Chapter 422: Rewards and Punishments Based on Merit (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 422: Rewards and Punishments Based on Merit (2)
Over the past few days, Kevin had faced the exact same dilemma as Chris.
Having already received a massive monetary reward, he had little interest in wealth, nor did he wish to receive a title and live as a noble. Back when he wandered the slums, such a thing would have been unimaginable. In those days, he would have blindly chosen wealth and honor by any means necessary. But today, as a key figure in Dmitry, he was different.
He could choose whatever life he desired.
After agonizing over the decision for days, Kevin finally went to see Roman Dmitry.
"My Lord. I have no further need for gold or power," Kevin said. "I only wish to remain by your side."
"Are you saying you do not want a reward?"
"...No, that is not it. If possible, I would like to receive a sword crafted solely for me. The sword you previously bestowed upon me is already wonderfully beyond my station, but my personal greed as a swordsman has led me to make this request."
In truth, the most practical reward was obvious.
Kevin had learned the Heavenly Demon Sword Technique.
Since he only knew the first part of that powerful swordsmanship—which was divided into the beginning, middle, and latter parts—asking to be taught the subsequent forms would have been the best choice for any swordsman. Yet, his heart did not lean that way. Surviving this war had given Kevin a newfound confidence. He had heard that Chris, unlike him, was forging his own path. Kevin wanted to do the same. He wanted to develop on his own and achieve the ultimate feat: defeating Chris.
In a way, this request stemmed from jealousy.
Kevin had once lost a duel to Chris and had been forced to yield the First No-Name. As a result, he currently wielded the Second No-Name. Although he knew how magnificent his blade was, he still harbored a deep envy toward Chris. It was an envy born from the fact that Chris had been bestowed a higher-ranking sword than him. That fact had always lingered like a stumbling block in his heart, so he wanted to take this opportunity to be gifted a new sword, one forged exclusively for him.
It was a truly pure desire.
While others used the right to choose their rewards to fulfill their worldly desires, Kevin could have easily lived the rest of his life in wealth and luxury if he so wished. But that was not the future he wanted. From the very moment he had cut off his own arm to become Roman Dmitry's sword, his life with his Lord took precedence over everything else. That was why he wished to remain by his side.
Someday, everyone dies.
When his time eventually came, he hoped that the history of Dmitry would record him—not Chris—as the foremost figure representing Roman Dmitry. Some might not understand Kevin's feelings. They might ask how he could throw away Roman Dmitry's reward—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—on a mere sword.
But he did not need their understanding.
Back when he was wandering the slums, the emotion he felt upon first meeting Roman Dmitry was more shocking than the reverence a zealot felt when facing their god.
To him, Roman Dmitry was God.
Seeing Kevin bow his head and await an answer, Roman Dmitry calmly granted the reward.
"I accept your request. However, it will take time to craft the blade. One month from now, I shall bestow upon you a one-of-a-kind sword, unique in all the world, forged solely for the swordsman Kevin."
"Thank you, my Lord!"
Kevin snapped his head up.
With a blinding smile on his face, he looked as if he had just gained the entire world.
* * *
The news of Kevin's request soon reached Chris.
Hearing that Kevin had asked for a completely unexpected sword, Chris stared down at his own blade with a complicated expression.
"...Did he really covet this that much?"
His mind was in turmoil.
Upon hearing that Kevin had gone to see Roman Dmitry, Chris had honestly expected him to ask for something that would help him grow as a swordsman. Unlike Chris, who had been a promising talent even before meeting Roman Dmitry, Kevin had been nothing more than a boy wandering the slums, worrying about his daily survival.
Their starting points were completely different.
Thus, Roman Dmitry had taught Kevin from start to finish, whereas he had left Chris to his own devices, telling him to carve out his own path. The difference between the two wasn't simply a matter of skill. Because Chris had always thought and grown independently, he had been absolutely confident that he would never lose, even when watching Kevin express his raging inferiority complex.
