Chapter 238: The Predator's Way (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 238: The Predator's Way (2)
A crack appeared in the servant's composed expression.
His twitching lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but the arrival of the other servants entering the room forced him to remain silent.
Meanwhile, Roman Dmitry savored his tea. He even ate the snacks one by one—something he rarely touched under normal circumstances—showing not a shred of wariness. Even so, nothing dramatic happened. The servants quickly tidied up and left. Just as Roman Dmitry finished the last of his tea, he sensed someone approaching before the door swung open.
"What on earth do you think you're doing?! How could you drink that so carelessly when you don't even know what's inside?!"
It was the servant who had just left. To be precise, it was the man named Greg. His face was twisted in a mix of bewilderment and anger.
It had been a sudden warning. There was always a chance Roman wouldn't trust him. But for any normal person, regardless of trust, it was only natural to be wary upon hearing that their drink might be poisoned. Yet Roman Dmitry had downed the tea without a moment's hesitation. Greg had risked his own safety to tell him the truth, but the empty teacup proved his warning had been utterly meaningless.
Clink.
He set down the teacup.
Roman Dmitry looked at Greg with a perfectly calm expression.
"I already knew that Barbosa primarily uses poison. And poison does not work on me."
"…What does that mean?"
The moment he drank the tea, the poison's energy had spread through his body.
It possessed the properties of Qi-Scattering Poison, stealthily taking over the body so subtly that even Aura Swordsmen who manipulated mana would fail to notice its presence. Barbosa's weapon was indeed formidable. If one drank this Qi-Scattering Poison the day before a duel, by the time they stepped onto the main stage, the damage would already be irreversible.
A poison that left no outward trace. It was a lethal power. By the time the victim realized something was wrong and tried to complain, their head would already be severed by Barbosa's sword, leaving them unable to utter a single excuse.
However, his opponent was Roman Dmitry.
Thanks to the rapid evolution of his physical body, ordinary poisons no longer affected him. And ever since he absorbed the Flame Demon's flames, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he had reached the realm of Immunity to All Poisons. The Flame Demon's flames incinerated any energy within his body that Roman deemed a "foreign substance." It tolerated no impurities whatsoever. Consequently, while Roman maintained his pure Qi, the poison was engulfed and eradicated by the Flame Demon's flames the very instant he swallowed it.
The heat rising from within. The searing warmth flowing down his esophagus rendered Barbosa's scheme utterly useless.
This was a truth Greg could never have known. His shocked face silently asked why Roman had drunk it despite knowing the truth, but Roman Dmitry did not give him an answer.
"If you truly wish to help me, can you use the residue left in this teacup to prove that someone tried to poison me?"
"…It is possible, but the issue is time. There is a reason Barbosa uses poison on the night of the Eve Festival. Those in the know are aware that Barbosa deals in poison, but there is no way to prove a poison was used the day before until after the main duel is over. If you refuse the duel out of suspicion, Barbosa will manipulate public opinion to brand you a coward. In Valhalla, refusing a duel is considered disgraceful regardless of the reason, so even if you present evidence later, no one will listen. Yet, stepping onto the stage to prove it through combat is equally dangerous, as Barbosa's sword is not to be underestimated."
Barbosa was cunning. The day before the duel, he backed his opponent into a corner. Whether they drank the poison or not, it was a win-win situation for him.
If a wary opponent stayed up all night without eating or drinking anything, that was exactly what Barbosa wanted. His goal was to degrade his opponent's condition by any means necessary. For someone with the swordsmanship of Barbosa, one of the Twelve Swords of the Continent, even that slight edge was enough to completely overwhelm his foe.
It was a checkmate. In a situation where anyone else would have been left helpless, Roman Dmitry chose the bold path of drinking the poison anyway.
Roman Dmitry stood up.
"By the end of tomorrow's main duel, prove that there was poison in this teacup. If you bring me the result I want, you will also get the result you desire."
He didn't wait for an answer. He turned and walked away. Since they had dared to use poison so openly, it was now his turn to use that fact to stir up a storm.
* * *
Elsewhere, among the servants who had delivered the refreshments, one of them bowed to a man and spoke in a hushed voice.
"Roman Dmitry drank the poison. He even ate the snacks, so the poison is definitely in his system."
"Is that so?"
The man was the butler in charge of the external guests. Contrary to his impeccably neat appearance, he stroked his gray beard and flashed a sinister smile.
"Foolish bastard. To show such complacency right before a duel. The reputation of Dmitry ends here."
For this mission, he had judged the probability of failure to be high. Roman Dmitry was an unpredictable figure who had proven himself a brilliant strategist on the battlefield, so slipping him poison before a duel should have been no easy task. But perhaps because his subordinate had won the Eve Festival, Roman had grown complacent, making the foolish mistake of drinking the poison far more easily than expected.
It was then. Just as the butler handed over a pouch of gold coins and turned to leave, a familiar figure burst into the kitchen.
"Are you the person in charge here?"
"Yes, I am..."
Grab.
Crash!
"Argh!"
The butler's face was slammed brutally into the wall. Roman Dmitry held the man by his hair, looking down at him as thick blood began to smear across his face.
"Just now, the servants here served me poisoned tea. As the supervisor who manages them, you cannot escape responsibility. What kind of poison did you feed me? And did Barbosa order you to do it?"
"N-No! What on earth are you talking about?! I have nothing to do with this!"
The butler's face turned pale. He had never imagined this. He never expected Roman to discover the poison and storm in so recklessly. For now, he feigned ignorance. He believed that if he emphasized his position as a mere butler, even Roman Dmitry wouldn't be able to do anything to him.
