Chapter 72: Gathering Interest (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 72: Gathering Interest (1)
Kairos, the capital of Cairo.
What was the most luxurious place in the city?
Foreigners would naturally say the Royal Palace, but those who truly knew the city would say otherwise.
"The grand estate of Marquis Benedict."
Marquis Benedict. Known as the absolute powerhouse of the Central Government, a man who wielded living, breathing authority, he had constructed a magnificent estate symbolizing his might just a stone's throw from the Royal Palace. It was a route everyone had to pass through to reach the throne. He stood at the very core of Cairo's power—so much so that people whispered one had to catch Marquis Benedict's eye just to step foot inside the palace.
And to this very man, news had just arrived from the periphery.
"Is that true?"
Tap.
He set down his pen. The middle-aged man, his white hair stylishly swept back, looked at his family's strategist, urging him to continue.
"Yes. According to our investigation, it appears to be true. Willas from the Temple of Valhalla personally went down to Dmitry and confirmed that he is a 3-Star Aura Swordsman. Furthermore, after gathering testimonies from those present at the Great Warrior Battle, it is undeniable that Roman Dmitry defeated Homeros. However, some believe Homeros was caught off guard and struck down before he could even unleash his 4-Star Aura."
"How old is Roman Dmitry this year?"
"He is twenty-five."
"The 3-Star realm at only twenty-five... A remarkable talent has emerged from the periphery."
Reaching the 3-Star realm in one's twenties was an unprecedented rate of growth. Historically, swordsmen who displayed such monstrous talent always broke through the wall of the 5-Star realm, making a name for themselves across the entire continent.
Naturally, Marquis Benedict coveted him.
With the royal family's Royal Knight standing firm as the First Sword of Cairo, the Marquis's thirst for a skilled swordsman of his own was immense. It didn't matter what kind of person Roman Dmitry was. If he truly possessed the rumored talent, they had to recruit him by any means necessary.
"What about the movements of the other factions?"
"They are all moving swiftly. The two empires, in particular, are being the most proactive."
"Damn imperial bastards. A talent finally emerges in Cairo, and they shamelessly try to snatch him up before we do."
Currently, the Cairo Kingdom was divided into four factions.
There was the Royal Faction that followed the King; the Noble Faction centered around the King's uncle, Marquis Benedict; and the pro-Kronos Empire and pro-Valhalla Empire factions, comprised of Cairo natives who had aligned themselves with foreign powers.
This was the pathetic reality of a weak nation. Even with factions openly supporting foreign empires, the Cairo Kingdom had no real way to sanction them.
Marquis Benedict's eyes gleamed.
"Roman Dmitry is a swordsman destined to reach the 5-Star realm. Send someone immediately to recruit him before the other factions get their hands on him. I will provide whatever support you need. Especially the Royal Faction—we must never lose Roman Dmitry to them."
"Understood."
The strategist bowed his head.
The invisible war had already begun. To recruit this unprecedented talent from the periphery, the true power players of the Cairo Kingdom were all turning their greedy eyes toward Dmitry.
*
Around that same time, Dmitry was immersed in a festive mood day in and day out.
"Roman Dmitry has become a ranker of the Cairo Kingdom!"
Even if it was still an unofficial ranker position, the sheer weight of the title was immense. At the news that the first ranker of the northeast region had been born, people flocked from all over to offer their congratulations. Baron Romero willingly loosened his purse strings. He hosted lavish banquets filled with delicacies from land and sea to welcome the guests, basking in the festival atmosphere so thoroughly that laughter never ceased from morning till night.
Yet, amidst this joyous atmosphere, there was one person who felt deeply uncomfortable.
Sigh.
Viscount Lawrence. He let out a heavy sigh when no one was looking.
Under normal circumstances, he never would have attended this party. But to maintain friendly relations with Dmitry, he had no choice but to show up with a plastered smile on his face. The result was his current predicament. It would have been fine if he could just congratulate Roman on his achievement and leave it at that, but the other nobles kept rubbing salt in his wounds the moment he tried to forget.
