Chapter 95
Chapter 95
“This time there must be no mistakes.”
The emperor’s voice cut cold through the chamber.
“If anyone should trace this back to us…”
His eyes gleamed with a sinister light.
“I need not say what will happen.”
“Yes, Your Majesty! We receive your command!”
The knights bent their heads even lower and roared their answer. Only then did the emperor’s smile return. Yet one issue remained unresolved.
“And the boy?”
“…We still have not found him. But the young lord of Evant—urk!”
The emperor’s boot crashed into the knight’s gut. Even if the kick was nothing more than vented rage, the truth remained: their blunder had allowed the mercenary to spirit her son away.
“It was you who assured me the Evant whelp would have no interest in this! And now you dare tell me we must rely on him?”
“That is—”
“If he finds the boy first and hears something he should not—!”
The emperor roared, his voice shaking the walls.
Unable to appeal to the temple where the hero lingered, he had turned to the Mage Tower. That, in hindsight, had been a mistake.
Who would have thought that the Evant wastrel would care about a string of beast attacks?
House Evant was bound together with iron ties. If Kyrillos moved outside, Duke Evant would be shoring up defenses inside. If Kyrillos caught wind of anything, then surely Carlos Evant would as well.
“The thought of that sly old fox Carlos Evant catching so much as a whiff makes my skin crawl.”
Grinding his teeth, the emperor muttered through rage.
Head of the noble faction.
Just the memory of Carlos Evant was enough to make him bolt upright in fury at night.
He could not allow that fox to discover the truth of the hero—or what lay in the dungeons beneath.
The louder his thoughts spun, the harder his fingers drummed against the table. Then, all at once, they stilled.
He had remembered who lay sleeping below.
“How fares the experiment?”
One knight quickly steadied himself and spoke.
“It can move, but it shows no sign of thought. It seems this ‘obedience stone’ that he mentioned is required. For now it can only control beasts—but with the miasma infused into it, it is little different from one.”
“But that damned hero still refuses to obey.”
The emperor clicked his tongue, rising to his feet. The knights’ heads lifted as he paced with his hands behind his back.
“If only I could take full control of Lawrence, who lies beneath us, everything would be simple. Tch.”
To see Carlos Evant bow his head—that would be a sight. His most beloved firstborn son, alive once more, brought back by none other than himself. Even if the boy no longer resembled a man at all.
“They say he asked for the hero in exchange.”
“Yes. By sheer fortune our purposes aligned, which made the cooperation simple. If only you fools had not failed time and again, I would never have had to go this far.”
At his rebuke the knights bowed lower still. Displeased even with that, the emperor tapped one knight’s head with his boot. Then, unsatisfied, he swept the chessboard from the table. The pieces clattered and scattered across the floor.
If the pieces were useless, then he would smash them all and start anew. A better hand could always be drawn.
“And what of Kyrillos Evant? He often visits the hero. If he crosses paths with us…”
Cautiously, Hakan raised the question. The emperor’s reply was unexpected.
“If in the course of things the Evant whelp should die, what of it? He has nothing to do with me. Tell me, Hakan—what is it that matters most to you?”
“…To eliminate any who hinder Your Majesty’s command—no, Your Majesty’s goal.”
“Good. And whose hand do you act as?”
“On my own accord.”
Hearing the answer he wanted, the emperor’s lips curled in satisfaction. With a wave of his hand, the kneeling knights rose and left. Alone in the chamber, he seated himself once more.
“Useless hero.”
The emperor could hardly believe his grand designs had failed twice.
The hero had won the people’s trust. Very well—he would turn that trust against him. He would make it so the man could not even show his face.
“And Carlos Evant…”
When first he had heard the report that Kyrillos had shown interest in this affair, he had been stunned. But the more he thought on it, the more he realized: it was an opportunity.
A chance to watch despair spread across that conniving old fox’s face.
The dogs he had raised with such care—those loyal retainers—would sooner choose death than betray him. That was how Carlos had raised them.
“Carlos Evant.”
The name burned in his mind. That arrogant duke, staring at him with eyes that longed to rip out his throat.
Those fools who claimed his elder brother would have made a better emperor—they had never pleased him.
Of course he had been the superior one!
“Prince or not, His Highness the First would have led the Empire to greater heights than you ever could.”
The emperor remembered those mocking smiles, those words that had crushed his efforts. Genius cannot be matched by mere toil?
No. He had proved them wrong. He had slain his brother and seized the throne with his own hands.
The road had been long, but in the end the victor was himself.
Slowly, a smile returned to his lips. His brother was dead, buried in the earth.
And now, the Empire’s greatest weapon was his.
A weapon vast enough to swallow not just the Empire but the entire continent.
Countless lives would be extinguished, but such was the way of the strong. Only the powerful had the right to endure.
Unable to suppress it any longer, the emperor laughed—a low, vulgar laugh.
It was close now. Very close.
The dawn of his age was at hand.
* * *
The atmosphere in the capital was bleak.
On every face lingered the shadow of death.
Neighbors who once knew each other so well—down to how many eggs each household’s hens had laid—were now pouring into the streets to weep and wail. Even those who had not suffered loss themselves shed tears as they tried to console the bereaved.
“This all happened because the hero didn’t deal with the beasts properly!”
“Good heavens, more lives lost again… and at the hands of monsters, no less. How are we supposed to live like this?”
“We thought with the Demon King dead we could live without fear, but now beasts are the problem! Where is the hero? Why does he never show his face instead of hunting them down?”
In one village, someone had been killed. Another time, a man from across the street had gone missing—only to be found later, torn apart by something.
“My boy… oh, my boy! He was so happy when he found work at the palace, and now beasts have taken you from me—no, no…”
“Children have disappeared too! Surely the beasts went after the weakest prey and devoured them!”
“This is all the hero’s fault! He wears that lofty title, but what is he doing now? He can’t even handle a few monsters!”
The grief of families clinging to corpses quickly turned to rage. Their anger did not fall upon the beasts that had killed their loved ones, but upon the hero—merciful, kind-hearted, and therefore easy to tear apart with blame.
Only by lashing out at him could they soothe their own anguish.
And so, they began to devour the hero.
That was how the rumor began.
