Odin's Foundation (1)
The Abon Count's domain, known as the North's final fortress. It was renowned for possessing military might on par with one of the empire's five great knight orders, and its massive fortress had never allowed any invaders through. The count's epithets included the Iron Count and the Lion of the Frontier, and even the giant gods of the north feared entering his territory. The formidable Dark Lion Knight Order served as the ultimate symbol of the Abon Count's power.
His appearance was fierce—unkempt blond hair and beard, a massive build, and a scar slashed across his face. Yet the count himself wasn't one who enjoyed battle. He'd dreamed of a quiet life reading books and becoming a scholar, but bound by his ancestors' legacy, he'd taken up the sword—and damn if he didn't have a talent for it, leading him this far.
"Damn it! Nothing serious is happening, right?"
"I doubt it. Even a loose cannon like Viscount Aron wouldn't be foolish enough to pick a fight with Your Excellency, the Lion of the North."
"Who knows? Has that guy ever acted rationally?"
The Abon Count had participated in the previous Border Conquest War, too—dragged along by his retainers against his will. He'd racked up achievements, but only because he'd been forced to swing his sword at the front lines amid the knights' reckless charges. Even back then, Aron's notoriety had been infamous. The incident where he'd beaten his direct superior half to death had spread his reputation far and wide.
When he heard Aron was coming as the commander of the punitive force, the count had desperately hoped he'd pass this place by. Hearing the bastard was heading straight here had made his heart sink. Deep down, that's how he felt, but outwardly, he'd kept his composure and dispatched the Dark Lion Knight Order. His chief steward, Baron Axel, let out a quiet sigh. Among the retainers, only Axel knew the Iron Count had a soft heart.
"Don't worry too much. What could go wrong? If that bastard tries anything, Your Excellency has the knight order and plenty of troops at your command. And he's not mad enough to draw a sword on allies during wartime, is he?"
"They say he is."
"That's just inland gossip. This is the front lines."
Bang!
At that moment, a Dark Lion Knight burst in. His eye was bruised black, dried blood crusted under his nose, and his armor was half-destroyed, bearing the marks of fierce combat.
"A giant god ambush?!"
"N-no, sir! Viscount Aron is marching on us right now!"
"Marching? Why not just say 'approaching'?"
"H-he's claiming it's to sweep away a band of rebels!"
"Rebels? Why the hell are we rebels?"
"The captain didn't dismount to greet him as a guest, so Viscount Aron assaulted him. When our knights drew their swords in response, he accused us of daring to draw steel against His Majesty's army and branded us rebels."
"That crazy son of a bitch!"
His heart pounded wildly. The empire's problem child—or trash, as they called him—had finally caused an incident.
Before the dizzyingly tall walls. Demolishing a fortress that high would take considerable power. He could do it if he wanted, but it'd drain him dry. No choice but to lure their army out.
"Abon Count! You rebel scum! You dared draw your sword against His Imperial Majesty, making your lot a band of traitors! Come out and face my blade!"
Murmurs rippled across the battlements. The soldiers under Abon were already half-terrified just hearing I'd arrived. I knew this was a stretch, but I had one trump card. With the gods watching, I couldn't back down halfway. Our psycho gods couldn't stand the boredom if I didn't stir up some chaos. And to earn the blessing from the newly joined Bibian, I had to go all out.
Soon, the Abon Count appeared. Quite the ugly mug, as expected. He'd fought in the prior Border Conquest War and earned the title Iron Count. There were rumors he was soft-hearted, but he didn't look it.
The count bellowed with a stern expression.
"Viscount Aron! Why do you brand me the leader of rebels? You beat my knight simply because you didn't like his attitude. Every noble in the empire would agree that's a false pretext."
"What bullshit? When His Majesty's army arrives, you should show proper respect—and he didn't even dismount. How's that a normal welcome? I educated him, and he drew his sword. That's proof of rebellion!"
"Stop your nonsense and get lost!"
"Hmph! Your territory surely harbors an altar to Odin. How dare an altar to Odin—deemed a cult by the pope and His Majesty—exist in your lands? If you can't explain, I'll lop off your head myself!"
"Slander!"
