Chapter 356: Chicken Game (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 356: Chicken Game (4)
Atop the castle wall.
In that confined yet sprawling space, a surreal scene was unfolding.
Even with attacks raining down from all directions, leaving absolutely no blind spots, Roman Dmitry slaughtered Count Santino's soldiers the instant their blades clashed. It was a battle of one against many. Worse, it was on the enemy's home turf, where they outnumbered him not by mere tens, but by tens of thousands. Watching Roman Dmitry stroll through the bloodbath as if it were his own backyard, Count Santino felt his hands begin to tremble.
So this is Roman Dmitry.
He truly lived up to his monstrous reputation.
Just seeing him put such an absurd plan into action made it crystal clear exactly what kind of existence he was.
This wasn't mere bravado.
He possessed the absolute conviction that he could forge a path entirely on his own. As Roman demonstrated his overwhelming might right before his eyes, Count Santino had no choice but to activate his magic communicator. It was a commander's ominous intuition. If he let his pride get the better of him and tried to hold out using only Santino's forces, things would end in utter catastrophe.
Beep—
"Marquis Belfir. This is Count Santino."
[What is it?]
"Right now, Roman Dmitry is— Argh!"
Boom!
Rumble!
A massive explosion erupted.
Roman Dmitry cut down Santino's soldiers in a single sweep and charged fiercely toward the Count. Because the distance between them was still vast, they didn't clash immediately. However, watching the knights who stepped forward to block Roman fall one after another, Count Santino screamed in spite of himself.
His heart pounded wildly.
His mouth went completely dry.
Stumbling backward, Count Santino raised the communication device once more.
"Ro-Roman Dmitry used Fly magic to land on top of the castle wall! And right now, because we cannot stop this single man, Santino's soldiers are being butchered! We need reinforcements in Santino! I know this sounds absurd, but if we cannot stop Roman Dmitry, Santino will fall!" he shrieked.
It was still early.
The battle had only just begun.
The walls and gates were fully intact, and the majority of Santino's soldiers remained. Yet Count Santino, a veteran of countless battlefields, knew instinctively that his territory was in grave danger. Hadn't everyone who underestimated Roman Dmitry ended up dead? Thus, even knowing Marquis Belfir would view this call as cowardly and premature, he desperately reached out for a lifeline to save his own skin.
[Count Santino.]
"Yes!"
[The opponent is a single man. I do not ask much of you. Just a few days. Whether you throw Santino's soldiers into the jaws of death or use some other method, hold out by any means necessary. The imperial reinforcements will arrive only after Hernad is completely secured.]
"But...!"
[Do not test my patience with your incompetence any longer.]
The voice was absolute.
Count Santino's face flushed red with humiliation and anger, but he dared not vent his rage at Marquis Belfir. The man on the other end was one of the most powerful figures in Valhalla. Desperate, he couldn't bring himself to cut the magic communication, yet his mind drew a blank on how to persuade the Marquis.
It was then.
Roman Dmitry turned toward the castle gate.
If that gate opened, it would be an unmitigated disaster.
Santino's knights rushed forward simultaneously to intercept him, their flashing Auras humming violently through the air. It was a spectacular sight. No matter how great a swordsman might be, it seemed impossible to withstand a coordinated strike from thirty Aura knights at once. If his opponent had been someone bound by common sense, Count Santino would have severed the magic communication right then and there.
Slash! Splat!
"Aaargh!"
It was a one-sided slaughter.
Blocking, dodging, counterattacking.
Amidst the chaotic clash of blades, Roman Dmitry swept through Santino's knights with overwhelming, tyrannical dominance.
How many times had the Count even blinked?
In a flash, they were all dead.
Seized by a sudden, mind-numbing terror, Count Santino screamed into the communication device like a madman.
"Ro-Roman Dmitry is a monster! How do you expect us to stop such a beast with only Santino's forces?! This was madness from the start! Roman Dmitry is laying waste to Valhalla's territory, and you want us to block him with our lives?! Please, I beg of you, send reinforcements!"
His voice was ragged with desperation.
He needed help to survive.
If reinforcements were sent even now, he would fight back against Roman Dmitry with that shred of hope.
But...
[Die for Valhalla, Count Santino.]
With those final words, click.
The magic communication cut off.
* * *
Barely three hours.
That was all the time it took for Santino's towering walls to crumble.
Once the gate was forced open by Roman Dmitry, a one-sided slaughter commenced as the Allied Forces flooded inside.
Outmatched in numbers and strength, the defenders' morale completely shattered.
