Chapter 548: Survival of the Fittest (9)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 548: Survival of the Fittest (9)
This war.
If victory had been his sole objective, there were far simpler ways to achieve it.
Russia's forces could never hope to stop Roman Dmitry, but he knew a special performance was required to mark the birth of the new Korean Empire. The world didn't truly comprehend his strength. They had simply slapped him with the abstract title of 'Transcendent Rank,' leaving Markov trapped in the delusion that the full might of a superpower could still bring him down.
It was a consequence born of ignorance.
Because they didn't know, they made hasty judgments. Because they didn't know, they still deemed the Korean Empire a weak nation.
That was why he had set the stage.
He knew Russia's intentions, yet he had coaxed them into war anyway. He could have killed Markov immediately, but he stepped back to let the forces of Incheon, Park Min-woo, and Wang Wiryong take center stage. With Incheon crushing Genazzit, and Park Min-woo and Wang Wiryong swiftly capturing Russian cities, the world would realize that the Korean Empire did not rely on Roman Dmitry alone.
But of course, that alone wasn't enough.
He needed a crowning touch.
A perfect, undeniable impact.
A definitive display to prove who the apex predator was in this world of survival of the fittest—the one who would dictate the future landscape.
And so, he had visited Moscow.
He had walked through the crowds, absorbing their hostility, and spent two hours sitting across from Markov.
During that time, the eyes of the entire world were fixed on this very spot.
His conversation with Markov was broadcast in real-time. Onlookers from afar swallowed hard as they watched the clash between Russia and the Korean Empire. Who would emerge victorious? A Russian victory would prove the majesty of a superpower, but the day the Korean Empire triumphed would truly reshape the global order.
It was a powder keg ready to explode.
Roman Dmitry pushed the situation to the absolute limit.
He hadn't demanded Markov summon his allies because he expected to be isolated.
The Maron Sect.
The forces that followed them.
It didn't matter if they clung to Russia, thinking this was their golden opportunity.
Even if countless allied forces swarmed Moscow an hour later, Roman Dmitry was fully prepared to face them all. It was an opportunity to prove himself. He would prove that, by the standards of this world, they couldn't even dare to look up at him. From now on, everyone would call him the Emperor of the Korean Empire, not just South Korea. And he hoped they would no longer throw their lives away over foolish judgments born of ignorance.
He had revealed his intent.
He had unleashed his presence.
Unaware of his true thoughts, the Russian leadership whispered anxiously among themselves while waiting for reinforcements.
"Is he really planning to face all of us by himself?"
"No, that's impossible. We have over a hundred thousand troops stationed here alone. No matter how strong Roman Dmitry is, it's simply impossible."
"Exactly. He must have another plan. He might be gathering our forces here to stab us in the back, or perhaps he's trying to mobilize the United States, which hasn't made a move yet. Whatever his plan is, a one-versus-many battle won't happen. It's not even a question of whether it's possible or not."
Ten minutes.
Twenty minutes.
Thirty minutes.
As time ticked away, the onlookers' eyes filled with disbelief.
They clung to common sense, denied reality, and believed that unless Roman Dmitry was completely insane, he would never make such a suicidal decision.
And finally.
Gulp.
An hour passed.
In this space packed with a massive crowd, a silence so profound descended that one could hear the heartbeat of the person standing next to them.
All eyes converged.
Right as Markov emerged, Roman Dmitry rose from his seat.
Screeech.
They had doubted it.
Everyone thought it wouldn't happen.
They believed that, just this once, he would take back his words.
However.
"One hour. The promised time is up."
Shring.
Roman Dmitry drew his sword.
The crowd's thought processes ground to a halt.
This madman had actually decided to face the entire military might of Russia all by himself.
* * *
No more words were needed.
An hour had passed, and Roman Dmitry had drawn his sword.
It was the fulfillment of his promise.
The moment he revealed his intent to face them all alone, the lined-up soldiers charged simultaneously.
"Attack!"
"Kill Roman Dmitry!"
"Die!"
Whoosh! Whoosh!
It was a spectacular sight.
They surged from all directions like a violent tidal wave crashing in, yet Roman Dmitry remained rooted to the spot, his gaze locked onto Markov. A suffocating tension filled the air. Though a human wave unleashed intense murderous intent to swallow him whole, his expression remained as serene as if he were merely a bystander.
