Chapter 37

The Duke's condition was visibly dire.

Black veins spread across his neck and face like spider webs.

His bloodshot eyes darted around restlessly.

The hand gripping his cane trembled.

The curse of the swamp had begun to take full effect.

Mason, unaware of this, asked,

“Father, why, why are you doing this?”

In a state of delirium, the Duke shouted,

“Can’t you see this? The signs of the goddess shining from the soldiers. The sanctity bound to their spears and bows…?”

“What the hell is that….”

Mason, who had been asking, stopped breathing.

The Duke's eyes, which had seen Ian, began to glow with a purple mana.

“Now, now, everything is clear! You, you’re not just a simple paladin! You are Tir En, the accursed goddess’s avatar!”

Roar—

The Duke, now brimming with mana, roared.

“Don’t make me laugh…! I will not accept your judgment!”

The faces of the citizens and soldiers watching him were filled with shock.

“The lord has truly fallen!”

“Everything the young master said was true…!”

A relieved smile finally spread across Ian’s lips.

He no longer needed to continue this nauseating act of a paladin.

“Why… damn…!”

Just as Mason took a step back in exasperation,

Ian lunged at the Duke.

His sword, still faintly glowing with divine power, aimed for the Duke’s neck.

The Duke struck the ground with his cane at that moment.

Whoosh—!

The mana shockwave that erupted from him sent Ian flying.

While Ian barely managed to cling to the edge of the wall,

“Gah…?! Ugh, ugh, ugh…!”

“Choke, choke…!”

The bodies of the soldiers caught in the shockwave began to contort grotesquely.

A chilling crack of bones. Blood vessels bulged and eyes turned bloodshot.

Similar things were happening to the soldiers inside the wall.

The soldiers who had luckily avoided the mana absorption blinked for a moment.

“Kids, what are you doing…?!”

The soldiers with twisted joints began to attack them.

Crunch! Crack—!

“Aah—! Crazy! Let go! Let go!”

“Aaaah! Damn! Die!”

A scene of chaos unfolded on the wall.

“I didn’t expect him to reveal his true nature to this extent….”

Declan, who had been watching the scene, finally drew his sword.

“Citizens, fall back! Patton! Follow me!”

As he led the mercenaries toward the gate,

“This doesn’t seem to be magic. He was hiding some bizarre skill.”

Muttering, Ian leaped onto the wall.

The Duke, whose eyes were entirely purple, raised his cane.

Crack—!

Ian’s sword was easily blocked.

The Duke’s hand, now peeling and mutating into something monstrous, revealed itself.

His bloodshot lips curled up.

“This is the true power of the void’s deity… different from your fake gods—”

Boom—

A silent explosion occurred from Ian’s sword at that moment.

A vacuum explosion.

Though it was a small-scale explosion, it was enough to leave only a bloody stump where the Duke’s cane and hand had been.

The Duke’s eyes widened to the point of tearing as Ian’s sword flew into the revealed space.

Crack—!

The sword embedded in the Duke’s cheek, stopping at his nose.

“……!”

The Duke’s eyes convulsed.

Ian’s eyes, filled with ashen mana, glared at him.

“You should have transformed earlier.”

Swish—

The wind blade that spread along the edge cleanly split the Duke’s face to the other cheek.

The severed head of the Duke slid off.

Blood gushed from the cut.

“M-magic…?”

The Duke’s body, with only his nose remaining, collapsed with a sigh-like final breath.

Ian, not stopping there, mechanically lunged forward and finally cut off the Duke’s head.

The Duke’s body slumped.

“Phew….”

Ian, finally breathing out, lowered his sword.

… I wanted to cut it cleanly.

As he clicked his tongue, he picked up the Duke’s head, now in two pieces.

“Sir. You’ve already finished?”

Philip, panting, stopped beside him, his face splattered with blood.

“Not yet. Don’t lose it. It’s the Duke’s head.”

