Chapter 265
Chapter 265
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 265
Chapter Title: Chadra's Overlord 3
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“Sir Pavel. If you give in to their demands, it’ll all come back on you later. The higher-ups naturally want to keep things as they are and just swap out the Chapter Master. You think they’d be happy with prisoners suddenly forming a committee to govern themselves in plain sight?”
“Ah….”
Only then did Sir Pavel realize that clashing with them was the way to fulfill his duty—with the fewest repercussions.
“I’ll drive them off, so don’t worry too much. Sir Pavel, you just keep acting as Chapter Master here in Fireglyph.”
Azadin reassured Pavel and slipped out of the office.
Izmera followed, asking,
“D-Do you think it’ll be okay? Sir Azadin? They don’t seem like the type to just sit still.”
“Those who come looking to negotiate are the manageable ones. Sir Sok the Necromancer Knight and the half-vampire Niseld? They’re the real threats, aren’t they?”
“Then… isn’t that even worse?”
Izmera asked in panic.
He had to temporarily rule Fireglyph, yet he was inciting all the underlings to rebel.
It was no different from a grand lord turning every sub-lord under him against himself.
Even a grand lord couldn’t survive that… What on earth was Azadin thinking?
*********
When negotiations with Azadin broke down, the one with the biggest grudge was the Smuggling King, Chasan.
Even if Azadin rejected the talks, the other two—the Hippogriff Rider Sir Selim and the Wild Druid Sedrin—could maintain the status quo.
But for Chasan, this situation was anything but status quo.
In truth, Chasan and his organization had a deal with Sir Hexenmeyer.
Publicly, Chasan claimed to blaze mountain trails to smuggle drugs, but that alone couldn’t achieve their current trade volume.
With Sir Hexenmeyer’s tacit approval, they moved goods through Fireglyph, enabling their massive hauls, wealth, and influence.
But now Sir Hexenmeyer was ousted, and Azadin—who took his place—was clamping down on illicit trade. To Chasan, Azadin had become an obstacle that had to be removed.
*********
In Fireglyph’s back alleys, inside a dingy tavern, Chasan met with his men.
His smuggling network was already entrenched in Fireglyph, so he could convene right after the talks with Azadin.
“Ugh. In my ancestors’ name! Even if this is our hideout tavern, this beer’s utter swill. Tastes like horse piss mixed with donkey piss! Can’t you brew it right?”
Chasan grumbled, wiping beer foam from his mouth.
“What do we do about this Azadin? We can’t bribe him like we did Sir Hexenmeyer.”
The tavern owner—who was also a member—said while wiping the table.
“Hmm? Why not?”
“Well… I saw him hunting doppelgangers with the angels. How to put it? It might sound weird, but he looked beautiful and majestic, like an angel himself.”
The man, who had witnessed Azadin’s feats and his captivating poise, had struggled to convey that day’s shock to Chasan.
Azadin had seemed the incarnation of an angel, the very voice of justice—a nightmare for criminals.
“The guy you saw must be different from the one I saw.”
Chasan scoffed and took another swig of the horse-piss beer.
The Azadin he knew was ambitious. Such a man wouldn’t turn down the overwhelming riches of drugs. Even if he hated narcotics themselves, he’d likely overlook them as a means to his ambitions.
“Relax. I’m not trying to win him over. He can’t become Chapter Master anyway. No point recruiting some interim seat-warmer until a real one’s appointed. So we eliminate him.”
“Shall we hire assassins? But no ordinary killer stands a chance. He’s of the Herald Clan—the Soulless Blasphemer.”
“You idiot. Removing someone isn’t always about killing them outright. If we unleash griffins on the couriers passing through, who’ll he blame?”
“That thick-headed Hippogriff fanatic squadron, of course.”
“Right? If we send undead after merchants? Or pit the other Chadra ogres against each other—can a fresh interim Chapter Master really run Fireglyph? He’ll have to agree to the committee. Even if he bares his teeth in rage, the backlash won’t hit me—it’ll splash on the others.”
“Aha.”
“No need for direct assassination. He’s just a temp holding the seat while the Chapter Master’s gone. Show him he can’t keep it, and he’ll submit on his own….”
But that was when Chasan said it.
“This must be the Fireglyph branch of the smuggling ring.”
A clear voice rang in Chasan’s ears.
Startled, Chasan looked up to see Azadin entering their hideout with a tall half-elf and a hulking half-orc.
It was nominally a tavern, with guards at the entrance, but they backed off without a fight.
