------------------
HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
------------------
Chapter 20: Rise of the Bloodkin
The discovery of the assassins' corpses was a significant incident in many ways.
Who killed the assassins wasn't the main issue. There were already suspicions, and everyone seemed to believe that I had taken them down with a paring knife in my sleep.
The real concern was—Who sent the assassins?
Even in a brutal, kill-or-be-killed medieval world, there were still lines one just didn’t cross.
Assassination was one of those lines—despised by all lords as the most egregious act. If someone attempted an assassination and was caught, they became a common enemy, facing attacks from neighboring lords and eventual ruin.
Assassination was that perilous. Even the Blackrose Family, renowned for their assassination prowess, had only a handful of such incidents in the original storyline, and they were never exposed.
The castle was in an uproar, and Hart was seething with rage.
"It must be those damned Raions! Those lunatics have finally crossed the line!"
"Calm down, Hart."
Hart, suspecting the Raion family due to recent conflicts, shouted in anger.
While I understood Hart's feelings, I knew it wasn't the Raion family.
Hadem of the Raion family was a ‘scoundrel,’ but he was also a ‘warrior.’ He preferred to kill enemies with his own hands and wouldn't resort to the dull act of sending assassins.
As I tried to calm Hart, Nova also spoke up.
I expected the usually composed Nova to help soothe Hart.
However...
"I don't know who dared to target the lord's life, but I'll chase them to the ends of hell and deal with them. So please, don't worry, my lord."
"Th-Thank you, Nova."
Nova spoke with a chilling smile and a terrifying glint in her eyes, making me avert my gaze out of fear for the first time.
Somehow, I found myself in the position of calming my retainers and wished to escape the situation quickly.
At that moment, like a savior, the door opened.
"My lord."
"Sharon! Is the autopsy complete?"
I had summoned Sharon to examine the assassins' corpses, hoping her knowledge could uncover more information.
Sharon, dressed not in her usual robe but in a black autopsy outfit covering her mouth, looked at me with a serious expression.
"I believe you should see this for yourself, my lord."
"Me?"
My retainers and I headed to the autopsy room.
There lay the dead assassins. They appeared to be sturdy men in their 30s or 40s.
Looking at them, they did resemble members of the Raion family.
"At first, they seemed like ordinary corpses. However, the residual mana was too unnatural. When I traced the mana..."
Sharon placed her hand on the corpses and began to chant something.
As a red light flared up, the corpses of the assassins began to glitch—distorting, like static crawling across a screen.
And then…
“What the—!?”
Their human forms melted away, revealing something else entirely.
Jet-black skin. Long, pointed ears. They looked just like Dark Elves. But I knew exactly what kind of race they were from World Archive.
“Bloodkin…”
『Bloodkin』
A race that worships Dantalion, the Demon God sealed away at the northern edge of the continent.
In this world, they basically fill the role demons usually play. I never saw the ending where their full plan gets revealed, but I did know their main goal—
—To weaken the Empire.
That’s it. That’s their whole mission. And to pull it off, they’ll stop at nothing—assassinations, espionage, terrorism—you name it.
They’re like a never-ending storm of chaos, all aimed at tearing the Empire apart from within.
But why me?
Why target ‘me’, out of all the lords, princes, and princesses they could’ve gone after?
As I stood there, tangled in thoughts, Lana suddenly cut in.
“I knew something just felt... off. Not like a vibe, but the way they looked—it was weird. Now I get it, it’s ‘cause they’re Bloodkin.”
“Jesus, Lana!?”
“When did ‘you’ get here?!”
“I’ve been standing behind you this whole time, Miss Nova.”
We all jumped—she just appeared behind us like a damn ghost. No warning, no hint—I didn’t sense a thing.
Then Lana turned toward Sharon.
“More importantly, Miss Sharon, I was taught that the Bloodkin were a fanatical cult sealed behind a barrier in the Forsaken Lands up north. So what the hell are they doing here, in ‘our’ territory?”
