038 The burning capital? (4) p.3

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“...Fear not!”

Gaston appealed to his comrades.

“They are the hounds of the corrupted Oubeniels! How can we be seized by fear from such people! Fight! Fight to the end! No, continue fighting even after death, my comrades!”


“Long live Comrade Gaston! Long live the people!”

“For freedom! For equality!”

Once again, they started fighting back. This time, they were not as easy to kill. Actually they were killed, but they fought fiercely despite dying. Some rebels who were being cut threw their weapons at the soldiers. Others bitterly gripped on the edge of the blade as they perished. There were even people who smashed their eyes and used their blood as their weapon.

By abandoning their own safety and using unconventional ways of attacking, they picked off the soldiers one by one.

“What are these people...”

“They have a loose screw! Aren’t they afraid of death!?”

Soon, the number of guards were halved and the rest attempted to flee. Gaston laughed at the patheticness.

“Witness! The elite guards of the oppressors fleeing! Don’t let them run! Get them! Until their blood is spilled! Until we attain paradise! Kill, slaughter, murder! For freedom and equality! Kuhahahaha!”

Gaston laughed without restraint. With his one word, he could make these people sacrifice themselves. And now, the nobles were cornered. He was immensely pleased with the results. He was ecstatic to the point of drooling and having a boner in his trousers. None of his fervent followers paid any heed to his strange behaviour.

(...I have become god.)

It suddenly occurred to him.

(Everybody followed my orders and fought to their deaths. Yes, I am the god of the people!)

The start of his revolution was not smooth-sailing. Everytime he preached in the city, he was ridiculed, had stones flung at him and was jailed. Without losing heart, he kept on doing what he did and grew his base of supporters till they were big enough to hold parades on the streets.

In one entire week, everything had changed. In one fell swoop, many people had joined his cause. Every single one of them obeyed him. As long as he gave the word, they would put their lives at stake to achieve it.

It was almost as though he had casted a spell over them. All the words that came from his mouth became reality. The initial uprising in the city, and the diversionary attack on the nobles’ district proceeded smoothly. The nobles were less of a threat than he had imagined. It was equally as easy as when they were purging the merchants. All they had to do was step into the building, kill everybody and set everything ablaze. They only met some resistance at the Oubeniels but their threat is mostly non-existent now.

With how things were going, perhaps, they could kill all the nobles in the capital in a single night. In fact, they might be able to get the King too…

(Ah, good. After we are done with the nobles, the King is next. And as the leader of the people, I shall stand above all...Hahaha, very interesting. People are such fools that I must lead them. And then I shall grant freedom and equality beneath me!)

Gaston could not help but laugh as he basked in the possibility. He was extremely happy. He was at the peak of happiness.

“You people dancing in joy, do it over there.”

The violent masses immediately stopped when they heard that. The voice was not loud or imposing. It was perfectly soft. The voice was just at the level where everybody could hear it. Instantly, only a man stood at the front door. A warrior clad in black armour. On his back were two large swords seated in the shape of the cross. Instincts alone should be enough to tell that he was dangerous.

He approached the mobs and grabbed the guard that had been pinned by them.

“Hey, are you alive?”

“Ugh...You are...Marlan’s...”

“Hm, if you can speak like that, you must be fine. Hurry up and get back into the mansion.”

As he declared, he violently threw the guard behind him. The guard scrambled back inside. The mob could not chase after him. After all, the warrior that stood in front of them possessed an inhumane strength to one-handedly lift people and throw them. Before such a threat, they could not afford to peel their eyes off him.

“Who are you, bastard.”

Gaston angrily asked for his name. Before this person appeared, everything had been according to plan. Yet, with just his voice, this person managed to stop everybody here and protect the nobles that should have been a sacrifice for their revolution. Even now, he was still in the way.

He could not forgive this person. This person cannot be allowed to live.

The man replied.

“I am Due Schwarzer.”

He sounded neither boastful nor humble. This further irritated Gaston. The activists have now surrounded the mansion and all that was left was this man called Due. Under such circumstances, how in the world could this man still remain calm?

Due continued with more unpleasant words.

“You guys have come to kill the servant of the ‘Slave Murderer’.”

And then, he drew his twin swords and got into a stance. At the same time, Gaston screamed.


He was the servant of the ‘Slave Murderer’. No way he could let a man who called himself as such to live. The rebels that were ordered threw themselves at Due.


“Long live, Comrade Gaston!”

“For freedom and equality!”

The wave of humans tried to swallow the man in black.

“...How kind of you all.”

The swords on Due’s hand moved in a flash.

The crowd of people that closed in on him were cut into a fog of red. With his sword, he had scattered countless of them.


Gaston could not believe his eyes. His forehead was splattered with lukewarm blood.


“W-What was that!? H-Head!?”

Behind him, there was a loud cry. Some of the human bodies that Due sliced had become stray bullets that hit the surrounding activists. Heads, limbs, bodies became deadly projectiles.

Those that were able to scream were the lucky ones that were spared instant death. The not so lucky ones were hit by these projectiles and died.

The person who created this gruesome scene gloomily murmured.

“As expected...hardly a challenge”

His voice carried only emptiness. He hardly felt any satisfaction from his display of insane strength. Naturally, it was because Due was not serious at all.

If Molto, the wielder of the Swallow Blade Technique, was here witnessing, he would give the following comments.

“There was no force, technique nor aggression. It was just for fun.”

The activists thought they had a revolution in their hands, but it was just a small uprising to be quelled. They were simply just normal citizens even if they were brandishing their tools of trade. They had never trained for battle, lacked experience and were simply gambling with their lives. Due found it queer that such a battle, him against a bunch of untrained peasants, could even happen.

If he went all out on them, then he would be nothing more than a kid. That was why, all he did was to lightly brush away the people who tried to go near him. And in a single sweep of the sword, many had died.

“...Well? Boss of the activists.”


Gaston let out a shriek after meeting Due’s eyes. All of the dignity he had as the leader of the activists and the burning hatred he had for the authorities disappeared. He was just a frightened peasant now.

“My job is to protect my master. If you leave, I will not chase after you guys.”

In the middle of speaking, some people, unperturbed by what had happened, rushed towards Due and were slashed. Some others circled around Due and jumped in intervals. They must be foolishly obeying the order of Gaston.

Or perhaps, some other force was at work.

“Long live, ―”

“For free―”

Their shouts were abruptly cut. They were meaninglessly dying.

“...So, what will you do!?”

Due became impatient.


 Unable to put up any resistance against Due, he shouted and fled.


“Comrade, what are you doing in front of the enemy―”

“Whatever...Anyways, we have to follow our comrade’s...”

Some of them were bewildered by such an option, but they soon followed and retreated.

In the blink of an eye, the noisy mob ran away. All that was left were the corpses and Due with an empty expression.

The swordsman who drove away the rebels alone whispered to himself.

“Boring...How many more times do I have to do things like this...”

In this place with an air filled with the stench of blood, nobody replied.

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