“No way… We weren’t tailed. How?”
“Because I got my hands on Sir Hexenmeyer’s journal.”
Azadin said that and sat at the table.
“Damn fool. Not you—Hexenmeyer. A bribe-taker shouldn’t jot down every little thing in his journal.”
“He must’ve thought his Chapter Master post was eternal—until he threw it away himself.”
Azadin replied nonchalantly.
In truth, Sir Hexenmeyer hadn’t recorded bribes or backroom deals in his official journal, as one might expect.
He kept a secret ledger for that, but Azadin had tracked Chasan simply by tailing him with Arael’s voice.
No need to reveal what Azadin could or couldn’t do. Better to let the misunderstanding stand.
Chasan chugged his beer, tossed the empty mug to the bartender, and turned to Azadin.
“You tracked me down. What’s your game?”
As the tattoos on Chasan’s body glowed, red light flared from his eyes like sulfurous flames.
The powerful sorcerer Chasan was primed to incinerate Azadin with mana fire. But Azadin didn’t blink at the blatant threat and asked,
“Why not ditch smuggling and form a proper merchant guild to run legitimately?”
At that, Chasan’s lieutenant, Sir Brahm, flinched.
Azadin’s proposal defied common sense.
Suggesting legal guild formation to smugglers? Didn’t that violate the Knights’ Order policy?
‘I thought he was just some lucky madman who offed Sir Hexenmeyer… Guess not. He’s playing a bigger game.’
Unlike the stunned Sir Brahm, Chasan didn’t dwell on the offer.
“Oh? You serious? We’re criminals. Even the Rescue Knights don’t want us leaving the plateau and gaining power. That’d go against Order policy.”
“I know. But we can’t face the coming doom like this.”
“Ha! You one of those market lunatics prophesying the Age of Jupiter?”
“If need be, I’ll take being called a lunatic.”
“You serious?”
Chasan sneered.
“What without drugs? Nothing profits like narcotics. Transport’s a hassle with low returns. Sugar comes close, but it needs hot, rainy climates. Chadra Plateau’s fertile, but no sugar here.”
“Food, weapons, wool, furs, cloth, healing salves.”
Sir Brahm clicked his tongue at Azadin’s list.
Heavier and cheaper than drugs, they offered no appeal to smugglers where shipping ate the profits.
But if war broke out—if the Age of Jupiter came—they’d be priceless.
‘Does he really believe the Age of Jupiter is coming?’
A chill ran through him.
If true, this man was a zealot.
Someone reason, threats, or bribes couldn’t touch. All Chasan’s usual violence, intimidation, and payoffs would fail.
‘He really believes in the Age of Jupiter? Then….’
Sir Brahm’s heart suddenly pounded.
An old, corrupt heart that hadn’t raced in ages. Sure, as a thug in Chasan’s brutal crew, fear was routine. But this true thrill? It had been years.
Unlike Sir Brahm, stirred by Azadin’s words and vision, Chasan underestimated him.
“Madman. No more to say. How do you reclaim Dwarven Arrow selling that crap? Drugs aren’t just smokes—they’re power to rule mankind. Even if the Age of Jupiter’s real and we need food and arms, same deal. Hell, perfect. The fools who dumped me in this backwater will all perish.”
“What I’m wondering, Chasan,”
Azadin fixed him with a cold stare.
“Is whether keeping you alive benefits me more than killing you.”
“What?!”
“You mean that? Or are you scared someone’ll laugh if you don’t prove your guts with some outburst?”
“You’ve crossed the line!”
At that, Chasan’s tattoos blazed. His glaring eyes were no mere threat.
—Burning Gaze!
Pure crimson mana erupted from Chasan’s eyes, engulfing Azadin. The spell that had slain countless foes.
Sir Brahm recalled Chasan using Burning Gaze on a senior knight.
The noble in plate armor, struck by the flame ray, left only his upper half—Brahm had become Chasan’s loyalist after that.
But Azadin was different.
—Firebird Wind Moon Barrage!
Countless mana bolts poured from Azadin, clashing with the Burning Gaze. As they exploded, Azadin shifted to the adjacent chair.
It looked like reclining in a rocker, and in the same motion, his kick smashed Chasan’s jaw.
Less a kick than a flamboyant seat-taking—yet Chasan flew backward and crashed.
“Gah!”
Chasan’s jaw shattered, blood pouring.
The Dwarven Arrow founder, the Mad Dwarven Sorcerer Chasan, lay broken by one kick from this youth.