Chapter 245: Certain Death (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 245: Certain Death (5)
A few days later.
Contrary to expectations, the Kronos Empire launched no further attacks during their journey to the Trade City.
Upon arrival, they first secured lodging. After ordering his soldiers to rest, Roman Dmitry went to check if the Warp Gate was available, only to be met with a strangely familiar scene.
"...I am terribly sorry, but warping to Adelian is impossible. As you may know, Valhalla has been placed under an emergency alert due to the shadows of the Kronos Empire infiltrating our borders. To prevent them from escaping through the Warp Gates, all international warps have been completely banned. If you wish to return to Dmitry, your only option is to travel to the vicinity of Paulo and proceed on foot."
Denied.
From that single response, Roman Dmitry read Valhalla's true intentions.
So this is what they meant.
He recalled the end of his conversation with Rodriguez, when the man had pulled on his horse's reins and uttered those cryptic words.
"Lord Roman Dmitry. The only way for you to leave Valhalla alive is to cooperate fully with us, giving us the 'justification' to protect you. If you are under the protection of the Valhalla Imperial Court, we naturally wouldn't want to see you dead. However, it is regrettable that you refuse to accompany us. Go ahead and struggle to the bitter end. We will meet again soon."
Recently, public criticism of the Valhalla Imperial Court had been fierce.
Encountering Nokya, led by Rodriguez, just before reaching the Trade City was a theatrical display meant to prove that Valhalla had made an effort to protect Roman Dmitry. At the same time, they knew nothing would happen as long as they were the ones escorting him. After all, even if he reached the Trade City, traveling to Dmitry via the Warp Gate would be impossible. Kronos could simply slaughter him once he stepped outside the border.
Therefore, the "only way" Rodriguez had mentioned was nothing but a mockery.
Currying favor with the Valhalla Imperial Court didn't just mean accepting their escort; it meant submitting entirely to Valhalla.
There was no alternative.
The official in charge of the Warp Gate offered a polite, plastic smile, exactly like the one in Marin.
"Will you still be using the Warp Gate?"
* * *
Sanchez spoke up.
"This is clearly a trap."
Tomorrow, after taking sufficient rest, they had been scheduled to depart via the Warp Gate. Hearing that they would now have to cross Valhalla's border on foot, Sanchez knew things had gone terribly wrong.
"Valhalla has been through many trials, but we have never banned international warps unless we were in a state of war. What else could this mean? They are blatantly showing their intention to never let you return, Lord Roman Dmitry. The moment you step outside the border, your death is no longer Valhalla's responsibility. Anything can happen out there in the wastelands. Even if Valhalla were to assassinate you directly, a death in a place with no witnesses leaves plenty of convenient scapegoats to shift the blame to—whether it's the Kronos Empire or the Hector Kingdom."
The intention was crystal clear.
Outside the border lay a land of death.
Valhalla's decision to suspend international warps, even at the cost of astronomical financial losses, revealed their absolute resolve to ensure Roman Dmitry never returned alive. From this point on, public opinion meant nothing. Whatever happened outside the border, the "truth" would be decided solely by the narrative Valhalla chose to release.
Roman Dmitry spoke calmly.
"I know. The moment we cross the border, Kronos and Valhalla will work together to take my life. Even if their relationship isn't one of perfect cooperation, they share a common goal for now."
"And yet, you still intend to cross the border?"
"Yes."
It was a firm, unwavering reply.
Sanchez gritted his teeth. He felt like exploding from sheer frustration, but there was absolutely nothing he could do to resolve Roman Dmitry's predicament. It was a despairing realization. He, who had always been so proud to be a warrior of Valhalla, now felt incredibly pathetic.
"Sanchez. If you look back at the history of Valhalla, before it became as corrupt as it is now, there must have been a crossroads where it had to choose its own future. At that time, Valhalla chose to compromise with reality. The decision-makers back then might have thought of it as 'just a single exception,' but the comfort and massive rewards that compromise brings make it impossible to ever forget that sweetness. That is how Valhalla fell. It became corrupt, and the country I have witnessed is no longer worthy of being called the nation of warriors."
Roman Dmitry emphasized that single compromise.
If one wished to reach the peak, setting a precedent was crucial.
If one accepted reality and succumbed to their trials, they could never overcome the countless hurdles on the way to the top. Because every single time, the seductive comfort of compromise would beckon.
"I am fully aware that this situation is wrong. The hostility of Kronos and Valhalla stems from an unjust cause, and compromising with them means submitting to their might. That is why I have no choice but to take this risk—to prove that there exists someone who will not bend, even to the power of an empire. Knowing what a single compromise leads to, I am more than willing to face this danger."
Sanchez looked at Roman Dmitry in awe.
The justification this man spoke of aligned perfectly with the indomitable warrior's will that Valhalla had historically championed. His resolve solidified. Even if all the warriors of Valhalla, including himself, had to die, Roman Dmitry had to be sent back alive.
"I will follow you. I will lay down my life for you, Lord Roman Dmitry."
"No. You must remain in Valhalla."
"But—!"
"Sanchez. The moment you cross Valhalla's border with me, you become a witness to Valhalla's shame. Regardless of whether I survive or not, everyone associated with you will be eliminated to destroy the evidence. This is different from traveling together within Valhalla. Their delayed response internally will only end in public criticism, but what happens outside the border is a dark secret that Valhalla will ensure is never revealed."
The future.
Roman was already painting a picture of it in his mind. A person like Sanchez needed to be utilized for a far more meaningful purpose.
"Remain in Valhalla and gather those who still remember the pride of a warrior. At the southern edge of Valhalla, I heard that Duke Vieto, who was once a powerful figure in the empire, is living in seclusion. Persuade him and build the strength to oppose the Valhalla Imperial Court. In the future, if Valhalla truly makes the wrong choice... then a voice backed by power will be the only way to set this nation straight."
