CHAPTER 138

In the west, even farther west.

A city situated in a place where only endless wastelands stretch out.

The troops, starting from the capital of Gaidar, Trinova, were currently passing through the heart of the west, slowly advancing towards Deomar.

"Haha..."

Among the troops lined up as dark as ever, a man stood under the most magnificent flag.

Count Gaidar, with a fierce gaze as striking as his well-developed upper body, was currently looking over a report with a disappointed smile.

"So, you're saying all of this was caused by just one man?"

"Yes, Lord Count."

The reason he was smiling with disappointment right now.

It was because even he found the contents written in the report absurd.

"A total of 7 supply units from 4 families were attacked along the road... The goods were completely destroyed and the troops were annihilated."

Though he was reading it aloud slowly, it didn't immediately sink in his head.

Not only was it difficult to humbly accept such painful losses, but above all, it was hard to comprehend logically.

"But it seems this mischief took just a mere six days."

Count Gaidar, skimming through the densely written list, chuckled with a disappointed expression, scratching his chin.

"If this report is to be believed, there were even instances where they struck twice in a single day."

The inevitable anger that follows disappointment.

The thick eyebrows of Count Gaidar, now scrutinizing the report, were twitching roughly.

"Is it that rascal who took my son's sword?"

"Yes, Lord Count."

Godin, who was standing next to the Count, nodded quietly and opened his mouth.

"Vlad of Shoara. He's now operating under the name of Lady Alicia."

Vlad of Shoara.

A knight from the north raised by Bayezid.

"And he's also the lad raised in the back alleys by Jorge."

"Jorge..."

And the boy who wielded Jorge's dagger.

Count Sigmund mulled over the old name, picturing the visage of a man.

A massive frame, a rough demeanor.

And the loyal hound of the previous family head, always regarding him with a wary gaze.

"...Should have killed him the first time you guys met."

"My apologies."

After hearing Godin's report, Sigmund shook his head and clicked his tongue.

Just the thought of that lad, whose mere existence was unpleasant, now wreaking havoc in the west.

Indeed, he couldn't stand Jorge even in death.

"Bayezid has sharpened him. Probably trained him rigorously in anticipation of this."

Sigmund Gaidar thought to himself.

The ones now causing havoc in the rear must undoubtedly be talents specially trained by Bayezid.

Otherwise, it would be impossible for them to sweep through the western coast's roads at such an absurd speed.

Vlad's movements were so quick that they forced Sigmund to make a wrong decision.

"It seems Count Bayezid wants to buy some time."

However, amidst this series of events, Sigmund could somewhat discern Petar Bayezid's intentions.

Although the plundered supplies were a painful loss, they hadn't just turned everything into ashes.

"Increase the marching speed of the entire army. We must reach Deomar as quickly as possible."

He had the build of a bear but the cunning of a fox.

He was none other than Sigmund Gaidar, the Usurper of the West.

'I can't allow you to drag this out until winter.'

The flow favored Gaidar, but time favored Bayezid.

Petar Bayezid was pressuring Sigmund, thoroughly reminding him of the basics of warfare.

An attacking expeditionary force and a defensive army that is staging a sit-in.

It was clear that the West would be at a disadvantage as time passed, so Peter must have been trying to buy time by waiting for the coming winter.

"All troops breaking news! Match your steps!"

Sigmund personally encouraged the soldiers to increase their marching speed, raising his voice.

Having sensed the opponent's intentions, there was no reason to be swayed any further.

In the fierce game of cat and mouse for control of the battlefield, Count Gaidar didn't forget his main objective.

Ultimately, the first step of this war would be taken in Deomar.

"Lord Count!"

"What now?"

However, the report hastily brought by the scout was enough to unsettle his composure.

"There's a bridge ahead by the river."

A report that didn't need further explanation to be understood.

Before the scout could finish speaking, Sigmund hurriedly stepped forward, glaring at the soldiers standing still at the front. He cursed under his breath.

"It's broken."

"These damn northern bastards!"

As Godin had said, the bridge by the river was broken, as if it had been deliberately sabotaged, a warning and a provocation directed at Sigmund.

".....How many days would it take for that bastard Vlad to get here?"

"Even if he's fast, it would take a week."

Upon hearing Godin's report, Sigmund looked up at the sky.

Gathering storm clouds.

An ominous sign heralding rising waves.

"It seems the pests that have burrowed into the west aren't just one or two."

Peter wasn't just waiting.

His intentions, to lightly, broadly, and boldly shake the west, were coming true.

Shooooo—

Heavy rain began to pour down over Gaidar's flag.

As the rain fell, the procession in the west gradually came to a halt.

The rain clouds that originated from the north slowly enveloped the western forces.

It seemed that the one who had seized the first move in this war was not Sigmund.

※※※※

"It's raining."

"Not bad."

Men hidden on the hill.

Despite their appearance, a chaotic mixture of colors resembling bandits, their disciplined demeanor indicated otherwise.

"Are those slave traders?"

"Yeah. The west has always been active in the slave trade."

Slave traders quickly began setting up tents along with the falling rain below.

As cold as the falling raindrops, their movements were swift, but the people standing still on the carts they brought were helpless.

People trapped behind thick bars, enduring the rain helplessly.

They were all captured slaves.

"Aren't they going to do something to those people?"

"Have you ever seen anyone set up tents for cattle or horses in the rain?"

Less than cattle or horses.

