Chapter 349: The Land That Lost Its Romance (7)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 349: The Land That Lost Its Romance (7)
Schneider was dumbfounded.
He glanced at Alvarez's wretched, collapsed corpse, then stared at Ares in utter disbelief.
"...T-This makes no sense."
The Ares of the past had been hailed as a genius. His rapid growth was unrivaled. By reaching the 5-Star Realm at an early age and defeating Schneider, he had earned the reputation of being the greatest talent in Valhalla—perhaps even on the entire Salamander Continent. Schneider vividly remembered the Ares of that time. Even as a member of the Twelve Swords of the Continent, Schneider had fallen to his knees before him, plunged into deep despair by a talent he could never hope to match.
And yet.
Even knowing Ares's growth rate was astronomical, seeing him manifest a 6-Star Aura delivered a shock too intense to bear.
"Just what on earth happened in Dmitry?!" he screamed, his voice pitching into a shriek.
If he didn't scream... he wouldn't be able to accept this reality.
The rankers of Valhalla had mocked Ares's choice to defect, yet he had returned in such a short time with the undeniable achievement of a 6-Star Aura. That wasn't all. The swordsmanship he had used to corner Alvarez was clearly far more advanced than before. Considering how Roman Dmitry's subordinates consistently achieved explosive growth, it was obvious that Ares had truly spread his wings under his new lord.
The other rankers reacted much like Schneider.
As the shocked onlookers looked back and forth between Alvarez's corpse and Ares, Count Gomez froze in his tracks.
"...How could this happen?"
He, too, desperately wanted to deny reality. Watching the final moment where Ares cut down Alvarez, an ominous thought crossed his mind.
'Roman Dmitry. Is this how he plans to aid the rebel forces?'
Duke Vieto's rebellion was reckless. The sheer difference in military strength alone was more than tenfold, and they were overwhelmingly outmatched in top-tier powerhouses. That was why it made no sense. If they overtly received help from Roman Dmitry, they would lose their justification for the war. Under what possible logic had they declared rebellion? The leadership of Valhalla had assumed they could wipe out the opposition in one fell swoop, but they were now realizing that wasn't the case at all.
Roman Dmitry had sent troops to the Northern Front. This had the primary effect of dispersing the Emperor's forces. And now, he had sent Ares to deal with Alvarez.
Inferiority in both troop numbers and top-tier power. It was a strategy perfectly tailored to exploit both of the rebels' weaknesses simultaneously.
The more Count Gomez pondered Roman Dmitry's grand plan, the more goosebumps broke out across his skin.
'...If I judge this by common sense, we will surely be dragged along by his pacing. I must make a decision.'
His eyes turned vicious. Dmitry's strategy had one glaring weakness: their belief that Valhalla would uphold its warrior traditions.
"Arrest Ares this instant!"
"...Excuse me?"
"Did you not hear me? Don't just stare at me with those blank faces! Arrest the traitor Ares!"
The rankers immediately exchanged bewildered glances.
No matter how corrupt Valhalla had become, arresting the rightful winner of a Decisive Battle was far too despicable. Ares was not a traitor. Simply abandoning his Valhalla citizenship did not provide sufficient grounds to punish him, and his only "crime" was defeating one of the Valhalla Emperor's men in a fair duel.
Everyone hesitated.
But Count Gomez had decided that Ares needed to be dealt with, no matter the cost.
"You useless bastards. Let me make this absolutely clear. If anyone here fails to carry out this order, I will remember your faces. I will report you directly to His Majesty the Emperor of Valhalla and ensure you receive proper punishment."
It was an extreme ultimatum. The leader of the Conservative Faction had lost his romance long ago. Faced with the madness of the Valhalla Emperor, he had compromised with reality.
Just then, a voice cut through the tension.
"Just as my lord said, you are utterly rotten to the core."
As if he had expected this exact outcome, Ares cast a cold gaze upon them.
* * *
Before Ares left for Valhalla, Roman Dmitry had warned him:
"Valhalla has completely lost its pride as a nation of warriors. Even if you win the Decisive Battle, they will not recognize the victor's rights; instead, they might try to kill you. No, they will try. What you need to do then is accept the fact that Valhalla is rotten, and expose that ugly truth to the world."
