Chapter 81
It was quite baffling.
I had entered the Count's mansion with the intention of finding the demonic beasts that Viola would be managing.
There was no need to draw my sword.
Showing the Count's token made opening the doors a breeze.
There was no need to exert any effort.
However, while passing through the Count's mansion, I unexpectedly discovered Vivi.
Wondering why the child who should be with Orkal was here, I tried to approach, but she vanished in an instant.
The artifact created in the basement of the Count's mansion had activated.
Count Artemion wasn't stupid either, and thanks to that, I ended up wandering lost.
I lost my sense of direction, and the structure of the paths changed in an instant, so after considering various methods, I just smashed everything and pushed forward.
And that's how I ended up here.
'I wondered where they went...'
They were trapped here.
That guy is also something else.
If you're going to kidnap someone for threats, at least take someone like Vivi.
Why would they kidnap such a useless fellow and make him a hostage.
"As expected, still a child."
Too ignorant of the ways of the world.
Just grabbing a single servant to make a hostage—who would comply with your wishes?
"I believed in you, my lord! I know you were just being awkward! Your inability to be honest is your cute charm!"
"Shut up, Brans. Say more and I'll tear that mouth of yours apart."
Right about when I was falling into deep contemplation about whether there was any need to save that fellow.
"Uwaaaah! Be careful, my lord!!"
Boom!
The foreleg of a massive demonic beast struck the ground. By the time the blooming dust settled again, I was looking at the creature with my hand on the hilt of my sword at my waist.
"Callius! You rascal, you actually found your way here!"
The man looking triumphant.
Viola de Artemion.
"There were variables, but regardless, the fact that you've come seeking your own grave doesn't change!"
"I've done nothing to deserve death at your hands, so why are you trying to kill me? Do you have some mental illness? Or did the Count order you?"
"You bastard, I suspected as much, but you truly don't even remember me..."
He grinds his teeth as if shuddering with disgust.
"Ten years ago! When you first joined the Order and became a mendicant! Can you not remember that time!!"
I don't know.
There's no way I could remember.
I became Callius only three years ago.
"What did I do?"
"You damn bastard!! Back then, you had been driven out of the North and sought refuge in the Order, just becoming a mendicant. And then you met me! Do you know what the first thing you said to me was?"
"What was it."
"You said 'scum born from scum.'"
"......"
Scum born from scum.
Ten years ago, Count Artemion was not yet a Count; he was an ambitious man desperately climbing among Barons and Viscounts.
With poor domestic affairs, various incidents and accidents overlapped and were resolved, and he was granted the title of Count.
Callius had called all ranks below Count 'scum,' and he had disparaged Artemion, who had become a Count after desperately competing with them and going through hell, and his son Viola, as scum.
Naturally, Viola took issue with the insult and tried to report it to the Order and have him punished.
What came back was his backing.
The Four Great Noble Families.
And the bloodline of the Founding Myth.
The direct bloodline of the Four Great Noble Families.
That was why Viola had no choice but to endure the insult, and it was the incident that led him to leave the Order.
"I see."
"What do you mean 'I see,' you trash bastard."
"If you were insulted, you should have just requested a duel. Is this the kind of petty thing a noble does?"
"I truly never imagined those words would come from your mouth."
When he puts it that way, I have nothing to say.
"......Either way, nothing will change."
Even if I apologized, I don't think anything would change, and I don't really want to anyway.
Regardless, the guy committed an illegal act—didn't he do the petty thing of kidnapping Brans?
I'm not particularly moved because the one trapped there is Brans, but what if it had been Vivi, or Emily?
Even Callius, who usually doesn't reveal his emotions, would have been angry.
If he got angry, his inherent traits would have popped out and he would have run amok without thinking of consequences.
Not only traits like 'Noble's Duty' and 'Count's Ruffian,' but Callius's own temperament and nature would have risen to the surface.
That would be a headache.
Because I would truly become Callius.
"A grown man holding onto a ten-year-old grudge so pettily."
"A guy whose greatest achievement in life was being born well sure talks a lot."
A slight surge of anger rises.
Growing this kind of body to this point isn't something ordinary effort could achieve. When this bastard, a damn dullard who piled up grudges everywhere, became a pilgrim, could things have been smooth?
No! Absolutely not.
Where would anyone be who could fathom my feelings having to calmly bear the karma of this bastard! No one would understand.
"I was going to beat you moderately and take you in, but I've changed my mind."
I drew the sword at my waist.
Of the two swords, the one with flame patterns engraved on its red blade.
I drew the Tyrant Sword.
"I'll cut off one arm."
"Try it if you can! Go! Tear him to pieces!!"
—Kwooooaar!!
Clack! Clack! Clack!!
The doors of large and small iron cages situated in the massive underground cavity open.
As if the cages were made with artifacts, demonic beasts of enormous size and others not so large emerged from the iron bars, their eyes gleaming.
Aside from the common traits of red, slightly unfocused eyes and drooling mouths, they were no different from ordinary basu.
Crack!!
He swung his whip and shouted.
"Go!!"
Then the demonic beasts, as if hypnotized, lunged at me.
The demonic beasts lunging from all directions numbered dozens at a glance.
Roughly around forty.
They said he did business with demonic beasts, and he really did have a large number.
