Luke Stokkart tap-tap-tapped on his temple.
“Hm, hmm, what to do,” he whispered as he thought. Due to the nobility’s experiments on him, he thought much faster than others. He was able to quickly understand the situation in front of him and think up two, three, no, over ten ways to deal with it and their resulting consequences in no time flat.
He had white hair despite only being in his early twenties and tended to view the world through slitted eyes, so thinly opened that they appeared closed to others.
He verified the current information through the slit of his vision as he stood atop the roof of Marquess Wahti’s estate.
They were living the worst case scenario.
Miller’s plan had an expected pace that they’d follow, but they rushed far past it, for a single reason: Sion Astal had killed his older brother, Prince Kestalus.
There was an explosion on the other side of the night. Another, another. Countless explosions that probably shouldn’t be happening in the noble’s quarters went off in quick succession.
Luke smiled faintly. “Ah-ah, Claugh sure is doing his best. But how long can he take fighting when he’s outnumbered one to ten?”
Claugh Klom’s revolutionary army was currently being attacked by soldiers loyal to Marquess Tenglon in the heart of the Roland Empire. The sky was constantly alight with red from flashes of Abstract Phosphorescence and violent explosions of large-scale magic.
It was a real battle, right in the center of the city. Luke could understand what was going on just from watching the number of explosions from afar.
“Mmm, Claugh’s definitely doing his best, but.” Luke sounded a bit troubled.
It looked like Claugh’s officers were losing. They were shooting off magic like their lives depended on it, and they probably did - his officers were probably being cornered, and doing their best to avoid being caught outright. At this point, a single mediocre order would lead them all to their destruction.
“Claugh’s doing his best,” Luke repeated.
It was a hopeless scenario, but Claugh was on-track to keep himself above water for two hours. And that in itself was amazing.
If given the same situation down to the soldiers, Luke would be highly unlikely to last that long. He wouldn’t be able to survive in the face of that despair. If he saw that the enemy was that much stronger and that much more numerous, he wouldn’t be able to keep his troops motivated for two whole hours with the belief that they could still do it. He wasn’t nearly charismatic enough for that.
“Claugh sure is amazing,” Luke said from a place where Claugh would never hear him. He smiled to himself. “Though I suppose he’s always been this absurd, even when we first met.”
Another explosion fired off far away. Luke once again felt that Claugh was at a disadvantage as he watched the battle from above.
“But that’s why I have to say that it’s not like he can make the impossible into something possible.”
Luke moved his eyes to where the key player in Roland now - Rahel Miller - was, over towards Duke Abaaz’s mansion. If Miller’s plan was a success, soldiers would soon march from Abaaz’s and move to punish Marquess Tenglon.
“…Has Miller failed?” Luke wondered.
That was possible. Duke Abaaz was the strongest noble in the country. He wasn’t someone who would lend his hand to them on a whim. No matter how outstanding Miller may be…
“…This country can be pretty stubborn.”
That went without saying, he supposed. But they couldn’t stop the revolution now.
“…If we don’t hurry, Claugh will die—”
Another explosion. This time it was in the military headquarters.
“…Did Claugh die just then, I wonder?”
Luke couldn’t go save him. Even if he tried, it wouldn’t change anything. Luke didn’t have enough power to make a difference right now. So it was best if Claugh stayed in position, and Miller stayed in position.
“…And I’ll stay in position too. I’ll defend it until the end.” Luke dropped his gaze to the mansion he was standing on - Marquess Wahti’s.
Wahti was a noble of considerable influence and power. He was on the same level as Marquess Tenglon. Everything would be over if he decided to lend his power to Marquess Tenglon. They wouldn’t have a chance of winning.
“Ideally, we would use our influence to disperse his power…”
Luke jumped down from the roof to land on a windowsill and quickly checked to make sure that the magic trap was disabled. It was. His subordinates had already taken care of the mansion’s security system.
Luke’s window led to the bedroom, judging by its ceiling-high canopy bed. It was a huge room. Easily big enough for countless people to sleep in. A family of five or six could fit in the bed if they needed to.
Luke looked around. The lights were off. It was dark.
A woman - no, a girl - was crying. Luke looked towards the source. A blonde girl of sixteen or so was held on the floor as she sobbed by one of Luke’s subordinates - a man who hadn’t yet turned twenty with calm eyes and a Rolandic military uniform on his slim but well-trained body.
“Hey, Lear. What’s the situation?” Luke asked.
Lear looked up and spoke with a tone that came off just as calm as he looked. “It’s coming together. How’s outside?”
“Terrible. We might lose.”
“I see.”
“We’ll need to think of a plan B. Miller hasn’t contacted me… and Claugh could be dead.”
“Understood.”
“We don’t have much of a chance if both Miller and Claugh are dead,” Luke said. “We’ve been following Miller’s plan this whole time, but if it fails, then I’ll need to revise it.”
“I’ve thought that we should follow your plans since the beginning,” Lear said.
“Have you?”
“Yes. Because I don’t know anyone as smart as you are.”