Once, people had called the era when Valhalla's warriors risked their lives in fierce competition the "Age of Romance."
The Valhalla of that era had been magnificent. Driven by the desire to grow stronger, warriors constantly honed themselves, resolving all matters through the clash of swords rather than words. It wasn't that today's Valhalla didn't do the same. The difference between the Age of Romance and the present lay entirely in the warriors' attitudes toward accepting defeat.
In the past, no matter how great a faction a warrior possessed, if they lost, they gracefully accepted reality. Bowing their heads and surrendering all their power to the victor was not criticized as foolish back then.
It was only natural. The winner takes all. The strong claimed everything.
The people of Valhalla respected Valhalla's romance.
Ares, too, had been born in Valhalla. Thus, he had held onto a sliver of hope that things might turn out differently from what Roman Dmitry had predicted.
"Count Gomez. I sincerely hoped that Valhalla would accept victory and defeat gracefully. At least then, I wouldn't have had to expose its ugly underbelly. Having been born in Valhalla, raised as a Valhalla warrior, and still carrying Valhalla blood in my veins, I wanted to protect Valhalla's honor."
He sneered. Raising his hand, he gave a signal.
At that moment, crowds of people began to flood into the area. Spies of the Hao Sect had incited the populace, and upon hearing that a Decisive Battle was taking place at the Temple of Valhalla, the citizens had rushed over. Upon arriving, they saw Alvarez's corpse.
The crowd immediately buzzed with murmurs. To those who hadn't even known the Decisive Battle had begun, Ares's victory was a shocking revelation.
"...Ares won?"
"What happens now? Is Ares ranked second?"
"Ranked second already?"
At the sudden appearance of the crowd, Count Gomez's expression stiffened. He instantly realized Ares's intention.
'Cunning bastard.'
The people were watching. If they arrested the rightful victor right before their eyes, the public would inevitably erupt in fury. Public sentiment was already highly unstable, and Ares had deliberately set the stage to provoke the people's emotions.
If Gomez tried to harm him now, he would have to risk his life to achieve it. Attempting to force an order with such an uncertain outcome meant they would completely lose the public's support to the rebel forces. Count Gomez fell into a dilemma. Even the few rankers who had initially intended to carry out his command now hesitated, looking to him, unsure of what to do.
It was laughable.
Looking at the people wandering aimlessly after losing their romance, Ares raised his voice.
"There was a time when Valhalla had not lost its romance. I wish to reclaim the Valhalla of those days."
This mission—Ares had fully agreed to it. Knowing it was highly perilous, he had risked his life in a situation that made his warrior's blood boil.
The people looking at him. The rankers of Valhalla. And Count Gomez.
Ares delivered a final, earth-shattering shock to them all.
"Using my authority as the second ranker of Valhalla, I challenge Cesar, the number one ranker."
* * *
The Emperor of Valhalla was highly capricious. At times, he showed great interest in state affairs. At other times, he acted as if he had absolutely nothing to do with the position of Emperor.
Just like now.
"Do as you please."
Ares's challenge was a monumental event. Even though the repercussions would be massive if Cesar were to fall, the Emperor of Valhalla merely waved his hand dismissively, his expression utterly languid.
Because of this, Count Gomez met privately with Marquis Belfir. To resolve the crisis at hand, the two nobles—who could be considered the twin pillars of Valhalla—had to join forces.
Marquis Belfir asked, "Count Gomez. Who do you think will win between Cesar and Ares?"
"...Ahem."
Gomez fell into deep thought.
Cesar and Ares.
Cesar was, without a doubt, the First Sword of Valhalla. He was an overwhelmingly powerful figure whom even Alvarez had repeatedly lost to. But the problem was the performance Ares had just displayed. He had defeated Alvarez using only a 5-Star Aura. Now that it was revealed he could use a 6-Star Aura, the terrifying thought arose that Ares might actually be the strongest in Valhalla.
"I cannot say for certain who will win. Common sense dictates that Cesar should naturally emerge victorious, but Ares has reached an entirely different level after following Roman Dmitry. If you had seen him yourself, Marquis Belfir, you would understand what I mean. The power Ares displayed as he overwhelmed and crushed Alvarez was a step beyond the level of what was once called Valhalla's greatest genius."
"What an amusing situation. To think that Cesar's victory cannot be guaranteed."
