Chapter 420: Winner Takes All (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 420: Winner Takes All (6)
A heavy silence fell.
The crowd gathered beneath the execution platform scarcely dared to breathe in the face of the shocking sight.
Drip. Drip.
Blood fell.
The crimson pool spreading from Ares's sprawled corpse followed the dried stains of previous executions, dripping slowly from the edge of the platform. The people agreed with Roman Dmitry's judgment. Everyone knew that no matter what Ares had achieved in the past, his betrayal of Dmitry warranted death.
However, fear was an entirely different matter.
Looking up at Roman Dmitry, who gazed down at the world with a blood-stained face, the crowd felt as though they were suffocating.
'They must be afraid of me.'
He could feel their emotions with absolute clarity.
Ares's execution proved that no one present would be granted leniency. Deep down, some had hoped for a single precedent. They wanted confirmation—just once—that if they ever found themselves in Ares's shoes, there would be a way to survive even at the absolute edge of the cliff. It was a pure, human instinct for survival. Regardless of their loyalty to Roman Dmitry, the sight stirred complex emotions within them.
Chris had once spoken of this very issue:
While everyone agreed with Roman Dmitry's decisions, his uncompromising, absolute resolve pushed people to the edge. If someone made a mistake and saw even a sliver of room for forgiveness, they would fall to their knees and beg for mercy. But if absolute punishment was the only outcome, they were highly likely to resort to extreme measures.
It was a complex issue.
One could not definitively say which path was right, but Roman Dmitry thoroughly rejected any ambiguity.
'There is no such thing as a perfect leader in this world. People described the Murim I ruled as an Era of Great Peace, but even then, there were certainly those who suffered. That does not mean my methods were wrong, nor can I say they were flawlessly right.'
In his past life, he had risen to the absolute peak.
Countless people lived under Baek Joong-hyuk, and establishing a rule that satisfied every single one of them was an impossibility from the start. Therefore, a clear standard was necessary. Just as Chris had advised, a reign of terror that allowed no precedents might plunge the masses into fear, but at least they would never suffer the injustice of a shifting, hypocritical law. Since he could not satisfy everyone, he established a standard that was absolutely fair to all.
Baek Joong-hyuk's Murim was rational.
Because it was a world governed by strict common sense, the people felt not mere terror, but awe.
'I cannot be a comfortable presence to the people.'
A leader who formed close, intimate bonds with the masses did not align with the future Roman Dmitry envisioned.
They had to remain uncomfortable with one another.
Knowing that their relationship could shatter at any moment ensured they would never grow complacent, even during an Era of Great Peace.
He accepted that role.
From the moment he resolved to rise to the peak, a life of peaceful slumber was never permitted—not even for a single moment.
Shring.
He sheathed his sword.
Looking down at the crowd, Roman Dmitry's voice rang out:
"Remember this day! Those who violate the laws established by Dmitry will receive their fitting punishment, regardless of their status. Whether poor or wealthy, the standard of punishment will not change. Just as all the war criminals had their heads severed in this very place, there will be no exceptions in the world you will live in from now on."
The people's eyes trembled.
They were afraid. Their hearts pounded wildly against their ribs.
Yet, without even realizing it, they sincerely welcomed the world Roman Dmitry spoke of.
Awe meant to fear, yet revere.
The people held Roman Dmitry in true awe.
It was then.
"His Majesty, King Dmitry, is arriving!"
For the coronation ceremony, King Dmitry revealed himself before the crowd.
* * *
The crowd parted.
King Dmitry, walking under the escort of Knight Commander Jonathan, exuded an aura completely different from the days when he was looked down upon as a noble of commoner origin. The crown rested heavily upon his head, and his attire—moderately luxurious yet emphasizing his royal dignity—suited him perfectly. His massive physique, standing a head or two taller than ordinary men, possessed a natural authority that compelled those watching the royal procession to bow their heads.
He took slow, deliberate steps.
Accepting the people's reverent gazes as a matter of course, King Dmitry looked at Roman Dmitry.
'My son.'
