369 - Regressor of the Fallen Family

Chapter 369 - Even if everything goes according to our plan, the path ahead will be difficult for you. "I am prepared for that." On the day before everything unfolded, Baros had spoken those words to Jerome, who was once again pledging his loyalty. "The Cassel Tower seeks to take me not merely as a scheme to shake the Empire, but also because it's the only way I can survive." "I understand." "Even knowing that your life will be at risk because of it?" "..." "Don't paint me as a shameless man, Jerome. At least have some means prepared to ensure your survival." "The only course I can think of is to completely eliminate the ghost and blame the kidnapping on the Cassel Tower." "Will Lady Tris really be deceived by that?" "I do not place much faith in it. But for now, we have no choice but to cling to that slim chance." "That cannot be. If it turns out that way, your life would be the price for saving mine." The prince's bloodshot eyes bore genuine concern. "I, Baros von Ares, have lived by the principle of repaying grace or grudges tenfold, regardless of personal cost. This is the person I've become, though looking at my miserable state, one might find it hard to believe." "No matter the command from His Majesty, I could not bring myself to perform an assassination, especially one that involved harming his progeny. I merely adhered to the knight's code. Please, do not concern yourself." "How can I not be concerned! How!" "..." "Ha... Alright. Let's proceed like this. It might seem a bit pathetic and cowardly, but for you to survive is how I can repay the debt." "Excuse me?" "You know that it's Tracy the Cardinal, not just anyone, who is taking me away—or rather, abducting me. Whatever his true identity may be, that's his current role." "What are you suggesting?" "Claim that the Holy Nation 'cooperated' with 'enemies of the Empire' to kidnap me. And include Commander Max's situation in this...lay all the blame on the Holy Nation." Recalling the conversation with the second prince, Jerome focused his gaze intently on his mentor. "For both incidents, we can use the pretext that the Holy Nation 'attacked' the Empire first. That is, they collaborated with the Empire's enemies." Tris's eyes narrowed at the plausible suggestion. But there was something that bothered him. "What if the second prince starts spouting nonsense?" "We simply ignore it. After all, those who are doing the kidnapping are masters of mental magic..." "Announce that the prince was brainwashed?" "Announcing it before the second prince officially declares his stance could be a tactic." "Oh..." Tris's expression hardened again, and Jerome swallowed dryly while watching. He was in the difficult position of having to publicly make the one he served appear as a madman. "It's fine. I cannot return to the Imperial Household anyway. All that awaits me now is to anticipate war or chaos. Chaos that won't unfold according to the Emperor’s wishes. That's why I chose them." "Even if a plausible pretext is made to return to the Imperial Household, it would be a suicidal act. I would be killed the moment I step in, without anyone knowing. My father, no, the Emperor of this Empire, is that kind of person." Jerome swallowed once more, praying for his lord's safety, knowing that somewhere unknown to him, new situations were unfolding. "Of course, these measures fall significantly short compared to the perfect pretext of the prince's death. However..." Some might claim the Empire was being unreasonable. Others would shout conspiracy. "The Saintess and the Holy Sword are already aware of His Majesty’s intentions, so they will not concede to our demands, no matter how minor." "Oh?" "But in front of outsiders, it will seem as if they are being unreasonably stubborn, refusing to acknowledge logical doubts." "That will bolster our pretext?" "Yes. At least, it should suffice as a pretext for war." "This isn't a strategy someone of your intellect might have devised." Jerome could only lower his head at his mentor’s words. "Given the Emperor's true intentions, he won't actually kill me, right? As long as I keep silent about the events involving the prince..." "It's easy to frame someone if nothing is done. Even the honor you sought to protect could be tarnished. So do as I say." "If you manage to present the situation in the way the Emperor desires, with your family's influence and your skills, you should at least avoid execution. But even then..." "Yes. It doesn't matter who came up with the idea. Still..." With a sigh, Tris looked at his disciple. And without fail, he echoed what Baros had anticipated and what Jerome first suggested. "...Be prepared to be stripped of your title, and serve as a common knight." "Of course." Looking at his heavy-hearted disciple, Tris, unable to shed his stern demeanor, eventually dispelled his aura and declared, almost in passing. "Given the circumstances, I’ll be taking Knight Jerome with me." The notion of a wounded knight being taken by an envoy of the Empire seemed unquestionable. However, Harman didn't think so as he suddenly blocked his way. "Oh. Then you'll have to assure us that the prince's disappearance is unrelated to the Sacred Nation." At this, Tris raised an eyebrow and shifted his gaze slightly, noticing a holy knight holding something akin to a communication device, perhaps for recording. "Hmph... Do you think you can grasp the truth of the situation after merely a glance?" "If you think so, I'm afraid we cannot allow Knight Jerome to leave with you." "Haha. You seemed more reasonable than this." A faint snap. With that minor noise and the humor in his expression, the space around the two seemed to distort slightly, causing those nearby to gasp, yet neither of them seemed the least bit fazed. "Taking the sole witness from the current incident where the Empire is being accused of fabrications seems like an even greater stretch." "Do you really think Jerome would alter his testimony based on where he stands? It seems the Holy Sword's judgment is lacking." "I trust Knight Jerome, but I cannot trust the Empire." "Oh, does that mean the Grandmaster of the Holy Nation's Knights intends to openly antagonize our Empire?" "I am merely speaking to basic principles." A resonating hum filled the air, as if loaded