But they were still just demonic beasts.
Moreover.
"Compared to the demonic beasts of the North, they're fragile."
Slice, thud—slash!
Two with one swing. Up to five at most.
I slashed them all at once.
"What! What are you doing! Don't attack stupidly one by one, swarm and kill him together!!"
Crack!!
He screams desperately and swings the whip. But the demonic beasts, whose momentum had been broken once, only hesitated.
"You useless things!!"
"It's useless."
"Shut up! Kill! Kill him! Kill that bastard right now!!"
Slash.
Another demonic beast died with its neck severed. He doesn't know.
How many demonic beasts I killed with these hands in the North.
I fought enough battles that I could kill most demonic beasts with my eyes closed.
Fatalite's Wheel.
The number of demonic beasts killed written there far exceeded seven hundred.
Exactly 784 beasts.
I had slaughtered a number close to eight hundred with my own hands, so what could barely forty demonic beasts do to me?
"Unlike the demonic beasts that grew up in the harsh environment and fierce competition of the North, the demonic beasts here are nothing but greenhouse flowers."
They're beasts in body only. Ignorant things that have never even properly hunted.
With creatures like these, they can't inflict a single wound on me.
"Damn it!! Kill him right now! Kill him!!"
Crack!!
—Kraaaagh!!
The demonic beasts' eyes changed suddenly.
The gazes that held anxiety and wariness lost their reason, holding only instinctive hostility.
Not just one.
All the demonic beasts that had been pushed back by my momentum suddenly charged at once.
"A futile effort."
Melee combat is familiar.
During the war in the North, the green waves always surged, and chaotic melees where friend and foe couldn't be distinguished constantly broke out.
I'm the one who slaughtered over two thousand orc heads while traversing such battlefields.
There's no need to use divine power.
Just let flow what needs to flow.
And cut what can be cut.
Slash!
I move with my sword like flowing water.
Even with my eyes closed, I can vividly feel their hostility on my skin.
The trajectory of their attacks is as clear as if they were announced in advance.
Truly a whirlwind of swift strikes.
When I opened my eyes again.
All I could see was the sight of dismembered demonic beast corpses scattered all around.
"Is this all the demonic beasts you prepared?"
* * *
"Damn it!"
Viola grabbed at his own hair.
Was that bastard truly a swordsmanship dullard?
Was he really the Kingdom's number one ruffian?
His sword was without excess, clean as flowing water, and elegant as if performing a beautiful dance.
Strangely, not a single drop of demonic beast blood stained his sword.
The difference in strength.
The gap in power was too overwhelming.
Viola unconsciously stepped back. Callius's breathing after slaughtering the demonic beasts was no different from before.
It was a calm breath and expression, as if he hadn't even done a warm-up.
"Is this all the demonic beasts you prepared?"
The gaze of the fellow asking in a composed voice was calm.
No, it was chilling.
His hands trembled.
"If you tried to kill someone, I'll make you realize that you could die too."
First, one arm.
"Shut up!!"
"Take it."
Slash.
"Aaaaaaaaagh!! My arm!! My arm is gaaagh! Aaaaaaaagh!!"
He thrashed about, clutching his severed arm.
Callius looked at Viola like he was looking at a bug, then frowned.
"As expected."
The whip the guy was swinging.
It's an artifact.
No, rather than an artifact.
'It's a Corpse.'
It seems half-mixed, but it's certain.
It's a Corpse made from human flesh by borrowing the power of a god.
Belonging to those who serve the God of Whips.
"Damn it! Hey!! This should be enough by now! How long are you going to hide, damn it!! If you hadn't said you'd help, I wouldn't have planned things this far! Come out right now and kill that bastard!!"
"Blaming others until the end, and even pushing the responsibility onto someone else. What a truly great person we have here. Right?"
Whirl.
Tap.
A figure wearing a hood descended from the ceiling. The curves of the body.
And the voice, though slightly altered, was that of a woman.
She landed immediately and swung her whip, and like a sinister snake, it coiled around Viola's neck.
Whip.
It seemed likely that it was this woman who had given Viola the Whip Corpse.
"Gack! Gghaaagh!"
Crack!
His neck bone broke.
He died instantly without any chance to intervene.
"I have no intention of fighting you. This place is too narrow to clash with the Hero of the North... and I don't have the children to commit my full strength either."
Bang!
The believer serving the God of Whips threw a smoke bomb and suddenly disappeared.
[Let's meet again if there's a chance next time.]
Callius glanced once at Viola, who had died with a broken neck, and stored his sword in his subspace.
If he wanted to chase, he could have.
But Callius didn't do so.
The believers serving the God of Whips have one more special ability.
That is the ability to tame demonic beasts.
Originally, they were people specialized in training and raising beasts, but at some point, they began to put effort into taming demonic beasts.
Repeated defeats in war made them that way.
However, there weren't many places for the defeated to stand. They were barely maintaining their existence.
There's nothing good about letting them live.
But even so, Callius just let her go.
A short while later, he smashed the iron cage holding the blubbering Brans and navigated the basement of the mansion that had been made like a labyrinth.
And he reached the deepest part.
There.
"You've come."
An alluring woman with deep purple hair, holding Vivi.
Beatrice welcomed him.
Comfortably holding Vivi, who never followed anyone other than herself.