Chapter 169: The First Sword of Cairo (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 169: The First Sword of Cairo (4)
Rumble!
The world shook.
The immense shockwave violently threw people backward, kicking up a thick cloud of dust that obscured the outcome. This was no clash of mere mortals. Covered in grit, the onlookers stared into the haze with wide, shocked eyes.
Whoosh.
A gust of wind swept the battlefield.
As the dust settled and the scene was faintly revealed, everyone's eyes widened in disbelief.
Thud.
"...Cough."
Count Nicholas fell to one knee.
Blood dripped from his nose and mouth, but he still forced his head up to look at the man standing before him.
Have I been defeated?
Count Nicholas had poured everything he had into that final strike. He had been absolutely certain of his victory in a head-on clash, but Roman Dmitry hadn't backed down. He had met the attack head-on. The result was this miserable state. Despite unleashing a strike he had spent sixty years perfecting, he had failed to bring Roman Dmitry down. Instead, it was Nicholas who was now coughing up blood.
His eyes trembled.
Looking at Roman, who was gazing down at him with an utterly indifferent expression, Count Nicholas felt a profound sense of misery wash over him.
It's over.
The battle was decided.
Roman Dmitry was the victor.
It was time to admit defeat, but Count Nicholas forced his trembling legs to stand.
Drip. Drip.
Blood ran down his arm.
His battered body screamed in protest, refusing to listen, but he gritted his teeth and raised his sword once more.
"...Let us continue."
His voice was cracked and dry.
Accepting the outcome of a duel was the virtue of a swordsman, but Count Nicholas couldn't accept reality—no matter how pathetic it made him look. The fate of the Cairo Royal Family rested on his shoulders.
Even though his mind acknowledged his defeat, he couldn't bring himself to kneel when he thought of the grim reality that would soon descend upon the Royal Family. Truthfully, he simply didn't know what else to do. By showing weakness, he had already failed as their pillar of support. But in his sixty years of life, the only thing he had ever known was how to pick up a sword and fight.
Fighting to the bitter end—that was the only answer he had left.
His heavy eyelids urged him to surrender, but he swallowed the blood pooling in his mouth and forced himself to stay conscious.
"Why go to such lengths?" Roman Dmitry asked.
Count Nicholas’s final strike had been genuinely threatening.
Although Roman had secured victory by unleashing a form from the middle half of the Heavenly Demon Sword Technique, Count Nicholas was by far the strongest swordsman he had faced in this world. If he hadn't fought Butler, or if he hadn't taken that past year to consolidate his strength, Roman Dmitry would not have emerged unscathed against that raging Flame Demon.
But in the end, Roman was the victor.
He had pierced through the Flame Demon's fire and crushed the First Sword of Cairo with sheer power.
Count Nicholas laughed weakly.
"...Why go to such lengths? Isn't it obvious? I am the First Sword of Cairo. Even if I am miserably broken, my will cannot be bent."
His voice grew weaker with every word.
This defeat was not beautiful. Count Nicholas was stained with blood, and in stark contrast to his glorious reputation, he looked utterly pathetic.
But what else could he do?
If he was a sword destined to break, he had to show his unyielding resolve even as he shattered completely.
"Let's end this."
He kicked off the ground and rushed forward.
He was incredibly slow. Blood sprayed onto the dirt as he ran, his steps so precarious that he looked ready to collapse at any second.
Roman smiled.
Richard Nicholas.
He was a fine man. The true pillar of Cairo.
Roman wouldn't kill him. However, in the midst of this generational shift, he had no intention of showing half-hearted mercy.
Roman sent a Voice Transmission.
Upon hearing the words transmitted through mana, Count Nicholas’s eyes widened in shock mid-charge.
In that instant, a flash of light cut through the air.
Slash!
A blade sliced cleanly across his chest.
Blood sprayed like a fountain. Count Nicholas's eyes lost their focus, and he collapsed mid-stride.
