Chapter 25
Chapter 25
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Uncomfortable Companions - 2
-----------------------------------------------------------------
As soon as it came out that Kizen was my subordinate, the murderous air hanging around the carriage instantly shifted to one of reverence.
Princess Rosmel's knights finally loosened their rigidly tense shoulders and breathed sighs of relief.
Everyone felt at ease—but Gerrick was the sole exception.
“......D-Does that mean I'm not the young master's martial powerhouse?”
Gerrick mumbled in a daze, his face like the world had come crashing down around him, unable to snap out of his shock.
Among the knights who'd sworn loyalty to me, he was undeniably the strongest.
But if you factored in the assassins, Kizen would probably come out on top.
After all, the moment he'd single-handedly taken down a bear the size of a house, he'd transcended the realm of ordinary assassins.
I deliberately ignored Gerrick's lost expression and turned my gaze to the old man still bowing his head.
“You can raise your head now, Sir Kizen.”
“Young master, such a noble title is too much for this old man. Please, just call me Kizen. I have no need for honorifics.”
“Got it, Kizen. I'll treat you casually as you wish, so lift your head.”
“Thank you so much for granting my request.”
I'd planned to treat him with the respect due an elder, given his age, but since he was rejecting it so vehemently, there was nothing for it.
No need to force respect on someone who insisted otherwise.
It might come off as rude to onlookers, but my public image was that of a wastrel anyway, right?
As long as he didn't assault any elders, there'd be no issue.
“Young master Heinz, what should we do with this trash?”
“““Gaaahhh!!”””
Kizen asked as he kicked at the cultists rolling around at his feet.
The cultists screamed in agony. At first, I thought they were exaggerating, but once I got a look at them, I understood.
The men's limbs were twisted at grotesque angles.
So precisely mangled that it was a miracle the bones hadn't pierced through their flesh.
But they were scum who deserved every bit of suffering—and even that felt insufficient—so I passed down a merciless verdict.
“Kill them. Slowly, and as painfully as possible.”
“Understood.”
Crack! Crunch!
Without hesitation, he mercilessly ground the heels of his boots into the hands of the cultists sprawled on the ground.
Had they long since surpassed the threshold of human pain tolerance?
The cultists didn't last even a few seconds before foaming at the mouth and passing out in pathetic heaps.
A small part of my chest felt lighter, but regret soon followed.
I'd just ordered cruel torture right in front of Princess Rosmel.
I sneaked a sidelong glance to gauge her reaction.
She seemed lost in thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers as if struck by inspiration.
“I've got a great idea! Let's tie them to the back of the carriage and drag them along!”
“......”
“Is that no good?”
“No, not at all. I was just caught off guard, never expecting such a radical suggestion from you, Princess.”
“These were the empire's precious subjects living in that village. There's no reason to show mercy to those who defiled them. We must do whatever it takes to soothe their spirits, even a little.”
Princess Rosmel's eyes burned with unwavering resolve.
She ordered her knights to hitch the cultists to the horses at the back of the carriage and drag them along.
I'd thought her a naive young lady oblivious to the world, but it turned out she had a core of steel—a ruler with real grit.
“Young master, I have an urgent report.”
“What is it?”
Kizen glanced warily at Princess Rosmel, as if mindful of her presence, and cleared his throat.
The sharp princess tactfully stepped back to give us space for our conversation.
“You've forged a connection with quite the remarkable person.”
“She's more than I can handle.”
“Ties to the imperial family will bring you great benefits in the future. Even if it's all pretense, it's best to keep good relations.”
“I know that. But can we get to the point?”
Urged on by my words, Kizen composed himself and rummaged in his bosom.
“First, please take this.”
Kizen handed me a bloodstained stone fragment.
Its surface bore strange runes, though they trailed off brokenly at the edges.
From the looks of it, this was one of the fragments of an ancient rune magic.
“Do you recognize what this is?”
“A rune fragment, right? Pretty rare stuff. Where'd you find it?”
Runes existed in five fragments, and collecting matching pieces allowed one to invoke a single-use ancient spell.
They were next to impossible to obtain and disposable, but their power was cheat-level.
Even bosses designed to force a loss could be toppled with a rune.
For someone like me, scrambling to survive, nothing could be more vital.
Who wouldn't covet the ability to unleash an ultimate move without restrictions, just by gathering the pieces?
“Do you remember those dangerous elements who infiltrated the capital before?”
“Right, you said you were tailing the guy who met with the maid.”
“Yes. I tracked him and extracted information. But I couldn't uncover everything. There was a guardian there I couldn't guarantee victory against, even with my skills.”
“So you gave up the tail and ran?”
“Rest assured, anyone with information on you has been definitively eliminated. I took this rune fragment from him.”
“......Then we're good.”
For a moment, I'd feared my info had leaked to the cult, clenching my heart.
But thankfully, Kizen didn't feed me any sweet potatoes.
He'd walked the tightrope to extract intel, then killed the target and returned the instant the risk grew too high.
The guy would've made a killing in stocks.
“If you got intel, you must've figured out who they are.”