Atop the execution platform, Roman Dmitry was stained with crimson.
His well-tailored attire had been soiled during the execution, and his cold, resolute expression bore no trace of the boy who used to throw tantrums. Just a few years ago, he was the son known as the Fool of Dmitry, a constant source of worry. Though the King had sincerely wished for his son to grow up well, he had never wanted him to ascend to the throne of an emperor and become an existence feared by all.
Moderately. Neither lacking nor excessive.
He had hoped Roman Dmitry would live his life at just that level—respected by others, but nothing more.
But reality was different.
The Fool of Dmitry had changed, displaying a talent far too immense to be contained within a remote territory. Like a tidal wave crashing through rapidly shifting circumstances, Roman Dmitry had advanced at a blinding pace, leaving a trail of dazzling legends in his wake. From a hero of the Southern Front to the ruler of the Northeast Association, he had risen to absolute power by suppressing the rebellion in Cairo. Now, a kingdom was not enough; he stood on the verge of becoming the emperor of an empire.
His feelings were complicated.
While it was undoubtedly a cause for celebration, King Dmitry harbored deep doubts about whether this was truly the right path for his son's happiness.
Endless struggles.
A face stained with blood.
The palpable fear of the masses.
As a human being, Roman Dmitry was becoming increasingly isolated.
Just a few days ago, King Dmitry had summoned his son.
He told him that if he wished to lay down the burden on his shoulders even now, he could withdraw the declaration of the empire and enjoy a life of wealth and honor as the successor of the Dmitry Kingdom. It was King Dmitry's sincere wish. He wanted his son to succeed, but paradoxically, he did not want him to live a lonely life bearing the weight of the entire Salamander Continent.
At that time, Roman Dmitry had replied:
"Father, I am well aware that the path I am choosing is a thorny one. However, the value I prioritize above all else is that no one shall ever infringe upon the life I choose to live. To achieve that dream, I must bear this burden. Even if some fear me and others slander me, I must not hesitate to stain my hands with blood. This is the life I want. I, Roman Dmitry, your son, wish to ascend to the emperor's throne and rule this world."
On that day, King Dmitry accepted his son's choice.
Though he wished for him to live a peaceful life, once a decision was made, it was a father's duty to support it. Roman Dmitry's resolve was absolute, giving the King the assurance he needed to step back and watch over his son's future.
He stepped onto the execution platform.
There, where the corpses had finally been cleared away, King Dmitry pulled out a handkerchief and gently wiped his son's blood-stained face.
"My son. Many things will change from now on. But even if the entire world changes, the fact that I am your father never will. If you ever need help, lay down the emperor's crown and come find me."
He smiled.
King Dmitry turned around and raised his voice toward the sea of people looking up at the father and son.
"From this moment, I declare the birth of the Dmitry Empire! And with it, we shall commence the coronation ceremony of our new emperor!"
* * *
It was a grand ceremony.
A priest of the Luna Kingdom opened the proceedings by reading a prayer blessing the birth of the empire. As the ceremony progressed, envoys from various nations stepped forward to deliver their congratulations. It was a joyous occasion. Roman Dmitry watched the scene from the highest seat of honor, recalling a moment from his past.
'In the end, I have achieved what I desired.'
His past life had been exactly the same.
The boy who wished to rise to the peak from the very bottom of the world had walked a thorny path to become the absolute existence known as the Heavenly Demon. Back then, he thought his life had finally found stability. However, as he looked at the faces of those congratulating him, noting the glaring absence of familiar faces, the ensuing loneliness had changed his perspective.
Achieving one's dream was not a purely joyful thing.
In the wave of loss and helplessness that followed, Baek Joong-hyuk had deemed himself unhappy.
'Even knowing that, I have achieved the exact same dream. If anyone were to ask me if I regret my life as Roman Dmitry, I would resolutely answer no. Because I am an existence that can only live by struggling. Even if the end is hollow, I cannot allow myself to live a life of moderate compromise.'
The same life.
The same purpose.
Yet, the feeling was entirely different from back then.
