Episode 210

Chasing after fleeing enemies was always a bothersome task.

Usually, before carrying out ‘executions,’ I would be the one chasing the fugitives; afterward, I was often the one on the run.

That’s why I preferred muskets.

If the goal was to kill someone who’s fleeing, being able to shoot from a distance without getting close was crucial.

However, carrying a musket around at all times wasn’t practical.

Even now, as an Imperialist known as Grey, it wouldn’t be strange to always carry a musket, but at the moment, I didn’t have one.

However.

I did have something in my hand that could serve as a substitute for a musket.

Whirr.

I lightly raised my staff and pointed its tip forward.

When I tapped the handle of the staff lightly, the tip fell downward and locked into place, forming a grip.

“You wouldn’t believe how much trouble I went through to make this.”

Since I made it myself, no one else knew all the functions of this staff.

Publicly, I would twist the handle to pull out a blade from inside, but by adjusting the state of the handle’s assembly, I could modify the staff however I liked.

Almost like a musket.

Click.

I pulled up the end of the staff where it touched the ground.

The only thing that rose was a gray ring attached to the end of the staff. Meanwhile, the cap that had sealed the bottom fell to the ground, rolling like a discarded piece of junk.

“Ughhhh—”

I aimed at a knight fleeing on horseback and perfectly looped the ring around the back of his head.

“Bang!”

Gently, I channel;ed mana into the staff, discharging it.

Bang.

With the sound of gunfire, the mana released from within the staff formed a “bullet” that flew and pierced the knight’s neck precisely.

The projectile didn’t take the typical lead bullet shape of the Empire’s muskets but instead mimicked the tip of the blade hidden inside my staff.

A release of sword energy.

A type of Imperial swordsmanship technique was employed by those who had reached the rank of master for long-range attacks.

Usually, this technique involved coating a blade with an aura blade and then discharging that aura explosively, driving it into the enemy. While it was often considered a brute force technique, I used it more efficiently.

“Only fire the tip? Why not just focus the aura on the part that touches the enemy? Like an arrowhead and its shaft… Wait, is this even possible?”

This originally stemmed from Imperial swordsmanship techniques.

“…It doesn’t seem entirely impossible. Let’s give it a try and see.”

With someone’s help, I was able to perfect this technique.

“If you’re going to name it… well, what? You think naming techniques is meaningless? Foolishness. Naming a technique might seem like it has no practical benefit, but it’s how it becomes distinctly ‘yours.’”

If we spoke in Imperial terms, shouting the technique’s name could almost be seen as declaring a “copyright.”

With that in mind, this technique is exceedingly simple.

White Silver Bullet.

The arrowhead gleams with a silver-tinged gray aura.

The mana expelled behind the projectile comes from an abundance of mana absorbed from the Somnus flower.

Instead of taking the form of arrows or magical missiles, the bullet rotated inside a long cylindrical tube, exploding outwards and striking the target with pinpoint precision.

“If we were to name it in the Nostrum way… yes, it could be called a ‘Silver Bullet.’”

An old-fashioned individual who took technique naming very seriously christened it as such, but I don’t particularly care.

Even if someone like Hapsburg noticed this technique from wherever they might be watching, time was of the essence for me right now.

Bang, bang, bang.

Each shot brought down a knight.

Both those who were fleeing and those who had collapsed, having lost their will to fight, fell one by one, blood spilling from their throats as the White Silver Bullets lodged deep within them.

Because the projectiles were shaped like blades, they pierced vertically. With slight adjustments to the angle, they could split the esophagus, windpipe, or even the cervical spine with terrifying precision.

“You can’t run away. Seriously, I don’t have time for this.”

It’s not that I was being stingy with my time.

I quickly severed the neck of Marquis Zelos Barcel earlier precisely to “spare” these others.

Bang.

“……”

All the remaining knights of the Golden Dawn had been killed.

After briefly checking the mana remaining in my body, I restored the staff to its original form.

“Now then, let’s find a horse….”

Neighhhh!

The horses fled as well.

Although I deliberately killed only the riders to unseat them, the horses ran for their lives the moment their riders fell.

“…….”

In hindsight, I should have hidden the horse I borrowed from Viscount Balzac.

No, if I’d ridden it here, Zelos Barcel would have targeted the horse first, and it would have been killed.

“Well, running all the way isn’t an option either.”

Fortunately, one horse remained.

Someone had tied its reins to a tree and driven a stake into the ground. It seemed they dismounted briefly and fled without even thinking of taking the horse.

Pffft, snort….

The horse pulled away from me.

“Hey.”

I approached the horse slowly and gently patted its back.

“If I don’t hurry, a war will break out. Can’t you help me, just for a moment?”

Snort….

“Honestly.”

As a steed raised for the 1st Knight Order, it feared a blood-soaked human. How could such a horse be taken to a battlefield?

“No wonder the Conquistador prefers bikes.”

One of the reasons I gave up riding for so long was this.

