Episode 99
The city of the Lana Guild. The town hall of Arte della Lana.
In a room adorned with luxurious woolen tapestries symbolizing the guild, Dale stood.
“I heard that Ray Eurys, the proxy of the Crimson Duke, met with the master of the Lana Guild.”
Through the Shadow Court’s network, he had already gathered information on which noble’s proxy had contacted which guild master.
”…!”
“You must be aware of the attempted assassination on the master of the Calimala Guild.”
“At the very least, I know the Shadow Court vouches for the Duke’s innocence.”
The master of the Lana Guild spoke, and Dale nodded quietly.
“Does the master of the Lana Guild aspire to become the next city master, backed by the Empire and the Red Tower?”
“The city master will be elected lawfully, in accordance with the republican traditions of the seven great guilds.”
Dale remained silent, observing the master’s attempt to maintain composure.
“If the city master’s ledger falls into the hands of the Empire…”
After a pause, Dale spoke again.
“How long do you think the ‘republican traditions’ that Guild City prides itself on will last?”
”…”
“Once the heart of the Golden Empire, the Seven Cities Republic fell and became mere city-states.”
Recalling the downfall of the Seven Cities Republic, which he had once orchestrated. Their vaunted wealth meant nothing before the hero’s sword.
“Do you think the Empire will tolerate the ‘republic’ of the seven great guilds?”
Dale continued.
“Defying the Empire and the Red Tower requires considerable courage.”
”…”
“But rejecting our black alliance will require no less courage.”
It was a blatant threat, but without such a bold move, the guild masters would not be swayed. The master of the Lana Guild remained silent to the end.
The saying “when whales fight, the shrimp’s back is broken” seemed apt here.
Some time later.
Before the Black Market opened, a meeting of the seven great guild masters was convened to quell the unrest within Guild City.
To protect them, the city’s strongest, the high assassins of the Shadow Court, were present.
──Under the command of the ‘Shadow Lord’ they served, all conversations were relayed to Dale.
With the Shadow Court protecting the guild masters, no whisper, however small, could escape their ears.
Some time later, the seven great guilds finished their calculations, and Guild City split into two major factions.
The Empire faction, seeking alliance with the Empire and the Red Tower.
The Black faction, supporting the alliance proposed by Dale.
In the midst of these secretive gatherings, the Shadow Court was tasked with their protection.
Unbeknownst to them, the assassins meant to safeguard Guild City had become Dale’s instruments.
Dale could have immediately confronted the city master, seized the ledger, and eliminated the opposition with the Shadow Court’s assassins.
Yet neither Dale nor the Empire resorted to force for a reason.
The true value of the city master’s ledger lay not in its current contents but in the future information it would record.
Using Guild City’s network, transactions across the Empire could be tracked. The flow of funds, the trade of weapons and armor, the debts of lords…
A blueprint of the continent’s future, not its past.
Without securing constant access to this information, it was meaningless. This was why Dale and the Empire were so desperate to control the next city master.
Intangible information.
This was the greatest reason why Guild City could be humbled but not stripped of its assets.
Apart from the affairs of the seven great guilds, the next championship match at the Fight Club was approaching.
“Wowww!”
Amidst the crowd’s cheers, Dale turned his head. On the lake of shadows, countless Shadow Lurkers revealed their presence.
Monsters of the shadows.
With serpentine bodies and scythe-like limbs, they menaced with their spiked tendrils.
“H-H-Hang on…!”
Before Dale’s opponent could finish speaking.
Thud!
The spiked tendrils pierced his body. Blood gushed, and a cry of madness echoed.
A strike to prove the ruthlessness of the ‘Black Prince,’ showing no mercy to his foes. A calculated move to eliminate a competitor in the Black Market.
The ‘Black Prince’ of the Saxon family demonstrated his mercilessness, and the next match began.
“This is a spectacle not to be missed!”
“Mikhail of Lancaster! The second son of the Duke of Lancaster, Prince Mikhail!”
’…The Duke of Lancaster?’
The name caught Dale’s attention, and he turned toward the arena. A handsome blond man stood there.
──The Lancaster family.
One of the ‘Three Great Ducal Houses’ of the Empire, alongside Saxon and Barbarossa.
It was no surprise that the Three Great Ducal Houses would send representatives to the Black Market.
