WuxiaWorldEU

V8C5 Part3

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It’s Ko-Fi’s Supporters’ chapter (128/130), enjoy~

ED: LonelyMatter

The 29th of June, the 1026th year of the Imperial Calendar.

Steichen Republic ― Garza’s palace.

A cold wind was flowing under the stars.

In contrast to the bright sky, the city spread out on the ground is sinking into darkness.

The city of Garza once prospered as the capital of blacksmithing, but now, due to persecution and forced conscription, it has fallen out of favor, and its population has significantly declined.

In such a declining town, there was a place where a large number of lights had been turned on.

It is the palace where Utgarde, the lord of Garza, lived.

However, Utgarde had moved westward to fight a decisive battle against the Jotunheim faction and was currently absent. His absence was being guarded by influential people who have gathered from all over the country.

Unlike the quietness of the city, the palace was noisy.

A merry song could be heard outside as if a banquet was being held.

The dwarf soldiers patrolling the palace looked at it reproachfully and returned to their guard.

In one of the palace rooms, there was the king of the small country of Baum, Hiro.

“It’s so noisy.”

Hiro listened to the noise leaking from the corridor on his bunk, breathing hard.

After touching his ear annoyedly, Hiro looked again at the person in front of him.

A strong-looking man ― Munin ― was bowing to Hiro.

“Your Majesty, it seems that Nidavellir has lost.”

There was no surprise. It was something that was known even before the war started.

The leading figures of the Nidavellir faction, who did not understand this, took refuge in Garza, which would be the battlefield in the future. Moreover, taking advantage of the absence of their lord Utgarde, they had been holding banquets without permission and consuming large amounts of food in vain. And judging from the fact that they were still feasting today, it seems that they had not yet received the news of their defeat.

“So, what is going on with Utgarde?”

“According to the reports of the spies, he managed to escape. However, as a sacrifice, his right-hand man, General Gormo, and the other officials who accompanied him in this battle were all killed. This is information from three days ago, but if he was not yet captured, he should be coming back soon.”

It seems that the incompetent survived and the competent ones scattered on the battlefield instead.

It was a common story but not a pleasant one to hear.

“But General Gormo was a harsh man, wasn’t he?”

Even if they were holed up in Utgarde, they wouldn’t be able to defend the city.

Moreover, the palace’s reserves had been devoured by parasites, making a prolonged siege next to impossible.

Other soldiers were on guard in frustration. Naturally, morale was low, and with the current state of grumbling, if push came to shove, they would offer Utgarde to Jotunheim without hesitation. Since the city has already collapsed from within, even Garza’s high walls would not be able to stop the invasion of Jotunheim’s army.

“Nidavellir seems to have reached a dead end.”

Then, as for Hiro, there was no reason to stay here any longer.

All that remained was to meet Utgarde and then return to the small country of Baum, having achieved his objective.

“And there is one more thing…”

Munin looked uncomfortable, mumbling as if something was stuck in his back teeth.

Hearing his hesitation and wondering why, Hiro decided to give him a push.

“What’s wrong?”

“O-old man Tris was… killed in the battle.”

At that moment, he choked.

“…..”

The shock was so great that Hiro could not utter a single word.

The complicated emotions swelled, and something collapsed noisily within his body on the beat.

Once he understood the meaning of the words, uncontrollable emotions erupted.

“Unbelievable!”

That was shouted by a shadow that crossed Hiro’s vision ― the shadow was jumping on Munin.

“You are lying! Old man Tris is dead? No way… there must be some kind of mistake!”

It was Hugin. She had come to visit Hiro to report on another matter one day earlier than Munin.

Her face was pale as if she had been thrown into an extremely cold place, and her bloodshot eyes were wide open in disbelief.

“T-that man couldn’t have died. Do you know how strong old man Tris is, Brother?”

Her hand on Munin’s shoulder was trembling, unable to hide her agitation. Munin turned his eyes to the floor as if to escape from Hugin’s fearsome gaze.

“I know. That’s why I checked it many times, too. But it’s a fact…”

“N-no way… I don’t believe… that old man Tris… died…”

As if the tension had been drained out of her, Hugin’s whole body lost its strength, and her shoulders trembled as she rested her forehead on the floor and held back the sobs that were pouring out of her. Luca put her hand on her head and began to stroke it gently.

Hiro looked up at the ceiling and sat down on the bunk.

“I see… he’s dead, huh?”

He was a stubborn man. But he was also strict and gentle.

Hiro remembered that Tris often trained with the young soldiers.

