Chapter 182 : Gold of Pride (3)
Gold of Pride (3)
-srarak, sarak.
On the forest path where only the sound of leaves brushing in the wind echoed quietly.
Ian halted in his tracks.
"......"
The killing intents that had been following behind him had now completely encircled Ian in a circle.
"You've gone through quite some trouble."
Ian spoke dryly, standing there without turning.
"For a body as old as yours, you must not be in top shape. Yet you personally came all the way into this remote forest."
"... Huh."
A low, hollow laugh came from the darkness.
-jeobeok.
With the sound of expensive handcrafted shoes stepping on the dirt, an old man in a golden suit revealed himself.
The Empire's Minister of Finance and Archbishop of Pride of the Pride Cult, Count Goldman.
Gone was the dignified smile he had worn at the auction; his face was now twisted with nothing but a ghastly murderous intent.
"Did you know already? How sly, just like a wily brat. Your energy perception must be rather impressive, huh?"
When Goldman tapped the ground with his cane, more than a dozen assassins hiding under the shadows of trees revealed themselves at once.
All of them wore pitch-black masks, each gripping a sinister, venom-tipped blue blade in hand.
A faint smirk lifted the corner of Ian's lips.
Each and every one of those assassins was at least master-level intermediate-rank.
Even within the Great Cult of Sins, these were the elite among elites.
Their strength would not be lacking even if compared to the Imperial Royal Guard.
"Ian Greysel."
Goldman lifted his chin and almost savored Ian's name as he spoke it.
"You were great fun at the auction. You were absolutely brimming with confidence. Like a puppy who doesn't yet know the fear of a tiger. There are lines in this world that must never be crossed."
"......"
"I get that you, as the eldest son of Greysel, wish to protect your house's legacy, but you should've been more discerning about your opponent. Not only did you dare interfere with me, but you humiliated me in public? You brought this on yourself. You tugged on the whiskers of a sleeping lion."
Goldman's eyes gleamed with a snake-like sneer.
"You can't be completely oblivious, so you must realize by now how unfavorable your situation is, don't you?"
"......"
"Hoo-hoo. Are you so terrified you've forgotten how to speak? Fine. If you wish to live, I'll generously give you a chance. Everything you bought at today's auction – the land grant, the secret tomes, antiques, and famous swords, all of it. Leave it here and kneel."
"......"
"If you do, I'll grant you the mercy of begging for your life. If I'm pleased with your begging, I'll gouge your eyes and cut out your tongue, and let you crawl at my feet for eternity. Isn't that a generous punishment for someone who dared to insult me?"
Goldman laughed, a chilling, slithery sound.
Ian offered no response at all.
Goldman assumed this was from fear.
'He's utterly terrified. That gray-haired brat. Frozen stiff. Well, of course.'
No matter how much a genius Ian was to have caught the Heavenly Sword Lord's eye, he was only nineteen.
He couldn't possibly have survived any real battles with life and death on the line, and he'd never been surrounded in such a murderous, suffocating atmosphere.
But then—
"... Pfft."
"... What?"
A sound of ridicule slipped from Ian's lips, and Goldman's assumptions swiftly turned to confusion.
"You laugh?"
"Haa......"
Ian slowly brushed his hair back and met Goldman's gaze.
On his face, there was not a single hint of fear, not even the slightest tension.
If anything, he looked like someone who had come out to take out the trash and found the task bothersome and tedious.
"You people always have the same tired routine."
"... Wha–what did you say?"
"Archbishop of Pride. Scum like you."
"Wha–what! What did you just say!?"
Archbishop of Pride.
Goldman's true identity and the most important secret.
He had kept it hidden perfectly until now, certain that no one, unless they were a demonic human of the cult, could possibly know it.
Then how!
How could the mere eldest son of a minor eastern vassal family suddenly bring up his true identity!?
"How, how do you know...!"
Goldman's pupils began to tremble as if shaken by an earthquake.
Ian calmly stretched out his hand, grasping at the air.
-uuuuuuuunng!
Space rippled, and a greatsword of grotesque shape emerged from subspace.
A mysterious, enormous sword that looked as if countless blades had melted together.
