Chapter 24

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: A Two-Pronged Strike
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#24

Beneath the hazy moonlight, a biting wind, sharp enough to tear the flesh from their bones, whipped at the two figures.

No matter how bundled up one was, the cold was relentless at such a high altitude. Walter pulled the cloth covering his mouth a little higher and glanced down.

A pitch-black darkness spread out beneath him. The moon, hidden by clouds, revealed itself again, and as if on cue, the darkness below roiled, reflecting a faint light.

The sea of Portmeier, which would have boasted an emerald vista by day, now threatened the wanderers with its eerie movements.

“We're heading straight for the duke's castle!”

Napari conveyed his intention in a voice loud enough not to be buried by the wind.

Walter wordlessly gripped the chain and shifted his center of gravity further back. Taking that as his cue, Napari leaned forward and began to descend.

They crossed the strait, flying past the harbor where ships were lined up in neat rows. After passing the wall that separated the harbor from the city and traversing three or four villages, the vast estate centered around the duke's castle soon came into view.

To avoid any potential onlookers, Napari ascended slightly higher and glided cautiously, searching for a place to land.

As Napari circled a couple of times near the highest point, his eyes peeled for a landing spot, Walter took it upon himself to carefully scan the surroundings for any guards.

“Landing! Hold on tight, Grand General!”

With a shout, Napari slowed his speed with deliberate flaps of his wings. He chose the watchtower on the left side of the castle as his landing zone, carefully beating his wings as he calculated the distance.

Spotting guards around the watchtower, Walter unwrapped the cloth covering his mouth and folded it neatly. Then, once he was within a reasonable distance to land, he unhesitatingly released the chain and touched down on the ground.

Walter immediately ran toward the guards.

“Who's there— Gack!”

The moment the guard who heard the noise turned around, Walter stuffed the cloth into his mouth and struck the back of his neck, knocking him unconscious.

It all happened in an instant. Before Napari could even marvel at the sight, Walter drew his sword and commanded him.

“I'm going in now. Napari, have you memorized the castle's layout?”

“I’ve memorized everything, down to the stables and the servants' quarters, so don't you worry!”

“Then I won't need to explain. You wait on the terrace outside the second-floor conference room. I'll secure the target and meet you there in half an hour.”

The words had barely left his mouth before Walter crouched and leaped down from the watchtower.

He didn't need to recall the castle's layout. As the second son of the Hyverge family and the head of the Royal Army, he had been invited by the lord countless times.

Goedel Kill would never have imagined that his past socializing would become a fatal misstep, tightening a noose around his own neck.

With no thought of hiding and no intention of slowing down, Walter gripped his sword and hurried down the corridor.

When a guard spotted the intruder and shouted, drawing his sword, Walter kicked off the ground with incredible speed and leaped high into the air.

“Kugh…!”

A brief scream echoed where the flash of his blade had passed.

Shoving the collapsing soldier aside with his shoulder, Walter swung his sword at another soldier behind him. All that remained in the wake of his relentless sprint was a trail of red blood.

“Call for reinforcements!”

“It's the Grand General! Kill him immediately!”

Two Lycan soldiers bared their teeth and charged at him.

Knowing he was no match for them in sheer strength, Walter narrowed his eyes and focused his mind.

A bluish aura emanated from the blood-soaked blade, and at the same time, the two Lycans charging at him stopped dead in mid-air, like a distorted dream.

Maintaining his concentration, Walter swung his sword, cutting down both Lycans at once.

The Lycans, suspended in mid-air, could only display their terrifying expressions. Walter, still in the same stance he’d used to cut them down, simply stepped forward and continued his dash.

“Guh…!”

“Quick, reinforce— Heok!”

Only then did blood erupt from the Lycans like fireworks as they crumpled to the floor. Lost droplets of blood rained down on the corpses, leaving messy stains.

Moving freely through time and space, Walter calmly slaughtered the soldiers. Each time a blue light shimmered on his blade, the soldiers rushing toward him froze in the air like broken dolls.

It was a technique he rarely used, as it could disrupt his focus, but having stormed the enemy fortress alone, he had no other choice.

Thrust, slash, thrust again, slash again.

Executing the swordsmanship ingrained in his very being as naturally as breathing, Walter pressed ever forward.

“Stop, you monster!”

A soldier swung his sword with all his might.