Military horses trained only to run in armor never actually experienced bloody military drills. They had never carried blood-soaked knights or witnessed blood splattering on their riders.

The horse had never seen human blood, but even if it had faced the blood of monsters from the contaminated zones, it wouldn’t have reacted like this.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have a choice.”

I was in a hurry.

I needed to head to the Gibraltar territory immediately.

“Whoa, whoa.”

Late at night.

It was close to midnight or early dawn when I finally arrived at the Gibraltar estate’s lord’s castle.

“Margrave… sir?”

“No, it’s not.”

As my hair was drenched in blood and I hadn’t had time to properly clean up, one soldier mistook me for my father in the darkness.

“H-Heek…?! Th-The young master Grey! What in the world happened?!”

“We were attacked. Where’s my father….”

Boom.

“…You’re here.”

“What’s going on?”

Before I could even find my father, he appeared, descending from the sky.

To be precise, as soon as he saw me through the castle window, he opened it and leapt out to meet me.

“I thought you were at Caroline Castle.”

“Given the circumstances, I decided to stay at the Margrave’s estate for official duties until Lemveri’s camp was disbanded and Carlos’ men returned.”

“What about Mother?”

“She’s in her room at the mansion with Leta and the younger siblings. With Leta there, you don’t need to worry about the children wandering off.”

Mother took good care of the siblings, but Leta, as the eldest daughter, kept the younger ones in line.

I had heard that, true to her nature, Leta ensured that the children didn’t go astray and kept Noir (age 7) under control as well.

The problem was….

“Father.”

“Who was it?”

Father’s expression wasn’t good.

So much so that I felt the need to tread carefully around him.

“This isn’t something to discuss out here….”

“Everyone will know soon enough.”

“Still, it could cause unnecessary complications. Please, just for a moment, over here.”

“…….”

I dismounted and led the horse to where the soldiers were stationed.

Snort, snort.

The soldiers recoiled in alarm at the sight of the red blood smeared on the saddle and fur of the horse. Father glanced at the blood, closed his eyes briefly, then took a deep breath.

“Balzac’s horse?”

“He’s still your father-in-law.”

“Grey Gibraltar.”

“…It was Marquis Zelos Barcel and the Golden Dawn Knights.”

I told my father the truth without hesitation.

“What happened to them?”

“They’re all dead. Correction: I killed them.”

“I see.”

“Yes.”

I had already killed them all.

“Father.”

So.

“Please, calm down first….”

“When a fight comes to you, you don’t back down.”

I came here to calm Father down, but it seemed I had only made things worse.

“This isn’t just about loyalty or treason against the state. My child was nearly assassinated—what kind of father would stay silent about that?”

“Father. That’s why I killed him. Marquis Zelos Barcel is deceased, and the only place we need to go now is the funeral hall.”

The sudden death of the leader of the kingdom’s First Knights.

Whether it would be officially revealed or concealed, Zelos Barcel was dead.

“To ensure he couldn’t be revived through dark magic or turned into a corpse puppet, I decapitated him and destroyed his heart. Though I was in such a rush that I couldn’t retrieve the body….”

“You did well to kill him. It’s what had to be done, and you didn’t hesitate. That was undoubtedly the right thing to do.”

Father approached me and began roughly rubbing my blood-soaked hair with the sleeve of his white shirt.

“Father. The blood of unclean men is staining you.”

“What does it matter if my sleeve gets dirty? Go wash your hair first. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“I didn’t rush all the way here just to let you handle everything. I couldn’t even wash my hair by the stream because of the urgency.”

“Then rest and leave everything to the Margrave of Gibraltar.”

“One question, if I may.”

I looked Father straight in the eye.

“Will you wage war?”

“Of course.”

“How much do you know?”

“Everything that happened up until you left.”

“…….”

“Grand Duke Winchester contacted me directly. He said he would mediate from a neutral position regardless of what choice I made, but only up to that point.”

“Grand Duke Winchester personally contacted you…?”

“Indeed. He told me to act as I saw fit, according to principles, law, and tradition.”

A chill ran down my spine.

“Are you telling me that the grand duke, who mediates noble disputes, said that? Seriously?”

“Yes. He said if Grey Gibraltar tries to convince you, this would be the way to make you understand.”

Father rubbed the dark red blood on his sleeve with his hand.

“The burned train—apparently, it was nominally registered under an alias belonging to the adopted heir of the grand duke’s nephew’s sister-in-law.”

“…….”

“While the chancellor and grand duke might handle direct governance or trials, this is different.”

Father grasped the sword at his waist.

“Grey.”

The Margrave drew his sword.

“I will duel the Barcel Marquisate.”

“…….”

“You’ve already begun it, Grey.”

“Yes, well. But… is a duel valid if the marquis is dead?”

“Even if Zelos Barcel is dead, the Barcel Marquisate remains. It’s a family loyal to Saint Gio Nostrum.”

A war in the name of a duel.

“It will be a territorial war.”