Chapter 302: At a Crossroads (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 302: At a Crossroads (4)
Deshan’s eyes widened.
Spotting Fred, he shook off the soldier restraining him and scrambled forward frantically, grabbing the hem of Fred’s trousers.
"P-please! Please save me! Tell these people to—Argh!"
Yank.
A soldier seized him by the collar from behind.
Bowing his head in a brief apology to Fred, the soldier dragged the struggling, massive man away. Screams of agony echoed in their wake. Fred couldn't remain indifferent; he remembered how Deshan had revealed himself as a spy during the 4th Test and chosen to leave Dmitry.
"...What is the meaning of this? Was the promise made on Dmitry’s honor a lie?"
Deshan was a spy. There was no real obligation to keep a promise made to one, but since Fred was a spy himself, he couldn’t help but feel deeply unsettled.
Chris answered calmly.
"We fully intended to let Deshan live, just as promised—provided he buried what he saw and heard in Dmitry and kept his mouth shut. But after leaving, Deshan headed straight to Adelian. He booked a warp schedule to Valhalla and used magic communication to contact the handler who commissioned him. What happened next is exactly what you just saw. Dmitry’s Information Guild closely monitored the spies’ movements. Once they confirmed Deshan had broken his promise, they dragged him back here."
Fred’s pupils trembled.
His mouth went dry.
Chris’s calm, matter-of-fact tone sent a chill racing down his spine.
‘Dmitry never turned a blind eye to us. They were simply confident they could handle any variable we might cause. They were fully prepared to eliminate us at any moment.’
Goosebumps erupted across his skin.
Chris had mentioned earlier that they had finished classifying the backgrounds of everyone who passed the private soldier recruitment, and that Dmitry was fully prepared for whatever choices they made. At first, Fred thought this was out of consideration for the spies. After all, those whose families were held hostage, like himself, could never truly betray Kronos unless that root problem was resolved.
But now, the truth dawned on him.
Being "fully prepared for their choices" also included the negative scenarios. If Fred had leaked Dmitry’s information, the people Chris had bribed might have slaughtered his family instead. As his thoughts reached that grim conclusion, his eyelids trembled. The realization that Dmitry was far more terrifying than he had ever imagined brought a wave of complex emotions.
First came shock.
Then fear.
Bewilderment followed, leaving him confused about how to even process the situation.
But then...
He felt relieved.
If Dmitry handled matters with such ruthless meticulousness, then his decision to entrust his future to them wasn't wrong.
"Fred."
Fred looked up.
Chris stared back with eyes that seemed to pierce straight through his mind.
"Remember today. Dmitry is not some naively benevolent paradise."
* * *
While the camp buzzed with rumors about the fate of the spies, someone was entirely absorbed in solitary training at the grounds.
Swish!
Rumble!
A sword cleaved through the night sky.
Watching his aura scatter alongside droplets of his own sweat, Ares revealed a look of genuine admiration.
"...To think the answer I’ve been searching for was right here in Dmitry."
Ares.
Known as a genius of swordsmanship, he had long questioned Alexander’s methods and forged his own path. He sought a refined aura rather than reckless emission. Instead of merely dispersing mana throughout his body, he strove to find a way to truly control it. Defeating Schneider, a member of the Twelve Swords of the Continent, had proven his method was correct, yet Ares knew he still hadn't found the ultimate answer.
For decades, he had lived like a man possessed by the blade.
For someone who thought of nothing but the sword from the moment he opened his eyes until he closed them in sleep, Dmitry’s teachings were nothing short of world-shattering.
‘The Asura Mind Method is the exact ideal I have been searching for. Controlling mana was a riddle I could never solve, but the Asura Mind Method creates a space to store mana and provides hundreds of pathways to channel it. This isn't knowledge that can be perfected in just a year or two. How on earth did Roman Dmitry create such a flawless theory?’
It was astonishing.