Walter parried the blow with a grip so fierce it made his own hand tingle, then ducked low and stabbed the soldier in the thigh. A loud groan accompanied the spray of blood.

The drop of blood that splattered on his eye was irritating. Still, he couldn't blink.

No matter how skilled a warrior, one had only one life, and on the battlefield, the line between life and death was drawn in the literal blink of an eye. To survive, one could not let one's guard down for even a fleeting moment.

At the end of his dance-like swordplay, all the soldiers had fallen.

He blinked, catching his breath. It was clear now. They had focused their main forces on attacking the royal palace, leaving only minimal security at the duke's castle.

Things were going smoothly here, but what about the palace?

He pictured a pair of eyes, deep in thought, beyond a cascade of soft, wheat-colored hair.

Her delicate profile was the spitting image of her mother's, but her calm and resolute way of handling any situation was a trait unique to her.

Arsinoe…

Will she be all right?

Even when devising this absurd plan, Lucy had been nothing but dry, without a hint of jest or excitement.

She spoke with conviction in every syllable, and while the soldiers might have scoffed inwardly, none could oppose her plan.

Walter, too, couldn't stop her.

Frankly, even with the risks, the plan was incredibly intriguing. No, to be precise, he was so captivated by her intellect that he didn't even think to object.

While preparing for the operation, he found himself contemplating the most fundamental question.

Why did I endorse her as queen?

Since the day he knelt before her, countless eyes had asked him the same question. But Walter himself didn't know the answer.

But little by little, ever so slowly.

He felt he was beginning to understand the conviction that drove him to make her queen.

*What kind of world do you see through your eyes?*

From their first meeting to their reunion, Lucy had captured his attention with her bizarre actions. She had entered the military academy for her country, escaped the detached palace for her mother, and fled to Pomnos, where she lived helping the Lycans even while being persecuted by the Raphi in that distant land.

A person who lives a life devoid of self-interest.

Yet a person untainted by anyone.

That was Walter's ideal for a monarch.

But the royal family was still firmly in place, and words like 'change' and 'revolution' remained confined to the dictionary. All that was left for Walter were his outdated ideals and the loyalty he had to maintain as a soldier.

Just as he was consoling himself that ideals were merely ideals, the former king died, and the last princess, who had been hidden in the shadows, revealed her talents, capturing his attention.

A woman who had nothing, yet was bound by nothing; untainted by anyone, and filled with altruism for others.

Arsinoe.

She was the ideal sovereign, as if sent by the heavens just for him.

“...So that's why.”

That was why he chose her.

So that's why. That's why it had to be her.

He had known of her for quite some time, but he had never understood why his heart was drawn to her.

But… now he thought he knew.

As the long-held question was answered, a sense of liberation was accompanied by a bitter smile. Walter stroked his lower lip once before returning to reality.

She said she would be fine.

So she must be. I must be faithful to the mission I was given.

I have to capture the prisoner before the commotion spreads. And return to the capital as quickly as possible.

Reminding himself of his objective, he started walking again.

Above his emotionless face, his black hair, soaked in blood, gleamed with an eerie light.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

He slowly walked down the creaking gangplank. The moment his foot touched the pier, a wave of dizziness washed over him.

It hadn't been a particularly long voyage, but his aging body had apparently grown so accustomed to the waves that the solid ground now felt strange. Goedel Kill massaged his temples and straightened his posture.

“Are you all right, Your Excellency?”

An attendant who had hurried over supported him with an anxious face. Kill pushed the attendant's hand away and put on a dignified expression.

“I don't know if it's the tension or the lack of sleep, but one can't hide their age. I certainly hope we can take the palace without any trouble.”

He kneaded the back of his neck and looked around. From the ships that had arrived earlier, soldiers were disembarking onto the pier in orderly lines.

The advance party, who had been stationed here beforehand, must have already departed and be in the middle of attacking Central Command.

The operation was proceeding smoothly.

All he had to do was lead his army, storm the royal palace, and capture the girl who was likely sleeping soundly. Then, the fight would be over.

There are tens of thousands of ways to win a war, but what ultimately determines victory or defeat is how meticulously one has laid the groundwork.

Arsinoe was clever in her own right, but he saw the world differently. Unfurling the tightly woven net in his mind, Kill smiled gently, certain of his victory.