Arkazenon.
"How, you ask?"
Ian stabbed Arkazenon lightly into the ground and spoke.
"Because I opened up all your cronies' heads."
"...!!!"
At those words, goosebumps rippled over Goldman's entire body.
He opened up their heads!
And in that instant, a thought stabbed through his mind.
That unidentified monster that's been tearing up the Great Cult of Sins lately!
The one who hunts down Cult Leaders one after another, razing the strongholds of every sect—that monster, could it be...!
"I–Ian Greysel...!? Could it be him!?"
It made no sense logically.
All he had was the backing of the Heavenly Sword Lord—how could a minor, even-disowned brat of a remote vassal family pull off such feats?
How could some mere nineteen-year-old, not even fully ripened, wage war against the cult!
Yet the word 'Archbishop' had come from Ian's lips—so his real background or the truth didn't matter anymore.
"Get him! Turn that bastard into ground meat, limb from limb, right now!!"
Goldman screamed in desperation.
"Catch him alive, no matter what! TORTURE HIM!!!"
-pabababat!!
At their master's command, the assassins surrounding Ian rushed at him all at once.
360 degrees, above and below—from every direction, dozens of poison-laced blades flew in, all aimed straight at vital points.
A dense net of death, like wrought iron.
Yet Ian didn't even consider dodging.
He simply adjusted his grip on Arkazenon, still embedded in the ground.
― Kaaaaaaaang!!!
Suddenly, Arkazenon's blade unleashed a brilliant platinum wave.
-uuuuuuuunng!
Simultaneously, dozens of subspace gates opened at Ian's feet.
And from within—
-seureung! seureureung! chaeng! chaeng!
Ian's famous swords shot out like flashes of light.
-chwaaaaaang!!
Atellas, blade of Weight; Infernachs, flame Demon Sword; Quiennio, ghost Sword...
Dozens of masterwork swords followed Ian's will, thrusting simultaneously toward the assassins.
"Wh–what...!"
"Uh, uhh!?"
The assassins tried to halt their charge in panic.
However—
-swaeeeeeeeak!
A swarm of famous swords drew sharp arcs.
-pugh! kwaaang! chwachwachwachwak!
"Gyaaaaaagh!"
"Keough!"
"Spare me...! Kek!"
A one-sided massacre.
Some were crushed flat beneath Atellas.
Others were charred into coal by the flames unleashed by Infernachs.
Others, hearts pierced by invisible Quiennio, collapsed, vomiting blood.
Even elite demonic humans at master-level didn't manage a single resistance, cut down like autumn leaves.
Just three seconds.
In an instant, over ten of Goldman's assassins turned into butchered lumps of flesh, staining the ground red.
"... A–Ah!"
Goldman stumbled backward, jaw slack in shock.
His hand that gripped the cane trembled as though in seizure.
"Wh–what is this...! Impossible... This can't...!"
He had been a demonic human for over two centuries.
He had never seen anything like this.
So many Hisperion swords—each difficult to command—wielded simultaneously!
And with sword telekinesis!
Without lifting a finger, mowing down a squad of master-level demonic humans in under five seconds!
'Th–this is... just what...!'
-thud!
Goldman's legs gave out, dropping him to the ground.
'It's certain! This—it's him! It's got to be him!'
The unknown monster who devoured Cult Leaders one after another.
The Greysel appearance was no doubt just a disguise; the real identity would be something else.
That core couldn't possibly be human. Couldn't possibly.
'Damn it! Then did he target me from the start!?'
Did he provoke Goldman at the auction just to lure him out and murder him?
-jeobeok.
Ian stepped through a pool of blood, slowly approaching.
-chwarururu!
Dozens of famous swords trailed behind him, humming menacingly, all pointed at Goldman.
"H–hiiiiiik!!"
Goldman crawled backward across the floor in terror.
"D–Don't come! Stay away!"
Frantically rummaging in his coat, goldman pulled out priceless defensive artifacts and attack scrolls.
"Y–You bastard!! I am the Empire's Minister of Finance! If you kill me, the Imperial family won't let you—!"
"Shut up."
Ian casually swung Arkazenon.