“He could have been a general…”

His achievements are innumerable. The only reason it hadn’t been publicized was that he was Liz’s subordinate.

It is a well-known fact that Liz was shunned by everyone around her from an early age.

This became even more pronounced after she was favored by the “Flame Emperor.” She was forced to move to the left due to a plot by a rival faction that felt threatened, and she was trapped and put in mortal danger many times. This was no exception for Tris, who was her direct subordinate, and yet he continued to serve Liz without betraying her.

“I see… that Tris was killed in action…”

When was it that Liz once told him a story about her childhood?

After losing her mother, Liz was always playing by herself. It was Dios and his superior Tris who gave her a helping hand.

They taught her the sword ― the art of living ― knowing that it would cut off their career paths, even though the nobles would shun them.

(Did he come to see me that day…?)

Hiro looked at the window and saw the full moon covered by a book of darkness in the sky.

(Did he come to tell me something…?)

Hiro was no longer able to know the answer to that question. No one can know the thoughts of the deceased.

Hiro knows that best.

(Tris-san… were you angry, sad… or laughing?)

Hiro bowed once to the window, adjusted his mask, and got up from his bunk.

“…Let’s get this over with.”

Just one word uttered changed the quality of the air.

Rather than an alteration, it was a transformation ― the killing intent released by Hiro forcibly distorted the space.

All gazes turn to Hiro as they feel ominous darkness spreading through the room.

“…..Your Majesty?”

Munin called out unexpectedly, but Hiro did not react, just staring at the ceiling.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Hiro stomped on the floor.

“…It’s raining.”

In response to Hiro’s mumbled voice, Munin’s gaze was thrown out the window, but the night sky was silent and colored with stars.

“…Raining?”

While Munin was puzzled, unable to gauge the meaning of the words, Hiro was walking to the door.

“Since that day ― the sun has remained hidden.”

The door was opened vigorously, and Nidavellir soldiers rushed to the door with surprised expressions on their faces.

“What are you doing, Black Dragon King-dono? You should ask permission from Torkil-sama before you leave the room.”

Hiro gave a stern look to the two Nidavellir soldiers who had stopped him.

“You are in my way.”

Hiro drew his black sword and, without hesitation, decapitated them.

It was a blink of an eye – the Nidavellir soldiers were made to roll their heads into the hallway without even knowing what had been done to them. Next, a heavy sound echoed loudly down the hallway. The bodies of the Nidavellir soldiers fell with a spray of blood. A black stain spread across the red carpet in the hallway. Munin and Hugin took one look at it and dropped to one knee behind Hiro.

“Your Majesty… please give us your command.”

Munin spoke from behind Hiro, and Hiro opened his mouth as he searched for the presence of the people in the surrounding area.

“The plan has begun ― so inform everyone.”

“As you wish.”

Munin replied and disappeared without a sound.

“Hugin, take command of the men hiding in the city.”

Hugin looked up at him with red, swollen eyelids, and he patted her on the head.

“You got it?”

“Yes!”

Hugin bowed her head deeply and disappeared, as did her brother.

Meanwhile, Luca, wavering, stuck to Hiro’s back.

“What should I do?”

Luca whispered in his ear.

“Let’s head for the throne room.”

Hiro laughed and then began to walk, stomping on the rolling corpses.

Perhaps hearing the sound, the Nidavellir soldiers came from in front of and behind Hiro and Luca.

There were six of them. Hiro, who was sandwiched between them, faced forward while Luca moved in behind him to protect him.

“It’s time to wake up ― Dark Lord.”

A blackness denser than darkness began to invade the hallway.

The air, the space, the world ― it cracks. Splitting. Shattering.

Everlasting darkness overflows like bubbling mud, deep and dark to the end.

The transformed darkness eats the world, and despair and craving are born.

Startled by this scene, the soldiers of Nidavellir stopped in their tracks.

“W-what the hell are you doing? Black Dragon King-dono, have you gone mad?”

“The concert has begun!”

Hiro put his index finger to his mouth and listened carefully.

“Listen quietly. This is a requiem for Tris-san.”

Hiro narrowed his eyes like a snake deep inside his mask.

It was a full moon night.

The light was solemn, chaste, and maidenly, illuminating the ground.

The roar of horseshoes broke through the atmosphere, and the sound of heavy armor tore through the night air.

“How many are left!”

The man galloping with all his might was Utgarde, the representative of the Nidavellir faction who had fled the battlefield after losing the decisive battle against the Jotunheim faction.

“Three men! The others couldn’t keep up!”