Thud.
The First Sword of Cairo.
It was the end of a giant who had ruled an era.
* * *
It was the end of a long journey.
Watching Count Nicholas bleed out, Willas spoke in a trembling voice.
"...With this, Roman Dmitry has become the number one ranker of the Cairo Kingdom."
It was a shocking result.
No one dared to cheer. Stunned by the overwhelming duel, the crowd could only look back and forth between Count Nicholas and Roman with dazed expressions.
Willas, too, couldn't hide his shock.
Even as an agent who usually enjoyed observing the public ranking matches, he couldn't process today's outcome.
This makes no sense.
Roman Dmitry was a top-priority target. Because his immense talent allowed him to grow at an astronomical rate, the agents of the Valhalla Empire had been closely monitoring his every move. His journey from defeating the 99th ranker all the way to the 2nd had drawn their admiration. While Willas had no choice but to acknowledge Roman Dmitry's skill, he had never once believed the young man would be a match for Count Nicholas.
According to Valhalla's intelligence, Count Nicholas had grown even stronger than he was five years ago.
No matter how extraordinary Roman Dmitry was, defeating Count Nicholas should have been impossible on paper.
Yet, Roman had won.
And overwhelmingly so.
Watching Roman completely crush his opponent in a direct clash, Willas had felt his mind go blank.
Did we underestimate Roman Dmitry? No, that's not it. No matter how highly we estimated his limits, that monster simply shattered them. Ah... a true monster has appeared in the Cairo Kingdom. Even if Roman Dmitry had been born in the Valhalla Empire, he would have caused a massive storm.
His heart pounded wildly.
Count Nicholas was someone who wouldn't have even ranked near the top in Valhalla. However, the fact that a man in his mid-twenties had just defeated him meant that Roman's miraculous rate of growth demanded absolute vigilance.
"I will now conclude the public ranking match."
Willas hurriedly left the scene.
The official results of the ranking match? That didn't matter anymore. Right now, he had to contact his home country immediately. He needed to report what had just transpired in Cairo to the high-ranking officials of Valhalla.
Roman Dmitry is no longer someone we can just observe. If he maintains his stance of having no interest in naturalization...
He had to be eliminated.
If they couldn't make him an ally, Roman Dmitry was an existence that absolutely could not be allowed to live.
* * *
After the duel, Roman headed toward the Royal Palace.
It was time to be officially recognized for defeating Count Nicholas and be proclaimed the First Sword of Cairo. However, on his way to the palace, a massive group blocked his path.
"...Roman Dmitry. I never imagined you would defeat even Count Nicholas."
It was Marquis Benedict.
He and the Noble Faction had arrived in full force.
Soldiers from various noble families filled the streets, exuding a menacing aura that forced ordinary citizens to quickly flee and hide. The atmosphere was heavy and ominous. Marquis Benedict, who had looked at Roman Dmitry with affectionate eyes over the past year, now faced him with a freezing expression.
"Watching Count Nicholas fall brought many complicated thoughts to my mind. Was I foolish for not anticipating this, or did you intentionally hide your strength all this time? I believe it is the latter."
Until now, Marquis Benedict had believed he could control Roman Dmitry.
Since he thought Roman's power wasn't anything insurmountable, he hadn't worried much even after granting him a year to prepare.
As a result, Count Nicholas had fallen.
The Dmitry family had formed an alliance in the northeast region, and Roman Dmitry had proven himself stronger than even Count Nicholas—the very man the Noble Faction had always kept a wary eye on. This was not a result that could be easily brushed aside. What Benedict had believed he could control turned out to be Roman merely showing just enough power to appear controllable.
It was absurd.
Roman Dmitry was a sly fox. Benedict had known this, but he hadn't expected to be played to this extent.
