Chapter 75
Chapter 75
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: Traitor's Reckoning
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Sinking into the soft, luxurious sofa upholstered in cowhide, he felt the comfort pressing against his back and waist, melting away his fatigue without effort.
It was a indulgence he could never have imagined back in the days when sleeping on rough, hard ground had seemed perfectly normal.
Swoosh!
Reclining on the sofa, he lazily stretched out his hand, his fingertips brushing past the array of fruits and pastries on the table.
The middle-aged man casually grabbed one and popped it into his mouth.
Crunch!
Ah, peaches.
The sweet flesh hidden beneath the soft skin tantalized his tongue.
Mmm~
A sigh of delight escaped him naturally.
It was the time when autumn was giving way to winter.
Moreover, the northern region of Agena on the North Continent saw winter arrive much faster than other continents.
And yet, here he was, savoring peaches—which only grew in Agena's southern regions—in this season on the North Continent.
It was a luxury he'd enjoyed for over ten years, but it never grew old.
The middle-aged man turned his gaze to the view beyond the window past the sofa.
The expansive panorama of Antigonia filled his vision.
This vantage point from which he could behold such a sight perfectly illustrated his current standing in the empire.
Amid the daily indulgences and extravagance, he once again confirmed today that his choices had been utterly correct.
"Idiot, complete moron. Tsk tsk, why the hell do they cling to such pointless stubbornness?"
That was why he mocked and scorned those who had made different choices from his own.
Fools who couldn't hop aboard the changes brought by the new era, shackled instead to glorified memories of the past.
Unlike those dimwits, he took pride in his rational decisions.
Knock knock knock!
As he reached for grapes after praising himself and the peach, his hand paused.
A voice calling for him kept coming from beyond the door.
"What is it?"
Perhaps because he had just been thinking of unpleasant people, his tone in response to the knock was far from welcoming.
-Lord Darta, Bator has requested an audience.
"Bator? Who's that again?"
Darta, the middle-aged man, shot back at the voice addressing him from outside.
-…….
Not expecting Darta to be unaware of Bator's existence, a brief silence fell outside.
After the short pause, a reply came from beyond the door.
-You know, the one we sent on the mission to the Aslan Kingdom in the South Continent...
"Ah, right, I remember now. Those rookies."
Darta, recalling late, clapped with the hand that had been about to grab a grape.
It had been a minor task, so he'd just picked some fresh White Wolf initiates at random.
Even for an easy mission, wrapping it up and returning so soon?
'Guess they were more capable than I thought.'
"Come in."
...Slide!
Satisfied inwardly, Darta gripped an apple and gave a perfunctory permission. Two figures emerged from behind the door.
Seeing them, Darta froze mid-bite into the apple, the sight far from what he'd expected.
"...What the hell happened to you two?"
"……."
"Hold on, I sent three, didn't I...? Well, well, where'd you leave your arm, huh?"
"……."
Bator and Tia hung their heads without a word to Darta's questions.
At their pathetic state, Darta's grip tightened on the apple.
Splatter!
The apple shattered in his hand, fragments rolling across the floor and staining the fine carpet.
"Speak up! Where's the third one? Bator, what the hell happened to you?!"
"...I have no excuses. I'm sorry."
"Who asked about your damn face?!"
Darta flushed red, raging as if personally insulted.
An honorable Lang tribe warrior parading around in such a wretched state?
It wasn't affection for Bator that fueled him.
The Lang tribe had begun following 'Darta'.
This made it feel like the tribe's authority and dignity were being dragged through the mud.
Thud!
Leaning back against the soft sofa calmed him somewhat.
"Hoo... Fine. Start from the beginning. Tell me how everything went straight to hell."
"...Yes. So..."
Assuming Darta had calmed, Bator began recounting everything from the Aslan Kingdom.
Meeting Princess Isabelle in the slums and smoothly luring her to the target location as planned. And... the Lichtenauer Martial Clan's Second Young Lord had mastered the Hegemon's martial arts to an authentic level. He spared no details.
Bator's tale dragged on for quite a while.
Darta, who had started out just fuming, soon pulled away from the sofa backrest, listening intently.
"Hah... So, some punk from the Lichtenauer Martial Clan learned an offshoot of the Hegemon's martial arts? And damn close to the real deal?"
"...Yes, that's my assessment."
"Grr... Those fossils buried underground would flip their shit hearing this."
Dissatisfied, Darta clicked his tongue repeatedly.
"Oh, by the way—did you tell this to anyone besides me? Anyone at all, speak freely."
To Darta's casual question, Bator answered without thinking.
"No, I haven't. I figured I should report to you first, as our tribe's leader... Ah, but I was going to tell Lord Kunbish. Since Tia falls under her purview, a report was necessary."
Perhaps pleased by Bator's loyal response, Darta nodded with a pleased expression.
"Good. No need to bother with extras then."
"You're too kind...?"
A fleeting doubt crossed Bator's mind as he bowed.
'Handle? Who?'
Splat!
Bator's doubt ended there.
Inevitable, really.
No matter how tough beastkin were, thinking was impossible with your head gone.
...Thud!
Where Bator's headless body toppled backward, the staff that had suddenly appeared beside Darta—not content with exploding his head—now quivered faintly embedded in the wall.
