another, they believed they would profit regardless of the outcome.
But this was far too overwhelming. The thought that the very sword which had just slaughtered the northern warriors could have been aimed at his own neck made his hiccups unstoppable.
"Hic, hic."
Roman Dmitry is a monster. Defeating the Hector Kingdom wasn't a stroke of luck; they won because a monster like him was holding the Southern Front. If we had chosen total war against the Dmitry family... we would have been unilaterally slaughtered, just like those northern warriors.
This was no mere hypothesis. It was an absolute fact. They had dragged Dmitry into this mess because they couldn't handle the northern lords, but Dmitry was an even greater monster.
The other nobles of the Northeast Association were no different from Viscount Conrad. None of them dared to look Roman in the eye, desperately trying to hide their trembling hands.
Dmitry and the Northeast Association had never once fought directly. They had only engaged in indirect psychological warfare, with no actual casualties in their political disputes.
And now...
"...You have truly gone through a great deal of trouble."
Viscount Conrad bowed his head deeply. Seeing him act so quickly, the other nobles rushed forward to pay their respects to Roman.
The northeast region. It was the moment the hierarchy of who stood above and who knelt below was clearly established.
* * *
A few days later, Roman summoned the nobles of the northeast region.
In the past, most would have found an excuse to decline, but now, the early morning rush of arriving nobles created a massive stir.
"Viscount Conrad has entered!"
"Baron Lolo has entered!"
The Northeast Association had rushed over at the break of dawn. People who would have scoffed at Dmitry's words back when Barco was still standing now behaved with utmost caution. Even around Dmitry's guards, they acted like terrified children.
It was an unbelievable sight. Knight Commander Jonathan, who was specifically in charge of controlling the castle gates, was genuinely astonished by the nobles' drastically altered attitudes.
Not only did every single noble of the northeast region attend, but they are acting like this. Has the tide truly turned?
It was undeniable. The surrounding forces of the northeast region were paying their utmost respects to Dmitry.
Knowing that all of this was an achievement born from Roman Dmitry, Knight Commander Jonathan felt his heart race for the first time in a long while. He had never regretted his choice to come down to Dmitry and swear loyalty to Baron Romero, but as a swordsman, there was no one who wouldn't yearn to witness a moment like this.
He squared his shoulders, raised his voice, and welcomed the arriving nobles with a proud expression.
Before the sun had even reached its zenith, all the nobles had gathered. The spacious meeting room was packed, and the reactions of the attendees were clearly split into two camps.
"Hahaha, did such a thing really happen?"
"Please invite me next time. Isn't joy doubled when shared?"
The nobles who had followed Dmitry from the beginning were in high spirits. Their choice to bet on Dmitry had proven correct, allowing them to chat with bright, relaxed smiles within Dmitry's inner chambers.
On the other hand, the Northeast Association—including Viscount Conrad—kept their mouths tightly shut like condemned criminals. They merely scanned their surroundings with tense faces, entirely lacking the courage to hold their heads high and raise their voices as they once did.
Then, a voice rang out.
"Young Master Roman Dmitry is entering."
Everyone froze. Even the pro-Dmitry faction ceased their chatter and immediately stood to show their respect.
Roman Dmitry. The man who had single-handedly elevated Dmitry's status could no longer be treated as a mere young master of a noble family.
Creak.
Step, step.
Roman walked in, passing behind the rows of nobles, and took his place in the sole seat of honor.
"For this meeting, I have been specially entrusted with full authority by my father," Roman stated, his gaze sweeping the room. "Is there anyone who finds this uncomfortable?"
No one dared to open their mouth. The nobles present tacitly acknowledged Roman's absolute authority.
"Then, from this moment on, I will deliver the new directives for the northeast region."
If a new king had taken the throne, then it was time to introduce the new rules befitting him.