Luke smiled flippantly at the apparent praise. “But my plans have always been heartless. And I have a feeling that heartlessness won’t change this country.”
Lear tilted his head, a bit confused. “Heart… Doesn’t that just lead to actions like Major General Sion Astal’s?”
Lear was referring to Sion killing Prince Kestalus, the move that had gotten them into this mess by ruining the predictability of Miller’s plan. All it took was for Sion Astal to kill a single one of their enemies for everything to go to hell. Marquess Tenglon moved far faster and more forcefully than they expected him to in retaliation, and Miller’s faction was unable to respond appropriately, since they hadn’t prepared for something like that to happen.
They were progressing three… no, two days too early. The battle had started too abruptly for them to finish preparing. That was why they were having so much trouble fighting it.
But this wasn’t the time to make a fuss about how hard things were. Claugh could be dying or dead and Miller’s whereabouts were unknown.
Luke ran the situation through his mind. Was the revolution already over? He had to consider that first. If Claugh and Miller were dead, did Luke’s faction alone really have a chance?
If Claugh and Miller were dead, then this wasn’t the time for Luke to be here in Marquess Wahti’s mansion picking a fight. His best bet would be to flee as soon as possible. Because if Miller and Claugh both failed, then even if Luke was successful the revolution still wouldn’t be able to succeed.
That was if Miller and Claugh were both dead, which was more than likely.
“Shouldn’t we give up on everything and retreat?” Lear asked, voicing his correct opinion with the perfect timing.
Luke looked down at Lear. He was an extremely bright kid, far brighter than one would expect seeing as he was still so young. He hadn’t been a victim of human experimentation to improve his mind like Luke was or anything; he was just naturally bright. Lear was able to make correct decisions, not emotional decisions. He never lost his cool and always arrived at correct choices.
And Lear’s choice right now was to run. Sure enough, if one considered the information they had, it was a sound decision. They were starting from such a disadvantage that winning may be impossible.
Miller and Claugh hadn’t contacted him. Believing that they were alive and continuing to fight was just…
“…Just stupid,” Luke whispered. He tapped at his temple.
What action would be the most correct to take now? What would lead to the smallest number of sacrifices? What would preserve their revolutionary potential the longest? He thought it through again and again. But the answer that kept coming back was that he ought to retreat.
Lear was correct. There was no point in remaining where they were. There was no value in that action. And yet, for some reason—
“Let’s fight a little longer,” was the answer that came out of Luke’s mouth. He didn’t understand why. Maybe he thought that Miller would figure something out. Maybe he believed that Claugh would make a miracle happen. Maybe he felt that Sion Astal would break through the ambush.
“……”
He couldn’t understand his own feelings.
Luke looked back to Lear and spoke. “If we withdrew now, the plan would end at once. It would take ten years to gather enough power to try aga—”
“If you thought of a new plan, Luke, it’d only take four,” Lear interrupted.
Luke ran that through his mind.
Four years. Four years. Four years.
Was that long? Or was it short?
Could he really do what Miller had done and change this country in just four years? He didn’t think so. Because Roland didn’t run on proper logic. Despite its corruption, the country only ever seemed to get stronger. Every day their military became stronger, their population got larger, and the surrounding countries became more afraid of them.
It was so odd that Luke couldn’t believe that the source of the country’s power was human. If Luke alone tried to power through it, one hundred years would pass and he’d still be at a stalemate.
Could he really change a country like Roland?
“Haha. That’s impossible,” Luke said quietly. He’d never even find the motivation to try. He was a little smarter than others, sure. But that was all he had going for himself.
He was quick to give up when he felt that the odds were overwhelming. He wouldn’t do things if they weren’t efficient. The second he decided that he was more likely to lose than win, he couldn’t even make himself try.
“…I really don’t think I’m capable of changing this rotten country,” Luke said. He was far better off going along with others’ plans - Miller’s, Claugh’s, Sion’s. He was so much more suited to working with people who could do reckless and stupid things than trying to do them himself. Because if left to his own devices, he’d always run from situations like this.
So…
“Even if the odds are overwhelming—”
Another explosion echoed from far away. The bedroom was dark, and the explosion didn’t reach it. Luke turned towards the window. Its curtain was faintly wavering with the breeze. Then he looked back down at Lear, who was still holding the girl to the ground with a hand on her mouth.
“Let’s continue as we originally planned,” Luke said. “Make the girl scream.”
Lear nodded, then looked down at the girl. “I am going to rape you and then gouge your intestants,” he said, then let go of her mouth.
“Nooooo!!” She screamed as loud as she could. The sound echoed through the room. Luke raced out through the bedroom door. There was supposed to be a man here, too, not just the girl. Everyone else ought to have already been killed.
There was a flight of stairs just outside of the bedroom that led down towards the entryway. Luke looked down it. There, a man in a fancy robe was being held down by more of Luke’s subordinates.
“Lach and Moe, good work,” Luke said. “Take the marquess’ gag off.”
His subordinates nodded and did so.