In the view unfolding before Roman Dmitry's eyes, the landscape was clearly different from his past life.
Knight Commander Jonathan.
Hans.
Chris.
Kevin.
And many others.
In his past life, he had lost many of the people he met at the beginning of his dream. He had felt an immense sense of loss standing at the pinnacle where he declared himself the Heavenly Demon. Roman Dmitry did not repeat that mistake. It wasn't that there were zero sacrifices in the process of Dmitry rising to the status of an empire, but he had never stood by and watched his people die in vain.
He had built a fence around them and bestowed knowledge upon them so they could protect themselves.
He had drawn a bloody line, executing anyone who dared touch his people, and turned Dmitry into an Iron Fortress.
The purpose was the same, but the results were different.
He lived a life of struggle by his own choice, and he had not repeated the mistakes he regretted in his past life. Therefore, he could sincerely enjoy this moment. Unlike his past life, where he had felt only emptiness after rising to the peak, he now felt a thrilling anticipation for the new life he would live as Roman Dmitry.
The Dmitry Empire.
The Emperor of Dmitry.
These were his new names.
Amidst the boiling cheers of the people, King Dmitry finally marked the finale of the ceremony.
"Successor of Dmitry. Step forward and receive your crown."
* * *
He rose from his seat.
Walking forward, he stood facing King Dmitry.
Silence descended once more.
While everyone watched with bated breath, King Dmitry, his face a mask of solemn dignity, placed the crown upon Roman Dmitry's head.
At that moment, the King's voice boomed out.
"With this, I declare that my son, Roman Dmitry, has become the Emperor of the Dmitry Empire!"
"Waaaaah!"
"Roman! Roman! Roman!"
"Roman! Roman! Roman!"
Dmitry Square erupted, dyed in the passionate, deafening cheers of the masses.
* * *
The proceedings were fully concluded.
Having ascended to the throne, Emperor Roman Dmitry stepped before the people, the crown resting heavily upon his head, and spoke.
"For a long time, the continent has suffered from countless dangers. Alexander, the former Emperor of the Kronos Empire, was the root cause of all these problems, devising a dangerous plan to conquer the continent. I wish to reveal that truth to you here today. In the New World you will live in from now on, there will be no hiding the threats that the entire continent must face."
The crowd grew clamorous.
Alexander.
He was an existence that had plunged the people into chaos and confusion. Yet, they still did not know exactly what kind of danger Alexander's existence truly signified.
Roman Dmitry did not hide the facts.
The world he envisioned would not cover the people's eyes and ears, nor would it force fabricated information upon them.
"Alexander opened a portal to the Demon Realm," Roman declared, his voice echoing across the square. "That plan is already well underway, and one day, it will descend upon this world as a materialized threat. I am not telling you to prepare for a war against the Demon Realm. Keep your guard up and remain aware of the danger, but place your trust in me, Roman Dmitry. As the Emperor of the Dmitry Empire, I will prepare for the war against the demons. To ensure that Alexander's plan does not affect this world in the slightest, I will use any and all means to obliterate every element of danger."
His presence was overwhelming.
Although the mere mention of the Demon Realm was deeply shocking, the people found themselves instinctively placing their trust in Roman Dmitry.
The Emperor had spoken.
They were to be aware of the danger, but leave the burden to him.
If it was Roman Dmitry—a man born as the mere successor of a remote territory who had risen all the way to the emperor's throne—they believed he would somehow resolve even the threat of the Demon Realm, a myth straight out of the history books. This was another facet of their awe. Because the people feared Roman Dmitry, they also possessed absolute certainty that he would never fall.
They believed blindly in their Emperor, the absolute existence who would rule this world.
With brightly shining eyes, the people expressed their unwavering faith to follow Roman Dmitry.
Looking down at them, Roman Dmitry marked the end of the ceremony.
"From this moment on, put aside your worries and anxieties! While I will not grant a single exception to sinners, I will richly reward those who have made contributions to this country—to the point where they might think their sacrifices were overcompensated. Those whose names are called from now on, step forward. We shall now begin the Rewards and Punishments Based on Merit!"