But now, things were different.
Not only had Kevin chosen the path of self-improvement, but he had also proven himself with undeniable results by defeating Ares.
‘Kevin is growing stronger by the day. Since he no longer exists as a boy from the slums but as the swordsman Kevin, I cannot guarantee an absolute victory against him as I am now. At the crossroads of life and death, Kevin defeated Ares. In a similar situation, I cannot be certain that I would have fared any better.’
Ares was strong.
During the recruitment screening, although Chris hadn't gone all out, he had still felt a considerable amount of pressure from him.
Yet, such a monster had been captured by Kevin and dragged to the execution block.
Watching Ares wretchedly beg for his life, Chris had felt a great tempest brewing in his mind. If he had fought Ares at the crossroads of life and death, would he have emerged victorious? While Kevin's growth was something to be genuinely celebrated for Roman Dmitry's sake, Chris had no intention of yielding his position.
One thing had become crystal clear through this reward.
Kevin would not give up until he surpassed him.
Just as he had requested a new sword out of envy for the First No-Name, his obsession and desire wouldn't simply vanish just because Chris ignored them. It was a certainty that Kevin would point his sword at him one day. Just as he had challenged him to claim the First No-Name, Kevin would bare his fierce fangs at every available moment to usurp his position.
‘I can never yield my place.’
A fire ignited within him.
With a competitive spirit flaring up at the mere thought, Chris was finally able to confirm his true feelings.
Wealth and honor.
Could such a splendid life ever satisfy him?
No. It was impossible.
Even if he adorned himself with expensive accessories like Marquis Fabius and kept countless women in a harem, he could never be satisfied with a life lived as anything other than a swordsman. If so, what he had to demand for his reward had been decided from the very beginning. He had known this truth deep down, but he hadn't dared to utter it aloud.
Kevin.
His existence had ultimately spurred Chris to action.
* * *
Chris stood before Roman Dmitry.
Under Roman's piercing gaze, Chris did not hide his true feelings.
"Currently, the continent's ranking system is in a state of utter chaos. It has been revealed that its very existence was part of Alexander's scheme, and with most of the top rankers dying in the successive wars, it has practically become meaningless. However, I believe there is a need to maintain the ranking system in the future. Regardless of why it was started, the ranking system has become an ingrained part of society, providing a stage of competition for swordsmen to prove their skills.
"One month from now, please host a tournament to re-establish the rankings of the swordsmen. And if a winner emerges from that tournament, please proclaim to the continent that they are the finest blade recognized by you—the second-in-command of the continent, second only to Your Majesty."
It was an unexpected request.
Chris wanted a stage for competition.
He wished to crush challengers like Kevin and prove to the world that he was still the true second-in-command.
Roman Dmitry spoke. "That is not suitable as a reward. While I agree with reviving the ranking system, that is a matter to be discussed at the Imperial Council. Do you have no other requests besides that?"
"I do."
"Speak."
Chris swallowed hard.
He had anticipated Roman Dmitry's reaction.
Reviving the ranking system did not align with the purpose of a personal reward. However, the reason he had mentioned the ranking system was because his true objective was directly connected to it.
"I wish for the ranking tournament to be held periodically. And please grant the swordsman who wins that tournament each year the opportunity to challenge His Majesty the Emperor. I do not mean to challenge Your Majesty's authority. Since my Lord is already recognized by everyone as the continent's greatest swordsman, you cannot help but be the ultimate goal for swordsmen like me. I hope you will understand my sincerity."
Chris.
His dream was to surpass Roman Dmitry.
To be precise, he wished to become the continent's greatest blade, but everyone already acknowledged that the position belonged to Roman Dmitry.
Kevin?
Or any other swordsman?
He didn't care.
No one in the world would be able to covet his position, and he would prove that he was the true second-in-command representing the Dmitry Empire in these periodic tournaments.
