Chapter 117
Chapter 117
The Iron Emperor — Chapter 117
The voice came from where the escort knights were eating their meal, right beside the nobles' table. At the center of their gazes sat the blunt knight escorting Baron Pelson.
An awkward silence hung in the air.
'Damn it, an escort knight from another nation, and he has not a shred of manners.'
Baron Nimial furrowed his brows slightly, but he knew well that making a fuss about it would do more harm than good.
Although they had come as reinforcements, it was practically a force that would never have moved without the Holy Empire's involvement. Because of this, even though they were here as reinforcements, their position was too ambiguous for them to behave arrogantly or take credit.
It was a case of compelled assistance rather than voluntary aid, and despite the difficult progress of the war, their deployment was largely meant to wrap up the conflict swiftly from a winner's perspective. Consequently, it was an awkward situation for Baron Nimial's pride, leaving him uncertain whether he should even speak up.
"Hohoho, it seems he has an upset stomach. Come, come, let us continue our meal."
"Ha... haha, indeed."
Fortunately, Count Dinerd was skillfully smoothing things over. He exuded the distinctive, slick smoothness of a merchant in spades. After glossing over the awkward atmosphere, Baron Nimial spoke again.
"Allow me to take the vanguard in this war."
"Oh, Nimial..."
"Whether it's 'son of a bitch' or Nimial, you're being noisy."
"......."
"Cough!"
Baron Nimial's face turned ashen, and Count Dinerd, who had been speaking, froze mid-sentence with his mouth agape, as if struck by petrification magic.
Somewhere at the far end, someone coughed violently as if wine had gone down the wrong pipe, while the rest of the nobles were too flustered to utter a single word. The owner of the voice was the blunt knight who had drawn everyone's attention moments before: Baron Pelson's escort.
Clack.
"This has gone on long enough! What insolence!"
The sound of the blunt escort knight setting down his cutlery, as if finishing his meal, echoed out. Simultaneously, the knights sitting nearby reddened in the face and shouted.
"Are you finished eating?"
Even amidst the surging killing intent, the blunt knight nonchalantly folded his arms and asked a question, causing the faces of the other nobles' escort knights to flush crimson.
"We have finished."
A calm reply to a question that seemed to completely ignore the knights radiating murderous intent rang out from the nobles' table. It was none other than Baron Pelson.
Confronted by this incomprehensible situation, the nobles' bewilderment only grew. But contrary to their confusion, the blunt knight continued speaking.
"And the rest of you?"
"We ate well enough."
This time, the answer came from the North Roselin knights sitting at the far end of the knights' dining area.
Sensing the situation taking a bizarre turn, Baron Nimial cautiously spoke up.
"Baron Pelson, is that man's station perhaps higher than that of a baron...?"
"That is correct."
"What!"
Baron Pelson answered before the question could even finish, causing every noble's eyes to widen. Count Dinerd, displaying a merchant's veteran instinct, rose swiftly from his seat.
"Dear me, my sincere apologies. To think you disguised yourself as an escort knight on purpose—how mischievous of you. Might I inquire as to your rank?"
In response to Count Dinerd's voluble, silver-tongued question, Baron Pelson's escort knight rose from his chair and stepped forward.
"Higher than yours."
He was speaking informally.
No matter how high one's rank was, speaking informally to a noble of another nation was a grave breach of etiquette. On top of that, since they had almost no diplomatic exchanges with North Roselin, it was all the more insulting. Despite hearing such impolite language directed at him, Count Dinerd refrained from anger and maintained his composure. A single word flashed through his mind.
'The Holy Empire!'
If that were the case, the situation made sense. The Holy Empire was officially staying out of this war. It was therefore entirely possible they had disguised themselves like this to participate on the battlefield.
"My apologies for failing to recognize you."
The sooner one apologizes, the better. Count Dinerd judged that this man could be someone who might illuminate his path to advancement.
"No need for apologies."
