Chapter 241: Certain Death (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 241: Certain Death (1)
As soon as the fiery festival concluded, Roman Dmitry and his party packed their bags. With no reason left to linger in Valhalla, they planned to use the Warp Gate to return to Adelian, Dmitry's territory.
But upon arriving at the Warp Gate, the official in charge greeted them with a troubled expression.
"…I am terribly sorry, but it seems the Warp Gate will be unavailable for the time being. We are trying to resolve the issue as quickly as possible, but the Magic Tower in charge of repairs estimates it will take about a fortnight. Why not stay in Marin for a while? Traveling on foot would take far too long. I will contact my superiors to arrange new accommodations for you, Lord Roman."
A polite attitude. A benevolent smile.
The official handled the situation flawlessly, but Roman Dmitry saw right through the facade.
As expected. They blocked the Warp Gate.
Just a day prior, the head of Valhalla's information guild had briefed Roman on the sudden changes in Marin.
"The Valhalla Imperial Court has issued an order to close the Warp Gates. On the surface, they're claiming a malfunction, but in reality, there is absolutely nothing wrong with them. You will undoubtedly receive the same response in any city with a Warp Gate centered around Marin. They want you, my Lord, to travel on foot."
The distance from Marin to Dmitry was immense.
Even on horseback, it couldn't be covered in a month or two; the Warp Gate was essential for their return. Eventually, the Valhalla Empire would have no choice but to reopen the gates. The problem was the sheer amount of time it would take, and there was no telling what schemes Valhalla would brew in the meantime.
There is only one way. We have to reach Valhalla's Trade City, a month's journey from Marin. Hundreds of warps occur there daily; even a single day's closure would result in astronomical losses, so the Valhalla Empire cannot hold us back there for long. They must know this as well. From Marin to the Trade City—they will surely make their move within that one-month window.
Valhalla was a country rotten to its core.
Any lingering hope that they might uphold their honor as warriors was shattered by the blatant closure of the Warp Gate.
It was exactly as Roman had anticipated. He changed his course. If his options were restricted, he would simply play right into their hands.
* * *
A few days later, Marquis Belfir received a report.
"Roman Dmitry has left Marin and is heading toward the Trade City. It is exactly as we expected. It seems he judged that traveling through the Trade City would be safer than lingering in Valhalla."
"Quick-witted, isn't he? So, when is the optimal time to strike?"
"Well... a problem has arisen."
The subordinate spoke with a troubled expression, relaying the informants' findings.
"As you know, Roman Dmitry gained immense fame during the festival. With the people of Valhalla singing his praises, he is intentionally leading them along his travel route. Because of this, there are currently countless eyes and ears on him. Knowing they won't see him again once he leaves Valhalla, the citizens are trailing behind him like a pilgrimage all the way to the Trade City."
It had started with a single rumor.
Whispers claimed that meeting Roman Dmitry would bring Valhalla's blessing, prompting people to willingly venture outside the city walls.
The duel between Roman Dmitry and Barbosa had left a massive impact. The people remembered how Roman had upheld the honor of a warrior even after being poisoned. That feverish admiration had spread, drawing a massive crowd.
Launching an open attack in this situation would be incredibly awkward. If they struck Roman Dmitry now, hundreds of civilians would witness it. When he first entered the country, Roman had been nothing more than a foreign outsider looked down upon by the masses. Now, he was widely recognized as a hero of Valhalla.
"If we attack him now, civilian casualties are inevitable. Please give us your orders. If necessary, we can issue a mobilization order to disperse the crowd, but it will be difficult to escape the suspicion that we intentionally drove Roman Dmitry into danger afterward. He is no longer an ordinary figure. The people view him as the very symbol of a warrior."
Marquis Belfir gazed calmly out the window.
Valhalla was an anomalous country.
