Chapter 261: Night of Slaughter (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 261: Night of Slaughter (4)
Humans cannot break free from the confines of common sense until they experience the impossible firsthand.
He had heard the stories until his ears bled—how Roman Dmitry had defeated Barbosa, and the shocking feats he had supposedly performed. Yet, even as a seasoned commander who had weathered countless battles, Count Pablo could not accept a conclusion that defied common sense. That was the very nature of common sense, after all. No matter how much he racked his brain, he could not conceive of an army of ten thousand falling to a single swordsman.
And yet.
Bento was dead.
Watching him fall to a single blow, Count Pablo finally broke free from those shackles.
‘...This bastard really intends to slaughter us all.’
Goosebumps erupted across his skin.
The realization hit him: the fire really was meant to block their retreat, just as Bento had suspected. The composure that had once anchored his expression vanished in an instant. Kronos soldiers still swarmed his field of vision. He had intentionally held the mages back to avoid friendly fire in the chaotic melee, but things were different now.
"Yale!"
"Yes, my lord."
"Use offensive magic to attack Roman Dmitry right now!"
"...If we do that, friendly casualties will be unavoidable."
"What does that matter?!" Count Pablo roared. "Does it look like things are going in our favor?! If we stay the course, even if we manage to defeat Roman Dmitry, we will lose a significant portion of our forces anyway! If they are going to die by the enemy's hands, sacrificing their lives for the Empire is the greatest honor for all of us!"
"Understood."
Bowing to Count Pablo's fury, Yale backed down.
The Count was right. Though it was a cruel reality for the soldiers, with even Bento fallen, they could no longer afford to hold back their most powerful weapon out of concern for friendly fire. At Yale's signal, the mages of Blue Island stepped forward. Mana surged from their bodies, and their spells manifested simultaneously.
"Aqua Cannon."
"Aqua Ball."
"Aqua Ball."
Boom!
Roar!
The magic was not precisely targeted.
Powerful explosions of water swept through the chaotic battlefield, and the soldiers who had been frantically attacking Roman Dmitry could not escape the sudden onslaught. Necks snapped and spines shattered beneath the sheer, crushing pressure. Water flooded their airways and burst from within, instantly snuffing out their lives.
It was a gruesome massacre.
Just as Yale felt certain that Roman Dmitry could not have survived, he witnessed an unbelievable sight.
Flash.
Right in front of him.
Roman Dmitry appeared.
In that split second, Yale instinctively reacted to evade the danger.
"Memorize, Hold."
He bound his opponent.
While casting the staple spell used by mages to suppress warriors, he simultaneously tried to escape the immediate danger with Blink. In his mind, the sequence of events flowed perfectly. However, the moment he channeled his mana, crimson blood splattered across his vision. The magic failed to manifest.
‘...?!’
A burning pain flared in his chest.
The effect of Hold hadn't even lasted a single second. A 5th Circle Mage had been cut down without being able to do a thing.
The mages of Blue Island cast their spells in a frenzy.
However, the exploding magic only detonated in empty air; Roman Dmitry's figure vanished from before their eyes like a mirage.
And then.
"Aaargh!"
"W-what is this... Gargle!"
He slaughtered them in an instant.
Roman Dmitry moved through space so rapidly that by the time they registered his presence, he was already slicing through their bodies. They could not react, even when they saw him with their own eyes. By the time they managed to cast a spell, he had already escaped its range and was butchering another mage.
It was terrifying.
Was this truly the martial prowess of a human?
With their magic shattered in an instant, the mages' very reason for existence vanished.
"Protect the mages!"
"Attack!"
The soldiers surged forward.
They desperately wanted to salvage the situation, but what awaited them was a despairing reality.
‘Lightning Strike.’
A destructive energy swirled from Roman Dmitry's sword.
Among the martial arts of the Demonic Cult, this was the most devastating technique for slaughtering a crowd.
Flash.
CRASH!
Roman Dmitry, who had soared into the sky, slammed down onto the ground, triggering a massive explosion like a falling thunderbolt. The bodies of those caught in the shockwave were torn to shreds. Those outside the immediate blast radius fainted on the spot from the sheer, crushing pressure of his Qi; it was a force ordinary humans simply could not withstand.
Rumble.
A thick cloud of dust rose into the air.
As Roman Dmitry walked out from within the haze, the imperial soldiers could no longer bring themselves to charge.
They were terrified.
It was an absolute, instinctual suppression. Even though thousands of troops remained, their will to fight had been utterly shattered.
*
In war, the most important element is the will to fight.
The moment that will is lost, no matter how many troops an army possesses, they are nothing more than scarecrows.
Step. Step.
Roman Dmitry walked forward.
Blood dripped from his sword. The imperial soldiers retreated with terrified faces, their steps hesitant and trembling. Some, pushed by the surging crowd, fell to the ground and scrambled backward on their hands and knees.
At the end of his gaze stood Count Pablo.
As Roman Dmitry approached, the commander shrieked in panic.
"What are you all doing?! Attack Roman Dmitry! Attack that heinous demon right now!"
"..."
No one reacted.
The imperial soldiers only glanced at one another; none dared to muster the courage to charge first. Bento and the 7th Knights Division. The mages of Blue Island. Even the powerhouses whom ordinary soldiers could never hope to match had been nothing but mayflies before Roman Dmitry. Watching them get overwhelmingly swept away had permanently stained the soldiers' minds with absolute terror.
One step.
Two steps.
He drew closer.
Count Pablo continued to scream as he scrambled backward.
"You crazy bastards! Disobeying orders is grounds for summary execution! Even if you make it out of here alive, do you think the laws of the Empire will let you live?! Draw your swords! Attack Roman Dmitry! If anyone steps up and leads by example, I, Count Pablo, will personally remember your face and reward you!"
