Chapter 133
Chapter 133
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 133
Chapter Title: Fabricated Glory and Counterplots
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A silver-haired man lay collapsed in utter devastation.
His chest was covered in wounds torn open by the great monster's claws.
Yet even in defeat, his expression remained resolute.
If he crumbled here, that colossal bird-like beast would trample the city flat.
He refused to give up, forcing his pain-racked body back to its feet.
And gripped his sword once more.
To protect the city from the monster before him.
A massive, ominous shadow swallowed his form.
But the man's green-tinted silhouette blazed even brighter amid the darkness.
Channeling that unbreakable will, he swung his blade with all his might.
The grand wings that had blotted out the sky split apart.
The great monster howled in agony, thrashing more violently than before.
The ground shattered, groundwater surging up to turn streams into lakes.
Trees were sliced apart by its wildly flailing claws.
Yet the man never faltered for a moment.
His sense of responsibility toward the people of Berryhill—that alone had carried him this far.
As a proud member of the glorious Empire, he swung his sword with everything he had.
And at last...
He repaid the corpse tree that had raked his chest with the same devastation in return.
Boom...!!
The colossal body that had mocked even the heavens plummeted lifelessly to the earth.
The silver-haired man standing tall atop it humbly spoke.
"As long as I'm here, no one will ever conquer the North."
The front page of the North Times came to an end.
The warden's hand trembled violently as he clutched the paper.
"What bastard wrote this crap?"
He crumpled the overly flowery, exaggerated article.
And flung it to the floor.
Only snippets of the next page's breaking news were visible amid the wrinkles.
Vote for July's Most Beautiful Woman!
Who will claim the title this time?
<Results>
1st: Her Highness, the great Camillia Andalusia (520 votes)
2nd: Novelist Eri (291 votes)
3rd: Commander Greta Veil (289 votes)
(Poll conducted among the Northern Aristocratic Social Club)
Her Highness the Princess has triumphed once again with an overwhelming margin!
Recent illustrations captured her with makeup—leading to widespread speculation that marriage is finally on the horizon!
The warden let out a deep sigh.
Of course, keeping his position was a relief, but lately, the papers were flooded with garbage articles.
Yet in truth, this piece was a masterpiece born from meticulous scheming.
Countless influential hands had shaped it before publication.
And it all began with one 'woman' who had seized control of the press.
The day before the Sword Sage departed the prison.
In the president's office at the North Times.
Editor Roman was intently focused on the crystal orb atop his desk.
"I-is the article to your satisfaction, Your Highness...?"
"Well done, Roman. The North Times reporters have impressive flair."
Reflected in the smooth surface of the crystal was a radiant golden-haired woman.
Camillia Andalusia praised her subordinate with dignified eyes.
"We're the ones honored, Your Highness—thank you for granting us this exclusive first. But..."
The middle-aged man seemed hesitant, even under orders from his superior.
He rubbed the back of his neck and asked cautiously.
"We didn't see the corpse tree's body. Is the only evidence that one severed wing?"
Camillia answered her subordinate's tentative question with gentle reassurance.
Her regal composure never wavered.
"Ah, the monster's corpse? The Mage Tower already collected it. They said a strange energy was leaking from it, polluting the forest."
"I-I knew it...!!"
Only then did Roman relax, hearing the clear justification.
"Intel Division photos from the scene will arrive soon. If Ivan raises doubts, shove those in his face."
"If you go that far, we'll be eternally grateful. It will only bolster the credibility of our article."
The middle-aged man bowed repeatedly, expressing his thanks to his new master.
Camillia ended the call with a satisfied smile.
"He's so compliant it's convenient... but lacks that thrilling edge."
The princess, clad in her pristine white uniform, swept her lush golden locks to the side.
She immediately began penning a letter to her messenger pigeon.
"Maybe it's that sly fox Derek Minster I really want to tame."
She wrote that the newspaper's publication would proceed smoothly.
She tied the finished letter to the leg of the pigeon resting in its golden cage.
"If that's the case, I should lavish him with favors in return, right?"
The pampered pigeon nuzzled against the princess's hand affectionately.
It then soared out the window at her whispered command.
Toward the infamous 'Berryhill Forest' where the Sword Sage's duel had taken place.
Anje sat perched on the stump of a tree sliced by the Sword Sage.
She stroked the chin of the corpse tree pretending to be dead while reading the letter.
"Good boy—you put on quite the show."
The great monster rolled blissfully under its master's touch, its pristine white body gleaming.
Though one wing was severed, it would regrow in a few days anyway—no big deal.
"Who'd you inherit that acting talent from, hmm?"
Anje promptly incinerated the read letter.
She then turned to the group of knights in the forest—not her own, but others.
Intel Division agents, following Conan's orders to fabricate the scene.
"Send the corpse tree's wing straight to the prison. Make it look like Derek recovered it as a trophy."
"Understood, Commander."
Conan had already carved wounds into trees matching the corpse tree's claw size.
The other agents joined in, meticulously staging the site.
"Thanks for helping out despite being so busy. I'll treat you all to something big later."
Come to think of it, Conan was no longer with the Intel Division.
Yet her former subordinates assisted eagerly, eyes brimming with respect.
"After all the favors you've done us, Commander? Don't say such modest things."
"No worries. For the peace of both continents, we'll bury this incident thoroughly."
The elite agents in black uniforms crafted the scene with precision.
Thus, the Sword Sage's dazzling swordsmanship traces were transformed into chaos from a monster's rampage.
"Alright, time for photos?"
