Chapter 181: For a Definitive End (7)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 181: For a Definitive End (7)
The strength drained from his hands.
Watching the communication device shatter against the floor, Marquis Benedict felt his mind plunge into a deep abyss.
...Where on earth did it all go wrong?
He traced back through his memories. Right after the Ranking Match. Marquis Benedict had led the Noble Faction to Roman Dmitry and forced him to make a choice. That had triggered the start of their full-blown conflict, but even now, he refused to believe it had been the wrong decision. Roman was someone they had spent over a year trying to court. Yet, the man had openly declared his intention to walk his own path. Leaving him be would have dragged the Noble Faction's prestige through the mud and collapsed their entire power structure.
Before he could grow any larger, they had to nip him in the bud.
It was undoubtedly the correct judgment—yet Roman Dmitry had boldly drawn his sword in Kairos.
Was attacking his main base the mistake?
Perhaps if they hadn't diverted their forces to Dmitry and had instead settled the matter in Benedict, they wouldn't have collapsed so helplessly. No, on second thought, that wasn't it either. They couldn't even bring down an empty Dmitry with that massive army; focusing their troops in Benedict wouldn't have changed the outcome.
From the very beginning, the gap in their strength had been far too vast.
Looking back at his choices, Marquis Benedict could only reach one conclusion.
Roman Dmitry rendered every single plan meaningless.
Think about it.
Whether it was the ambush in Kairos or the diversionary operation in Benedict, from a common-sense standpoint, these were operations where failure was impossible. Their objective military strength dictated as much. Mobilizing a force of a hundred to suppress a force of ten should have been a foregone conclusion.
Yet they couldn't even suppress a single man.
When Roman Dmitry could slaughter a hundred men all by himself, what was the point of racking one's brain to devise stratagems?
Overwhelming power.
That was the root cause of their failure.
Just as Cairo would not dare to challenge the Empire, the Noble Faction had picked the wrong opponent from the very start.
It was over.
Staring at the shattered remains of the communication device, Marquis Benedict was suddenly seized by sheer terror.
If I stay here, death is inevitable.
The Devil of Cairo.
He was coming for him.
Snapping back to reality, Marquis Benedict spoke in a rushed, urgent tone.
"The defense of Castle Benedict has utterly failed. We must escape for now and turn the tide by borrowing the strength of the Kronos Empire. Move quickly! If we are captured here, it will be the end of the Noble Faction."
"U-Understood."
The nobles nodded, their faces pale.
Countless soldiers still remained in Castle Benedict.
They were risking their lives on orders to fight to the bitter end, but the leadership didn't care in the slightest for their safety. They were nothing but expendable pawns anyway. As long as the nobles survived and could use the Kronos Empire to seize the Cairo Royal Family, they could always raise new soldiers.
They hurried their steps.
Fortunately, they had prepared a secret passage for just such an occasion.
Because it was a route that allowed them to escape unnoticed, a glimmer of hope still remained amidst the chaos.
How long had they been running?
Their breaths grew ragged.
The armor Benedict had worn just to look imposing now weighed heavily on his body, and his forehead was drenched in sweat. The nobles, who would normally have complained incessantly, remained dead silent. Terrified that the Devil of Cairo might catch up if they slowed down even a fraction, they shoved those ahead of them to force their way forward.
Finally, they reached the end of the passage.
Emerging from the pitch-black underground into the bright light, Marquis Benedict, who was leading the way, turned deathly pale.
Drip, drip.
Blood dripped from the edge of a blade.
Atop a pile of corpses sat a man, using the bodies as a chair.
Spotting Marquis Benedict, he stood up, his expression completely blank.
"You are too late, Marquis Benedict."
It was none other than Kevin.
* * *
Marquis Benedict's choice had been entirely predictable.
No one expected him to hold his head high and calmly accept death if the siege failed.
Over the past week, Roman's forces had mapped out the secret passages perfectly.
Kevin and his soldiers had been guarding one of them, and of all places, Marquis Benedict had emerged right where Kevin was waiting. His heart felt as if it were shriveling up. Though Kevin's face still held a youthful look, Benedict had already witnessed in Kairos just how terrifying he could be.
The Evil Ghost of Dmitry...!
At Roman's command, two swordsmen had charged forward.
Kevin was one of them, and the sight of him throwing himself into a crowd of hundreds of soldiers was still burned into Benedict's memory.
He swallowed hard.
Hastily hiding behind the guards who had followed him out, he shrieked in a terror-stricken voice, "Attack him now! Kill him!"
The escort knights were clearly terrified as well.
For a brief moment, they hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances, but they could not disobey Marquis Benedict's command. Kevin didn't budge an inch as he watched them. Seeing him just staring blankly, one knight gritted his teeth and lunged forward.
"Attack!"
"Kill him!"
Over a dozen knights staked their lives.
Suppressing their terror, their faces looking as if they might burst into tears at any moment, they swung their swords at Kevin.
And then— Slash!
A head flew.
As the head soared into the air and blood sprayed, Kevin slipped right into his opponents' guard. He dodged the attacks coming from all directions by a hair's breadth. Though one blade managed to shear off a few strands of his fluttering hair, Kevin didn't even blink. Utilizing his short stature, he drove his sword straight up into his target's chin.
Thrust.
"Gargle..."
The man coughed up bloody froth. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, kicking up dust on the floor.
Only Kevin was moving.
Though there were other soldiers stationed behind him, they merely watched Kevin's battle with indifferent expressions. It was a scene that completely froze one's train of thought. The escort knights fought back frantically, but they were utterly helpless as their limbs were severed one by one.
