Chapter 358: Chicken Game (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 358: Chicken Game (6)
Four hours ago.
Marquis Belfir stood in the central square of Marin.
Thud!
He hurled a man to the dirt. The man's face was already a battered mess, and he slumped over, completely drained of the strength to stand.
"People of Valhalla, behold!" Belfir's voice rang out. "This man dared to raise a rebellion against His Majesty, the Emperor of Valhalla. In this country, treason is a grave crime that cannot be atoned for even with one's life. As a loyal subject serving His Majesty, I have no intention of standing by and watching such insolence."
He cast a glance to the side and gave a signal.
At his cue, two knights waiting behind him stepped forward.
One knight seized the man by the hair and slammed his face into the ground. The other drew a sharp dagger, holding it high for all to see. The blade gleamed in the sunlight. Amidst the chilling silence, the knight plunged the dagger into the man's body without a shred of hesitation.
Twitch.
"…Ugh."
A ragged groan escaped his lips.
Even in his semi-conscious state, the man writhed in agony, but his broken body couldn't break free from the knight's brutal grip. It was a horrific sight. Onlookers averted their eyes, and parents quickly dragged away children who had wandered over out of curiosity.
Despite his cold exterior, Marquis Belfir struggled to calm his pounding heart.
'This is the right thing to do—for myself, and for Valhalla.'
The Emperor of Valhalla had ordered the massacre of the common people, then commanded that the survivors be put on display as a brutal warning. He sought to control the populace through a reign of terror. As a human being, Marquis Belfir knew exactly how cruel this was, but he showed no sign of refusing the order.
He had already mounted the back of a beast.
Knowing that the Emperor's grip on power was his only path to survival, he had no choice but to follow, even if he couldn't stomach the act. This was politics—a world where one had to abandon their humanity. Since Marquis Belfir had never lived a particularly clean life himself, he forced his eyes wide open and watched the torture unfold.
Blood poured out, soaking the cobblestones of the plaza. The trembling body finally fell still.
"Next," Marquis Belfir commanded.
Behind him, a long line of examples waited to be made.
Those identified as joining the rebel forces were dragged out one by one, screaming under horrific torture. The crowd gathered in the square couldn't leave. Forced by the soldiers to witness the reality before them, parents trapped in the plaza had no choice but to cover their children's eyes and ears.
About thirty minutes passed.
Just as the corpses began to pile up in a corner of the square, an imperial knight rushed over, panting heavily.
"Marquis Belfir! You are ordered to return to the Imperial Palace immediately!"
"Return? There is still so much to take care of here. What is the matter?" Belfir asked, bewildered.
He was carrying out the Emperor's direct orders. What could possibly be so urgent that he was being recalled in such haste?
The knight's face was deathly pale. "Roman Dmitry. We don't know what trick he pulled, but simultaneous terror attacks are breaking out all across Valhalla!"
* * *
Eastern Valhalla.
Cairn.
Unlike the turbulent political climate elsewhere, Cairn was relatively peaceful. Yet, a group of people moved busily through its streets.
"Group 1 takes the right, Group 2 takes the left."
"Yes, sir."
There were eight of them in total.
The men possessed ordinary faces that easily blended into a crowd. Spotting their target in the distance, they split into two directions. Their objective was an armory—a facility storing basic weaponry and military supplies. As usual, several soldiers stood guard outside.
Thud!
"Gah."
Subduing them took only an instant.
Slipping into the guards' blind spots, the men stabbed vital points or snapped necks before the soldiers could even react. Their movements were swift and precise. A few of the men quickly stripped the guards and changed into their uniforms, while the others slipped inside to plant magic bombs. With that, the preparations were complete. After retreating a safe distance from the armory, they detonated the explosives.
BOOM!
CRASH!
The massive explosion shook the earth.
The armory blew apart in an instant, engulfed in roaring flames. Cairn's peaceful afternoon was shattered. Alarms blared in response to the sudden disaster. Soldiers rushed to the scene, staring at the blazing armory as they scrambled to assess the situation.
Right then, some of the operatives who had blown up the armory began shouting at the top of their lungs, making sure the gathering crowd heard every word.