"No, you are not uninvolved. If you had nothing to do with this, there would be no reason for the servants to receive gold coins from you."
Smack!
Roman slapped him across the face.
The butler's eyes went unfocused, and he staggered as if about to collapse, but Roman's brutal grip did not let him go. Even if the gold coins had no special meaning, the fact remained that the butler had to inspect the food before the servants served it, and he was the one who had admitted those servants into the room. He was deeply involved. He had no right to feel wronged. The rewards and duties that came with being the person in charge were not things he could excuse himself from by claiming ignorance.
"If you truly feel wronged, call the person who can take responsibility for this situation."
"…T-That is…"
A hesitant look crossed his face. That hesitation only justified the violence. The meaning behind that split-second delay was likely anxiety over having ruined the plan, rather than any concern over the gravity of the incident itself.
From that point on, Roman didn't say another word.
Smack!
He slapped him again.
He hit him so that someone would hear the commotion and come. So that the tail trying to cover up the situation would be forced to show itself.
Roman Dmitry did not beat around the bush. Just as his opponent had openly used poison, Roman openly used violence, ruthlessly tearing into their mistake.
It went exactly as expected. To prevent the situation from escalating any further, the tail had no choice but to show itself.
* * *
"Stop this instant! What on earth is the meaning of this outrage?!"
It was Viscount Jonathan. Taking in the clear signs of violence, his face betrayed his utter bewilderment at the scene.
In that moment, Roman Dmitry smiled.
If Viscount Jonathan was the tail, it meant Marquis Belfir and Barbosa were just beyond him.
Thud.
Roman released his grip.
Leaving the butler to gasp for breath on the floor, Roman Dmitry casually wiped the blood from his hands.
"Just now, the servants here fed me poison. And this butler handed them a pouch of gold coins, as if rewarding them. Viscount Jonathan, what do you think of this? I am certain they were acting under someone's orders to poison me and disrupt the festival stage."
"That cannot be! Do not insult Valhalla!"
Viscount Jonathan bellowed. Yet, at Roman Dmitry's words, his heart sank.
Barbosa's poison could never be detected by ordinary means. It was colorless and odorless, and because its effect was to slowly scatter mana, the symptoms didn't manifest immediately.
So how on earth had he found out?
Despite his heart pounding frantically, Viscount Jonathan maintained a confident front.
"Valhalla's festival is a sacred stage! If such a thing had occurred, we would have actively stepped forward to uncover the truth and punish the culprits severely. However, Lord Roman Dmitry, claiming that the butler used poison is far too wild an assumption. We use magic tools to detect poison before serving food to our guests. On what grounds are you so certain that the tea was poisoned?"
He turned the tables. Evading responsibility, he accused his opponent in turn.
"If there is no poison in this tea, can you bear the responsibility, Lord Roman Dmitry? This is no simple matter. You have insulted Valhalla, and even for an esteemed guest, this is not something we can overlook. If you are so suspicious, then let us call off the festival duel. I will personally report this to His Majesty the Emperor and have another warrior take the stage in your place."
This was his backup plan. If Roman Dmitry avoided the duel, they would proceed with one of their original plans and frame him as a "coward."
The truth? It didn't matter.
Since Valhalla controlled both the investigators and the evidence anyway, how could anyone possibly prove the existence of the poison? Roman Dmitry would never be given a platform to reveal the truth to the citizens of Valhalla. The reason Barbosa had always been able to win was because he stood on the side of those in power.
Yet, Roman Dmitry reacted differently than expected.
"The duel will proceed as scheduled. However, I have no intention of letting today's matter slide. Viscount Jonathan, if I prove the existence of the poison, you will have to take responsibility for the words you have spoken to me."
With this, the issue of the poison had been brought to the surface.
Despite Roman Dmitry appearing to take a step back, Viscount Jonathan felt a strange sense of foreboding beneath his relaxed facade.
* * *
The series of events was swiftly reported to Marquis Belfir, who then informed Barbosa.
"Roman Dmitry found out about the poison. Will you be alright?"
At Marquis Belfir's question, Barbosa's face was illuminated by the ambient light. A wide grin spread across his snake-like features.
"Marquis Belfir, do you know why I prefer that poison? It operates on a completely different concept from ordinary poisons. At first, those poisoned run around wildly, not even realizing what is wrong due to its subtle effects. But as it scatters their mana, they soon turn pale when the crisis finally catches up to them. Roman Dmitry is no different. I don't know how he detected a colorless, odorless poison, but he is likely confident right now that the poison won't have a major effect on him."
Qi-Scattering Poison. It was a well-known name in the Murim.
But on the Salamander Continent, Barbosa was the one who had created this entirely new concept of Qi-Scattering Poison.
Spin.
Thud.
He slammed a dagger into the table.
Exuding a chilling bloodlust, Barbosa spoke with absolute confidence.
"Even if he wasn't poisoned, what is there to worry about? Just because he overwhelmingly defeated Morales doesn't mean he can stand on equal footing with me. I will prove it in front of everyone. The difference between 12th and 6th place in Valhalla is not just a matter of six ranks, but an overwhelming chasm that he cannot even dare to look across. As always, trust me."
"Reliable as always."
Marquis Belfir laughed. Barbosa. The loyal dog of the Progressive Faction.
He was the perfect person to bring this plan's finale to a flawless close.
The night, which had been bustling since the Eve Festival, thus came to an end.
However, the next day, the highly anticipated festival was set ablaze from the early morning by a single rumor.