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[Translator - Pot ]
[Proofreader - Kawaii ]
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Chapter 183: The Soldier and the Ant
"So this is why people rarely stay on the second floor."
Zizek chuckled as he entered the hidden room on the second floor.
"Turns out this place is for business dealings."
"You’ve done your research," the attendant replied flatly.
"Well, coming to a place like this without checking first would be reckless, no?"
Zizek leaned back comfortably in his chair, loosening his sword.
"But I’ll put this down for now."
"Haha, thank you for your trust."
The two exchanged glances, sizing each other up.
"...You’re strong, sir."
"Heh. Is it that obvious?"
Zizek smirked, noticing how reactions changed after reaching the 4th tier.
"Please wait here. I’ll fetch 'Kimret' for you."
"Sure, take your time."
As he replied, Zizek flung the window wide open.
"...?"
"Oh, this? Just airing the place out in case someone tries to poison me."
"We don’t engage in such crude methods. You can relax."
The attendant’s tone turned stiff with irritation.
"My peace of mind, my rules."
"As you wish."
Once the attendant left, Zizek smirked.
"That guy’s got some underworld experience."
Polite on the surface but subtly testing him—classic underworld behavior.
Birds of a feather recognize each other.
'This Kimret fellow must be deeply involved in the underworld.'
Just as expected. The real question was how deep.
"Well then."
Zizek stretched, propping his feet on the table with a yawn.
"Might as well nap while I wait."
A 4th tier underworld swordsman had no reason to fear, even in enemy territory.
This exaggerated nonchalance was his way of flaunting that confidence.
***
Meanwhile
"Then, Your Highness."
"I’ll be in your care."
Harold and I exchanged formal bows.
"Draw your swords."
At Ulbhild’s command as referee, we slowly unsheathed our blades.
Shiiing!
The cold metallic ring sharpened my senses.
‘Voyager of the Night.'
A prized sword named ‘Voyager of the Night’ forged by the dwarven master smith Baldun.
A treasure Karzan had never held in his past life.
Huuuum!
As my Seven Stars of the Black Sea Technique’s energy flowed into the blade, starlight shimmered along its edge.
"Beautiful," murmured Grand Commander Heinrix, watching intently.
I didn’t miss that small remark.
'A straightforward man, no pretenses.'
At a glance, he lacked the imposing aura expected of his rank.
But that naturalness suited the leader of the Special Operations Division—different from the Royal Guard Grand Commander or Knight Grand Commander.
'Above all...'
He was disgustingly strong. Even Ivan at his peak 17 years ago might’ve struggled against him.
'In other words, he surpasses Karzan’s past self.'
Heinrix was every bit the master worthy of leading Grunewald’s Special Operations Division.
I wonder—how will this man view the martial path I’ve forged?
'Well, watch closely.'
The fusion of Karzan and Allenvert’s martial arts would soon be unveiled.
"Then, I’ll start with a frontal strike."
At my declaration, Harold raised his sword high.
"I’ll crush whatever comes."
"Good. I’ll pour everything into this without holding back."
This was no empty boast. Harold was undeniably stronger than my current self—I had to go all out.
'I just can’t reveal Karzan’s techniques yet.'
Huu...
I channeled dormant mana through my meridians.
'Light Star.'
Activating the first power of the Seven Stars of the Black Sea Technique.
Mana surged like a flooding river, cycling through seven stars as its momentum grew.
Whoooooosh!
The air around me began to distort.
"Here I go."
Dust swirling toward my blade vanished upon contact with Voyager of the Night’s energy, as if evaporating.
"Red Wolf Crescent Moon."
A heavy strike from the Azure Sea Moon Shadow Swordsmanship hurtled toward Harold.
Kreeeeeee!
"Oh? Starting like this?"
Harold’s eyes gleamed with competitive fire.
"Perfect!"
His muscles bulged. Aura, different in hue from mine, erupted and condensed around his blade.
BOOOOOOM!
Harold’s slash met my technique head-on.
CRACKLE—CRASH!
A stalemate? No—Harold’s victory. His sword, like a giant suppressing a tidal wave, crushed my slash entirely.
"Hah!"
The impact was so violent that claw-like gouges scarred the ground.
"Damn, that’s heavy. Nearly dislocated my wrist," Harold grimaced.
"That’s the principle behind Red Wolf Crescent Moon."
"An excellent student indeed, Your Highness."
But Harold’s strength in repelling my full-powered strike was equally impressive.
"Consider it my greeting."
I shrugged.
"Then I’ll return the favor."
Swish!
Harold flicked his wrist—razor-sharp projectiles shot toward me.
'What—? Ah, pebbles.'
Enhanced vision and expanded aura easily identified them.
When had he prepared these?
Likely gathered during the aftermath of our clash, infused with mana.
"Flick, swish, swish."
I fluttered like a flag, effortlessly dodging.
"Whoaaa!"
Peter’s awed gasp echoed from the sidelines.
"Truly Harold—a Special Operations Division executive who spares no tricks."
"I’ll take that as praise."
This was a characteristic I'd observed about the Special Operations Division during our training sessions.