"Lucky. If you'd blabbed to others... would've been a pain sealing all those mouths. Hngh!"
Swoosh!
Darta's eyes turned to Tia, standing beside Bator's corpse.
"You there, kitty. Don't you think so too?"
Standing up with his plump frame, Darta looked every bit the typical wealthy middle-aged man, but Tia trembled as if caught in a gale.
'Did...n't see the staff.'
Appearances deceived.
Despite the look, Darta was a top Lang tribe warrior cadre.
On a different level from newbies like Tia—a being from the clouds.
Now, just the grim reaper holding her life hostage.
"L-Lord Darta... p-please spare me. I swear, I won't breathe a word to anyone. No, I'll forget everything I saw today."
Thus, Tia begged desperately.
Unlike her slaughtering Shurton slums folk, before her own death, she was utterly weak.
Moved to pity perhaps? Darta pulled the staff from the wall, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
"Hmm... What to do? If you go blabbing to Kunbish, that bitch, it'd get even messier."
Seeing a glimmer of hope in Darta's words, Tia shook her head frantically.
"N-No! I absolutely, positively won't say a thing. Nothing. I swear!"
Darta gazed into Tia's pleading eyes before bursting into laughter.
"Eh, say what you want—your funeral. Kunbish's ears have probably already heard you're back in Antigonia. I got no authority to punish you anyway. Just go."
Not expecting mercy, Tia blanked for a moment before realizing she'd escaped the tiger's maw and bowed madly.
"Th-Thank you! Truly, thank you!"
Fearing Darta might change his mind, Tia bolted without looking back.
"Oh, wait."
Darta added as if it just occurred to him.
"If—just if—this gets back to me from anywhere but Kunbish... I'd be awfully sad. Might even ignore our unspoken rule of each handling their own beastkin. So, be smart."
"...Y-Yes!"
With that, Tia fled like the wind.
Darta stared at the closed door briefly before muttering.
"...Eh, that should scare her enough not to flap her gums carelessly."
The room littered with Bator's remains. He would've liked to lay Tia beside him amicably, but Kunbish held the same rank as him—a woman.
Ruining her favorite toy outright would spell trouble.
"Eh... Knowing that bitch Kunbish's temper, she won't let mission failures slide anyway. Truth or lies... your road ahead's hell either way."
Better off dying painlessly by his hand than Kunbish's punishment, which wouldn't be lighter.
She couldn't stand seeing her tribe weak.
Thus, Tia, who'd just left, faced worse than death ahead.
Two ends: Grow strong enough for Kunbish's approval, or die miserably.
"Eh, most die, though."
Swoosh!
Not believing Tia would survive Kunbish's training, Darta slowly prepared to head out.
Having heard major news, he had people to inform too.
Both at the highest peaks... and the lowest depths.
Knock, knock!
A basement shrouded in darkness.
Perhaps leaking rainwater somewhere, the dampness between the ceiling and stone walls dripped as droplets to the floor.
Not clean water, though.
Below even the palace sewers carrying filth, this space mixed every germ into air and water.
No one could call it livable, not even politely.
Who'd live in such a hellhole, right?
Surprisingly, it had occupants.
Far from ordinary.
Those imprisoned here were once titans who could each unleash massive storms upon release.
Arms and legs of the chained men, women, and children bore heavy irons.
...Clank!
The solid wrought-iron chains binding hands and feet looked sturdy enough for dragons, let alone humans.
That wasn't all.
...Whirr! Whirrr!
Magic circles etched into the chains glowed repeatedly, draining the prisoners' energies.
Mana Drain.
They even controlled aura and mana.
Bound like this, no one could dream of magic or aura.
Who were they, confined in such absurd restraints?
Screeeeech!
Then, an alien rumble shook the depths.
"……."
The chained ones sighed lowly at the sound.
The massive iron door—nearly 30cm thick—opened only for uninvited guests they never welcomed.
Splash, splash!
Footsteps echoed closer on the damp floor, heralding an approach.
Soon, a plump middle-aged man pinched his nose as he neared the chained prisoners.
"Urgh, the stench! How the hell do you live in this dump?"
Handkerchief over his mouth, he still grimaced at air and floor contact, muttering about tossing shoes and cloth.
"Chief, you've got strong guts. How've you endured over ten years here?"
"...Darta, is it."
To Darta's words, the silver-haired man deepest in the cell replied flatly.
This was the former Lang tribe chief, one of history's greatest warriors.
Great Wolf Taerang, Mukali.
"Haha, good. You remember me—no dementia yet."
Mukali recognizing him, Darta mocked with a pleased grin.
He visited this filthy spot—one of the empire's worst—regularly for one reason.
Ten years ago, he'd never dreamed of looking down on this man.
The man's status in the tribe had been unparalleled, same for those around him.
Yet now, those basking in the empire's light were his fellow choosers.
This thrilled Darta immensely.
"Tsk tsk tsk! Told you over and over—switch carriages with us. Why suffer needlessly with that stubbornness?"
Darta spoke pityingly, but he knew.
No matter what, they'd never change their choices.
Even now.
They'd never reacted to his taunts before, nor this time.
Just mock till satisfied, then leave.
But today, the response differed slightly.
Great Wolf Taerang Mukali, who always ignored Darta,
for some reason met his eyes today and quietly spoke.