Chapter 53: If You Start, You Must See It Through (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 53: If You Start, You Must See It Through (3)
The choices Roman presented were both losing moves.
Viscount Barco knew he shouldn't play into his opponent's hands, but Roman had left him no room to escape.
"I have clearly presented two choices. There are no exceptions. If you do not choose the former here today, I will inform my father of the blackmail as soon as I return home. When that happens, war with Dmitry will be unavoidable. Antony Barco's atrocities have given us more than enough justification. Unless Barco shows clear repentance, we have no intention of backing down."
He had severed all paths of retreat.
Hearing Roman speak with such absolute finality, leaving no room to stall, Viscount Barco wanted nothing more than to turn away from reality.
I can never choose the latter.
A war with Dmitry.
The outcome was obvious. Barco had just lost a war despite borrowing heavily from the Golden Bank; there was no way they could defeat Dmitry, the wealthiest power in the Northeast. It would be an overwhelming slaughter. If Dmitry attacked them on top of their already ruined state, the Barco family would be erased from existence.
In the end, there was only one choice.
Roman knew this as well, which was why he had offered a proposal that Barco could at least theoretically accept.
What he wants is to prove that Dmitry brought Barco to its knees. If he boldly marches into our home and punishes Antony, our eldest son, it will cause massive waves in aristocratic society. With our defeat in the war and our reputation dragged through the mud, the Barco family will lose any chance of ever rising again.
It was devastating.
Right in front of Barco's remaining connections, Roman was mocking their family, preparing to deliver the finishing blow.
Cruel bastard.
It was forced suicide.
Roman had handed him the hilt of the sword. The Viscount was being forced to throw away his pride, bow his head to the floor, take responsibility for the defeat, and drag his own eldest son out to receive punishment on behalf of the family.
The words refused to leave his mouth.
His eyebrows trembled. Having once wielded absolute power in the Northeast, Viscount Barco could not bring himself to bow his head to a green youth like Roman Dmitry. There was only one way to preserve his pride: accept the destruction of his family and execute this arrogant boy who had fearlessly marched into their home as an example to all.
But he couldn't do that.
Because he still wanted to live.
Viscount Barco's overwhelming desire for survival ultimately forced him to accept the reality he so desperately wanted to deny.
"Antony's actions are not a matter that should escalate to the entire family," he said, his voice straining. "I will speak to Antony and have him apologize to you personally. Is that enough? Will your anger be appeased if I personally force the eldest son of the Barco family to his knees?!"
He screamed in sheer desperation and spite.
Any chance of recovery was gone. Having lost everything, Viscount Barco spoke miserably, his eyes bloodshot.
However, Roman's response was flat.
"When did I ever say I wanted Antony Barco to kneel?"
"...What do you mean by that?"
"If punishment is to be meted out, I will be the one to choose the method. Who in the world lets the perpetrator decide how they are punished?"
Roman's voice was cold. Even after pushing Viscount Barco to the very edge of the cliff, he bared his vicious fangs, still unsatisfied.
"I propose a Trial Duel with Antony Barco."
A Trial Duel.
At those words, Viscount Barco's face twisted in horror.
A Trial Duel was by no means a common practice. It was a public execution. It was a method of forcing the wrongdoer to stand at the crossroads of life and death, atoning for their sins with blood.
If Antony were to fight in a Trial Duel, his chances of surviving against Roman were virtually nonexistent.
Does he mean to kill my eldest son right before my eyes?
No, surely not.
If he did that, Roman wouldn't leave here alive either. Roman was simply proving that a mere apology on his knees would not earn his forgiveness. If they accepted the Trial Duel, Antony would have to be prepared to be crippled.
He was truly a cruel bastard. Even though Barco had swallowed his pride and bowed first, Roman demanded a tangible price in flesh and blood.
Dizziness washed over the Viscount.
Roman's ultimatum was clear. Would he risk the fate of the Barco family, or would he abandon his son?
The answer was already decided.
No matter how much Antony was the eldest son meant to carry on the family line, if sacrificing one of his arms could avert a war with Dmitry, it was a trade he had to accept. The Viscount closed his eyes tightly. Having lost the war with Lawrence and facing a mountain of debt as a result, the choice to sacrifice his heir felt like a thorn lodged in his throat, incredibly difficult to voice.
But it was reality.
After a long, agonizing silence, Viscount Barco agreed to Roman's proposal and left the meeting room.
Then, he went to his son—who had not yet grasped the reality of the situation—and told him what his future held.
"F-Father!"
"I am sorry."
"No, absolutely not! Roman Dmitry is a swordsman who even defeated Homeros! Are you truly going to leave the life of your eldest son in his hands? Please, reject his proposal! That bastard will never let me live!"
Antony fell to his knees.
His face pale with terror, he wept loudly, clinging to Viscount Barco's trousers and begging desperately.
He knew it too. Even if he survived the Trial Duel, he would not return with his body intact.
The eldest son of Barco, whom the Viscount had thought was reasonably mature, was throwing a tantrum like a three-year-old child, refusing to face reality.
At that pathetic sight, Viscount Barco spoke in a stern voice.
"Pull yourself together. You are the eldest son of Barco. From the moment I declared you my successor, you became someone who must do whatever it takes for the sake of the family's survival—even if it puts your life in danger. Roman will not kill you. If he intended to kill you, he would have brought an escort to ensure his own safe return. So accept reality. Grow strong. Look Roman Dmitry straight in the eye, and never forget this humiliation so that you may take your revenge on him in the future."