“A fanatical group worshiping the evil dragon Nidhogg—and your mortal enemies. Please correct me if my assessment is off.”
“Spot on.”
With this, I'd gained yet another solid ally against the Nidhogg Cult.
This wasn't mere reinforcement—it was poaching a key player who should've been central to the cult's forces, intel and all.
“Tell me everything you know about the cult, without omission.”
“I've already compiled it all.”
Kizen pulled a bundle of papers from his bosom.
Most of what he'd investigated was already known to me from game knowledge, so it wasn't particularly enlightening.
As I skimmed through, my eyes snagged on one point.
[In 3 months: Ludmilan Invasion Plan.]
This was more than enough to grab my attention.
Ludmilan Village was where the protagonist learned of the cult—and where he had his fateful encounter with Lara, the main heroine of the Aslon Chronicles.
The story kicked off when the protagonist, on a commission, arrived to find the village annihilated by the cult and rescued the sole survivor, Lara.
That tragedy was just three months away.
“Since you've learned of their plans early, you should handle it with ease, young master.”
“True, but......”
Did I really need to step in and help?
If I intervened, I could save lives, but the problem was it might drastically alter the protagonist's future.
He'd never cross paths with Lara without the cult's evil drawing him in.
In a situation where every ally against the cult was precious, I wasn't sure if that was the right call.
“Ludmilan Village......”
“By the way, there's a rumor that another rune fragment like the one I gave you is hidden somewhere in Ludmilan.”
“Then we're going, obviously!”
The rune fragment was tempting, but more than that, I couldn't stomach handing it over to the cult.
I absolutely refused to let those bastards thrive!
How many crises had I faced in the game because of the runes the Nidhogg Cult wielded?
Remembering how I'd twisted myself in knots to survive made me want to screw them over in turn.
In the game, I was always reacting after getting hit due to the fixed story, but this world was different.
Here, I could set the board myself—trap the entire cult in one fell swoop.
“Shall we head straight to Ludmilan Village, then?”
“Not right away—later! I've got somewhere else to go first.”
“Where to?”
“Adenberg.”
Time to let the family reunite.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Adenberg Marquis House manor.
It couldn't compare to a duke's grandeur, but true to a marquis house, the building was imposing in scale—until a scream like tearing flesh erupted from within.
“You ungrateful wretches! Who do you dare lay hands on?! Think you'll get away with this?!”
The marquis's sons and daughters were pinned down by the knights' rough hands, rolling on the floor.
The knights sworn to protect the territory had rebelled, taking their lord's children hostage and seizing the manor.
At the center of the revolt was an elf. She lounged in the marquis's seat, leisurely watching the marquis's offspring thrash about.
“Adenberg knights, following that disgusting long-eared bitch?!”
“When Father returns, not one of you will escape execution!”
“We'll make you shed bloody tears!”
The marquis house's young masters and ladies raged from the floor.
But Lena, the elf twirling a dagger from the head seat, didn't so much as blink.
“Not a surprise from the marquis's blood—they're squealing like lively little piglets.”
“W-What did you say?!”
Shing—!
Before the words finished, Lena casually flicked her finger.
The dagger flew in a silver arc, embedding right in front of a young master's nose as he groveled on the floor.
A bit more force or a lower aim, and it would've buried in his forehead.
The heirs who'd been shouting fell pale, mouths agape.
As if their stunned faces were comedy gold, Lena burst into laughter.
“Don't worry. I have a spectacle I really want you to see, so I won't kill you until then.”
Meaning she could slaughter them anytime after.
The marquis's children gulped in terror.
They had one hope: their proud father returning soon.
With Donovan and the elite knights back, they could turn the tables.
As if their desperate prayers reached the heavens, a knight rushed in with good news.
“The marquis has returned!”
“Finally...!”
“Heh heh, you're done for now! You'll regret crossing us to your bones!”
“You'd better write your last will now. The price for insulting imperial nobles, you elf bitch, will be steep!”
Hope reignited their crushed arrogance.
They hurled every insult they could muster, but Lena's expression remained utterly relaxed.
“You want to see him that badly? Shall we all go welcome him? Gotta let you have that heartwarming reunion with Daddy.”
The marquis's children recoiled in shock at her mad proposal.
They couldn't fathom her guts to face the family head directly, but they had no say.
Dragged like baggage by the knights, they were hauled to the manor gates.
Convinced that once outside, their father would plunge a blade into the vile elf's heart.
“““Father!”””
They wailed toward the carriage, calling for him—and Marquis Donovan emerged from within.
Crawling on all fours like a beast.
“Brrooohk! Brook!”
“F-Father...?”
His eyes were blindfolded, his mouth gagged with leather.
The only sounds permitted to Donovan were base animal grunts.
And atop the crawling Donovan rode Gerrick, urging him forward to his family with a stern expression, like a rider on a prized steed.
The scene eerily mirrored the heirs' own past amusements, lording over slaves.
“Uwaaaah!”
“No way...!”
“This has to be a dream! It must be!”
The reunion with their revered father was a nightmare.