‘Even so, for the second son of the Duke of Lancaster to personally enter the Fight Club…’
Momentarily forgetting he was the eldest son of the Saxon family, Dale tilted his head. Mikhail Lancaster must have appeared in the round of 32, but Dale hadn’t watched all the matches. However, he had heard of ‘Mikhail Lancaster.’
Not in his past life, but after becoming the eldest son of the Saxon family.
A prodigy of the sword, said to be closest to the realm of the Seven Swords of the Continent. It wasn’t unusual for children of ducal houses to be called geniuses of sword or magic.
In any world, being born with a silver spoon is a sure guarantee of life.
The world is unfair and absurd, with status determined at birth. The Three Great Ducal Houses of the Empire embodied this unfairness.
In a way, the rogue of the Count’s family, Philip, was an irregular defying fate.
Finishing his thoughts, Dale turned his head. Mikhail Lancaster drew the sword at his waist. A knight’s sword, its blade stained crimson.
‘The Bloodflower Sword…’
Not an ordinary sword, but a masterpiece akin to a top-tier artifact.
His opponent was also a knight from a notable count’s family, a good opportunity to witness his skill firsthand. Or so it should have been.
But as soon as the signal to start the match rang out, his opponent’s head was already rolling on the ground.
Without a chance to surrender, without even an aura blade.
’…!’
One strike.
Even Dale, projecting the prowess of a hero and activating his circle, couldn’t follow the speed without focusing. Most in the arena couldn’t keep up and fell silent.
Mikhail Lancaster sheathed his sword and glanced over.
Toward Dale, the eldest son of the Saxon family.
After a respectful nod, he offered a slight smile. As the second son of a ducal house, he was impeccably courteous and dignified.
His swordsmanship was the same. So clean and beautiful, it left one in awe.
The Sword Demon, Mikhail Lancaster.
That was his moniker, and instinctively, Dale realized.
The current era’s greats, those who thrived in his past life, would eventually age and fade. But the void wouldn’t last long.
The next generation of greats would take their place.
Dale was one, Ray Eurys was another, and Mikhail Lancaster was yet another.
Unknown to Dale in his past life, these new greats would rise, and he would face many in life-and-death battles.
Reflecting on this calmly, Dale also bowed his head respectfully.
The matches at the Fight Club progressed swiftly.
In this hell where opponents died before they could surrender, those aware of their limits chose defeat before fighting. After many eliminations, four remained.
The semifinals.
Dale, Ray Eurys, Mikhail Lancaster, and a marquis’s proxy.
’…Didn’t the Barbarossa family send anyone?’
The maritime power with an invincible fleet based in the Sea of Death Archipelago. They might quietly participate in the Black Market without appearing in the Fight Club.
At least, it wasn’t a concern for now.
In the Fight Club arena, the cheers were more fervent than ever. Craving the thrill and madness of blood. To meet their expectations, Dale raised his head.
“Ah, we finally meet.”
Ray Eurys, the adopted son of the Crimson Duke and the undisputed heir to the Red Tower, stood there, commanding attention.
The commentators’ voices, which had been echoing through the arena, faded into the background.
“He’s an opponent I must face eventually,” Dale thought, feeling a surge of competitive spirit ignite within him.
A vortex of dark blue energy swirled around him, and in response, Ray Eurys accelerated his own magical circle.
“Resonate,” Dale commanded, quickening his four circles. Blue particles scattered in all directions, accompanied by a harmonious yet unsettling melody.
“Blue Barrel.”
Having reached the level of a four-circle mage, he loaded the “Blue Dissonance,” a technique taught by Sepia, into his weapon.
The arena was submerged in a lake of shadows, and from its depths emerged a creature of darkness. Behind him, a Death Knight adjusted its grip on Saxon’s black sword.
The strategy was clear: neutralize the opponent’s magic, overwhelm with sheer force, and seize victory. With his plan set, Dale acted without hesitation.
A piercing shriek echoed as the “Shadow Lurkers” unleashed their barbed tendrils. The shadowy beasts charged forward, and Ray Eurys extended his arm in response.
To counter any attempt to seal his magic, he set aside the “Blue Dissonance” aimed at him.
Amidst the swirling storm of crimson and black, Ray Eurys spoke.
“──O King of Cold Ashes.”
He uttered the name of a grimoire that could never be forgotten.