"Markov. Everything that happens from this moment on is the result of your choice."
He tossed the words out casually.
Then, he turned.
Facing the immense hostility pressing in right before his eyes, Roman Dmitry kicked off the ground and plunged into their midst.
Flash.
Splat!
Blood erupted like a fountain.
The heads of the vanguard soared into the sky, and by the time the soldiers following behind registered the sight, their own chests had already been ruthlessly torn open. Screams pierced the air. Amidst the squeals of fragile humans, Roman Dmitry crushed heads and slashed through the enemies before him.
Crunch.
Some managed to block.
But their bodies were sliced right along with their swords; soldiers were split in half, frozen in their defensive stances.
Swish.
Slash! Slash! Slash!
Blood splattered in all directions.
A soldier attempting a surprise attack had his head severed in an instant, while those attacking from both sides simultaneously had an arm lopped off on one side and a leg sent flying on the other. As they writhed on the ground, screaming in agony, they were trampled to death by the surging human wave. The same went for a soldier attacking from above. He leapt gallantly to strike down at Roman's head, only for Roman Dmitry to snatch him out of the air by his skull with a single hand.
Grab.
"H-Hegh!"
It was a terrifying grip.
Before everyone's eyes, Roman Dmitry crushed the skull.
Crack.
Drip, drip.
Blood dripped from his hand.
He didn't bother to shake it off.
Shifting his sword to his blood-soaked hand, Roman Dmitry stepped toward the soldiers once more.
One step.
Two steps.
The soldiers wavered.
As they warily eyed one another, he suddenly materialized right before them on his third step.
Splat! Splat! Splat!
Heads exploded.
Limbs were torn apart.
They had definitely been keeping their eyes on Roman Dmitry, yet what was reflected in their terror-stricken pupils was a blood-spraying demon. Only then did people face the truth. Roman Dmitry had not merely uttered an empty threat. His proposal to Markov did not contain some 'hidden agenda'; he had literally declared his intention to take on the entirety of Russia by himself.
Corpses piled up.
As the soldiers were slaughtered helplessly, Russia's S-Rank Hunters joined the fray.
"Stay calm and face him!"
"Roman Dmitry is a Transcendent Rank powerhouse. If we attack rashly, we'll be the ones who get wiped out."
They dispersed in all directions.
A powerhouse who had achieved S-Rank through magic whipped up a massive gale, while S-Rank Hunters wielding melee weapons attacked from all sides. Naturally, they pushed the ordinary soldiers forward first. Using them as meat shields, the S-Rank Hunters sought to exploit any opening in Roman Dmitry's defense.
And then.
"Blood Teeth."
Thrum.
Thrum! Thrum! Thrum!
Vladimir unleashed his authority.
The pools of blood soaking the ground coalesced and reshaped into jagged fangs, flying forward as swiftly as hundreds of frenzied beasts. It was a dizzying, overwhelming onslaught. The magic raining down from above was an S-Rank spell capable of vaporizing hundreds of people at once, and the S-Rank Hunters lunging from behind the soldiers unleashed their own ultimate techniques—attacks that even an ordinary S-Rank could never hope to block.
One versus many.
They exploited the situation to perfection.
Since Roman Dmitry's strength was an unknown variable, they didn't hesitate for a single second to try and overwhelm him.
Flash.
A sword thrust toward the sky.
He sliced right through the magic.
The spell dissolved back into mana, unleashing a devastating shockwave upon the surroundings like a falling meteor shower.
Boom!
Rumble! Crash! Crash!
Soldiers were swept away.
A thick cloud of dust billowed up, but Roman Dmitry burst through it, slashing down soldiers and severing the head of an S-Rank Hunter in a single, fluid motion. It was an incredibly anticlimactic end. Despite unleashing his full power, the S-Rank Hunter—just like the ordinary soldiers—couldn't even react to Roman Dmitry's attack.
Clank! Clank!
The Blood Teeth were also completely blocked.
Though they had lunged at angles and speeds impossible for a human to react to, they were obliterated in an instant before anyone could even register what he had done.
It was strange.
It was incredibly strange.
Watching Roman Dmitry continuously slaughter the soldiers, Vladimir realized the source of this strangeness.