"No slander. I bear the gods' blessings. Your territory reeks of filthy Odin stench— you calling that a lie?"
"Don't make me laugh! Stop framing innocents and scram!"
"Looks like words won't cut it with you! Your head goes to His Majesty's throne today!"
Thud!
I kicked off the ground, soaring to stick to the wall mid-flight, punching to anchor myself. Another kick, and I vaulted atop the battlements.
"Gasp!"
"What kind of monster—!"
The original protagonist was strong, but after I possessed him, the gods' blessings and mana potions made me several times stronger. With mana in my body, this was child's play.
The flustered soldiers. I menaced them.
"If you don't want to be branded rebels too, back off!"
Whoosh!
I launched a fist at the Abon Count. He barely blocked with his sword, but the massive shockwave sent him tumbling down the stairs.
"Gah! Mercy!"
Splat!
He slammed into the railing at the bottom and vomited blood.
"Hm? What the hell? You're the Iron Count? Why so weak?"
I felt Bibian's interest, but no clear sign yet. Were the gods getting used to this level of violence? They were still subscribed, so they were somewhat satisfied.
I didn't want to do this either.
"You rebel bastard!"
Thud thud thud!
I started pummeling the count, and the knights cried out in horror.
"Protect the lord!"
Boom!
Of course, the knights couldn't approach. One punch each, and they flew off. The count's face turned into mush, and the soldiers stared at me like, What kind of lunatic is this?
"Ugh... mercy, sire."
His broken teeth slurred his speech. Killing him here might cause issues. Nah. I had a purpose here. Originally, I planned to resupply, snag 20,000 troops, and push on. Gotta stick to the goal.
"Prove you're not a rebel."
"Cough! H-how?"
"As proof of loyalty to His Majesty, commit 20,000 elite troops to my force and supply the army."
"You damn robber...!"
Crack!
"Gack!"
The count passed out. Blood sprayed everywhere, my fists marked with the beating. Leaving it like this screamed insubordination, but I had ironclad justification.
"I am the punitive force commander under His Majesty's orders. Any who draw steel against me are rebels, and their clans will be exterminated."
"Eek!"
The soldiers scattered. I'm a man who follows through. Notoriety helps at times like this.
"Open the gates and fetch High Priestess Cecilia! I'll prove my words today!"
With the count unconscious and the entire knight order downed, my empire-wide infamy and the emperor's warrant in hand, the soldiers had no choice but to open the gates. Our troops poured in.
"Cecilia!"
"My loooord!"
Cecilia rushed to hug me, but that'd be trouble here. I sidestepped, and she faceplanted.
"See! Even the high priestess is overcome by evil aura and falls! You alright?"
"Hehe, I'm fine!"
"Dark Knight Order, follow me! Today, we'll smash Odin's altar and prove the count is its leader!"
"Yes, sir!"
I unleashed 50,000 troops, turning the Abon domain into a wasteland. I was certain an Odin altar lurked here. The gods watched with bated breath. But no bites yet. Gods who'd once praised my madness and showered karma now settled for mild satisfaction. Habituation to stimulus, huh.
I was working to draw Bibian's blessing when she finally bit.
"Truly, the territory reeks of Odin! If our great warrior topples his altar, I'll gladly bestow my blessing!"
"Kekeke, just watch. He's never disappointed us. A bit lazy, sure, but when he moves, he moves."
"Right, sis. We picked a perfect great warrior!"
Bibian was like the queen of the goddesses. Makes sense—the Vivian Church held the continent's strongest influence, and based on her followers' faith, she'd amassed immense power and karma. Odin rivaled her, but as the oldest god, he had the edge.
They were biting now. Just wait for the hook—when Odin's altar falls.
We passed through alleys, skirting homes. Cecilia pointed at a building.
"There! I smell filth from the basement!"
"Good girl!"
I patted her head. Rubbing it all over me like a scent-sniffing dog. How were the gods reacting?
"Kuhahaha! Knew he'd sniff out Odin's dogs!"
"Hm, still not sure if your great warrior can topple Odin's altar."
"What's with you? That guy's on another level!"
A grin crept across my face. Time to snag a blessing? The goddess of wisdom ought to drop something good.