"You Valhallan bastards! Even if you slaughter innocent people, we will never back down!"
"None of us must ever forget Valhalla's atrocities! The citizens of Marin spoke out for what was right, completely separate from Duke Vieto, yet the Imperial Court ordered their massacre! Countless people died in Marin! Who knows when we might become the next victims of the Emperor's madness? Do not back down! Do not turn a blind eye to reality! We must solve Valhalla's problems ourselves!"
It was pure chaos.
The citizens of Cairn witnessed the raging fire, saw posters exposing Valhalla's true state fluttering in the air, and heard the men shouting at the top of their lungs. At that point, news of the massacre in Marin had not yet spread this far. Just as Cairn's guards moved to apprehend the terrorists, the disguised infiltrators shouted:
"After them!"
"Stop right there!"
It was a perfectly orchestrated play.
They acted as if they were on opposing sides, even though they all belonged to the same group.
By the time Cairn's actual soldiers belatedly gave chase, the perpetrators had already used the chaos to vanish without a trace.
Every single one of them was a member of the Hao Sect.
Moreover, they were special operatives trained in martial arts. Scattered across Valhalla, they executed their operations the moment they received orders from Roman Dmitry. This wasn't something planned and executed in just a few days. Though the order was sudden, they had prepared and trained for countless scenarios exactly like this one.
These terror attacks were carried out all across Valhalla.
What started as one or two incidents quickly multiplied into dozens, plunging the entire empire into instant chaos.
* * *
At that moment, Chris arrived at his destination.
As he prepared for the upcoming operation, he recalled his conversation with Roman Dmitry.
"We will push forward with the plan. Since the Warp Gate has been destroyed, proceed with the backup plan we prepared."
The backup plan.
It was one of several strategies prepared in anticipation of Valhalla's response, and Chris had immediately understood what Roman meant. In Chris's opinion, it was an incredibly reckless operation. Because it relied heavily on terror attacks, provoking the people of Valhalla carried the immense risk of them discovering that Roman Dmitry was the mastermind.
So he had asked, "The Emperor of Valhalla has lost the support of the people. If it is revealed that we are instigating this unrest, the enemy might use Dmitry as an external threat to unite their internal chaos."
"No. That will not happen." Roman had been resolute.
In truth, the facts didn't matter. No matter how the Emperor of Valhalla responded, he had crossed the point of no return the moment he ordered the massacre of the common people.
"By massacring his own citizens, the Emperor of Valhalla has provided us with the perfect scapegoat to bear all the blame," Roman had explained. "If we strike various territories as planned and expose the truth of what happened in the capital, how do you think the public will react? They won't question who is behind the attacks. An outside observer looking at the big picture might see the intent behind such organized movements, but all that matters to the people right now is the Emperor's tyranny. We will exploit their sentiments. The moment their discontent is voiced and translates into even the slightest action, the rebellion that started in Marin will no longer be confined to the capital—it will spread across all of Valhalla."
He was setting fire to public sentiment.
This was entirely different from the incident in Marin.
In the capital, the Emperor's soldiers had immediately brought the situation under control. But the flames of rebellion spreading across the vast territories of Valhalla were a different story. The forces currently mobilized to suppress the rebel army in Hernad didn't consist solely of the Imperial Army. Valhallan nobles had joined the subjugation force with their own private armies, and they would surely panic if their home territories came under attack.
Chris had added, "…Exploiting public sentiment is a sound strategy. However, many people will die for our gain."
It was a pang of human guilt.
Dmitry would instigate unrest in Valhalla for its own benefit, and the people of Valhalla, caught up in political strife, would die crying out for patriotism. It was a truly cruel reality. The common people of Valhalla had done nothing wrong. Simply because Dmitry and Valhalla were adversaries, the innocent were being shoved into the meat grinder.
If the operation proceeded as scheduled, given the Emperor's ruthless temperament, countless people would undoubtedly lose their lives.