Not only that, but he also raised his head and looked toward his ultimate peak. Though he knew it was a futile and seemingly impossible dream, Chris still wanted to march toward it.
This was his opportunity.
While creating a stage to publicly crush his challengers, it was also his sole chance to challenge Roman Dmitry.
Roman Dmitry was the Emperor of the Empire.
If a system allowing challenges to him was not established, pointing a sword at him in the future would undoubtedly lead to being dragged away for high treason. That was why he had to speak now. Because Roman might receive his request negatively, Chris could not hide his nervousness even after spitting out the words.
His mouth went dry.
Cold sweat dripped from his forehead, but he gritted his teeth, standing by his words as he awaited Roman Dmitry's response.
"Amusing."
Roman Dmitry laughed.
As Chris raised his head, Roman looked down at him and said, "Chris. I accept your request."
* * *
A few days later, the international conference took place.
At the news that they would discuss not only the ranking system proposed by Chris but also other crucial matters, representatives from each nation gathered in Dmitry. With the kings of Kronos, Valhalla, Cairo, Hector, Umberto, Redford, and Frank visiting Dmitry, the busiest people were none other than their attendants.
In Dmitry's temporary imperial palace—a building serving in place of the grand palace currently under construction—a man was making demands with a severe expression.
"Haven't I told you time and time again? The King of Frank is an extremely sensitive person, so thorough preparations are required for him to stay here even for a single day. The bed and bedding must be made of the materials I specified beforehand, and his favorite drinking water must be sourced directly from Odelia."
"...We were not informed of this beforehand."
"What?"
The man, William, widened his eyes.
This international conference was scheduled to last for two days, meaning the kings of each nation were to stay at the palace for one night. Because of that, he had a mountain of things to prepare. The King of Frank was not a refined person, yet he was surprisingly fastidious, so William had spent days preparing for the trip to Dmitry.
But to think his message hadn't even been delivered.
"Damn fools. Of all things to forget, they forget the King's business."
Lately, the internal affairs of Frank had been chaotic.
With the war over, there was a mountain of work to sort through. Because they had to attend various events, they frequently had to leave Frank. It seemed there had been some internal confusion during that process. Frowning, William let out a deep sigh and spoke to the administrator of Dmitry's imperial palace.
"First, please help me move these bags. And you over there."
In the distance, he saw a servant passing by.
Since the man looked like a servant in every way, William had no reason to speak to him with respect.
"Come over here and help carry these bags. Hurry!"
As the King's attendant, although he handled errands and all sorts of menial tasks, his actual status was high enough to be considered a quasi-noble. Furthermore, he was someone who could directly exert influence over the King of Frank. He was only being somewhat cautious now because his counterpart was an administrator of the Dmitry Empire; back in Frank, even ordinary nobles treated him with utmost care.
Thus, speaking down to a mere servant was perfectly natural to him.
In fact, in noble society, it was such a matter-of-course attitude that William saw absolutely nothing wrong with it.
However, the Dmitry administrator's expression instantly stiffened.
Sensing the suddenly chilly atmosphere, William asked with a puzzled look, "...Is there some sort of problem?"
"Yes, there is."
The administrator.
While it was true that he coordinated the overall affairs here, he was not the one truly in charge of the imperial palace. In an instant, an ominous feeling crept up William's spine. Given the circumstances, his sharp instincts told him that the servant he had just treated so dismissively was the source of the problem.
Sure enough, the servant began walking toward them.
He hadn't recognized him from afar, but as the man's features became clearer, a sudden realization flashed through William's mind.
‘Heavens?! No way.’
Dmitry.
There was a specific list of people one had to tread extremely carefully around in this empire.
And this was definitely the face of one of them.
The moment William realized this, the people of Dmitry bowed their heads to the man who looked like a servant.
"Baron Hans!"
"Is something the matter?"
Hans smiled warmly.
Indeed, it was Hans.