Chapter 418: Winner Takes All (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 418: Winner Takes All (4)
Everyone has something they fear.
Some fear insects, others ghosts, and some blood. What each person considers terrifying is bound to differ, but up until a few years ago, Hoffman had lived without knowing the meaning of the word. Wielding his immense wealth as if it were a 7-Star Aura, he had no reason to fear anything in this world.
But now, things were different.
Whenever he suffered from night terrors, Hoffman would wake up drenched in a cold sweat, a single figure flashing through his mind.
Count Fabius.
He was nightmare itself.
Back when Hoffman was scrambling to exact his revenge on Roman Dmitry, Count Fabius had thwarted him at every turn, standing like an impenetrable wall. No scheme or method worked against him. Ever since the incident where Fabius, backed by the absolute authority of Roman Dmitry, had forced Hoffman to his knees, Hoffman could not stop his body from trembling the moment he even looked at the count.
To meet him at a time like this.
It was pure despair.
Once they relocated to a private room, Count Fabius took a seat, a sly smirk playing on his lips.
"Where are you rushing off to? You look like a man frantically packing his bags to flee for his life."
At that sight, Hoffman felt suffocated.
That smirk.
That sly, cunning attitude.
The more he looked at Count Fabius, the more his nightmares seemed to creep back into reality. However, Hoffman knew he had to maintain his composure. He needed time to liquidate his hidden assets. Above all, the opponent sitting across from him was a man who would swallow him whole, bones and all, the moment he showed even the slightest vulnerability.
Hoffman spoke.
"…I understand what you are implying. The Golden Bank supported the Kronos Empire, and since they lost the war, we must pay the price. But could you not grant us a chance to live? In truth, war is a conflict where one is forced to take sides. If everyone who simply supported the opposing faction is slaughtered, very few people on this continent will survive."
"Come now, why play dumb between professionals? The Golden Bank didn't just 'support' them, did it?"
"I know. I am not denying our wrongdoing."
His mouth went dry.
His guilt was undeniable. Even if he tried to hide the source of his funds, he knew it wouldn't work against a sly old fox like Count Fabius. Yet, he couldn't just die like this. Since Fabius had personally sought him out, it was clear the count had no intention of leaving empty-handed.
"I ask you once more, please give us a chance. The Continental War is over. With the two great pillars that supported the continent now collapsed, Dmitry will desperately need the help of financial experts like me to quickly restore stability. I will assist you wholeheartedly. Of course, we will pay heavy reparations, and if necessary, I will even make a public apology."
He bowed his head.
He cast aside his pride.
Of course, he didn't mean a single word of it.
If Count Fabius gave him just one opening… he would vanish like a ghost in the night. So, even if they were empty promises, he had to spit out whatever words would sway his opponent's mind.
He stole a glance upward.
Seeing Count Fabius staring at him with a strange, unreadable look in his eyes, Hoffman gritted his teeth and resorted to his trump card.
Thud.
He fell to his knees.
Then, slamming his forehead against the floor, he cried out so loudly that the veins in his neck bulged.
"I beg of you, just this once! Have mercy on me and open a path for me to live!"
* * *
Hoffman knew instinctively.
Unless the man before him opened a path, there was no way he would survive. It was a massive compromise. A man who had once ruled the continent's economy as the president of the Golden Bank was now on his knees, appealing to emotion.
"Count Fabius, I deeply regret the mistakes I've made. If I could turn back time, I would never have committed the blunder of joining the plans of that wicked man, Alexander. Let me ask you, Count. Weren't you also not one of Lord Roman Dmitry's people from the very beginning? Please, give me a chance as well. If you give me the opportunity to prove that I, Hoffman, can change, the Golden Bank will become Dmitry's most steadfast supporter in the future."
With a subtle glance, he signaled a servant, who hurriedly brought a large chest forward. Hoffman pushed it toward Fabius, speaking in a hushed, conspiratorial tone.
"I know this is a difficult decision for you to make, Count Fabius. I won't make unreasonable demands. Just convey to Lord Roman Dmitry that Hoffman holds these thoughts. And… this is a chest of gold bars. It is an amount that will allow you to live in luxury for the rest of your life, and it is clean gold that will never cause any trouble later. This is merely a token of my sincerity. If you grant me this favor, I will offer the exact same amount of gold every single year. I will never forget your grace for the rest of my life."
