[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]

Chapter 321: The Warrior Who Found His Place to Die

The three of us, Zamuel, Ghir, and I, left the main camp pitched before the castle and, under the cover of deep night, arrived at the castle of Litvaleur.

“Look at that, you two.”

The royal castle, which should have been a sleepless city of lights, was now slumbering as if dead.

“At this rate, the merchants and residents must be having a hell of a time.”

Zamuel nodded at my words.

“A state of war means everything is subject to control, and everything is in short supply.”

Ghir chuckled.

“The underworld guys must be pretty pissed off too, right? If they act up, they get beaten by soldiers, but if they do nothing, they starve.”

Zamuel snapped his fingers and said.

“Exactly. The residents of the underworld would be very dissatisfied with this kind of situation.”

“More than dissatisfied, it must fucking suck. Hehehe.”

Ghir added.

Zamuel’s plan, which saw through that point, was quite useful.

“Who would have thought that our Godfather Zamuel would step up here? Your timing was perfect.”

At that, Zamuel, the former second-in-command, snorted.

“I didn’t come all this way just to lend a hand, you know.”

“Of course not. If that was all, the name of Zamuel would weep.”

I gently stroked Zamuel’s ego.

‘*Was he self-conscious about that?*’

Cute bastard. I could offer this level of flattery a hundred times over.

“Seeing this, you really are a big shot, old man. To have such solid connections in the royal capital’s underworld.”

Ghir said in admiration.

“If you want to last long in any business, you have to build up debts and favors here and there.”

Zamuel said with a shrug.

That guy learned well from someone; he really knows the nature of this world.

“The godfather of a third-rate organization owes me a favor from long ago.”

Zamuel explained.

“I can’t ask for anything too difficult, but it should be possible to have him get his boys to start a fire near the First Prince’s location.”

“Hehehehe.”

Ghir let out a sinister laugh.

“And while that’s happening, we sneak in and kidnap the 3rd Prince?”

“Exactly. With you, a genius from a clan of assassins, and the Young Master, an absolute master of stealth, it won’t be a difficult task.”

Zamuel declared confidently.

“The 8th Prince told us the layout, and I’ve been here a few times myself, so finding our way won’t be hard.”

I gave him a thumbs-up.

“So dependable.”

Ghir then rubbed his chin with a thoughtful expression.

“Our side usually deals in transactional relationships, so it’s hard to build connections like this. But this method is something worth emulating in the future.”

I grinned.

“What’s this? The perspective of a clan head?”

“Well, something like that.”

Ghir said, awkwardly smacking his lips.

“Though Drak will do fine on his own.”

“Is that brotherly love? That’s nice. But I’m sure Drak feels reassured having you around, too.”

I thought of Drak’s indifferent face and added.

“Or not.”

“…”

In any case, it was time to go back to being Karzan.

“Shall we get going?”

I put on the mask of Aminicrus for the first time in a long while.

“It feels like it’s been a while since I’ve seen that face.”

Ghir whistled, and Zamuel grinned.

“You have been playing in the sun a bit too much lately.”

I activated the power of the Silent Night Soul-Soaking Divine Art.

“Let’s go. Stealthily.”

We melted into the darkness of the night.

***

An army was meaningless.

When the Dark King, who had crossed the sea to arrive at the castle, took a single step, it became a Sovereign’s Walk.

“Ah, ahh.”

The firmly shut main gate opened, and the warriors from both sides who had been engaged in a bloody battle all knelt in unison, regardless of friend or foe, strength or weakness.

“How can this be?”

“I-I can’t get up.”

Their spirits were either broken, or even if they weren't, their bodies would not listen.

And so, the Dark King walked through the middle of the grand army, through the center of the battlefield, as if taking a stroll.

“Absurd.”

Georg couldn't believe it. To think that he, an 8th-tier superhuman, would feel the impulse to kneel before someone.

“This is too overwhelming.”

Venion let out a hollow laugh.

“I never imagined he would be this powerful.”

It was a power that seemed unfit to be called martial arts, nor magic.

‘Ancient demonic arts. A being that has gathered all of that power into one place.’

A being that was truly the culmination of all malice.

“…Does such a being still need the Ebony Oath and the Dragon Heart?”

Even Geninghen muttered.

“Gulbark.”

The Dark King’s call.

Gulbark knelt before him, bowing his head low.

“You called, my Lord.”

“You have forced me to step forward myself.”

“I am deeply sorry to have shown you such a disgrace.”

The arrogant Gulbark from before was nowhere to be seen.

The sight of this powerhouse, who even Georg the Black Serpent Duke could not defeat, bowing his head like a worm, like a slave fearing his master’s wrath, was bizarre.

What was even more bizarre…

“…is that he shows not the slightest hesitation in displaying his own humiliation before the entire world.”

It was as if to say that just as it is natural for a believer to prostrate himself before a god, you too will soon submit before this being.

“Sercadis, Ragerian.”

It was the same for the swordmaster known as the Fairy of the Blood Moon and the sinister warlock.

“Fall back and await orders.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“As you wish.”

The two superhumans retreated like children who had been scolded.