The blunt man, who replied with an overwhelming presence, scanned the now-silent dining table and opened his mouth.
"Is this the entire leadership?"
"It is."
Baron Nimial was the one who answered the curt question quickly.
Glancing at Baron Nimial, the man wore a satisfied smile and said:
"Kill them all except those two."
"......."
The moment the words left his lips, the dining nobles gaped in shock. At the same time, red mist sprayed into the air.
SPURT!
"Gwaagh!"
"Block them!"
As arms and legs were severed, spraying fountains of blood everywhere, the knights drew their weapons and rushed toward the nobles they were sworn to protect. But the slaughter had already begun among the nobles themselves.
"S-Stop Baron Pelson!"
Baron Pelson's sword cleaved through the table and began to swing, decorating itself with the head of a young noble as its first victim. While three knights fought off the others, some knights surrounded the blunt man who had given the command.
* * *
In battle, capturing the enemy leader can lead to victory. As such, the knights' judgment was sound. However, despite being surrounded, he showed not a trace of fear or despair. Instead, a bizarre laugh brimming with satisfaction leaked out.
"Keukeukeukeuk."
"Wh-What are you doing! Seize them all!"
A young noble's voice rang out. Simultaneously, a beam of light sliced through the fleeting moment.
SLASH!
"Kyaaaak!"
The man with the eerie laugh drew a single-edged straight sword and began swinging it. Starting with the first victim, the knights swung their swords at him. But with a single spinning pivot, he deflected every blade aimed at him.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
A clamorous metallic ring echoed as the knights' swords shuddered from the impact and were knocked into the air or deflected to the side.
"Hahp!"
With a short, explosive battle cry, the man's body moved in a zigzag pattern and broke through the knights' encirclement. The young noble at the furthest end brought his sword down on him as if striking a hammer, but the man's kick proved quicker.
Crack!
"Kkuuhaaaa!"
The kick, which drove upward into the groin, demonstrated a destructive force powerful enough to lift the young noble's body into the air. Even more than the force itself, it struck absolute terror into everyone watching.
"Kuhahp!"
It didn't end there. With the young noble's body rigidly convulsing and his eyes rolled back to white, the man's sword thrust precisely through the top of his skull and cleaved the body clean down to the spot already shattered by the heavy blow.
Slice!
"Kyaaak!"
By the time the five men had subdued the nobles and slaughtered all the resisting knights, the noise had drawn the soldiers to form an encirclement in an attempt to save their commanders.
"Uuuugh, my... arm."
"Hak!"
The sight of knights writhing around with severed limbs struck the soldiers with an overwhelming sense of disconnect. Knights who had always demonstrated overwhelming martial prowess above them had been cut down in an instant and now lay groaning, their limbs severed.
"Kkhh! What are you waiting for, save the Count...!"
Crunch!
The words of the one-armed knight barking orders at the encircling soldiers were cut short. Under the blunt man's foot, the now-headless knight's body, its skull crushed like a watermelon, was still twitching slightly.
Despite having cut down ten knights in rapid succession, not a single drop of blood had splattered on the man towering over the crushed head.
"Hmm."
With no one left to challenge him, his face instantly shifted to one of boredom. The reason for this became clear to the soldiers as Baron Pelson pressed a sword to Count Dinerd's throat from behind.
"All of you, halt!"
"Hiiik!"
Baron Pelson's voice rang out, and the tip of the sword aimed at Count Dinerd's neck lightly pierced the skin.
"Aack! Baron Pelson, what is the meaning of this!"
Seeing the blood trickle down the cold blade of the sword and feeling the pain in his neck, Count Dinerd let out an ashen scream.
Just then, the soldiers' encirclement parted, and a knight order of over a hundred men appeared, perfectly in formation.
Step, step, step!
"What is this...!"
A startled gasp escaped Viscount Ogelte Hardin, who had led the Free Knights here. Only five men had completely seized control of the command staff.