'He is intentionally holding back.'
It was certain.
Roman Dmitry...
...was not displaying any of the overwhelming power he had used to defeat the Vampire Lord in a single blow.
* * *
Ordinary people thought within the boundaries of common sense.
Because the single strike that defeated the Vampire Lord belonged to the realm of the absurd, people knew it was powerful, but they couldn't accurately gauge just how powerful it was. The classification of Transcendent Rank was meaningless. Roman Dmitry was an outlier, an existence beyond comparison. But because they kept trying to interpret him through the lens of common sense, contradictions constantly arose.
They acknowledged he was strong.
But was he strong enough to take on an entire superpower alone?
Common sense dictated that he was not.
They reasoned that if a superpower mobilized its entire military might, even the Vampire Lord wouldn't be able to withstand it. And so, they applied their conventional standards.
But common sense had cracked.
Ignorance kept causing problems.
Roman Dmitry had defeated the Vampire Lord.
A nation with Russia's military power should be able to defeat the Vampire Lord.
Therefore, they concluded that they could easily handle Roman Dmitry as well—a grave miscalculation by those who had never experienced the absurd.
That was why he held back his power.
He did not unleash his full strength.
Since ordinary people couldn't truly comprehend the sheer power of the Heavenly Demon Sword Technique, he chose a visual brutality that they could easily understand. Even though he could have swept away hundreds or thousands of them in a single blow, he deliberately chose to sever arms and decapitate heads. Even though he could have summoned the forces of the Korean Empire here, he chose to face Russia's entire military might alone while the eyes of the world were watching.
His presence swelled.
Vladimir's eyes shook violently.
He prided himself on being Russia's greatest Hunter, but the moment he stared directly into the realm of the absurd, he realized the truth.
'He is a monster we cannot handle.'
But the line had already been crossed.
The battle staking their respective fates had begun.
Even knowing the outcome, Vladimir channeled his magic and unleashed the greatest skill at his disposal.
"Blood Rain."
Rumble!
Drops of blood floated into the air.
They conjured dark clouds, and from those crimson clouds fell red raindrops that tore human flesh to shreds.
Splat! Splat! Splat!
"Aaargh!"
"Aaaack!"
Vladimir didn't care about the screams of his allies.
Roman Dmitry.
He only needed to eliminate this one man.
Yet the raindrops dissolved the moment they touched Roman Dmitry.
Without even sparing a glance at Vladimir, Roman Dmitry cut down a soldier, then another, and after slaying over a dozen more, he suddenly materialized right in front of the Russian powerhouse. Vladimir erupted with magic. He tried to protect himself by raising a wall of blood, but a basic sword strike—devoid of any special skill—sliced right through his body. Reeling from the immense shock, Vladimir gritted his teeth and activated his escape skill.
'Split.'
Whoosh.
His body tore apart.
Transforming into hundreds of blood droplets, he sought to escape this place.
However.
'T-This is impossible...'
Flash.
Pierce! Pierce! Pierce!
Every single one of the hundreds of blood droplets was pierced through.
If even a single droplet had escaped, he could have survived, but with all of them destroyed, Vladimir's magic was instantly extinguished. Russia's greatest powerhouse. An existence renowned for slaughtering tens of thousands of monsters with his blood-manipulating abilities had failed to last even a single minute against a Roman Dmitry who wasn't even using the Heavenly Demon Sword Technique.
There was nothing special about it.
Having disposed of Vladimir as if it were only natural, Roman Dmitry turned his gaze back to the soldiers.
'A clear precedent. I will end all conflicts with this single war.'
Splat.
Blood sprayed.
Over a hundred thousand soldiers.
He killed, and killed again.
Though there was no end in sight, he continued the slaughter as if he had no intention of stopping.
The visual spectacle captivated the onlookers.
The sight of Roman Dmitry rampaging through the soldiers delivered an intensity that people simply couldn't handle.
He was drenched in blood.
His hair was soaked in gore.
Though he had become a man completely dyed in crimson, his sword, gleaming in the sunlight, maintained its pristine, sleek form.
By the time he had slaughtered over ten thousand men...
"T-This is wrong."
"We can't win."
"M-Monster!"
The soldiers faltered and began to retreat.