"Bwahahaha! This is a joyous occasion for the entire northeast region! We've finally produced a ranker of our own, haven't we?"
"...But are you alright, Viscount Lawrence? If you had just gone through with Flora's marriage, you would have had an outstanding talent like Roman Dmitry as your son-in-law! Honestly, if I were in your shoes, my stomach would be churning so badly from regret that I wouldn't even be able to show my face here."
Contrary to the noble's seemingly concerned tone, it was an open mockery. As all eyes instantly gathered on him, Viscount Lawrence forced the most nonchalant expression he could muster.
"Why would my stomach churn? Although the marriage fell through because they simply weren't meant to be, I am genuinely happy to see the Dmitry family prospering. Isn't it about time a family capable of exerting influence in the Central Government emerged from the northeast? I only hope that Dmitry rides this momentum and prospers even further."
"Is that so?"
"As expected, Viscount Lawrence is a broad-minded man! Hahaha!"
Everyone laughed and chatted amiably. On the surface, the atmosphere was warm and friendly.
But the truth was entirely different.
Viscount Lawrence's stomach was indeed churning with intense, sickening regret, exactly as they had mocked.
Roman Dmitry could have been my son-in-law.
Just a few months ago, Roman's status when the engagement was broken and his status now were polar opposites. Back then, Roman Dmitry was known as "The Fool of Dmitry"—a pathetic wretch who fully deserved to have his engagement annulled. Now, however, Roman's value had skyrocketed to the point where Lawrence wouldn't even dare to sit at the same table as him.
The successor of the Dmitry family. The youngest ranker of the Cairo Kingdom. Whenever he heard the glorious titles adorning Roman's name, they violently clashed with Lawrence's bleak reality, making his insides burn with bitter regret.
At first, he thought time would heal the wound. But seeing Roman raise his own value with every shocking move, Viscount Lawrence could no longer hide his miserable feelings.
Gulp, gulp.
He downed his wine like water. If only for a moment, he wanted to wash away his agonizing regrets regarding Roman.
Let's just believe I made the right choice for Flora.
He had no intention of calling Flora back at this late stage. Viscount Lawrence respected his daughter's choice and sincerely hoped that Flora, who had left for the capital, would achieve her dreams.
However, he couldn't stop the bitter jealousy eating away at him. Having suffered from this agonizing feeling throughout the entire party, Viscount Lawrence made a magic communication call the very second he returned home.
"Is that you, Sylvia?"
Indeed. Viscount Lawrence had not yet completely given up his lingering attachments to Roman Dmitry.
*
The Western Front of the Cairo Kingdom.
A fierce battle had just ended, leaving numerous corpses and dark bloodstains scattered across the defensive barriers built by Cairo.
"Those imperial dogs."
"One day, I'll chew the flesh of those Kronos bastards raw."
While clearing the grim battlefield, the soldiers of the Cairo Kingdom vented their boiling rage.
The Cairo Kingdom bordered the Kronos Empire to the west and the Hector Kingdom to the south. While they rarely clashed directly with the Hector Kingdom, the Kronos Empire had been crossing the border to launch unprovoked attacks for several years now, violently demanding that the Cairo Kingdom submit as a vassal state.
The Kronos Empire. Along with Valhalla, it was one of the two great pillars of the continent, the mighty nation that had produced Emperor Alexander.
If they had truly intended to crush Cairo, the kingdom would have walked the path of ruin long ago. But due to the complex, tangled interests of various nations, Kronos hadn't pushed them to the absolute brink.
Still, Kronos forces crossed the border from time to time. On the front lines, Cairo's soldiers were bleeding and dying, while internally, traitors who followed Kronos eagerly urged the King to surrender. It was the pathetic, bleeding reality of a weak nation. With other foreign powers like Valhalla also eyeing Cairo like hungry wolves, the kingdom never knew a single day of peace.