While everyone else was unable to lift their heads, the Dark King turned his gaze to the three, no, four people who were still holding their heads up stiffly.

“Venion. Twenty-some years ago, you and Georg interfered with this king’s work.”

“…”

Venion did not open his mouth.

He felt that just the act of speaking would disrupt the internal mana he was barely managing to control.

‘You monstrous bastard.’

It was Georg who stood against the Dark King’s aura that was oppressing his vassal.

“Dark King.”

Georg resisted the Sovereign’s Walk and asked.

“May I ask one thing?”

The Dark King looked down on the Duke and said.

“I permit it.”

“What is your level? Are you 9th-tier?”

“…”

The Dark King smiled with his eyes closed.

“No, I have yet to cross that single wall.”

Those words were shocking.

Did that mean they were feeling this sense of powerlessness, like ants, against someone who was in the same 8th-tier as themselves?

“So you need the Ebony Oath and the Dragon Heart to cross that final wall and become a Demon God.”

“Correct.”

That answer discouraged Georg even more.

‘He is already a being of a different dimension. And yet he hasn't even surpassed the 9th-tier.’

When the Dark King recovered those two artifacts, they would truly have no choice but to become his slaves.

“I will tell you. The power I possess now is slightly superior to that of your ancestor, Vitenfeld Grunewald.”

The Dark King smiled.

With a face that looked not at all joyful, a face whose age could not be discerned, a strange face that could not be discussed in terms of beauty or ugliness.

But that smile contained a strange degree of dignity.

“I cannot claim to be a Demon God with just this much. That would be shameful.”

With these words, Duke Georg realized the extent of the Dark King’s power, and that even his ancestor had not reached the 9th-tier.

“…So even my ancestor could not surpass the 9th-tier.”

“That is right, Sword Saint.”

The Dark King turned his head toward Leszek.

He did not open his eyes, but there was no other way to describe the act other than ‘looking.’

“Perhaps the 9th-tier is merely a realm of imagination, and it is impossible for a human of flesh and blood to reach it,”

Said the seeker who had walked the path of martial arts his entire life.

“Yes. I too have thought so for a long time.”

The Dark King nodded.

“That is why I intend to forcibly tear open that realm and become a Demon God. Do you not understand my heart?”

Leszek shook his head at that question.

“If you cannot surpass it, then that is that. To speak coldly, it is nothing more than childish petulance. What meaning could there be in an achievement accomplished by sacrificing this many human lives?”

This time, the Dark King reacted as if he were truly amused.

“Hahahaha! How hypocritical, Leszek.”

The Dark King’s finger pointed at Leszek.

“A man who speaks like such a sage has been obsessed with nothing but the sword his entire life? The one who is most crazed for that realm is none other than you.”

Leszek showed no particular emotional reaction to those words.

“If one’s vessel is lacking, one must simply accept it. I find it puzzling that you find it so difficult to understand the words of one who warns against the greed that spills the blood of others to deny that fact.”

The Dark King’s smile did not fade, as if any words he heard sounded ridiculous.

“Hey, Dark King. Let me ask you one thing.”

“Ah, Geninghen. For you, I should certainly answer.”

At that, Geninghen sighed.

“If you had this much power, you should have just walked the path of a conqueror from the start. Why were you doing such tiresome things hiding in the shadows?”

“Was it not because you people interfered with our will at every turn?”

“Hah, the one who farted is the one getting angry.”

Geninghen pointed accusingly at the Dark King.

“By the way, why the hell are you keeping your eyes closed? Are you practicing your aura sense? Sleepy? Did you just wake up?”

“Geninghen, if you are old, you should have some decorum.”

The Dark King waved his hand, and Geninghen was sent flying.

“Elder!”

The defensive shields that had reflexively activated in layers were meaningless.

But the next moment, Geninghen reappeared on the opposite side.

“Whoa. That surprised me, you bastard.”

The Dark King nodded.

“A bizarre technique.”

The Dark King then took another step, as if he was done talking.

“Ugh!”

Even Venion, who had been holding on, began to buckle at the knees.

Georg supported his shoulder, preventing him from prostrating himself.

“Now, choose. Will you hand over the Dragon Heart to me? Or will you be annihilated here and have it taken from you anyway?”

“You ask the obvious.”

Georg said.

“Neither.”

“Foolish.”

The Dark King shook his head.

“The powerless have no right to choose their future. Therefore, I will decide your deaths for you.”

Rumble-rumble-rumble-rumble

Just as a great power was beginning to boil over…

“Clan Head.”

Leszek, as if he had decided something, stepped in front of him.

“…Do not make such a rash decision.”

“Elder?”

“I have left a secret manual with Venion, a compilation of the martial arts I have mastered my entire life. Clan Head, you will later give that to Allenvert.”

The back of the old man called the Sword Saint was as vast as the sea.

“Allenvert will be able to reach the unexplored territory that we could not. For the sake of passing that on, you are a man who must not die here.”

Leszek raised his sword.

“Let us settle this now, Dark King. Whose martial art has reached a greater height, yours or mine?”

The resolve of the warrior who had found his place to die was aimed at the Dark King.

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]