When they swung a sword with their right hand, their right hand was severed; when they raised their left arm to block, their left arm was severed as well. And when one turned to flee with a terror-stricken face, Kevin leaped onto his back and slit his throat.
The Evil Ghost of Dmitry.
He was exactly as the rumors described.
As blood flowed like a river, Marquis Benedict and the other nobles fled without looking back.
The escort knights... in the end, they, too, were nothing but expendable pawns.
They glared at the fleeing nobles with resentful eyes, but the figures only grew more distant.
However, Kevin did not pursue the nobles.
He merely finished off the struggling escort knights, showing no rush whatsoever.
After all, Marquis Benedict was nothing more than a rat in a trap.
* * *
"Pant, pant."
Marquis Benedict gasped for breath.
He had abandoned his soldiers. He had abandoned his escort knights.
He didn't think of it as cowardly. Since they existed solely for his sake in the first place, he felt not a shred of guilt as he fled.
The problem was...
"Son of a bitch...!"
At the new escape route, another figure stood waiting.
It was Chris.
The swordsmen who followed Roman Dmitry had not taken part in the siege itself. Knowing that the enemy would collapse the moment the castle walls fell, they had received special orders to completely block off any paths Marquis Benedict might use to escape.
In this war, not a single person who had participated in the rebellion could be allowed to live. And they knew that the way they dealt with these traitors would set a precedent for future generations.
"Where do you think you're going?" Chris approached.
Marquis Benedict hastily spun around.
Seeing him flee in another direction, Chris let Marquis Benedict go for now and seized the other nobles.
Thrust.
"Aaargh!"
Screams echoed.
Chris slaughtered the nobles of the Noble Faction right then and there. He deliberately drove his sword in slowly to make them scream longer, and Marquis Benedict covered his ears as he ran.
He felt like he was losing his mind. It was hard enough to accept that he, who once boasted absolute power, had been utterly defeated, but this overwhelming terror was tearing his sanity apart.
No matter where he went, Roman's subordinates were waiting.
The many nobles who had followed him met their deaths one by one every time they hit a new wall.
His face was a mess of tears and snot. As he ran, Marquis Benedict vowed and vowed again in his heart.
Fine, toy with me all you want. If I somehow survive this hell, I will use any means necessary—even if I have to drag in the Kronos Empire—to get my revenge. When that day comes, even if you beg for your life, I will tear everyone who followed you to shreds right before your eyes.
His desire to survive. He used revenge as his driving force.
His feet blistered, and his toenails cracked. His body was scratched as he pushed through the thickets, but he didn't care about such minor pain.
After running for what felt like an eternity, a glimmer of hope finally appeared before Marquis Benedict's eyes.
Here.
Beneath a boulder, he saw a small crevice.
Although the animal droppings nearby gave off a horrific stench, saving his own life was his top priority. He didn't hesitate for a second. He wedged his body beneath the boulder, then dragged over dirt mixed with animal feces and smeared it all over himself.
To hide his flashy accessories, he pressed his body as tightly as possible into the corner and held his breath.
Let them call it pathetic.
Right now, Marquis Benedict's desire to live burned more fiercely than ever before.
* * *
The sun set.
In all his life, he had never known a night so long.
Even as he shivered from the biting cold and the hunger gnawing at his stomach, he clamped a hand over his mouth whenever he heard signs of a presence nearby.
Gasp.
Roman's soldiers. They were roaming the area.
They seemed to be combing the terrain to find him, but they didn't seem to suspect this crevice littered with animal droppings. Marquis Benedict was the absolute symbol of power. No matter how dire his situation, they could never imagine he would go so far as to smear feces on his own body just to hide.
Tears welled in his eyes. He had grown used to the terrible stench, but his plight was utterly miserable.
Roman Dmitry. It's all because of him. The throne of Cairo was right before my eyes, but he ruined everything. I cannot fall like this. I will survive, no matter what, and claim the throne of Cairo.
His body trembled violently. His consciousness kept fading, but he bit the inside of his cheek to force himself to stay awake.
It was then.
"...Marquis Benedict. It is all over now. Please, come out."
It was a familiar voice.
Viscount Owen. It was definitely him.
Marquis Benedict almost shrieked in that instant, but he quickly covered his mouth. This was undoubtedly a ploy, using a prisoner to locate him. If they already knew where he was, they would have just dragged him out.
"Castle Benedict has completely fallen. The Noble Faction's forces have all been bound, and not a single member of the leadership managed to escape. Marquis, we are finished. Even your family has been dragged out like dogs and are begging for their lives right now. So please, Marquis, you must persuade Roman Dmitry."
It was a desperate plea.
The voice, which had sounded distant at first, drew closer and closer as he spoke.
"You know this well, Marquis. There is no way to escape from here. Roman Dmitry anticipated our flight from the beginning and blocked all escape routes. Didn't you feel something was off while you were running? We are being toyed with. There was never any way out from the start."
His blood ran cold.
Those words... it felt as if Owen was speaking with full knowledge of exactly where Benedict was hiding.
At that moment, along with the sound of a man struggling frantically, a voice filled with terror pierced his ears.
"You son of a bitch! Do you think they don't know you're hiding in there? They said they'd spare my life if you showed yourself, but you're really going to be selfish until the very end! Go to hell, you— choke."
It was the sound of death.
Marquis Benedict's face turned ashen white.
Only then did he realize.
His location had been compromised from the very beginning. Roman Dmitry had known all along, yet he had deliberately stood by, letting him run as if giving him a chance.
Blood pooled on the ground. The blood flowing from Viscount Owen's corpse seeped through the dirt, soaking into Marquis Benedict's clothes.
And then...
"Come out."
Roman Dmitry's voice.
As his heart plummeted into the abyss, Marquis Benedict squeezed his eyes shut.