“Damn it! It’s all General Gormo’s fault we’re in this wretched mess!”

Utgarde slowed his horse down and spat out abusive words as he controlled his breathing.

“Hah, damn it, I’ll burn General Gormo’s territory to the ground. And his family will be executed for this defeat!”

“Wait a minute. General Gormo stayed on the battlefield to let Utgarde-sama escape, you know. It is too much to blame the family of a general who has shown loyalty…”

“Shut up!”

Utgarde, with the color of indignation in his eyes, cut down his aide, who had complained to him.

Having lost its master, the horse neighed and ran away in the darkness.

Utgarde saw the horse off with a snort and turned to the two remaining soldiers.

“Do you boys want to preach to me too?”

“N-no… we have not the faintest idea of such fearful things.”

“Good, because if you speak nonsense, I will also cut you down.”

Utgarde swung his sword, sending the blood splatter flying, and put it away in its sheath. Then he silently held out his arm and demanded water from the soldier. The soldier handed him a canteen of water, and Utgarde drank it down in one gulp.

“Ah ― lukewarm, but delicious. Why should I have to go through all this?”

“It is still possible to recover, and the influential people in the neighborhood are still alive and well, so we can assemble an army from their lands. There is also the Black Dragon King with us; if we use him, we can collect money from all over the world.”

Utgarde nodded with a smile as his eyes caught the moonlit walls of the castle.

“We must make full use of him. First, we will buy time in the castle to rouse the nobles and lords. Then we need to give the bandits some money, burn down the estates of the Jotunheim senators, and show them which side they would be better off on.”

As long as they buy time, there will be no problem.

The gold they had lost would be recovered by the necklace of the first emperor and the sweet nectar of the “Black Dragon King.”

“Fufu, the heavens haven’t given up on me yet. The problem will naturally be solved if I can just stand on my high horse in this impregnable city.”

Utgarde approaches the gate, admiring the high walls of Garza.

But he immediately noticed something unusual and stopped his horse.

“Ah? Why is the gate open?”

“It’s strange. There seem to be no guards.”

“Who’s on duty――!?”

Then suddenly, the horse reared and Utgarde was knocked to the ground.

“Agh? W-what?”

Utgarde was shaken off, but he had no time to be surprised. The horse was on its feet, and Utgarde noticed that it was falling toward him. Although he was upset, he quickly ran to the side and was able to avoid being pinned under the horse.

“What happened suddenly…?”

He was not given another moment to confirm what had happened. A series of loud noises behind him caused him to turn around.

When he turned around――,

“…What the hell are you people?”

A large number of “other races” were standing there. Swords, spears, axes ― even a shabbily dressed man with a hoe in his hand. They stared at Utgarde like beasts, their eyes blazing. Two soldiers lay in a pitiful state at their feet, unable to even groan.

“This one seems to be a man of high rank. But, more importantly, he’s a dwarf; let’s kill him!”

They shouted and jumped at him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you lowlifes?”

Unable to grasp the situation but fearing for his life, Utgarde quickly drew his sword and stabbed one of them. He then slashed the arm of the second, causing the ruffians, startled by Utgarde’s swordsmanship, to move away from him.

“T-this guy!”

“Do you think you can beat me, you peasant!”

Utgarde took advantage of the frightened crowd and fled into the gate. He sneered at those who were shouting behind his back, but his cheeks immediately twitched.

“What in the world is going on?”

Unusually, the town was full of people. But it was an odd sight. Everyone was walking around with blood-soaked swords in their hands. They carried bottles of wine, food, and other jewelry in their hands.

Their gazes turn to Utgarde with torches.

“Oh, a surviving fancy soldier!”

Utgarde looked down at his golden armor, which caught the torchlight with a pale face.

“You had a good one with the money you took from us, eh?”

A look of hatred shot through his heart. Utgarde swung his sword at the people surrounding him, but none of them flinched as if they had steel in their hearts.

“What are those bastards in the palace doing… what’s with this situation…?”

“Ha, you haven’t even noticed. Those people are in the middle of a feast, as they always are, day after day, night after night.”

“Feast, you say ― buh!?”

Shock flashed across Utgarde’s cheeks as he looked up at the palace. He was beaten by the people who approached him.

Utgarde fell to the ground and groaned, and another kick hit him directly in the face.

“That’s right! With what you took from us!”

“S-stop. Who are you people trying to ― Gah!?”

In the face of the violence that came one after another, Utgarde desperately covered his body with his arms and hands, but it was meaningless in the face of the violence of numbers.

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