Chapter 457 - Execution
The massive airship and the magic stone supply vessel kept the same speed, adjusting their vertical altitude in unison.
Then, Count Cheolp's airship activated the magic circles
"Hm."
The wrinkled Mage, Huffner, counted the sacks filled with magic stones, then pulled back his jaw heavily.
"Just as was reported beforehand. Not that it would've been difficult, but you've done well regardless. Go and rest now, Trante."
"Um, the thing is."
"Have something else to say?"
"I too would love to devote myself to my personal research, but, you know how it is. If I were caught slacking at a time like this, it wouldn't end well. So I'll stay until the very end and confirm everything before leaving."
At present, due to the Eastern faction's inferiority, Count Cheolp was in an extremely foul mood.
Cross his sight the wrong way, and death could follow. He had once slain a soldier on the spot, simply for being the bearer of bad news—that they had lost a major battle.
Huffner smacked his lips, as if to show he understood.
"Indeed, these days His Excellency's judgments are, shall we say, quite irrational. Still, surely he wouldn't kill a 3rd-tier Mage outright... but even so, best not to attract his ire. Very well."
"Thank you."
"If anything happens, all responsibility will fall on you, but don't forget to check every detail thoroughly, so no sparks fall your way. I'll be visiting His Excellency and then returning to my laboratory. Report to me once you're finished."
"Yes, Lord Huffner."
Trante gestured lightly.
Clatterrrrr...
The waiting crewmen loaded the sacks of magic stones onto carts for transport. Heavy wheels scraped along the floor.
Trante... or rather, Heras in disguise, oversaw the crew and moved toward the storage chamber where the stones fueling the vessel's core were kept.
The interior became bustling in an instant.
After watching the process for a moment, Huffner turned and headed toward Count Cheolp.
And.
Isabella, cloaked in the 5th-tier magic
***
"───I shall take my leave now, Your Excellency."
Having announced the arrival of the supply ship, Huffner carefully departed the chamber.
Count Cheolp, having no words to reply with, simply stared into space, lost in thought.
'Every strategy of the East was centered solely around the magic tower on the Volcanic Island. That was the optimal, the best choice available.'
The Elder of the Volcanic Island's magic tower, Melconi Blaud of Andranov, a 6th-tier mid-level Magus, was, in terms of war, an asymmetric force.
Most plans assume the worst case scenario, but Melconi's defeat went beyond "worst". It had been so unthinkable, they hadn't even considered it.
Thus, the Eastern front collapsed in an instant.
'The Grand Lord, Kardric, has been captured by the North.'
Already, three fortresses had been lost, two of which were key strategic points of considerable size.
Liam Arein's hired mercenary corps, the Valiant Fugitives, posed no major threat.
Annoying, yes—they were infamous for their tenacity, like a thorn in the eye. But by nature, their group specialized in defensive warfare.
Even so, the situation had turned dire, thanks to two unheard-of Magi.
Unia, and Cain.
Introducing themselves under those names, the pair appeared outwardly as siblings. But their reported power was absurd.
One had subdued Melconi Blaud himself, one-on-one, in a duel of magic.
The other entered the battlefield directly, single-handedly crushing the Eastern army's knights and commanders in head-on combat.
Throb.
A headache flared, and Count Cheolp pressed his brow.
"From, from the North of all places... how can Shinseong possess two nation-level assets? And keep them hidden all this time? Damn it all...."
He muttered, but nothing changed.
And the North was not the only problem.
The absence of Melconi emboldened the Mercenary King, who struck fiercely. In two successive large-scale battles, the East suffered defeats.
The Grand Lord, Toren, barely escaped, but at the cost of losing nearly half his army.
The West pressed relentlessly as well.
Thus the East, trapped between North and West, had fallen into a desperate crisis.
'Grand Lord Hedowar still remains, but overturning our current inferiority... impossible!'
He had to admit it.
To repel the North and West—both raging like mad above and below the contested lands—was, at present, impossible.
So far, Cheolp had executed three messengers who brought him reports of the war.
Yet ill tidings never ceased.
Now and then came reports of minor skirmish victories. But damn it all, those meant nothing.
In every major engagement, the ones that determined the course of the war, they had lost.
'This is disastrous.'
His head chilled.
'If, if we lose this war of competition....'
He would return East with nothing but loss. Not even a scrap gained. That was beyond irredeemable. He had promised victory himself, taking the role of representative.
And it wouldn't end with losing land. The Grand Lords captured as hostages by rival factions would demand massive ransoms.
Surrender was not an option.
To abandon a Grand Lord so easily would shatter the trust holding the Eastern lords together.
Who would bear that blame?
'Of course, the representative of this competition... me.'
By experience, he knew. With this degree of loss, purging would follow.
And purge here meant not stepping down from office, but having his head neatly cut from his neck.
Everything he had gained, gone with it.
Gulp, gulp, gulp.
He swigged strong liquor straight from the bottle.
His vision grew hazy, but his mind was sharper than ever.