"In real combat, the objective takes precedence over the means."
"Well said."
The philosophy of the Special Operations Division was evident in those words.
'A fine unit, and a fine officer.'
I wanted to experience the essence of the Special Operations Division' martial prowess—the pride of Grunewald—through this man. Chase simply wasn't enough to give me a true sense of its depth.
"Here I come!"
This time, Harold took the initiative.
'High? No—low.'
I smoothly deflected the sweeping slash aimed at my waist, only for a sharp second strike to immediately target my brow.
Clang!
My wrist went numb from the sheer force. He’s coming at me in earnest.
'Good.'
I didn't stubbornly block the third strike—instead, I retreated to create distance—
"Hm!"
—then lunged forward, thrusting with a swift, precise strike aimed at Harold.
"Your Highness, that was too straightforward and predicta—"
Harold's casual remark cut off mid-sentence as his sword met mine.
"!"
Because I instantly twisted the direction of our clashing forces, disrupting his balance.
"This technique—the 2nd Commander’s—"
I didn’t miss Harold’s shock.
'Shadow Flowing Phantom Sword.'
The second technique surged toward him.
***
Meanwhile
Verdzig observed the duel from the rooftop of his private residence.
"Look. Allenvert has already reached the mid of the 5th tier."
His keen vision allowed him to see the distant battle as clearly as if it were right before him.
"A genius is a genius. Even I can’t keep up with that rate of growth."
Of course, he knew progressing from the 5th tier to his own level would be several times harder.
"But Harold isn’t an opponent to be taken lightly."
Harold’s counterattacks, effortlessly dismantling even feints, were now putting Allenvert on the defensive.
"He’s faced these moves countless times against Ulbhild. He won’t fall for tricks."
Verdzig held Harold’s abilities in high regard.
"What kind of man do you think Harold is?"
He turned to Skella, who stood silently beside him.
"A fine soldier and a fine martial artist."
Skella answered bluntly.
"A fine soldier?"
Verdzig sneered.
"Do you know what makes a good soldier?"
"......"
"One who obeys orders to die without question—that is a good soldier."
Verdzig declared.
"Security, missions, conflicts, ambushes... At every crossroads of life and death, a soldier’s duty is to hold their ground, knowing full well it may be their grave."
Why?
"Because that’s what makes the calculations work for the commander."
Skella didn’t respond to the twisted logic.
"Thus, Harold is a fine soldier. He worked hard, survived, and earned his place."
That much was praiseworthy.
"In return, Grunewald rewarded him with fitting honor and pride, securing his unwavering loyalty."
Verdzig pointed at the ground.
"In that sense, his position is no different from the ants scurrying beneath your feet."
Skella asked with faint disdain:
"Is that how you see him?"
"It’s the perspective a ruler must have."
"Quite ruthless for someone aiming to lead Grunewald."
Verdzig smirked at the sarcasm.
"Ruthlessness is competence. A good commander places pawns well, a good chancellor assigns bureaucrats well, and a good lord positions his kin well. That’s how the world works. Logic must precede emotion."
This was Verdzig’s creed.
"That’s why Allenvert’s sentimentality will one day be his downfall. He’s done well so far, but—"
How long can such a precarious balancing act last?
"At the most critical moment, irrationality—disguised as emotion—will lead him to a fatal misjudgment."
Skella countered:
"And yet, isn’t that very trait what draws people to him? The Special Operations Division, Young master Barclava, the head butler."
"Sharp as ever, Skella."
Verdzig remained unshaken by the veiled provocation.
"But Father won’t refuse me the throne. He doesn’t break his principles."
"......"
"Even if he favors Allenvert more, if I win the succession battle, he’ll pass Grunewald to me without protest."
'Of course, I’ve laid the groundwork to eliminate any uncertainties beforehand.'
Verdzig swallowed those words.
'Even if it means dismantling the entire Bergen faction.'
To claim the throne, one must dominate not just in personal merit but in the factional wars waged under one’s banner.
'Even if Karl, Ulbhild, and the Visquera side with Allenvert—
By rallying Somerset and uniting the Bergen and Agrippa factions, how could his own faction possibly lose?
'Even if the 4th Lady Lusatia and the Eisenach remnants resurge, they’re too weak.'
But thoroughness meant extinguishing even the smallest embers.
Verdzig’s eyes and ears had already uncovered the Eisenach remnants living under the name Haglandere.
"If Allenvert ever brings the Lady Lusatia out of hiding—"
The moment his long-cherished wish is fulfilled, the moment hope blooms—
"—it wouldn’t be so bad to slaughter the Eisenach remnants and plunge him back into despair."
Verdzig grinned at Skella.
"You’ve played no small part in this, Skella."
Skella closed her eyes heavily.
Hatred and contempt. Yet her duty bound her to serve this man—a chain suffocatingly tight.
"Skella, open your eyes and watch the fight."
Verdzig yanked her arm roughly.
"Look. It might end with the next move."
Allenvert, weathering Harold’s onslaught, had finally seized the advantage.
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[Translator - Pot ]
[Proofreader - Kawaii ]
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