Roman Dmitry never needed a year of preparation in the first place. He must have needed time to organize the Dmitry family under the pretext of preparing for the public ranking match. From the very beginning until now, Roman Dmitry only ever showed as much as I could handle. Because he was from the fringes and just a single individual, I firmly believed he had no choice but to follow my orders.
But things were different now.
Roman Dmitry had obtained true power. From this moment on, if he so desired, forming his own faction and opposing the Noble Faction was entirely possible.
That was exactly why Benedict had mobilized his forces.
Even though the capital, Kairos, was under the direct jurisdiction of the Royal Family, the city guards had willingly opened the gates for him.
Marquis Benedict spoke.
"A year ago, you said you would make your choice once the public ranking match was over. Give me your answer now. Will you follow me and join the Noble Faction, or will you make another choice? If you choose the former, I will accept you as you are. But if you choose the latter, you will have to pay the price for everything you have received from me."
The past year of accepted goodwill had now returned as malice.
Marquis Benedict spoke in a resolute voice.
"Choose. What is your decision?"
Finally, the moment of choice had arrived.
* * *
The life of Baek Joong-hyuk.
It had been exactly the same back then. Struggling just to survive, he too had eventually faced a similar moment of choice.
"Joong-hyuk. I will become the absolute ruler of the Heavenly Demon Cult. I have treated you as a brother until now, but from this moment on, our relationship will be decided by your choice. Now, choose. Will you enjoy wealth and honor by my side for the rest of your life, or will you become my enemy?"
That day, Baek Ho-yeol, the eldest son of the Heavenly Demon Cult, had appeared leading an army so vast it dyed the earth as black as the night sky. It wasn't really a choice. With Baek Joong-hyuk proving his worth and being discussed as a potential successor to the Heavenly Demon, Baek Ho-yeol had shown his resolve to no longer grant his younger brother any time to grow.
Beside Baek Ho-yeol stood their other brothers.
Those who had initially vied for the position of the Heavenly Demon had, over time, chosen to submit one by one.
Which choice is truly for my sake?
A life of struggle.
Every single moment had been a continuous, waking hell.
He had never slept peacefully, and those who followed him were frequently found dead simply because they were Baek Joong-hyuk's people. Every time he saw their corpses, he had vomited everything inside his stomach. Whenever he recalled the words and actions of those who had looked up to him while they were still alive, he had wanted to curse his wretched fate and end it all.
The moment he took Baek Ho-yeol's hand, life would become easy.
He would no longer have to struggle, and he would be able to sleep peacefully without keeping a drawn sword by his bedside.
But...
"Brother. I am sorry, but I am not a person who can live for the sake of others."
From the very bottom of life, Baek Joong-hyuk had begun his struggle by crushing the head of a boy just like him with a stone.
Killing, killing, and killing again.
If anyone dared to look down on him or try to stand above him—even if he had to bite off their ears with his teeth and gouge out their eyes with his fingers—Baek Joong-hyuk had always survived as the victor.
His essence could never change.
A beast that had tasted blood could not bow its head, even when Baek Ho-yeol brought death to his doorstep.
Baek Ho-yeol's expression turned ice-cold.
As he took a step back, the Demonic Humans who filled the earth in a black wave charged at Baek Joong-hyuk all at once.
For fifteen days and nights, Baek Joong-hyuk endured a blood-soaked, agonizing slaughter. The shadow of death weighed heavily on his eyelids, and though he quenched his thirst with the blood of his enemies, he cut down every single person who rushed at him.
Finally, looking down at Baek Ho-yeol—who stared up at him with eyes filled with utter disbelief—Baek Joong-hyuk sliced his head clean off.
Slash.
And now.
"I understand what you are saying."
Roman Dmitry looked ahead. At Marquis Benedict. At the army standing behind him.
In a situation that perfectly mirrored the memories of his past life, Roman Dmitry smirked.
"But you see... it seems I simply cannot live for the sake of others. That is my choice."
At those words, Marquis Benedict's face contorted like a demon's.