Ian handed him a cloth bag containing the Duke’s head.

“Go help the soldiers.”

Philip, tying the bag to his waist, ran off without a word.

Now it’s finally useful.

Ian, smirking, turned to see Declan running over.

“Focus on saving the soldiers! Sir Doran! Command the soldiers! No other commander can be trusted!”

Declan, shouting loudly, approached him.

“Ian, are you alright?”

“Obviously. The Duke is dead.”

“I didn’t expect Father to act like this. Did you do something?”

“Perhaps. It’s a trade secret.”

“Alright. Whatever it is, it made things easier.”

Declan scanned the wall.

With the mercenaries joining, the tide of the chaotic battle was tilting in their favor.

“Where is your brother?”

“He fled when the Duke revealed his true form. He’s heading for the inner castle.”

“Ah, I see…? There are still many of Father’s and your brother’s followers in the inner castle. This is going to be troublesome.”

As Declan’s brows furrowed,

Ian, gripping his sword, said,

“Is there a back door in the castle where he can escape?”

“There’s a side door leading to the stables, and a back door in the stables where he can ride out. …You don’t think he’ll abandon the castle and run, do you?”

“He knows he’ll die if he stays. Let’s leave it at that.”

Ian, turning his gaze to the inner castle, added,

“Lead the way. If you want to cut off your brother’s head yourself.”

“I’ll gladly take the lead.”

Declan, shouting to the soldiers to surround the inner castle after finishing the cleanup on the wall, ran down the stairs.

***

“Damn…!”

Mason, kicking open the side door, gritted his teeth.

To think he would have to escape through a servants’ path.

“What was Father thinking….”

He touched his bandaged right wrist and glanced back at the still chaotic wall, then shouted,

“Move quickly! If you don’t want to die here!”

“Yes, yes, Young Master!”

The servants and knights, carrying bags, bowed their heads.

Mason’s confidants, who had received the baptism of the abyss through him.

They quickly ran to the stables at his nod.

“Sir, what’s happening…?!”

The stablemaster, approaching in fear, was stabbed without hesitation by a knight, who then gestured to the servants.

The servants ran to the stables to bring out the horses.

“Bring Father’s horse. To think my last moment in Orandel would be in this stinking stable… damn.”

Mason, entering the stables, gritted his teeth.

Declan. That lowborn scum bringing a paladin.

The thought of him sitting on the lord’s seat made his stomach churn.

“I should have killed him earlier. …But it will only be temporary. Everything will change when I reach Agel Lan.”

Mason, swearing, muttered.

“That old deer can’t abandon Orandel. He’ll have to send troops….”

His ambitious eyes gleamed for a moment.

Mason’s brows furrowed again.

“What are you dawdling about? Where’s my horse…?”

His voice trailed off as he turned back.

A knight, with a sword blade protruding from his chest, was gasping from a distance.

Unable to even groan with his lungs pierced, he fell to the ground as the sword was pulled out.

Ian’s figure was revealed behind him.

“Huh…!”

Jason, meeting his pitch-black eyes, gasped.

Ian, without hesitation, struck the fallen knight’s neck, severing it, and finally smiled.

“I want to hear what you just said again.”

“You, you, when…!”

Mason took a step back.

His eyes darted around the stables in panic.

The horses, snorting nervously.

And in front of the stable, a servant slumped against a pillar.

“Even if you look, no one will come to help you, brother.”

Declan, appearing beside the pillar, cut the servant’s neck.

The severed head rolled away.

A dagger, deeply embedded, with only the hilt visible.

“Declan, you traitor! Do you think you’ll be safe after doing this?”

“Do you think you’ll be safe after betraying the gods?”

Thud, Mason’s back hit the back door of the stables.

As his eyes turned to the lock,

“It’s better not to. If you want to keep your left hand.”

Ian, approaching leisurely, said.

Mason, grinding his teeth in humiliation, drew his sword with his left hand.