“I honestly have no idea. Even the Mage Tower hasn’t reported any Bloodkin activity.”
Bloodkin were, by default, locked away in the Forsaken Lands behind a massive barrier. Honestly, I hadn’t paid them much thought. In the original timeline, they didn’t even show up until a mid-to-late game event where the barrier partially broke open.
As we all stood there confused, Nova suddenly spoke.
“Now that I think about it... there ‘was’ a report a while ago. Said part of the northern barrier broke down and there was a small skirmish.”
“The barrier’s already cracked!?”
You’ve got to be kidding me—why is that happening ‘now’?!
Nova looked genuinely guilty as she explained.
“Yes. It was a small breach, and they said it was suppressed quickly, so it wasn’t publicly announced… I never imagined that Bloodkin from there would come after ‘you’, my lord. This is my failure.”
“No, Nova. This isn’t your fault.”
Seriously, this wasn’t on her.
I mean, if a sinkhole shows up in the next town over, who the hell would expect you to get assassinated the next day? That’s the level we’re talking about.
After the autopsy wrapped up, we laid out our response plan.
First, Hart would notify the capital about the appearance of Bloodkin assassins. I might’ve survived by sheer dumb luck, but who’s to say they wouldn’t go after other lords, nobles, or even royals next?
Next, we reinforced the castle’s defenses. Nova would gather materials for magical devices, and Sharon would install a detection barrier on par with the Imperial Palace’s. It would constantly monitor for signs of danger around key figures.
I was against it at first—because with a barrier like that, even my ‘private moments’ would get logged—but Nova and Hart pushed so hard I had no choice but to give in.
“God… what the hell is even happening anymore…”
Finally alone in my office, I let out a deep sigh.
What really threw me was the timing.
According to the original timeline, the Bloodkin weren’t supposed to appear for ‘years.’
And now they’re already here—trying to slit my throat? The mere thought of it made my knees weak.
But the bigger problem?
This is probably just the beginning.
The Bloodkin aren’t just knife-in-the-dark types. Their specialty is in sparking ‘chaos’. They’ll assassinate someone, sure—but not just to kill. They’ll weaponize the fallout. Political strife, civil unrest, inter-faction feuds… all of it.
It’s a classic tactic—’killing with someone else’s knife.’ Orchestrate an assassination that tips the scales in one faction’s favor, then twist things until they turn on another. Friends become enemies, everything spirals, and the real culprits just sit back and enjoy the fallout.
The first time I saw that strategy play out in the game, I screamed every curse word I knew.
God, please—let ‘that’ not happen again.
With that desperate prayer, I finally drifted off to sleep.
＊ ＊ ＊
The territory of『Dreihart』, located in the southeastern part of the Empire, was the most unusual city within the entire Empire.
In a typical territory, slaves made up at most about 20% of the population.
But Dreihart was different.
A staggering 80% of Dreihart’s population were slaves.
This all happened because of the『Colosseum』(Slave Fighting Arena).
Dreihart had no special local products or resources.
It was extremely poor, and the first lord of Dreihart, struggling to solve this problem, came up with one idea.
He decided to make use of the war slaves—the only large population Dreihart had at the time.
The lord knew that people loved to show off their slaves.
So he built an arena and organized a『Slave Fighting Tournament』where owners could prove their slaves’ strength through combat.
Owners enthusiastically entered their slaves into the competition, and crowds craving thrilling spectacles flocked to the arena.
In no time, Dreihart became the Empire’s most famous destination for slave fights, raking in huge profits from massive audiences.
But that’s when the problems began.
Having found profit in slaves, the lord started fostering and strictly managing the slave industry.
To bypass the Empire’s law stating that a child is free if either parent is free, slaves were forced to marry only among themselves.
They were also required to have many children.
Moreover, slaves were selectively bred like livestock to create superior slaves, and a mercenary business was launched—sending these slave soldiers to other territories for money.