"Father, please...!"
"Antony!"
Viscount Barco was resolute.
Only then did Antony realize that the Trial Duel was an unavoidable reality.
Collapsing onto the floor, he looked up at the ceiling with a deathly pale face.
Oh, God.
From this moment on, the only thing he could do was pray that Roman would show some mercy.
*
The stage was set.
Antony Barco stood before the tribunal in full view of Viscount Barco and the nobles of the Northeast.
Tremble.
His limbs shook like aspen leaves.
His face was as pale as a corpse, and he was trembling so violently that the sword in his hand visibly shook. In truth, the duel was meaningless. Roman had already proven his overwhelming strength by defeating Homeros. There was no way Antony, who couldn't even use Aura, could win and survive.
The only choice left to him was not to swing his sword in a futile attempt to win, but to appeal to Roman's humanity.
"R-Roman. I'm truly sorry for what I did to you. I didn't mean any harm. As you know, I admired Flora Lawrence so much, and I temporarily lost my mind at the thought of such a woman marrying you."
His voice was desperate.
He begged for forgiveness just this once. Though he hadn't knelt yet, his demeanor made it clear he would do absolutely anything if ordered.
"We're friends, aren't we? Even though we fell out over the Lawrence matter, you and I spent some pretty good times together. Roman. No, Lord Roman. Please spare me just this once. If you truly forgive me this one time and let this slide as if nothing happened, I, Antony Barco, will never forget your grace for the rest of my life."
It was pathetic.
It was a disgraceful display for the eldest son of Barco, and the watching nobles looked on with discomfort.
They glanced at Viscount Barco.
The Viscount's face burned with rage. Forced to watch as his own son was sent to his doom, he stared wide-eyed, as if determined to engrave this humiliating moment into his memory.
"Never forget my grace, you say," Roman drawled.
As Roman slowly walked toward him, Antony flinched and pulled his sword close to his chest.
He knew Roman wouldn't kill him. But he didn't want to be crippled either. His pale face made it obvious he was not prepared to endure the pain.
Roman spoke.
"Just how exactly does a wretch like you plan to repay me? The Barco family is completely finished. Even your precious connections in the Central Government won't be able to clean up the mess you've made, and you will lose everything just trying to pay back the money you borrowed from the Golden Bank. So why on earth should I forgive you? You, who openly insulted me in front of everyone and tried to trap me with your cowardly schemes."
In that instant, Viscount Barco felt something was terribly wrong.
A loud alarm blared in his head.
Just as he was about to urgently stop the duel, Roman cast a cold glance at him and swung his sword.
"Indeed, there is no reason to forgive you."
Slash!
A gust of wind blew. Then came the sickening sensation of the blade catching on flesh.
As blood sprayed into the air, Viscount Barco's face was painted with absolute despair.
*
In his past life, Baek Joong-hyuk had engaged in a Fratricidal War.
There had been no other way to survive. He had endured the threats of his older brothers, who attempted to assassinate him every night, and instead drove his blade into their hearts to end their lives.
Then, one day, as the bloody succession war was being settled one by one by Baek Joong-hyuk's hands, the eldest son—the most likely successor to the Demonic Cult—had said this to him:
"Joong-hyuk. Do you know what your problem is? It is that you do not compromise. The moment you perceive someone as an enemy, you do not think to utilize them; instead, you unconditionally drive them to ruin. That will catch up to you one day. Even if they are weaker than you, you never know what a cornered beast might do, yet you never grant your opponent even a sliver of breathing room. That is your fatal flaw."
The eldest son, Baek Ho-yeol.
He was a strong man. Aside from possessing immense martial power, he had shown the tolerance to accept the very enemies who had threatened his position, taking them in after defeating them one by one. He was truly a remarkable man. Even Baek Joong-hyuk had no choice but to acknowledge Baek Ho-yeol's greatness, but that did not mean he agreed with his words.
Drenched in blood, Baek Joong-hyuk had looked up at Baek Ho-yeol and replied,
"As you say, Brother, compromise is sometimes necessary. However, if someone has shown hostility toward me, I believe that completely crushing them is the only way for me to survive. So do not question my methods. I have lived this way since I was at the very bottom of the Demonic Cult, and I will continue to live this way in the future."
On the path to the summit, countless enemies lay in wait.
Because slaughtering them all would inevitably bring karma back to haunt a ruler, leaders like Baek Ho-yeol always emphasized the importance of tolerance. Joong-hyuk did not think that philosophy was entirely wrong. In fact, those who had once been Baek Ho-yeol's enemies became reliable allies once they turned to his side.
However, Baek Joong-hyuk's way was different.
There was no reason to keep an enemy alive.
Death was the only way to completely eliminate any variables, and Baek Joong-hyuk had mastered the art of utilizing fear.
It was no different now.
Barco. They would surely view him as a sworn enemy.
If they were bound to seek revenge someday regardless of whether he showed mercy or not, Roman had absolutely no reason to let Antony live.
Therefore—
Slash!
"...Kugh."
He sliced Antony Barco's throat.
Antony's face twisted in shock. Staring at Roman with an expression of utter disbelief, he hurriedly tried to stem the fountain of blood spraying from his neck with both hands.
Thud.
He fell to his knees. Then, his face slammed into the floor, and his body went limp.
The death of Antony Barco.
It was an ending that no one present had anticipated.