"Whatever your intentions are, you will not leave this place alive!"
"I only came to reclaim my legion."
In response to Viscount Hardin's furious roar as he led over a hundred Free Knights, Baron Pelson answered calmly. Simultaneously, the bodies of the five men were wrapped in a shimmer of light.
"Ah, Baron Gowin!"
"Supreme Commander!"
"It's Baron Gowin!"
The man holding a sword to Count Dinerd's throat was none other than Baron Levion Gowin. The appearance of Baron Gowin immediately began to stir the soldiers' agitation.
"Baron Gowin!"
Even among the hundred Free Knights, voices calling out for Baron Gowin emerged. Viscount Hardin, who was leading them, gritted his teeth and shouted furiously.
"All of you, pull yourselves together! A traitor like that doesn't even deserve the title of baron!"
"Who is the traitor?"
What followed Viscount Hardin's scolding was a single sentence from Baron Gowin. It was not particularly loud, but calm, composed, and brimming with spirit. Yet Viscount Hardin merely shouted back in rebuttal.
"Silence! Have you not realized that the central government was already well aware of your collusion with the Demon Tribe to raise twenty thousand elite troops! Stand down and abandon this futile rebellion!"
"Who's calling me a demon?"
The voice that cut Viscount Hardin off came from behind Baron Gowin. It was the blunt knight from earlier. But now that his disguise was dropped, he had returned to his original appearance.
"What! L-Look! Can you not see that demon?"
"A... demon?"
"They're just Northern Mercenaries."
"Still..."
The soldiers began to stir uneasily at Viscount Hardin's words. However, the Free Knights did not waver. They were, to some extent, very familiar with the capital nobles' methods.
Step. Step. Step.
A deep furrow appeared between the blunt man's brows. He was none other than Go Jin-cheon. His stride, as he walked past Baron Gowin, was utterly unimpeded. Staring at Jin-cheon, who was advancing boldly, Viscount Hardin gnashed his teeth, adjusted his grip on his sword, and yelled.
"Fine! I'll execute you myself! Tataaah!"
"Ah!"
The knights at the back gasped sharply as Viscount Hardin charged and swung at the unarmed Jin-cheon approaching him.
Crack!
"Th-This can't be!"
"No way!"
"Impossible!"
Viscount Hardin's sword stopped in mid-air, caught in Jin-cheon's bare hand. Shocked exclamations poured from the soldiers and knights watching. But the most shocked person present was Viscount Hardin himself.
'How can this be! He caught an Aura-coated sword with his bare hand!'
The fact that the sword he had swung to ambush and kill his target was stopped with someone's bare hand sent a massive jolt through Viscount Hardin. But his shock was fleeting. Jin-cheon's other hand struck the flat of the sword with a knife-hand strike.
Tang!
The instant Jin-cheon's hand strike connected, Viscount Hardin's silver-white sword snapped clean in two. The ringing sound of the break was clear, likely because it had been a well-forged blade. But the shock of having his own sword broken was monumental for Viscount Hardin. Jin-cheon's follow-up kick then plunged into the viscount's abdomen, which was momentarily seized by panic.
THWACK!
"Kkugh!"
Crash!
Failing to defend in time, Viscount Hardin was sent flying two whole mir back by the force of Jin-cheon's kick before crashing to the ground.
"Hack! Kuheuh!"
Shing! Shing!
While Viscount Hardin lay on the ground coughing up blood, swords were drawn everywhere among the knights. But the peculiar thing was that none of them moved to approach the fallen Hardin. This was because swinging a sword at an unarmed opponent was, in itself, an object of contempt to them. On the other hand, their wariness toward Jin-cheon rose exponentially.
"......."
Jin-cheon held the broken sword and looked at the hundred knights before him.
Slowly.
His arm rose gradually, raising the broken sword. Everyone's eyes followed his hand.
Crunch!
"Ah! Your Majesty!"
Shatter!
A shocked cry rang out from behind.