While someone like Scott took three hours just to feel mana, Ares felt and guided it the very moment he followed the instructions of the Asura Mind Method. In just one hour, he felt a faint but distinct accumulation of mana within his Dantian. A thrill shot up from the soles of his feet, forcing a gasp of pure admiration from his lips.
He was astounded. The Asura Mind Method was a miracle. With it as his foundation, he felt he could finally realize the heights he had only ever imagined.
The only problem was...
‘Is it really true that the Asura Mind Method is merely a low-grade martial art?’
Clack.
He lowered his sword.
Swordsmanship based on the Asura Mind Method was terrifyingly destructive. He could feel himself—someone who had recently been running in circles—finally taking a solid step forward. Yet, he simply could not accept that such a profound technique was considered "low-grade." He had already glimpsed an entirely new world through the Asura Mind Method alone, but Chris had claimed there was something even greater.
‘If Chris’s words are true, Roman Dmitry has already secured an overwhelmingly dominant position in the realm of martial arts. People say they cannot understand his decision to publicly reveal the concept of the Dantian, but just as he casually taught the Asura Mind Method to spies, that level of knowledge might be nothing compared to what he has actually achieved. Roman Dmitry… who on earth are you? How can someone not even thirty years old reject the existing system and create one so highly refined?’
Ares’s own method, though it rejected Alexander’s teachings, was ultimately forced to build upon Alexander’s foundation.
But Roman Dmitry was different.
A system that even Ares—a man hailed by the world as a genius—could only vaguely imagine, Roman Dmitry had brought perfectly into reality. As the saying goes, one only sees as much as one knows. Because Ares had spent his life rejecting Alexander’s methods to forge a new path, the teachings of the Asura Mind Method were all the more shocking to him.
In truth, Ares had originally intended to leave Dmitry after stealing a certain level of instruction.
Honor as a swordsman didn't mean much to him.
‘Roman Dmitry is writing a new history. A great achievement that will push Alexander into the shadows of the past.’
He was certain of it.
Roman Dmitry was fundamentally different from Alexander. He was building a flawless system.
Therefore, Ares changed his mind.
‘As long as there is something left for me to learn, I will stay in Dmitry.’
He made his decision.
He acknowledged Roman Dmitry and accepted that he still had much to learn from him. He had no intention of swearing lifelong loyalty to Dmitry, but at least for now, it was worth dedicating himself to the duchy.
But how could he have known that there was already a precedent? Chris had once sworn loyalty to Roman Dmitry for the exact same reasons.
Clack.
He finally sheathed his sword.
The night air was cold.
Entirely unaware of what his own future held, Ares turned and headed back to his quarters.
* * *
The Emperor of Kronos.
Or rather, Alexander—who currently possessed the Emperor’s body—received a grim report from Marquis Memphis.
"...All the spies sent to Dmitry have gone dark. At first, we thought it was a communication issue, but given the reports that there are no internal disturbances in Dmitry, we must consider the possibility of mass defection."
Marquis Memphis bowed his head deeply.
He didn't dare look up at the face of the Kronos Emperor, knowing the man was bound to be furious.
"Those worthless insects... they all chose Dmitry, did they?"
The private soldier recruitment.
Kronos had dispatched hundreds of spies. Most failed to pass even the 4th Test, but a significant number, including Scott, had made it onto the final list of successful applicants. Alexander had thought stealing their martial arts was only a matter of time. Yet, days passed without a single whisper of contact, forcing Marquis Memphis to finally bring up the possibility of defection.
It was absurd.
He couldn't believe that the spies of the Kronos Empire had chosen Dmitry, especially considering the lethal risks of defection they each carried.
Furthermore...
‘The connection with my pieces has been severed.’
The hidden pieces that had previously infiltrated Dmitry.
Communication with them was suddenly cut off. Alexander had been entirely confident he could steal the martial arts even if all the new spies failed, so the sudden loss of contact with his older pieces left him deeply unsettled. It was unclear whether they had defected or been discovered. However, the mere fact that things were deviating from his grand design made Alexander unable to suppress his boiling rage.
Kronos was an empire.