To that, Roman Dmitry had replied, "Chris. Do not forget that Valhalla is a foreign nation. We will use any means necessary to secure our victory, and you have no reason to feel guilty in the process. Just as we cut down enemy soldiers on the battlefield with whom we have no personal grudge simply because they stand on the opposing side, those holding Valhallan citizenship are not innocent bystanders in this situation. The only thing that matters to us is the future of Dmitry."
In that moment, goosebumps had broken out on Chris's skin.
He realized it once again.
Although Roman Dmitry was praised by his people for his benevolence, his core was chillingly ruthless. Setting aside his secret deal with the rebel army of Hernad, he always chose the path that yielded the maximum benefit for Dmitry. It was a perilous strategy that others might understand in theory but never dare to execute. Roman Dmitry chose it simply because it was the most advantageous.
Such a being was the lord he served.
Though his heart grew cold at the sheer ruthlessness, Chris felt a profound sense of relief that he served such a man.
'If a leader who prioritizes his own people above all else is at the helm, we have every reason to lay down our lives for him.'
It was a simple matter.
The Emperor of Valhalla killed his own people. In contrast, Roman Dmitry pushed a foreign nation into the abyss of despair for the sake of his own.
There was no reason to hesitate.
Though Chris was tested every time he stood by Roman's side, he remained fiercely loyal because he knew that a future with Roman Dmitry—however selfish it seemed to outsiders—would bring absolute prosperity. This time was no different. The upcoming operation was fraught with danger, but Dmitry had no intention of backing down from the game that had already begun.
Clang!
Chris drew his sword.
Behind him, the soldiers of the Allied Forces stood in perfect formation.
"We begin the operation now."
"Yes, sir!"
In the distance, right where Chris's gaze landed, Valhalla's largest granary region stretched out before them.
* * *
Incidents erupted in rapid succession.
The leadership convened at the Valhalla Imperial Palace was overwhelmed by the reports pouring in from all over the empire.
"Terror attacks are breaking out all across Valhalla! It seems Roman Dmitry has pulled some sort of trick. They are targeting only our armories with magic bombs, and they are using the massacre in Marin to incite the fury of the Valhallan people. At this rate, it's only a matter of time before the flames of rebellion spread everywhere!"
"We must recall our troops! Only then can we mobilize enough soldiers to suppress the citizens' rage!"
But that was not all.
Upon receiving another report that Dmitry's army was setting fire to the granary region, the Valhallan leadership stamped their feet in sheer panic.
"Shouldn't we stop this?"
"If the entire granary region burns down, the damage to Valhalla will be catastrophic!"
Since the foundation of the empire lay in the Southern Jungle, Valhalla's territory lacked arable land compared to other nations. Thus, the Northern Granary was the lifeblood of Valhalla. The crops produced there fed a massive portion of the population, yet Dmitry's army had suddenly changed direction to target this very region.
It was a move within the realm of predictability, but because the granary was far from any Warp Points, targeting it meant completely abandoning the rebel army of Hernad. Thus, the Valhalla Empire had assumed Dmitry would withdraw his forces. Yet, contrary to all expectations, they had penetrated even deeper to strike the granary. If the region was engulfed in flames, the resulting famine wouldn't be fixed in a month or two; Valhalla would suffer the devastating consequences for a very long time.
It was a game of chicken.
Their own stubbornness had held them back.
Had they concentrated their forces in the North, they could have protected the granary, but with their meager numbers there, they had no way to stop the Dmitry-led Allied Forces. Yet, recalling their main troops was also a massive dilemma. If they pulled their forces back now, they would likely lose both the North and the rebel army of Hernad—failing to catch either rabbit.
Marquis Belfir raised his voice. "We can no longer stand by and watch Dmitry's movements. We must recall a portion of the troops sent to Hernad. Since Hernad is already on the verge of being captured, leaving even half our forces there will be enough to wrap up the situation."
At the head of the table sat the Emperor of Valhalla.
He wore a strange, unreadable expression in response to the unfolding chaos.
It was then.
An imperial knight rushed in to deliver urgent news.
"…We have received a request for magic communication from Roman Dmitry."
Unlike just a few days ago when he had unilaterally cut off their connection, the mere mention of Roman Dmitry's name instantly brought a dead, suffocating silence over the conference room.