Although the nobles managed most state affairs, a single fit of rage from the Emperor of Valhalla could easily end the life of a powerful figure like Viscount Jonathan. Rebellion was utterly unthinkable. The top rankers representing Valhalla—men whom even Barbosa could not match—all showed blind loyalty to the Emperor.
The reason for their absolute devotion remained a mystery. But because they followed the Emperor, who possessed no real power of his own, the 14th Son had been able to ascend to the throne.
Everything was on the line with this matter.
If they let Roman Dmitry return alive, there was no telling what kind of punishment awaited them.
"There is no need to worry about the commoners," Marquis Belfir finally said. "In this attack against Roman Dmitry, our role is not to step forward and lead the charge ourselves. The goal is simply for an invited guest to die on Valhalla's soil. If it is revealed that Valhalla orchestrated this, it will cause quite a stir."
Valhalla was never the main instigator of this plot. They were merely cooperating; another faction would actually lead the operation.
"We only need to pass along the intelligence and turn a blind eye. Even if Roman Dmitry dies, as long as we put on a show of being mere bystanders and make the bare minimum effort to avoid responsibility, we can eliminate him without lifting a finger. Therefore, tell the Kronos Empire: whatever they do, we will not hold them accountable."
His voice was ice-cold. Marquis Belfir did not doubt for a single second that the plan would succeed.
* * *
The attack began without warning.
Picking up on the sudden spike of murderous intent, Roman Dmitry drew his sword as if he had been waiting for this exact moment.
"Enemy attack! Evacuate the civilians!"
"Understood!"
Panic swept through the people of Valhalla.
They had formed a grand procession to follow Roman Dmitry, yet someone dared to attack the esteemed warrior on Valhalla's own soil. Even as they retreated to a safe distance, the citizens kept their eyes wide open, their faces twisted with a fierce determination to see exactly which bastards were behind this.
Thwip! Thwip!
Daggers flew out from the thicket. Despite it being broad daylight, figures with their faces obscured by black cloth burst out simultaneously, unleashing their Aura.
Rumble!
They were the Shadows.
The Kronos Empire made no effort to hide their intentions. Even at the risk of international condemnation for trespassing on Valhalla's territory, they wanted to openly display their intent to kill Roman Dmitry.
The Shadows rushed forward. As the vanguard deflected the incoming daggers, the Shadows menacingly thrust forward, their blades shimmering with dark Aura.
Whoosh!
Clang!
The attack was instantly deflected. It was Chris.
Standing at the absolute front, he swung his sword before the Shadow could even react.
'Lightning.'
A single flash. Dark red blood sprayed from the Shadow's body.
Entangled in darkness, the assassin tried to disperse into shadows to evade the lethal blow, but Chris's sharp senses severed the mana connection linking the shadow to the physical body in a single stroke.
During their preparations for the journey to Valhalla, Roman's subordinates hadn't trained simply to increase their raw strength. They knew that if the Kronos Empire targeted Roman's life, a clash with the Shadows was inevitable.
"From now on, you will train in how to deal with the Shadows."
It had been extreme training—a blood-drying, grueling ordeal. In those sessions where every moment felt like a life-or-death crisis, Chris had learned to capture the flow of unfamiliar mana.
In a split second, Chris lunged forward.
He didn't just cut down the first Shadow; he instantly slaughtered the assassins converging from all directions. The distant crowd gasped in admiration. The notoriety of the Shadows was immense, and they were known to be impossible to defeat with ordinary strength, yet Chris's response was flawless.
But that was only the beginning.
Roman Dmitry spoke. "Eradicate the enemies."
At that command, two hulking men burst forward from behind Chris.
* * *
Among Roman's subordinates, who played the role of the vanguard?
Chris? No.
He was by far the strongest expert next to Roman himself, but instead of fighting at the absolute front, he maintained the balance of the battlefield. His movements were geared toward supporting areas that fell into a disadvantage. Roman did not want Chris to grow merely as a single sword, but as a commander capable of leading in his stead.