He offered both the carrot and the stick.
But even as he screamed in an increasingly desperate voice, not a single soul obeyed his command.
In the end, thud, his legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground.
Count Pablo looked up at Roman Dmitry with a terrified face.
"Roman Dmitry. Why on earth are you going this far? If you let this slide, the Kronos Empire won't resort to the extreme measure of a full-scale war against Dmitry! But if you attack Rascal and kill me, there will be no turning back! It's a war Dmitry is bound to lose anyway, so why are you digging your own grave?!"
The threat didn't work.
Convinced that the monster standing before him was going to kill him regardless, Count Pablo's expression turned venomous.
"Fine, you son of a bitch! Kill me, then! Kill me! But mark my words! Do you think a mere bastard like you can handle a total war with Kronos?! The forces in Rascal are just a tiny fraction of our might! Hundreds of thousands of troops are gathering to crush Dmitry, and no matter how much you struggle, they will sweep your lands away in an instant! That is the price of the atrocity you have committed today!"
He shrieked in venomous rage.
That sight triggered a memory in Roman Dmitry's mind.
*
The death of the Mad Demon.
Baek Joong-hyuk held a memorial service.
After spending enough time mourning the one who had departed before him, Baek Joong-hyuk suddenly headed to Henan Province.
Mount Song was located there.
It was home to the Shaolin Temple, the leader of the Nine Great Sects and One Gang. The sudden appearance of the Heavenly Demon threw the Shaolin martial artists into utter chaos. It was an absolute emergency. Now that the Demonic Cult had revealed its ambition to conquer Murim, Shaolin sought to mobilize the 108 Arhats and all the martial artists of Mount Song to subdue Baek Joong-hyuk.
That day, a fierce, bloody battle took place.
No matter how strong Baek Joong-hyuk was, fighting alone in the heart of Shaolin was a reckless endeavor.
Many died.
When Mount Song, held sacred by the Righteous Faction Murim, was thoroughly stained with blood, Baek Joong-hyuk was the only one left standing atop a mountain of corpses. In stark contrast to his gruesome surroundings, Baek Joong-hyuk looked entirely serene. Though his clothes were tattered and drenched in blood, his body bore no significant wounds despite the fierce, prolonged struggle.
His existence was simply overwhelming.
The Martial Monk, once hailed as the hope of Shaolin, looked up at Baek Joong-hyuk with a devastated face.
"...Why? Why did a bastard like you attack this place alone?" he wheezed, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
He could not understand.
Even if Baek Joong-hyuk possessed such overwhelming martial prowess, attacking Shaolin alone defied all common sense. The Martial Monk stared up at the Heavenly Demon. Shaolin would meet its end today, but he still needed to know what intention Baek Joong-hyuk had in doing this.
Then, Baek Joong-hyuk spoke.
"One of my people died."
A grand, special reason?
There was none.
He only acted because he willed it, and he had acquired absolute power precisely so he could live that way.
"Now you know. Even if you sit at the pinnacle of the Nine Great Sects and One Gang, this is what happens when you touch my people."
The Martial Monk's face cracked with despair.
Only then did he realize the truth.
In the war against the Demonic Cult... from the very beginning, the Righteous Faction Murim had never stood a chance.
*
It was exactly the same as back then.
The expression of utter despair.
Yet, the stubborn refusal to accept reality.
Roman Dmitry crouched down and met Count Pablo's gaze.
"Do you know why I decided to go to war with Kronos?"
Grab.
"Mmph?!"
He seized the count by the jaw.
Under that brutal, crushing grip, Count Pablo could only squirm, completely unable to shake off Roman Dmitry's hand.
"I didn't like it. The way Kronos looked down on everyone as if they were the absolute rulers of the continent irritated me. Count Pablo. It doesn't matter how you have lived your life until now. Even if the history of Kronos has never allowed for a single defeat, the only thing that matters to me is that you set foot on Dmitry's land and touched my people."
Count Pablo's bloodshot eyes widened.
He desperately wanted a chance to speak.
When Roman Dmitry finally released his grip, the count coughed in pain a few times before looking back up at him.
"...Is that really it? You started this absurd war just because the Kronos Empire irritated you? Roman Dmitry! How laughable! The world praises you as a genius, but in reality, you are nothing but an ignorant brat running wild! State affairs are not handled with mere emotion! Why can't you see that because of your single, petty decision, the people of Dmitry will die?!"
It was his final, pathetic struggle.
Roman Dmitry did not answer.
Ignoring the count's hostile glare, Roman searched Count Pablo's robes and pulled out a magic communicator.
And then, crunch, he crushed it in his palm.
Leaving Count Pablo in a daze, Roman Dmitry stood up.
"For me, that reason is more than enough."
It was then.
Whoosh.
Fwoosh!
"Aaargh!"
"S-spare me!"
Flames erupted.
The imperial soldiers who had been frozen in terror, merely watching the situation unfold, were suddenly engulfed in roaring fire. They screamed in agony. In an instant, the area was transformed into a screaming hellscape.
There was no need to waste effort manually cutting down those who had already lost their will to fight. Thus, he blanketed the entire surrounding area in flames, leaving only the small patch of ground where Count Pablo sat untouched.
The heat was suffocating.
To Count Pablo, Roman Dmitry, standing tall against the backdrop of roaring, crimson flames, looked like a true demon.
Soon, Roman Dmitry's figure was obscured by the blazing inferno.
Amidst the burning surroundings, his cold voice echoed from beyond the fire.
"I will give you a choice. Risk being burned alive to survive, or die after reporting what happened in Rascal to the Empire. The choice is yours."
With that, Roman Dmitry's voice was heard no more.