After 300 years of this practice, Dreihart’s population ended up with slaves making up 80%.
The 20% free citizens controlled the 80% slaves thanks to magical artifacts.
The first lord of Dreihart understood that if the number of slaves grew too large, the risk of rebellion would rise.
So he made a special request to the Mage Tower, and the result was the『Purple Chains』—magical shackles that could weaken the wearer’s strength to that of a small child whenever the owner desired.
These magical shackles became the symbol of slavery in the Empire.
Using these artifacts, Dreihart’s nobles oppressed the slaves—and they believed they could keep oppressing them forever.
At least, until one day…
“Hmm? Who’s there?!”
Whoosh—!
“Huh?”
Under the cover of darkness, assassins who had infiltrated the city began killing the mages responsible for maintaining the Purple Chains.
Because the Purple Chains consume mana, they require constant upkeep by mages, and dozens of them were stationed throughout Dreihart.
But suddenly, all those mages were killed overnight.
With no mages left to supply mana, the Purple Chains lost their power—and the slaves regained their strength.
“What… What is this?”
“The chains aren’t weakening us anymore!”
When the slaves realized that their strength wasn’t disappearing despite wearing the chains, chaos erupted immediately.
Freed from their magical shackles, the slaves smashed their prisons and began killing the freeborn soldiers who had oppressed them.
Leading the charge was one man.
“Stop them! Stop the slaves!!”
“Stop me? What a joke!”
Towering at one and a half times a normal man’s size, muscles bulging like they might burst, with blue horns sprouting from his head, he charged at the soldiers trying to hold him back.
Spears clashed against him, but no ordinary spear could pierce his skin—instead, the soldiers were knocked back by his sheer force.
His name was『Zarha Regon』, a Dragonborn descendant, said to be born from dragons and humans long ago—and a monster who had never lost a single fight in the slave arenas.
He slaughtered soldiers with his bare hands as he pushed forward with his fellow slaves—and finally reached his destination.
Bang—!
“Eek!”
He smashed through the door—and there stood『Soran Dreihart』, the current lord of Dreihart, trapped in his chamber, too stunned by the sudden rebellion to escape.
But no matter how sturdy the door, to Zarha it was like tearing through paper.
Zarha entered the lord’s chamber.
The room was a dazzling spectacle of gold and silver, so lavish it was unlike anything Zarha or the slaves had ever seen—and they didn’t know where to look.
“How… How dare you! Do you know where you are barging in?!”
Soran shouted at them, but Zarha didn’t even blink.
“Hey, Lord, before you start yelling, don’t you have something to say to us?”
“S-Something to say!?”
Zarha recalled his life up to this moment—
Separated from his parents as a child, thrown into hellish training and abuse, forced to fight in slave arenas, killing friends he considered brothers, all just to survive.
He endured it all for this moment.
“Apologize. To me, to all of us here, and to my dead friends!”
“A-a apology!? Ha! Don’t be ridiculous! Apologies are for humans to humans.”
Lord Soran had learned this since childhood—Slaves aren’t human like them.
Being lord of Dreihart was to be a god to slaves.
That was what his father taught him, and what he believed to this day.
To him, Zarha’s demand was so absurd it made him forget the fear of death itself.
“I am your god! Gods don’t apologize!”
That statement was the last shred of reason Zarha had left.
He stepped forward.
“If you’re a god, then try stopping this.”
Zarha swung his fist.
A fist fueled by thirty years of anger exploded like a falling meteor, striking the lord—an ordinary human powerless to withstand it.
Crash—!
Smash!!
With one punch, Soran was reduced to minced meat, splattered against the wall in a bloody mess.
Looking at the carnage, Zarha spat out his long-harbored resentment.
“Hmph! A weak god, indeed.”
And so, that day, rebellion erupted in the slave city of Dreihart.
------------------
HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
------------------