It bore that grand title because it stood above ordinary nations, demanding the reverence of the masses. It was the absolute land of power. Rather than rising to prominence in insignificant backwaters like Cairo, Dmitry, or Hector, succeeding in the Kronos Empire was an achievement that allowed a man to hold his head high anywhere on the continent.
Recently, however, the tide had begun to turn.
Ever since Kronos suffered consecutive defeats against Dmitry and was forced to pay a massive sum of 500,000 gold in war reparations, the world no longer viewed the Kronos Empire as an entity of "overwhelming power."
Cracks had formed in their absolute authority.
The precedent that Kronos was not infallible had directly led to this disastrous betrayal by their own spies.
"Humans are creatures of forgetfulness. These foolish insects fail to remember the results the Kronos Empire has produced throughout history."
It was not yet time.
But in the near future, the world would have to bear the full brunt of his wrath.
"Marquis Memphis."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Dispose of all the spies sent to Dmitry. Round up everyone related to them and show the world exactly what happens when one betrays Kronos. Just because a few worthless insects abandon us does not mean the empire will falter. Kronos will always stand at the absolute apex of the continent."
"I obey your command."
Marquis Memphis withdrew.
But just a few days later, Marquis Memphis returned with a pale, bloodless face to report that all the spies’ families had vanished.
* * *
Deep within a gloomy, cavernous space, Alexander walked forward.
When he finally reached his destination, moonlight streaming through a crack in the ceiling illuminated the area.
It was an altar.
Staring at the dark red structure, Alexander smiled.
"One more year. In one year, the thousand-year plan will be complete."
Long ago, when he first took over Alexander’s body and ascended to the throne of the Emperor amidst the enthusiastic cheers of the masses, he had desired immortality.
Having tasted a life of absolute supremacy he could never possess in his previous existence, he wanted it to last forever. He believed that only an eternity of absolute rule—rather than a miserable, fleeting mortal existence—gave meaning to life.
So, Alexander embraced black magic. To live as an immortal, he established a dark tradition to control the descendants of the imperial bloodline.
"The descendants of the imperial family must pray for the prosperity of the empire through a ritual honoring the souls of their ancestors on the day of their coming-of-age ceremony."
The current Kronos Emperor was no exception.
Highly praised for his natural talent as an aura swordsman, his body had been hijacked by the soul of his ancestor, Alexander, during his coming-of-age ceremony. From that moment on, the current Kronos Emperor became just another vessel. In this exact manner, Alexander had held the current Emperor, his father, and his grandfather in the palm of his hand. He had controlled every single man who bore the title of Emperor ever since the moment history recorded Alexander’s "death."
The world was entirely ignorant of the truth.
Over the centuries, while humans—creatures who lived a mere hundred years—fell into the swamp of forgetfulness and repeated the mistakes of the past, blood and death steadily accumulated upon this altar. Alexander’s grand design progressed without fail. His dark mana grew stronger by the day, and with the power of the World Tree rapidly weakening as of late, the day to realize his thousand-year plan was just around the corner.
Roman Dmitry.
The Kingdom Alliance.
They were all meaningless.
In one year, they would face the horrifying truth that Alexander, the man hailed as the creator of aura, had been pulling the strings of the Salamander Continent all along.
"Roman Dmitry. Run wild all you want. No matter how much you struggle, the future destined long ago will not change. Soon, I will complete my thousand-year plan with a martial art that surpasses yours, and a disaster that will utterly crush Dmitry."
He laughed loudly.
His wide grin was stained with pure madness.
"Look forward to that day."
Rumble!
Mana surged violently from the altar.
The darkness multiplied, and before long, it swallowed Alexander’s form whole.
* * *
A few days later, Dmitry regained its stability.
Most of the issues regarding the spies had been resolved, and Dmitry’s new private soldiers settled in as they began their training in earnest.
Around that time, three guests visited Dmitry.
At an hour when the sun had not yet fully risen, the first guest to arrive was Hoffman, the president of the Golden Bank.