with thorns hidden in casual words. Tiny objects around them began to shatter due to their tension-filled confrontation. "Ugh! Create some distance!" "Everyone, step back!" Both the holy knights and the imperial knights serving as escorts were caught off guard and retreated from the heated exchange between the two opposing figures. Even as elites in their own right, the aura emanating from these two paragons of their nations was overwhelming. Naturally, their expressions hardened like granite. The unwavering standoff between the two extreme beings was a testament to their internal resolve. — Both are dead serious. The simultaneous mutual realization dawned upon them. — But why? These were representatives of their respective nations at the pinnacle of their abilities. If either were to fall, it would undoubtedly spiral into unrepairable turmoil between the Empire and the Holy Nation. If the Holy Sword was harmed, the Empire’s pretext for accusations would cease to exist. If the Sword Soul was defeated, the Empire would gain a solid justification to subdue the Holy Nation. Even if both survived, such a confrontation deepened the animosity between the two countries. Unless full-scale war had erupted, this duel would have been a foolish act. The two mighty beings were not devoid of common sense, yet once the standoff began, their vision narrowed to the immediate. Hum. Crackle, crackle. Red and white auras clashed fiercely, as the eyes of the two warriors shifted. Belatedly, they'd realized the error in judgment. Hum. Yet, the red and blue energies had already established an unyielding balance throughout the area. ‘Damn it...!’ ‘Huh, damn...!’ They had reached a point where one side must concede, fully prepared for injury. This unplanned incident was born of the competitive spirit welling in their hearts. Reaching a consensus and backing down would be the rational choice. — You first. — No, you first. Neither intended to retreat, their wills unyieldingly conveyed through their gazes, escalating the scenario to an extreme. — How dare you? Each had gone over a decade—one more than twenty years—without encountering a worthy match. Should one have been convinced that their opponent was inferior, some form of retreat might have occurred. However, in a situation of parity, conceding was out of the question. Instead, their competitive spirits burned even brighter. ‘Indeed, the Empire will not step back. Vanquishing the Sword Soul here might even serve better interests.’ ‘His Majesty’s intentions are firm. Regardless, war will ensue, and disabling the Holy Nation’s sword beforehand is advantageous.’ Unbeknownst to them, thoughts that would terrify and prompt intervention from their peers settled in their minds. Yet, absorbed by their swelling competitive drive, they convinced themselves of these paths. In addition, looking at one another’s grinning expressions, they began to forget even the reasons behind their conflict. Resultantly, both masters inched towards a spirited, simultaneous announcement. “Holy Knights, withdraw from the premises!” “Imperial Knights, clear the area!” Boom! In that instant, as the call echoed through the air, a portion of the grand temple's guest wing erupted with a raw explosion. * * * Such debates had always been perennial. — Who is the world's strongest? In a time where knights and magicians, force users and mana users transcended their limitations, discussions about supremacy were common, even among noble gatherings. For the past decade, two contenders inevitably arose in these conversations. — The continent's finest swordsman, the Sword Soul, Tris Hornsby. — The Holy Nation's prime swordsman, the Holy Sword, Harmon Killerbrew. The Sword Soul, who had cleaved through a hundred elite knights of a rebelling prince’s retinue during the Emperor’s coronation. The Holy Sword, who single-handedly defended a frontier village against a monster wave for three days with only a sword along the southern mountain range. Stories of their feats seemed akin to mythical narratives, often dismissed by enthusiasts as hyperbole. Yet, within the center of Nobiance, the two now proved that their legends were far from exaggeration. Flash. Reality was awash with only white and red light, yet under their mighty influence, everything within their vicinity was reduced to ruins. Slash. The light, darting with the speed of an arrow, cut through the hallowed ground shielded by sacred spells, severing it like tofu. Miracles born from mere swings of a sword. The radiance that extended several meters with each swing was a force of destruction, leaving indelible marks on the ground if swung vertically and obliterating anything in its path if swung horizontally. And when clashed head-on... Boom! A tumultuous storm surged forward with deafening noise. Witnessing such a spectacle that shattered human comprehension, all present could not help but be stunned. "Impossible..." "How can humans..." "Monsters..." Even their closest acquaintances, who believed they understood them well, watched in a stupor as the cataclysm unfolded. Among them, Jerome Dicaide, also dubbed an 'extraordinary being,' was no exception. "H-how...!?" He found himself even more astonished. Having reached an intermediate level as an aura user, he believed he had some sense of the prowess of his mentor, who was regarded as a top-tier fighter, unlike the Holy Sword. But that confidence dissipated entirely in that moment. "A top-tier aura user is said to be able to cleave even space itself. But even then, how could something like this be real...?” It felt less like the acts of men and more like the arrival of a god of destruction. The legendary feats whispered in tales seemed understated in comparison to the reality before him. Watching these extraordinary individuals, Jerome couldn’t help but feel that if a few more such beings existed, entire armies would become obsolete—a surreal spectacle that defied belief. As Jerome stood there, stunned by the overwhelming display of power, the brilliant lights flashing in all directions began to fade, and the dust storm that had been spiraling into the sky gradually subsided. — A conclusion had been reached. Every eye in Nobiance turned toward the corner of the ruined central temple, eager to see the outcome of the formidable clash.