Sanchez's eyes grew bloodshot.
He swore to never forget this moment. To remember this crushing helplessness, and to ensure the same thing would never happen again.
Roman Dmitry turned around.
"You do your part. What happens from now on is Dmitry's burden to bear."
* * *
The next day.
Roman Dmitry and his soldiers departed from the border.
The people of Valhalla came out to cheer them on, but as they drew further away, the crowds naturally thinned out. They, too, had their own lives to live. About ten days passed. Soon, there was no one left in the windswept, sandy wilderness except Roman Dmitry and his soldiers.
It was then.
From the distance, figures approached, kicking up a massive cloud of dust.
Whoosh!
Neigh!
At the very front, a man pulled back on his horse's reins. Clad in full battle gear, it was Rodriguez, the leader of Nokya, whom Roman Dmitry had encountered not long ago.
"Lord Roman Dmitry. It has been a while."
Behind him, his soldiers arrived.
At a glance, they numbered in the thousands. The warriors of Nokya exuded a menacing aura, clad in armor adorned with beast fur. As a core military force of Valhalla, Nokya was an organization that operated on the absolute front lines. It was a common saying that if any trouble arose in Valhalla, Nokya would be the first to confront it.
Dmitry's soldiers halted.
In the tense standoff, Rodriguez spoke, his face twisted with unconcealed hostility.
"Didn't I tell you? That we would meet again soon. From the moment you accepted Valhalla's invitation—no, from the very moment you took Count Denver's life—an outcome like this was foretold. The Valhalla Empire never forgets its debts and grudges. Had you sworn loyalty to Valhalla, you would have enjoyed immense wealth and honor, but since you chose hostility, we cannot let you leave alive."
Murderous intent filled the air.
In the vast wilderness, there were no witnesses. No matter what happened here, the people of Valhalla would have no way of knowing the truth.
However...
"Kronos. Valhalla." Roman Dmitry spoke coolly. "Those whom people consider strong often fall into a delusion after staying at the top for too long. The delusion that they can always dictate the situation. The blind belief that they can control everything in the palm of their hands."
Shring.
Roman Dmitry drew his sword.
Just like their liege, Dmitry's soldiers calmly accepted the situation before them, drawing their weapons in unison.
"I have been waiting."
As soon as those words left his lips—
Boom!
Rumble!
Both forces charged at each other. No one needed to give the signal.
* * *
Previously, on the festival stage, watching the duel between Barbosa and Roman Dmitry, Rodriguez's blood had boiled.
Roman Dmitry. To show skill that overwhelms Barbosa at barely twenty years of age!
He had been in absolute awe.
A swordsman from a weak nation, whom no one had kept an eye on, had delivered a performance that shocked the world.
Top rankers, including Rodriguez, had been present that day. Each of them had mentally projected themselves into Barbosa's shoes. If they had faced Roman Dmitry instead, could they have withstood that destructive swordsmanship?
Although Rodriguez was ranked 7th, just one spot below Barbosa, he believed he would fare differently. Barbosa had acted as a lackey for the powerful, engaging in showy duels for practical gain rather than fighting on the bloody front lines. Consequently, his actual life-and-death combat ability was bound to be inferior. Regardless of Barbosa's reputation as one of the Twelve Swords of the Continent, Rodriguez firmly believed he held the upper hand in actual warfare.
And the middle of the battlefield was Rodriguez's domain.
Amidst the violent clashes, Rodriguez's gaze never wavered from Roman Dmitry.
Crash!
Rumble!
He was truly a demon of the battlefield.
Roman Dmitry took the vanguard, slaughtering the warriors of Nokya in an instant even as they charged at him with their Auras flared. The difference in numbers was overwhelming. Yet, even though the Valhalla Empire clearly held the absolute advantage, Roman Dmitry and the soldiers following him showed not a single shred of fear.
It was an amusing sight.
Without any context, the title of "the nation of warriors" seemed to suit Dmitry far better.
The one whom Valhalla calls a great warrior... If I were to end his life, it would be true ecstasy.
Valhalla's leadership had ordered him not to overextend.
The distance from Valhalla's border to Dmitry was vast. The plan was for Kronos and Valhalla to gradually whittle down Roman Dmitry's forces, delivering the finishing blow only once they were completely exhausted. The warriors of Nokya were tasked with initiating this grueling hunt. According to the original plan, they were supposed to retreat after a moderate skirmish, but Rodriguez's competitive spirit would not allow him to just stand by.
In his mind, countless possibilities intertwined.
Having pondered endlessly on how to defeat Roman Dmitry, he finally charged into the fray.
Boom!
Rumble!
A single possibility.
He had thought of a surefire way to defeat Roman Dmitry. It was possible because while his opponent did not know his full strength, Rodriguez had meticulously studied how Roman Dmitry fought.
The warriors of Nokya swarmed Roman Dmitry.
In the chaotic exchange of blows, Roman Dmitry was bound to expose a vulnerability.
Now!
Flash!
With an exploding Aura, Rodriguez's Secret Technique manifested, slicing toward his opponent's neck at a speed the naked eye could not hope to follow.
But in that exact moment—
Stagger.
"...?!"
Rodriguez's body swayed.
He was absolutely certain his blade had reached Roman Dmitry, but a sudden, burning pain erupted from his own neck instead.
His vision tilted.
Only then did he realize.
His own head had been severed.
Attempting what even Barbosa could not achieve was nothing more than the fatal arrogance of a man who failed to face reality.
Spurt!
Blood erupted like a crimson fountain.
The battle at the border had begun. And from the very first exchange, it heralded the start of a bloody massacre with the instantaneous death of Rodriguez.