Then, Kevin? Not him either.
He was the sharpest sword Roman trusted, but there were others far better suited to act as the vanguard.
Namely—Crunch!—Volkan and Puki.
Muscles bulging, they swung their massive greatswords, instantly turning the Shadows into chunks of meat. A gruesome sound of tearing flesh echoed across the road. It sounded like paper being ripped apart. Without a single moment of hesitation following Roman's command, the two men plunged straight into the swarm of Shadows.
Rumble!
Attacks poured in from all directions. Some Shadows manipulated darkness to bind their opponents' limbs, while others targeted blind spots, aiming for a split-second opening.
Thud!
They shattered the shadowy bindings with sheer brute strength. Volkan dodged an attack by a hair's breadth, then unleashed a burning red Aura, cleaving the Shadow in front of him.
Crunch!
At the same time, Volkan violently twisted his body, letting another opponent's strike slide right past him. This maneuver forced the overextended Shadow to come face-to-face with Puki, who had materialized right behind Volkan. As if anticipating his partner's movement, Puki was already mid-swing. Before the Shadow could even react, its body was torn apart.
Splat!
Blood sprayed into the air. Puki rushed forward relentlessly, entirely unconcerned about being isolated.
As he dealt with the frantic onslaught of enemy attacks, Volkan would intervene at the perfect moment, buying Puki the precious seconds needed to catch his breath. It was a flawless cycle. Just as Volkan had trusted Puki to handle the Shadow he let pass, Puki was constantly conscious of Volkan's presence, willingly leaving his back exposed to his partner.
Throughout their past battles, Volkan and Puki had always moved as one.
Though they had initially sought out Dmitry for different reasons, their shared background as war mercenaries had quickly forged a tight bond. Even their personalities were similar. Both possessed a burning desire to fight passionately at the absolute front. By surviving several major battles together, they had developed a perfectly complementary combat style.
In the jaws of death, surrounded by enemies, Volkan and Puki exerted an overwhelming presence. Roman's subordinates had evolved perfectly into their respective roles, and these two were executing their duties as the vanguard flawlessly.
It was a chaotic, intricately tangled melee.
Yet, Roman's forces did not retreat a single step. They had prepared extensively for the Shadows, and their past victories fueled them with boundless confidence.
Behind them stood Roman Dmitry. That single fact was enough. They risked their lives without a shred of doubt in their ultimate victory.
Boom!
Rumble!
Once the soldiers cleared a path, Roman stepped in to wrap up the situation. Having clashed with the Shadows before, these assassins posed absolutely no threat to him.
Realizing defeat was imminent as their numbers rapidly dwindled, the surviving Shadows suddenly retreated like an ebbing tide.
Before vanishing, one of the Shadows smirked. "Do not think it ends here."
Those parting words laid bare the Kronos Empire's intentions.
They had experience dealing with Roman. Since they hadn't been able to subdue him when he was entirely alone, they likely never expected this level of force to successfully assassinate him. Yet, the reason they revealed themselves in broad daylight was clear: they intended to slowly wear him down. Knowing Roman was heading to the Trade City, they were openly declaring war, ensuring he wouldn't have a single moment of peace during his month-long journey.
Certain Death.
For Kronos, letting Roman Dmitry return alive was simply not an option.
The dust settled. Leaving behind the murmuring, awestruck crowd in the distance, a man with his hood pulled low approached Roman.
"The footage?"
"It has been successfully recorded."
The robed man was none other than Valhalla's Information Chief. From the moment they departed Marin, Roman had ordered him to operate a Magic Video Recorder. Inside the artifact, the entire bloody sequence of events had been perfectly captured.
Roman's eyes glinted. "Spread this footage to the people of Valhalla immediately. Make sure the entirety of the empire knows exactly what is happening here."
"Understood."
A fight was unavoidable. In that case, he intended to raise the stakes to a whole new level.