Northern Commander Conan produced a covert intel tool known only to her division.
A camera newly developed by the Mage Tower.
Infused with special magic, pressing its switch captured the viewed scene as a photograph.
The fallen corpse tree and Derek Minster's image were artfully composited.
And so, the epic tale of a man battling a monster was born.
"Now we just send this back to the Northern Palace."
The purple-haired woman slipped the freshly printed fake photo into an envelope.
She addressed it to the man who had sought to punish Derek Minster for fleeing the Northern Supreme Sword Tournament...
To Prime Minister Aintz.
The messenger pigeon soared vigorously back to the Northern Palace at last.
But it didn't head straight to its owner, the princess's office.
Instead, it flew to the reception hall reserved for high officials.
There, it reached Grand Elder Dark and Prime Minister Aintz mid-conversation.
The two were heatedly discussing today's newspaper story on the great monster subjugation.
Aintz especially wore a stubborn scowl as he confronted the elder.
"Dark, let's be honest here. There weren't any signs of a monster appearing lately, were there?"
The white-haired man extended his hand to the golden-haired elder.
"Anyone can see this is Derek Minster's self-staged drama. He knew he'd lose to the Tutton Grand Duchess, so he faked an injury and bolted!"
"Is that so? I've been too busy tending my vegetable patch lately."
The man in his sixties ignored the gesture and leisurely sipped his tea.
"Cooperate with me a bit. A little digging, and his corruption will be laid bare for all to see."
"I'd love to help... but what if solid proof emerges that he fought the monster?"
The Grand Elder glanced at the pigeon that had arrived precisely on cue by the window.
As if everything was going according to plan, he extended a finger, and the bird alighted gently upon it.
"Like this irrefutable evidence, for instance."
The Grand Elder unfolded the photo tied to its leg and showed it to the prime minister.
The fallen corpse tree and the warden's figure.
And the Berryhill Forest brimming with traces of their brutal battle.
"Have you ever known an Intel Division camera to lie? With proof like this, even I can't act."
"This is..."
Aintz's eyes twitched beneath dark circles.
The Intel Division was the Empire's premier espionage organ.
Even if the photo was fabricated, without finding proof himself, he couldn't refute it.
Pushing without evidence would undermine the Empire's authority on his own.
"Sorry, Prime Minister. We've shared many years in politics, but duty comes first, doesn't it?"
"........."
The Grand Elder patted the prime minister's shoulder with a politician's poignant regret.
But the white-haired elder offered no reply.
"I'll take my leave. If clear proof of Derek Minster's staging emerges, call me again."
The Grand Elder clasped his hands behind his back leisurely.
And flashed a statesmanlike... perfunctory smile.
"Then I'll tear into him properly."
"...Even words of thanks are appreciated."
Dark exited the reception hall with graceful poise.
How much time passed after that?
Aintz's aides, waiting in the corridor, peeked in cautiously before entering.
Having seen the Grand Elder leave with a bright expression, they sensed their superior's foul mood.
"Prime Minister, are you alright...?"
The elder's hand shook around his teacup.
As if bitten hard by a massive serpent.
"Camillia... She used Conan from Intel to fabricate that photo..."
The prime minister instantly deduced the mastermind behind this elaborate plot.
He stared intently ahead, intuiting that both Northern press and Intel had fallen into the princess's grasp.
"I thought her a mere brute who knew only battle, but she's grown cunning. Could this be sly Minster clan counsel too?"
Derek Minster.
That persistently irksome name.
"Prime Minister, the warden's value keeps rising."
Even his worried aides mentioned it, and Aintz snorted fiercely.
"Value rising...? Then its fall will hurt all the more."
"Have you something in mind? Just give the order, and we'll execute it at once."
Aintz still commanded legions of loyal retainers.
Even Prince Ivan trusted him as his closest confidant.
Within that ironclad force, the aged prime minister glared fiercely.
"Since it's come to this, let's exploit that newly famous serpent's notoriety."
Aintz downed the cold black tea in one gulp.
He slammed the empty cup down and declared.
"I saw Derek Minster is scheduled as a guest lecturer at the Imperial Academy. The princess arranged it herself."
"Yes. Thanks to beating Captain Stillman, he's teaching combat techniques to the Holy Knights."
"Add monster subjugation to his curriculum while we're at it."
"Pardon...? Monster subjugation has always been taught by the realm's most renowned knights."
It would only boost Derek's fame further.
Seeing his aides' baffled looks, the prime minister narrowed his eyes to slits.
"It's all a self-staged act anyway. He has no real experience, so he'll blunder through a fake lecture."
No one climbed to prime minister lightly.
The elder who had risen through cunning schemes and politics chuckled darkly.
"What if we sneak in professors rich in monster subjugation experience undercover?"
"Derek's faking would prompt immediate objections...!!"
Only then did his aides grasp the scheme.
They couldn't hide their admiration for their superior's ploy.
"Exactly. The Imperial Academy sits at the capital's heart, surrounded by our allied press. If we broadcast Derek's humiliation in full..."
The prime minister clenched his fist.
"His fame ends instantly."
The princess's event would become the sly fox's execution platform.
Satisfied with his plan, Aintz exhaled deeply.
He eagerly anticipated the impending Academy lecture.
"Prepare the nastiest-tempered professors among the monster subjugation instructors."
No matter if he bested Stillman, he was barely 21.
Such a youth couldn't possibly have great monster slaying experience.
He wasn't the Imperial Knight Commander with countless battles under his belt.
"That day will be the end of the wicked serpent."