The soldiers moved busily, carrying away the corpses. No matter how much time passed, they could never get used to seeing their comrades die simply because their country was weak.
Out on the vast plains, they set fire to the corpses piled up like mountains. On this brutal front line where proper funerals were an impossible luxury, this pyre was their only way of showing respect to the deceased.
"Rodwell, are you alright?"
A man spoke to his comrade, who was silently staring into the flames. Both wore officer insignias on their chests. The man called Rodwell replied without shifting his gaze.
"I'm used to it now. It's not like this is my first or second day seeing this."
"Still, I never expected the reality of the front lines to be this terrible. When we were sent to the training camp from the Academy for real combat experience, I thought a rosy future was waiting for me. But to face a reality like this... Dozens of times a day, I think about giving up on my graduation certificate and just running back home."
Pfft.
Rodwell smirked. He understood the sentiment. When they were promoted to S-Class at the Cairo Royal Academy, he and his classmates had all dreamed the exact same dream.
However, reality was a nightmare.
Under the pretext of gaining real combat experience, they had endured a hellish stint at the frontline training camp. Finally, after qualifying as commanders, they were deployed directly to the Western Front. Just one year. If they could survive and gain combat experience here before returning to the Academy, they would be showered in brilliant honor. But before they had even completed half of that mandatory period, their minds were gradually crumbling.
His comrade spoke up again.
"Did you hear the news? Your brother, Roman Dmitry, has become a ranker."
Instantly, Rodwell's brow furrowed.
He had heard the rumors. The title of the youngest ranker was such a massive, unprecedented achievement that the news had reached even the desolate front lines. Because of it, his superiors bothered him about Roman at every turn. What kind of person is Roman? What does he like? The sudden explosion of interest in a brother whose very existence they hadn't cared about before was exhausting.
Roman.
The older brother in his memories. Had that fool really reached the 3-Star realm?
No. Impossible. No matter what kind of miraculous encounter he might have stumbled upon, the Roman Dmitry he remembered was an irredeemable piece of trash.
"It's a false rumor," Rodwell said flatly. "I don't know what kind of tricks my family played, but Roman is someone who can't even protect his own body, let alone become a ranker. He's still just an unofficial ranker, right? The truth will be revealed soon enough."
He turned away coldly. A brother like him didn't matter. Right now, he needed to focus entirely on the bloody reality before him if he wanted to climb higher.
*
Meanwhile, the subject of these continent-shaking rumors was completely indifferent.
Unlike the bustling, festive atmosphere his actions had caused, Roman was solely dedicated to his training.
Huuu.
He exhaled, catching his breath. His entire body was drenched in sweat from the intense training that had started at dawn. His keenly heightened senses expanded, bringing everything in his surroundings into his domain.
He was practicing the Flame Divine Art after successfully undergoing Shedding Bones and Rebirth. Although it would still take a long time to match the absolute realm of his past life, one thing was certain: he was growing steadily.
"What is it?"
His sharp senses detected a presence approaching. Hans, already used to this, spoke with a calm face, showing little surprise at Roman's ghost-like perception.
"A guest from the outside has arrived, Young Master."
"A guest?"
"Yes. Shall I bring him in?"
He had no scheduled guests today. Roman decided to pause his training for a moment. After taking a quick shower, he made his way to the drawing room.
"It is an honor to meet you. I am Bentner."
"I am Roman Dmitry."
The man offered a handshake with a bright, professional smile. It was a face Roman had never seen before. Once Roman dismissed the servants from the drawing room with a nod, Bentner finally revealed his true purpose.
"I will get straight to the point. I serve His Majesty, the King of Cairo. The reason I have come to Dmitry today is to officially appoint you, Roman Dmitry, as a Royal Knight of the Cairo Royal Family."
The four factions of Cairo.
Bentner was a core member of the Royal Faction. The hidden dragon of the periphery had finally revealed his claws. To secure Roman Dmitry, the true powers of the kingdom were beginning to make their moves in earnest.