He raised his voice.
In his desperate, emotional pleading, Hoffman's raw desire to survive at all costs was painfully clear.
However.
"Tsk, tsk. This is exactly why I hate calculating bastards. Hoffman. Were you planning to just survive this moment and then run away?"
In an instant, Hoffman's heart sank.
Faced with a remark that saw right through him, Hoffman hurriedly raised his head and waved his hands in denial.
"What are you talking about?! I would never think of such a thing!"
"'Never,' my ass. Did you really think I wouldn't investigate the Golden Bank's state of affairs before coming to find you? Even if my Lord doesn't punish you, the Golden Bank will collapse anyway because it can't repay the money it recklessly borrowed. Still, your effort is commendable. If the president of the Golden Bank is willing to get on his knees and offer bribes, the old me would have definitely contemplated swallowing this chest of gold."
He chuckled.
That sly, mocking laugh pierced Hoffman's chest like a dagger.
"But you see, the master I serve is a truly terrifying person. Duke Vieto, who was the most powerful man in Valhalla, had his head blown off in front of everyone. Marquis Memphis, the supreme authority of Kronos, was strung up without a single guard and left to wither away and die. That is my Lord's power. And I know exactly what kind of person my Lord is. As long as I don't stray from the standards he set and faithfully execute the role assigned to me, I can live a life of wealth and honor forever."
Tap, tap.
He tapped Hoffman's head.
As if looking down on a pathetic fool, Count Fabius stared down at Hoffman.
"You should have behaved yourself from the start, you fool. Men, bind Hoffman, the president of the Golden Bank, immediately!"
It was a death sentence.
Hoffman scrambled to his feet and resisted, but his desperate struggles could not prevent his inevitable end as the soldiers dragged him away.
* * *
Hoffman was not the only one facing ruin.
In Marin, the capital of Valhalla, a banquet was in full swing.
Those who followed Count Snodin raised their glasses, loudly discussing their future.
"…Count Snodin will be fine, right?"
"There is no need to worry too much. Why do you think Roman Dmitry came all the way to Valhalla's capital? It must have been to demonstrate Dmitry's prestige to the people. Since we have already bowed our heads and submitted, he won't be able to find any more faults with us. From now on, we must only think of the future. How Valhalla will overcome this adversity and bring down the massive mountain that is Dmitry!"
The speaker was Count Snodin's right-hand man, Viscount Rhino.
Perhaps already slightly tipsy, he added with a flushed face:
"Let's be blunt. The only reason Valhalla lost this war was Roman Dmitry. No matter how brilliantly Edwin Hector commanded the Sky Magic Tower, if not for Roman Dmitry, we would have crushed Hector long ago and planted our flag in Dmitry's territory. Everyone, do you think a talent like Roman Dmitry is common? He is a genius who won't appear again even after hundreds or thousands of years. Humans must eventually grow old, and if Roman Dmitry weakens or dies… that is when the moment of opportunity we've been waiting for will arrive."
Clack.
He set his glass down.
The nobles sitting across from him clenched their fists with bright, hopeful expressions.
"Indeed!"
"That is exactly the future we desire. We decided to swallow our pride for the distant future, and Count Snodin accepted the sacrifice on our behalf. In times like this, we must stick together. Just as Alexander slowly gnawed away at the continent over many years, the day will come when we will unleash our burning ambition and reclaim Valhalla's glory. When that moment arrives… even if I am no longer alive, the descendants who succeed me will carry on our will."
His eyes burned with hostility.
Fueled by intense desire, his voice grew louder.
"Baron Airn. We will completely annihilate that bastard's bloodline. Right now, he acts as if he owns the world with Roman Dmitry backing him, but the ultimate victor will be us, who endured and prepared until the very end."
"For Valhalla!"
"For Valhalla!"
They clinked their glasses.