The First Sword of the Continent, Castro. The only existence capable of rivaling him was Cesar.
Although Cesar's public activities had been sparse lately, the two men in this room knew exactly what kind of monster he was. Of course, people also referred to Cesar as a perpetual runner-up. There was a prevailing assessment that he could never surpass Castro, but that did not change the fact that he was the First Sword of Valhalla.
Marquis Belfir spoke.
"There is no way to block the authority of the second ranker in front of the public. Roman Dmitry's intention is clear. He wants to disperse the Empire's forces to the north and weaken the Imperial Court's power by taking down Alvarez and Cesar in succession. That is precisely why we must trust in the strength of the Valhalla Imperial Court all the more."
"Are you saying we should just leave it be?"
"Yes."
The opponent was baiting the Valhalla Imperial Court. He was baiting them to react with greater anger, preventing them from focusing on the rebel army. Marquis Belfir had read the essence of the situation.
"Roman Dmitry also faces the threat of the Kronos Empire. Trust Cesar. Trust the troops in the north. Valhalla's warriors are strong, and Roman Dmitry, who cannot commit his full strength, will not be able to secure a quick victory. Now is our chance. Dispatch the troops quickly and capture Hernad."
"Understood."
Count Gomez accepted the strategy. Just as Marquis Belfir said, he believed that time was on Valhalla's side.
But just then, before Count Gomez could even finish his preparations, he and Marquis Belfir received shocking news.
"Roman Dmitry is attacking the Northern Front!"
It was a decision far swifter and bolder than anyone could have anticipated.
* * *
Northern Valhalla.
Roman Dmitry gazed toward the border as he listened to Chris's report.
"Approximately one hundred thousand troops have gathered at Valhalla's frontline defense post. It seems the Valhalla Empire has decided that suppressing Duke Vieto's rebel army is a higher priority than reinforcing the Northern Front."
"As expected."
An enemy within, and an enemy without. It was a simple calculation. For the Valhalla Empire, rather than preparing for Dmitry—who might attack at any moment—prioritizing Duke Vieto, who had rebelled with a mere two hundred thousand troops, was the logical choice.
Valhalla's judgment followed common sense. Approving the duel with Cesar simply because Ares had mobilized the populace was also a decision that fell neatly within the bounds of conventional thinking.
'Valhalla is different from Kronos. Since it is a country still heavily swayed by public sentiment, they cannot ignore the eyes of the people.'
If public sentiment were to escalate into a full-scale riot, the situation would become grave. If the populace joined the two hundred thousand rebels, and the Valhalla Imperial Court was attacked from both inside and out, even they could not guarantee their survival. That was why they tried their best not to provoke the masses. The rebels had raised their voices by pointing out tradition precisely because they knew it was Valhalla's sore spot.
Amidst this series of events, Roman Dmitry was drawing a much grander picture.
'The situation is still advantageous for the Valhalla Imperial Court. If they secure just a single week, they will use the Warp Gates to capture Hernad in an instant. Ultimately, the authority to drag down the Valhalla Emperor lies with the rebel army. For the rebels—not me—to produce a meaningful result, we must not allow the Valhalla Imperial Court even a single moment of breathing room.'
Presumably, their decision not to send more troops to the north was based on common sense.
The Dmitry-Hector Allied Forces numbered about one hundred thousand. It was not a particularly large number. Having confirmed this intelligence, the Valhalla Imperial Court judged that there was no need to overextend themselves. Normally, in a siege, the attacking side needed to deploy at least twice the defending force to stand a chance of victory. Since the Valhalla Empire had deployed substantial magic defenses alongside their one hundred thousand troops, they were confident they could secure the week needed to sweep away the rebels without issue.
That was the crowning stroke Roman Dmitry had envisioned.
Dmitry had always prepared for war. Even during times of peace, they had invested heavily in magical advancements related to the upper Dantian.
"Felix."
"Yes, my lord."
"How much time do you need to bring down Valhalla's walls?"
It was a reckless question. Rather than asking how much time it would take, common sense dictated asking whether it was even possible first.
And yet, Felix responded in a firm, unwavering tone.
"An hour is more than enough."
At the exact hour Ares went to find Cesar...
Just like that, Roman Dmitry's army crossed the northern border.