From a certain point, they could no longer bring themselves to charge.
Just thirty minutes.
That was all the time it took for people to accept the absurd.
* * *
Markov's face was painted with shock at the unfolding situation.
He was speechless.
He couldn't accept the reality before his eyes—a situation where they couldn't handle a single individual—by any standard of common sense.
'This is wrong. It makes no sense for Russia to lose.'
He stumbled backward.
In stark contrast to his pale, terror-stricken face, his trembling voice repeatedly barked orders to attack.
"A-Attack! Kill Roman Dmitry!"
However, no one reacted.
Now that the S-Rank Hunters had all been slaughtered, there was no one left on the battlefield to lead the ordinary soldiers. Markov's shouts were meaningless. What mattered to the soldiers was the possibility of victory. Having experienced Roman Dmitry's monstrous nature firsthand, they couldn't bring themselves to raise their weapons and charge.
Step. Step.
Roman Dmitry walked toward Markov.
Everyone parted to make way.
No one dared stop him.
As blood-soaked footprints stained the ground with every step he took, the soldiers averted their eyes, as if trying to deny reality.
Death drew near.
Markov, stumbling backward, fell flat on his back.
Realizing he could no longer escape, he scrambled onto his knees and pleaded desperately.
"I-I surrender. Russia acknowledges its defeat and will become a vassal state of the Korean Empire."
He had accepted reality.
It was over.
Roman Dmitry was the apex predator.
Knowing there was no longer any hope, he sought to survive by begging for his life.
Roman Dmitry halted his steps.
Looking down at Markov, he spoke coldly.
"Markov. Pick up your sword. In a world of survival of the fittest, prove that you staked your life on your choice."
"No, no. How could I ever dare raise a sword against His Majesty Emperor Roman Dmitry? Just once, please show mercy just this once! Just like China and the United States, Russia will also stand on the side of the Korean Empire."
He begged and pleaded.
There was no other way to live.
He was a truly pathetic human being.
When he believed himself to be strong, he had committed all kinds of atrocities, but the moment the tables turned, he groveled for mercy.
Roman Dmitry looked around at the crowd and spoke.
"You all sided with Markov. Yet, the reason I do not kill you all is because the war is now over. And while you complied, you were not the decision-makers. From this day forward, Russia will be reduced to a vassal state. You must follow the Korean Empire, and this nation will no longer enjoy the status of an independent state."
Shock rippled through the crowd.
Defeat.
He spoke of reality.
Facing the future they now had to accept, the soldiers' eyes wavered.
"However, under my rule, you will be safe. Though you are a vassal state, your freedom will not be infringed upon. So, make your choice. Will you stake your lives and follow Markov to the end, or will you accept a new future?"
It was contradictory.
A vassal state, yet their freedom would not be infringed.
A vassal state, yet their safety would be guaranteed.
But even if they were mere words, they helped sway their decision.
In this chaotic world, the promise of guaranteed freedom and safety carried immense weight.
Clatter.
Clatter! Clatter.
"I surrender."
"I will follow His Majesty Emperor Roman Dmitry."
One by one, they threw down their weapons.
What began as the courage of a few quickly spread, and soon, the entire force of over a hundred thousand soldiers discarded their weapons and declared their surrender. They, too, didn't want war. While some had truly aligned with Markov's ambition, the cruel reality was that the vast majority did not.
Markov felt as if he were losing his mind.
Russia...
...the superpower he had painstakingly built, was crumbling.
As Roman Dmitry turned his head to look at him, Markov shrieked at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking.
"T-This makes no sense! Roman Dmitry! If—if you kill me, the international community will never forgive you! No matter how strong you are, you cannot face the entire world! So stop! If you stop here, I won't hold you accountable anymore! So please, just stop, you son of a bitch!"
Roman Dmitry approached.
With every step drawing closer, Markov looked utterly deranged.
Schwing.
Roman raised his sword.
He aimed it at Markov's neck, lifted it slightly, and spoke coldly.
"In a world of survival of the fittest, threats from the weak are meaningless. If you wanted to live, you should have possessed strength greater than mine, or at least kept your fangs hidden."
Before everyone's eyes.
Just like that.
"The reason you die is because you are weaker than me."
Flash.
Splat.
He severed Markov's head on the spot.