That day, completely unaware of the bloody events unfolding in Kronos, they clinked glasses and got thoroughly drunk in broad daylight. They even went so far as to name their little secret society: Revolution. They laughed heartily, boasting that their efforts would be recorded in the history books, before eventually passing out in a drunken stupor, wasting the day away.
The next day.
When the nobles finally sobered up, they realized the world had completely changed.
* * *
"B-Baron Airn. Isn't this treatment far too harsh? Please, I beg of you, release us."
The triumphant Viscount Rhino of the previous day was nowhere to be seen.
As he was dragged away by soldiers, his face a mess from the reckless drinking, he begged desperately.
While they had been asleep in their drunken stupor, a massive purge targeting Count Snodin's faction had taken place, yet their servants had failed to wake them. The servants, too, knew that the future of the group named Revolution was over. After locating the nobles, Baron Airn had taken advantage of their slumber to systematically neutralize their surrounding forces first.
It was over.
With everything already settled, Viscount Rhino and his faction could not even muster a defense as they were dragged away like dogs.
"Baron Airn! You might think it's right to follow Roman Dmitry's orders now, but this is absolutely not the right choice for Valhalla. If he seizes absolute power, how do you think the landscape of the continent will change? From then on, Valhalla will no longer be able to exist as an empire, and imperial history will remember us as Valhalla's disgrace! So please, calm down. Why can't you understand that only by keeping us alive can we prepare for the future?!"
He raised his voice.
As he continued to rant, Baron Airn signaled the soldiers to stop and looked down at Viscount Rhino.
"Viscount, to be completely honest, I used to harbor a deep hatred for this world. Whether it was Valhalla or Kronos, I believed that a world where people trampled on others just to satisfy their own greed was fundamentally unjust and wrong."
For that reason, he had followed Duke Vieto.
He had believed that if it were Duke Vieto opposing Stern Valhalla, he would lead Valhalla to a slightly better future.
But reality was grim.
When he realized that even that had been nothing but a lie, Baron Airn felt as if his entire world had collapsed.
"Lord Roman Dmitry is different from the kind of people I despise. He did not swallow Kronos and Valhalla whole; instead, he selected new figures to lead each nation. And he did so not through his own arbitrary choice, but by borrowing the wisdom of the people living in those countries. It was then that I understood why Dmitry's people fight so desperately, risking their lives for Lord Roman Dmitry. I hope Valhalla will reclaim the ideal form we have always wished for. To achieve that, I cannot leave a single person alive whom Lord Roman Dmitry ordered to be purged."
Baron Airn.
The absolute authority of an emperor had been granted to a mere baron.
In a situation that ordinary people would find overwhelming, Baron Airn harbored a grand, unwavering vision.
"In the future, Valhalla will no longer be ruled by the arbitrary will of an emperor. We will form a Committee. If everyone deems something unjust, Valhalla will not follow that path, even if the emperor wishes it. Of course, as time passes, trash like you will continue to appear. But if Valhalla filters them out first, and Lord Roman Dmitry's laws govern the world with absolute justice… I believe Valhalla will return to the days when we purely pursued the life of a warrior."
His tone was resolute.
Listening to Baron Airn's words, Viscount Rhino realized there was no way he would survive.
The game was over.
The Revolution that had spent the night drinking and talking about the future was nothing more than a pathetic group of fools who didn't even know what kind of future was crashing down upon them. The strength drained from his legs. The soldiers hoisted him up and forced him to keep moving, and Viscount Rhino, who had been dazed for a while, asked with a face that had given up on life:
"…Where exactly are we going? This isn't the way to Marin's prison."
It was neither the execution grounds nor the prison.
As the surroundings became increasingly familiar, Viscount Rhino belatedly realized they were heading toward the Warp Gate.
Baron Airn spoke.
"We are going to Dmitry. There are many prisoners just like you waiting there, Viscount Rhino. Ares, who betrayed Dmitry; Karman, who incited a riot in the Lawless Zone; and all those who were deeply involved in orchestrating this war. After executing them all…"
Roman Dmitry was not ordinary.
He had declared that the birth of the empire, an event that should be celebrated, would begin upon a foundation of blood and corpses.
"Lord Roman Dmitry will ascend to the throne and declare that Dmitry has become an empire."