Cold sweat trickled down.
'Three options remain.'
One: flee the war of competition entirely, drive this airship to exile, very, very, very far away.
Two: prostrate himself before the Eastern pinnacle, Marquis Gerdom, and beg for his life.
And the last...
"What the hell are you doing, Mordoc! If you don't kill Liam Arein, that brat...!!"
Through assassination, using a former Grimnax executive, eliminate the North, leaving only the Mercenary King of the West to face—recovering even a fragment of his failure.
Cheolp had to find a way to live.
As he agonized endlessly, it happened.
───KWAaaaaaaaaaang!
A deafening blast shook somewhere within the airship.
***
"W-what is this...?!"
Explosions went off in chain reaction, shaking the vessel again and again.
Distant screams echoed, alarms from magic items shrieked into eardrums.
Soon, a knight rushed in, breathless.
"Your Excellency Cheolp! A sudden fire has broken out near the lower storage of magic stones, the entire chamber is engulfed in flames!"
Lose the magic stones, and the ship loses power.
"Deploy Mages immediately to suppress it───"
A sudden unease gripped Cheolp.
Could explosions aboard the vessel, at such a time, be mere coincidence?
Perhaps someone intended this.
"Find the High Mages and bring them here at once. Exclude the water-element Mages, send all the others to me immediately! And search the entire ship! Anyone suspicious—capture them all!"
"Y-yes, sir!"
Cheolp kept three knights at his side, not daring to move. Here was safest.
For now, what mattered most was the great airship, and his own safety.
At that moment.
Creeeeak.
The door opened without warning.
And the woman who had been invisible revealed herself, plain to see.
"As expected, you wouldn't just sit still."
Isabella Argyle.
She quietly closed the door, then walked forward at a calm pace.
Cheolp's eyes bulged wide.
The nape of his neck, though long healed, throbbed again unconsciously.
"H-how, how are you here...?"
"Our intelligence network is quite impressive, you see."
Answering briefly, Isabella activated her mana circuits in full.
"Once I take you down, the East is eliminated, isn't it? By the rules of the competition."
Cheolp roared.
"Kill her!!!"
The knights charged.
As the Grand Lord's personal guards, they bore elite arms and considerable skill.
But, regrettably, the opponent was too much.
Mado
Isabella's abnormal Mado eroded the natural mana resistance of living beings, rendering them vulnerable as inanimate matter before magic.
In short, those unable to endure her Mado couldn't even attempt resistance.
───!
Mana burst forth, seizing the three knights in an unyielding grip.
"Their resistance isn't particularly high."
And Isabella stood at the 6th-tier upper ranks.
True, her growth had been abrupt, leaving her lacking knowledge and experience. But against anyone below her level, it made no difference.
Isabella's unique spell.
The knights, robbed of control over their bodies, turned their blades against their own throats, and in one motion slashed sideways.
"Ghhk."
The personal guards were slaughtered in an instant.
At the very moment Isabella focused her mind to capture Cheolp alive, a tremendous roar rang out above, and the ceiling suddenly collapsed.
Thud.
From the rubble emerged the Eastern faction's Grand Warrior, wielding a massive double-edged blade.
He glared at Isabella, licking his lips greedily.
"Kruk, prey has come to me of its own accord."
"Ugh, disgusting."
The fierce surge Isabella conjured froze under waves of cold, rushing forth.
Icicle spears pierced through the air head-on.
The Grand Warrior leapt high, evading the chain of magic, then kicked off what remained of the ceiling, shooting diagonally downward.
Isabella curled her fingers.
From corpses already eroded, she drew out blood, shaping dozens of projectiles, then snapped her wrist, firing them all at once.
The Grand Warrior cleaved apart the spells with a vast sword aura, but stopping them all was impossible.
Hit by the droplets of blood, his descent naturally slowed.
In that gap, Isabella withdrew sharply.
Kwaaang!
The sword strike missed, smashing the floor instead.
The Grand Warrior rolled his shoulder muscles, dust falling from them.
Isabella observed.
'Scratches only, no meaningful damage. And beyond his command of aura, his body itself has abnormally high resistance.'
For her Mado's erosion to take hold on this barbarian-like Grand Warrior, it would take time.
Unless his entire body were covered in something deeply imbued with Mado.
The Grand Warrior laughed ferociously.
"Good reflexes, you won't die easy. I'll sever your limbs, then mount your head and torso on that wall."
"Such filthy words. I wonder what you'll say after death."
Though she spoke thus, Isabella had no intention of forcing a decisive battle.
There was no reason to.
Kwaaang!
"Your Excellency Cheolp, are you safe?!"
Not from the door Isabella entered, but from a hidden back entrance, two Mages—Huffner and Trante—joined.
Cheolp's face lit with color.
"Quickly, aid the Grand Warrior, kill that wench, no! Capture her! However you must, just take her alive!"
"Underst──"
Claws of earth, at the 5th tier, tore into Huffner's back.
His lungs and heart pierced.