-paaaaaat!
-kwarang!!!
Thunder Emperor Sword, Astrape, shot forth like lightning—blasting off Goldman's right arm and embedding itself in the ground.
"Gyaaaaaaaaagh!!!"
Scrolls and artifacts shattered in his grasp, scattering on the ground.
Ian strode forward, grabbed Goldman by the neck, and lifted him easily.
"Ku, kuhuk...!"
All Goldman wanted was to live.
"S–Spare me...! I'll give you everything I have...! The imperial treasury code... even imperial secrets! All my slush funds! E–everything!"
"Don't need it."
"Wha–what!"
Then why!
Why me!
-ttuduk!
Goldman didn't get to think any further.
"Gu, gggeuuuuuu..."
His spine snapped, and his body crumpled.
-hwik!
Ian tossed him into subspace, dusting off his hands.
A moment in which a super-sized magic power battery was added.
'Now I just need to finish up neatly.'
He had captured the Archbishop of Pride alive, but his work wasn't done.
'I have to make an alibi.'
Goldman was both the Archbishop of Pride and the Empire's Minister of Finance.
His disappearance would surely trigger annoying repercussions from the Empire.
Everyone involved in this auction would become a suspect.
Thus, Ian needed a solid alibi for his whereabouts and actions tonight.
'It's time to take care of the parasite who sold out the family.'
Ian's half-brother, Rufus Greysel.
Not only did he dig up the ancestors' legacy, but then tried to sell the artifacts to the Demon Cult, the scum.
Ian checked the Greysel estate deed and mansion ownership he had properly purchased at auction, nestled in his coat.
'While I'm at it, I should also clean out all the parasites who've been feeding on Greysel.'
Turning, Ian headed back toward the Greysel main estate.
* * *
The Greysel family estate.
After the auction, the manor was in a virtual festival.
"Kuhahahaha! Drink! Drink up!"
Rufus Greysel sprawled with his legs wide atop the guest hall's main seat, guzzling fine, expensive spirits.
Before him, towering piles of gold coins and notes stacked high—the proceeds from the auction.
"Congratulations, Lord! With this much money you could buy an entire island, build a palace, and keep a thousand prostitutes living in luxury for the rest of your days!"
"Now we're finally done with that damned Hisperion! Lord, you have outdone all your predecessors!"
Obssequious flatterers and fallen servants clustered around Rufus, bowing and scraping.
"Of course! Absolutely!"
Rufus cackled, his face flushed red.
"My old man's always been useless with money! What good does guarding a family or territory do, huh? Does land get you food or drink? Selling that tiresome plot and living the easy life—that's the real victory!"
He fondled a bag of gold with satisfaction.
Of course, that disowned freak Ian had shown up at the auction, which had nearly made Rufus piss his pants.
'I didn't expect him to just walk away. I thought he'd act all arrogant with the Heavenly Sword Lord behind him, but it was the opposite, wasn't it? He stuffed my pockets with money and just disappeared. Kekek.'
Old man Goldman and he had driven the price of the estate deed up to two hundred million gold.
"That idiot Ian. Sucking up to the Heavenly Sword Lord, now he's good at bringing in cash too? Still dumb as a post, though. Two hundred million gold—you could buy every prostitute in the imperial capital twice over, and he spends it on this backwater land deed?"
Rufus swigged another draught of liquor.
"Not that I care—I'm sitting on a mountain of money! Anyway, I'll be vacating the estate tomorrow morning and heading for the Empire!"
"We'll follow you, Lord!"
"Please take us with you!"
"Wahahaha! Don't worry! If you serve me well, there'll be plenty of leftovers for the likes of you!"
The house rang with raucous laughter, stuffed with decadence and vanity.
Then—
― Kwaaaang!!
The mansion's heavy front doors exploded with a sound like thunder, shattering off their hinges.
"...!?"
"Hi–hiiik!"
"What's happening?!"
The revelers spun around in fright, staring at the door.
As the dust settled, the silhouette of a man appeared beyond the shattered entry.
A giant of over two meters, with limbs as thick as logs.
Ian Greysel had returned to restore his family to its rightful state.