With the shadow of defeat blanketing the fortress in an instant, Santino's soldiers surrendered without putting up any real resistance.
Thud.
"...Ugh."
Count Santino was thrown roughly to the ground.
Rolling in the dirt, he swallowed a groan and hastily scrambled to his knees under the chilling gaze looking down at him.
"P-please, spare my life. Just this once. If you let me live, I will do anything for you, Lord Roman Dmitry."
He raised his trembling voice and stole a glance upward.
It was Roman Dmitry.
The Devil of Cairo.
Because of this single man, all conventional strategies had been rendered entirely useless, and Count Santino's fate now rested in the palm of his hand. Count Santino hadn't intended to commit treason from the start. He considered himself a patriot in his own way. But with his life hanging by a thread, he didn't have the luxury to care about loyalty.
And...
Besides, hadn't Marquis Belfir abandoned him first?
That callous command to die for Valhalla had ignited a deep, simmering resentment within him.
"What can you do for me?"
The voice was frigid.
Yet, Count Santino saw this as a golden opportunity.
Relieved that he was at least being given a chance to speak, he looked up at Roman and spoke rapidly.
"I-I can do anything! First... ah! I will give you information regarding the Warp Gate. Right now, your strategy, Lord Roman Dmitry, must be to occupy the Warp Gate to pressure the Valhalla Imperial Court. But 'Javier,' the city known as the Warp Point, is no easy target. I can tell you all about their troop deployments and security systems."
Roman's expression remained indifferent.
In his anxiety, the Count quickly added more.
"That's not all! I can also tell you about the Emperor of Valhalla's special forces, and Marquis Belfir, the man who currently holds the reins of power in the capital. I understand if you find me distasteful. But if you accept an insider like me, I am confident I will be of great use in bringing down the Valhalla Empire."
"Explain in detail."
"T-thank you!"
His face brightened instantly.
He truly believed Roman had accepted the deal.
He spilled the information without hesitation.
To survive, he scraped together every piece of classified knowledge he possessed, doing his absolute utmost to prove his worth.
When he finally finished his explanation, Count Santino looked up at Roman Dmitry with a hopeful, pleading expression.
"...Will you spare me now?"
Just as he claimed, Count Santino was indeed useful.
But that was all.
"No."
From the very beginning, Roman had never intended to let him live.
* * *
Meanwhile.
In Marin, the capital of Valhalla.
An unprecedented anomaly was occurring.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp.
"To the Valhalla Imperial Court!"
"We can no longer watch Valhalla go down the wrong path!"
"For Valhalla!"
The common people.
They had finally risen up.
Ares's speech had ignited the dormant soul of Valhalla, and the patriotism that had been stirring for the past few days finally gathered the masses into one place. At first, there were only a few hundred. But as their voices echoed through the city, their numbers quickly swelled to thousands, then tens of thousands, until an uncountable sea of people flooded the streets leading to the Imperial Court.
Duke Vieto.
This was exactly as he had intended.
Public sentiment was the crucial foundation for this rebellion, and the bold actions of the rebel forces had given the citizens courage.
Let us rise!
Let us raise our voices!
Just like Duke Vieto's rebel forces who are fighting with their lives on the line, let us do our duty as citizens of Valhalla!
The sentiment spread like wildfire.
A massive crowd gathered in front of the imperial palace.
A man acting as their representative stepped forward and roared at the top of his lungs.
"On behalf of the citizens of Valhalla, I speak to His Majesty the Emperor! Valhalla is a nation of warriors. For generations, we have lived without a shred of shame, standing as brave souls who abided by the warrior's code. Yet, in recent years, Valhalla has lost its roots. It has lost its honor! You revealed your filthy intentions by attempting an assassination after inviting guests to a sacred festival, and now an era has dawned where power is seized not through a warrior's valor, but through wicked conspiracies! Your Majesty! This is wrong. Please correct this reality and become a wise monarch who enjoys the support of his people!"
"Become a wise monarch!"
"Restore the roots of Valhalla!"
The crowd roared in agreement.
This was truly an extraordinary event.
In a nation ruled by an autocratic Emperor with an iron fist, the common people were openly protesting against him!
Yet, the authorities couldn't easily suppress them.
With tens of thousands of people moving in unison, a single misstep could trigger a massive, bloody catastrophe.
It was then.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp—
Armed troops marched into the square.
The Emperor's soldiers.
They quickly surrounded the crowd.
Even in this touch-and-go situation, the citizens' representative did not back down.