Fatally wounded, his body collapsed lifelessly, breath gone.
Behind Cheolp, the one disguised as Trante—Heras—took hold.
Seizing his head, he pressed a dagger to his throat.
"T-Trante, what are you...?!"
"Drop your sword, Grand Warrior. Unless you wish to see Cheolp die here and now."
Cheolp groaned deeply.
Trante had betrayed him... no, most likely someone in disguise.
Sssk.
The Grand Warrior moved regardless, but Cheolp hastily cried out.
"D-don't move, Grand Warrior! Didn't you hear, he'll kill me!"
Ragged breathing.
With the dagger's tip pricking his skin, Cheolp, befitting a Grand Lord, forced his mind to work, squeezing out words.
"Listen...! Woman! A dialogue, no, a negotiation! Yes, let's negotiate!"
"Negotiate?"
"Liam Arein is in danger right now!!"
Isabella hesitated.
Seeing her pause, Cheolp pressed on with silver tongue.
"You, you must have heard of Grimnax, the organization that deals in assassination across the continent. One of their assassins was dispatched toward Liam Arein recently...! Hired by another Grand Lord. Unless I give the order immediately, Liam Arein will be dead within days!"
He skillfully laced lies with truth. But none could see through them. Cheolp was a man who had risen to Grand Lord through politics, in a land without a master.
At that moment, Isabella sneered.
"Well, it seems that side will have no problem at all."
***
A certain Baron's family was slain in an "accident", leaving the Baron alone, who soon took his own life.
A certain Marquis' knight-commander was assassinated, his head placed upon the Marquis' bed.
A certain Prince's bastard children, born of brothel women, were all slaughtered, and even the whores were dragged beyond the city walls and given to goblins as feed.
Fulfilling such requests flawlessly, Mordoc had been recognized by Grimnax, climbing to the lowest rank of executive.
And after paying a staggering bribe, he had been granted retirement—alive—under strict conditions.
Mordoc was an exceptional assassin.
Yet now, such a man lay on the cold dirt ground.
"Ghhk, grrk... ghhk...!"
Hands clutching his throat.
Though he pressed hard, the blood would not stop from the cut. Bit by bit, life spilled away.
In a forest marked by battle.
Adrian looked down at the fallen Mordoc with disdain.
"I hadn't thought the East would hire even Grimnax... but you've come to the wrong man. Do you think I've only faced assassins like you once or twice?"
In the past, Adrian's arrogant, fierce nature—save only before his master—earned him many enemies.
Especially nobles and petty royals, humiliated in public when he addressed them without honor.
That shame, at the hands of a mere commoner-born swordsman, soon turned into murderous intent.
Sending assassins personally, then failing again and again, led them finally to Grimnax.
But all for nothing.
To target someone close to Adrian? His master was a famed swordsman, beyond their reach. To trace old acquaintances? Impossible, there were none.
Poisoning the entire food supply of an inn Adrian stayed at was quickly uncovered.
Ambush him by surprise? The result never changed.
Always, the assassin died.
And Grimnax, for failed contracts, never sought revenge, even if their own were slain.
No profit in it.
Still, many sought Adrian's death, and with each failed attempt, his bounty only rose.
Later, once Adrian stood among the continent's Four Strongest, requests ceased altogether. Yet the records remained.
"Y-you. A-Adrian... Cham, bers...!"
Thus, Mordoc knew of Adrian. Of the violet sword aura, and his abnormal swiftness.
"Missing, and yet, why are you, here...!"
"You've no need to know."
Adrian raised the demon sword, Cadence.
Mordoc, staring up at the shadow falling over him, vomited blood.
"I was, paid, more, for this...!"
Slash.
***
"Khk...."
Sensing that negotiations would fail, Cheolp's eyes darted busily.
'If I'm taken alive, it's over.'
The Grand Lords would ransom their hostages, then tear Cheolp limb from limb.
Never had the East spared a Grand Lord who caused such losses, then lost the war.
He had seen incompetent Grand Lords brutally executed.
Anything but quartering.
Isabella warned the Grand Warrior.
"For us, it's preferable to capture Count Cheolp, but his death changes nothing. So I'll say it once more. Drop that sword, unless you want to watch your lord die."
Stab.
The dagger dug slightly into Cheolp's neck.
"G-Grand Warrior...! I'll reward you, many times over, later! For now, cooperate...!!"
"..."
The Grand Warrior's eyes twitched.
Silent for a moment, he exhaled, loosening his grip.
"Tch. No helping it, then."
He bent torso and knees, slowly lowering his blade.
As if with no intent to resist.
During that moment, Heras, holding Cheolp hostage, shifted toward Isabella.
Grin.
The Grand Warrior smiled.
Isabella flared her mana, shouting.
"Move!"
The Grand Warrior charged like an arrow.
Contracting taut muscles, he swung the double-edged blade vertically.
"?!"
Heras retreated.
The only one left in its path was Cheolp.
"Oh."
Thwack! Crackkkk!
Count Cheolp split apart.
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