“Don’t make me laugh! I won’t be fooled again!”

“Like father, like son.”

Ian’s lips curled.

“Your father also babbled until the last moment before revealing his true form.”

“What…?!”

Mason’s eyes bulged.

Ian lunged at him immediately after.

Clang—!

Mason blocked his sword.

A fairly skilled movement, even with his left hand.

Ian’s smile deepened.

“You do the same thing.”

Boom.

A silent explosion occurred.

Mason’s sword was deflected, and pieces flew.

“Aaah—! My hand! My hand!”

Mason, having lost both hands, screamed.

Ian, mocking, added,

“You should have transformed earlier. I already knew that those who become like you can’t draw power without focusing their mind.”

Of course, he had no intention of waiting for the transformation.

Crack!

Ian, smiling with only his lips, struck Mason’s ankle.

“Aaah—! Ah!”

Mason rolled on the ground.

He intended to keep inflicting pain to prevent transformation.

Thud, Ian’s sword pierced Mason’s opposite thigh.

Gripping Mason’s hair, Ian said,

“I’d like to cut off your head with my own hands, but if you answer my questions honestly, I’ll spare you.”

“What, what do you want to know…?”

“Who is the old deer?”

“That, that’s… Ugh—!”

As Ian twisted the sword, Mason, hesitating, screamed.

But there was no trace of mercy in Ian’s eyes.

He only wanted the answer he desired.

Moreover, he had heard the term "old deer" before.

‘Andolf… He wasn’t just talking nonsense.’

The cursed Andolf. That was what he left as his last words.

Now he understood who it referred to.

All that was left was to hear the name directly.

“Seems like a noble from Agel Lan. I’ll cut off your thigh if you make me ask again. Who is the old deer?”

“Duke Brant…!”

Mason spat out.

Ian’s eyes narrowed.

“Brant, a royal family member?”

“Yes…! Regis Brant. My father and I serve him….”

“Is he the old deer?”

Mason nodded.

A faint smile spread across Ian’s lips. He had the name he wanted.

He didn’t know Regis had such a nickname.

“Regis Brant? The Duke Brant, the king’s uncle and known as the kingdom’s pillar, is a fallen one?”

Declan, surprised, asked.

Mason chuckled.

“That’s why he controls the kingdom. The king is a fool who knows nothing. He just eats the taxes and information we provide, believing he can win any war… Oops.”

Ian grabbed Mason’s jaw.

“Thanks for the information. I don’t need your tongue anymore.”

“…?!”

As Mason’s eyes widened, Declan sat beside Ian.

“Ian, can I ask for one favor?”

“Speak.”

“Can you let me have your brother’s tongue?”

“Not a bad offer.”

“…!”

Mason looked at Ian with eyes that said, “You’re not keeping your word.”

Ian shrugged.

“I’m keeping my promise, aren’t I? It’s just that your brother can’t.”

“That’s not even… Ugh…!”

Declan grabbed Mason’s jaw.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this day, brother.”

Looking into Mason’s terrified eyes, he smiled.

“Since the day you sent poisoned food to the house where my mother and I lived. It’s been years.”

“…!”

“My mother, not knowing, was happy that Father had sent a gift.”

Speaking in a gentle tone, as if sharing a good memory.

But his eyes, looking down at Mason, were not smiling.

“My mother threw herself in front of me to stop me from eating. Even as she foamed at the mouth, she bit her tongue. Almost to the point of severing it. She was trying to save me. So….”

Declan brought the dagger to Mason’s mouth.

“I wanted to make sure you felt the pain my mother felt.”

Mason’s desperate attempt to keep his mouth shut failed when Ian lightly twisted the sword in his thigh.

Mason Brachard, with his hands, feet, and tongue cut off, was dragged out and beheaded without a chance to reveal his true, fallen form.

In front of all the people inside and outside the inner castle.

By the hand of the new lord of Orandel, Declan Brachard.