Now, people who had been deprived of their human status were shivering in the rain, relying on each other.

"...I'll set up for them."

"You're good with the horses."

Marcus, a man full of scars, smiled at Vlad's words and began to quietly look at the slave traders.

"Maybe there's still a trace of the Rabnoma bloodline among them."

"One of the traders?"

It is like an undying ember in a pile of ashes.

The influence of Rabnoma still lingered deep in the west, and Gaidar spared no effort in hunting down their bloodline.

Perhaps to escape this far, they needed a strong deception to hide from the eyes of the usurpers.

"I don't know who they are, but they've done an impressive job of disguising themselves. I don't see anyone down there who looks like a nobleman's retainer."

"Of course not."

Quietly gesturing to his men to indicate positions, Marcus looked at Vlad with a smirk.

"The last Rabnoma is posing as a slave right now."

"....I see."

To survive, one must roll with the punches.

The last Rabnoma, whoever they were, was currently enduring humiliation while striving to survive behind bars.

"We'll handle the carts. We'll rescue the Rabnoma bloodline, so you just need to draw the attention of the traders up front."

"Can I kill them all?"

The blue eyes began to shine amidst the rain.

Though Vlad had grown up in crime-ridden back alleys, he was not one to easily yield to slave traders.

"Yes, you can."

"Understood."

With Marcus's approval, Vlad nodded quietly.

Still hanging on the tip of Vlad's finger was a single black tear.

The hand that once wiped Anna's tears in the misty village was now silently moving towards the sword.

"Let's begin."

"Yes."

As Vlad and Marcus gave the signal, the men began to scatter.

Separating from the covert operation team, Vlad descended the hill slowly, followed by barbarians and mercenaries.

"...I said to draw attention, not charge straight in."

Watching Vlad and his companions openly positioned on the hill, Marcus chuckled and shook his head.

He was touted as Bayezid's finest herder.

Indeed, his confident stride demanded attention even from the dragons.

※※※※

Shooo—

The rain poured down like a giant curtain.

Heavy rain that is hard to see in the north.

Vlad, who had been quietly watching the rain, walked straight towards the campsite in front of him with an expressionless face.

"...What's this?"

Thud!

Blood began to spray as heads rolled.

The unpleasant scent mixing with the rain only added to Vlad's discomfort.

"I killed them too quickly."

Vlad doesn't particularly like rain.

The damp air that comes with rain always brings back unpleasant memories and smells buried deep in his chest.

"I'll handle it."

"Good."

Stefan picked up a small bell nearby and began to ring it vigorously.

The sound of the small bell, barely audible over the rain, echoed through the campsite, warning of intruders.

"What's going on? What's happening?"

"Get your weapons!"

Men began to hastily exit the tents in response to the bell.

But they never made it out.

The small tents began to shake violently with the sudden intrusion.

As the horrifying screams ceased and the tents fell silent, the only ones emerging from outside were the tattooed barbarians.

Kwaaah!

What in the world are these!

They looked like bandits, but the finishing was too clean.

Accompanied by the screams echoing throughout the campsite, black crows began to descend from the hilltops.

"Kill them all. Catch even those who try to flee if possible."

With the subtly given order, Vlad, his hood pulled deeply over his head, quietly merged into the torrential rain.

Those who didn't notice him passed by quietly.

Those he recognized were swiftly dispatched.

Finally, he arrived at the largest tent, the entrance flanked by quiet but tense breathing.

"Sloppy."

Crack!

Slice!

The tense anticipation was shattered as Vlad's sword sliced through the entire tent.

The splatter of blood was so intense that it could be felt from outside as the tent was ruthlessly torn apart.

"Is the owner here?"

Now, there was only silence inside the quiet tent.

As Vlad entered, the sound of rain that had been loud outside lessened slightly.

Vlad calmly shook the raindrops off his cloak and walked into the tent, past the corpses that had been cut in two at the waist.

"I have a few questions I'd like to ask."

Vlad's bloodstained footsteps slowly spread across the ground.

"I was wondering if there was a suspicious person among the slaves you recently purchased..."

Another space provided inside the tent.

Vlad went inside, lifting the flowing cloth, and there he encountered a completely unexpected sight.

"Ha."

A middle-aged man lying dead on a bed with his eyes wide open.

The pungent smell of blood mixed with the damp air forcefully assaulted his nostrils.

Beside the scattered corpse, there were two pairs of eyes staring back at him.

"Leave."

The faint flicker of the torchlight barely illuminates the space.

In the narrow and dark confines, a woman and a child meet eyes.

"I told you to leave. Before I kill you too."

The fear in the woman's eyes, cradling the child, is pitiful.

And the little boy shaking in her arms, holding the bloody dagger.

Vlad, caught by an inexplicable sense of déjà vu as he looked at them, stopped in a daze.

"..."

In the arms of a woman who was tired of being tormented by men, a young boy was holding up a bloody dagger.

Though they protect each other, their feeble struggles evoke a distant memory buried deep within Vlad's mind.

"Did you... kill him?"

"I told you to stay away!"

Under the dim torchlight, the scent of blood fills the air.

A long time ago, there was a mother trembling while hugging her child in a small room filled with a fishy smell, much like the woman now.

"Is that so?"

Vlad quietly lowered his head while listening to the faint sound of rain coming from outside.

In the cramped room, clear streaks of red trickle along the floor.

Perhaps on that day, much like today, the rain poured down just like this.

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