"Kill us instead! Silence our mouths with death!" he shouted. "If you try to stop us—the people who have stepped forward for Valhalla—with blades, all of Valhalla will rise up! Those who remember the true soul of Valhalla will be enraged by our deaths, and then you will finally realize that the people are the very foundation of this empire!"
Tens of thousands of people.
Dealing with them was no simple matter.
Just as the representative said, things could easily spiral out of control.
If it were only a few hundred, it would be one thing, but now that tens of thousands had gathered, this was far beyond a protest that could be quietly silenced by death.
And yet...
Thrust!
"Aaargh!"
One of the Emperor's soldiers plunged his spear straight into a commoner without a second of hesitation.
* * *
Blood bloomed across the man's abdomen.
As the dying citizen stared at his attacker with wide, disbelieving eyes, the commander leading the soldiers roared at the top of his lungs.
"Execute all of these heinous rebels!"
"Kill them!"
It was completely different from what the crowd had expected.
There would be no compromise.
The Emperor's soldiers charged forward, mercilessly cutting down the citizens. Having come unarmed to protest, the people could only suffer a one-sided slaughter. A massacre ensued. The heads of those who had been shouting for justice just moments ago flew through the air. Bodies with pierced abdomens collapsed into pools of blood, and horrific screams erupted from every direction.
The representative of the citizens stared at the scene before him in utter dismay.
He had never imagined it would turn out like this.
No matter how cruel the Emperor of Valhalla was rumored to be, he hadn't believed the man would openly slaughter tens of thousands of his own people in broad daylight.
"Emperor of Valhalla! You have gone mad, drunk on power! No matter how great an empire is, if you treat your citizens worse than livestock, how long do you think Valhalla's reign will last?! The people of Valhalla will watch our deaths and our suffering with wide-open eyes! So— Argh!"
Thud.
A heavy blow struck the back of his leg.
He was forced to his knees, and a brutal follow-up strike to his face made him spit out a mouthful of blood.
His consciousness began to fade.
Someone grabbed him roughly by the hair and yanked his head back. Through his blurry vision, he recognized his captor.
"...The Guard Captain."
The Captain of the Marin Guard.
The man was staring down at him with a ferocious, predatory expression.
"...Th-this is wrong. You know as well as we do that Valhalla is heading down the wrong path," the representative squeezed out the words with great difficulty.
In that instant, the Guard Captain smirked.
"We only follow His Majesty's orders."
Thrust.
He drove his sword straight through the representative's heart.
The man's body shuddered violently.
As the corpse finally went limp, the Guard Captain looked around the blood-soaked square and raised his crimson sword high.
"Kill them all! Do not leave a single person alive who dares challenge His Majesty's authority!"
* * *
Marquis Belfir's expression was grim as he reported the day's events.
"...We have dealt with all the citizens who participated in the uprising. And as you ordered, we plan to proceed with rooting out and executing anyone associated with them."
The order for a massacre.
Even Marquis Belfir felt a pang of unease.
Public sentiment was vital.
A nation, after all, was formed by its people. No matter how far back one looked through the history of the continent, there had never been a monarch who responded to a protest with such extreme, blatant violence. It would have been somewhat understandable if he had purged the ringleaders secretly under some plausible pretext. But to slaughter tens of thousands so openly left even Marquis Belfir speechless.
The Emperor of Valhalla simply laughed.
"Worthless bastards. They dared to act up without knowing their place, so they got exactly what they deserved."
No one in the throne room dared to offer a word of caution.
The Royal Knights, the Marin Guard, and all the special forces were the Emperor's loyal hounds.
No matter how much madness the Emperor displayed, the core military power of the capital would never withdraw its support from him.
"Roman Dmitry. Duke Vieto. They are laboring under a massive delusion. They think that if they stir up the commoners, they can actually shake this country. They believe that even though they are clearly outmatched in actual military strength, inciting the peasants will give them a chance at victory. How utterly foolish. My brothers, who tried to stand in my way for the throne, also relied on that useless public sentiment. And they all ended up dead overnight."
He sneered, his madness deepening by the second.
Whenever he heard news of Roman Dmitry, the Emperor felt an uncontrollable, destructive urge.
"Marquis Belfir."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
From now on, it was his turn to step to the forefront.
The Emperor of Valhalla had absolutely no intention of backing down even a single inch in this game of chicken with Roman Dmitry.
"Contact Roman Dmitry immediately."
"Understood."
The Marquis activated the video communication magic.
Soon after.
Beep.
[Quite a sight to behold, isn't it, Marquis Belfir?]
Beyond the magical projection, Roman Dmitry, his face stained with fresh blood, answered the call—sitting before a towering mountain of corpses piled high behind him.