Marquess Wahti looked up, his face the perfect picture of anger. “Y-you! Do you really think you can get away with doing this to a nob—”
Luke wordlessly pulled out a knife and threw it. It slid into the marquess’ buttocks with ease. Wahti was shocked for a moment, unsure of what had just happened, then cried out from pain.
“Guah!”
“Oh, my bad,” Luke said. “It slipped right from my hand. What to do. We can’t get away with doing this to nobles in this country… I’ll be killed, won’t I? You’ll do bad things to me, won’t you?” Luke pulled another knife out and began to descend the stairs.
“S, sto—”
“Ah, my hand slipped again,” Luke said and threw another knife into the other side of the marquess’ butt.
The marquess grimaced. He probably wouldn’t be able to walk until he got some medical treatment. And it was possible that he wouldn’t be able to walk even after he did. Luke signalled Lach and Moe to let Wahti go.
Wahti didn’t move from his place on the floor. He couldn’t move.
Luke approached, still looking down at the marquess. “Ah-ah, I really am sorry. I’m so clumsy. It makes my superiors mad all the time. This is the end for me, isn’t it? I’ve sullied a noble’s mood, and now I’d have to flee the country to escape my fate… oh, what to do?” Luke said. “By the way, one of my men has your daughter held down upstairs. He’s going to rape her and then kill her. I can’t believe I almost forgot to mention it. What to do. We might not make it in time.”
Luke glanced back upstairs. The girl was still screaming nonstop. There was absolutely no way that Lear would actaully rape her or do anything else to seriously harm her, so what he was doing to make her scream like that was a mystey.
Luke looked back to Marquess Wahti.
“Wh-who are you?” Wahti asked.
“Another noble’s dog,” Luke lied. But lying was for the best.
Marquess Wahti’s eyes narrowed. “Another noble’s… What’s going on? No one should be… ah, it can’t be that… Marquess Tenglon…”
There. He got Wahti to come up with Tenglon’s name and suggest him himself. Success.
Marquess Tenglon was leading the fight against Claugh. As the only noble to rival Wahti’s power, it was natural that Tenglon would be the first to come to his mind when thinking of someone who might break in.
“Yes, that is correct,” Luke said. “And I have received word that you’re supporting Sion Astal’s revolution and fight against my lord. That’s why I came to kill y—”
“W-wait!” Marquess Wahti said, flustered. “This is a misunderstanding! I never even thought of supporting Sion Astal!”
“Is that so?”
“It is! Tell Tenglon that I have no intention of fighting him for influ—”
“I can’t trust you that easily,” Luke interrupted. “My lord told me that anything you say will only serve to get in my way, so I’m better off just killing you.”
Luke gripped Marquess Wahti’s neck. Wahti tried to struggle, but it was obvious that he’d never had any training. It was just the futile struggle of a carefree man whose body was only good for eating. Luke squeezed. “Ah, and my lord said to do whatever we’d like with your daughter… He said to fill her with commoners’ sperm and dirty the Wahti family line with a half-bred child. Interesting thought, isn’t it? Though you won’t live to see it, of course. Ah, this is a pointless conversation. Please die.”
Marquess Wahti’s expression changed to one of uncontrollable anger.
In the next moment, the room turned to light.
It was the light of Abstract Phosphorescence.
The door blew down and men in black rushed in. “Kill all the intruders and save Marquess Wahti!”
Luke looked up. “Oop, this is bad.” He let go of Marquess Wahti.
“I’m right here!” Wahti said. “Hurry up and help!”
Luke hurriedly turned to Lach and Moe. “Th, this is bad. We’ve failed. We’re retreating!”
They nodded and ran up the stairs to where Lear ought to be.
“I won’t let you!” A man yelled and crossed the distance to Luke. He was fast. He pulled a knife out and made to pierce Luke’s chest with it.
“Kgh!” Luke pulled back and aimed a punch. But his opponent dodged and slammed his own fist into Luke instead. “Guah!”
The hit stole Luke’s breath and sent him flying. His attacker ran closer still and grasped Luke’s hair with his left hand, pressed him against the ground, and swung his knife upwards.
“Kill him!” Marquess Wahti yelled.
His attacker lowered his knife. Luke caught his arm in his hand, but the knife still managed to push closer little by little.
Luke grimaced. “You’re strong, Lear,” he whispered.
“I have the high-ground,” the masked man whispered back.
“Think it’d be more realistic if you stabbed me?”
“I’ll leave the decision to you.”
“Hm. Alright. I’ll take the lead,” Luke whispered.
“No problem.”
Luke blinked, then let the power fade from his arms as he shifted his weight. He felt the knife dig into his shoulder. “Guah!” Luke yelled.
“Kill him! Hurry up and kill him!” Marquess Wahti yelled happily. But his joy was short-lived. Luke forced himself up and kicked Lear square in the head. Lear went flying. He landed near the marquess.
Luke pulled out another knife and threw it towards the Marquess.
“Wha!?”
“Marquess!” Lear yelled and held his arm out to catch the knife. It landed in his upper arm. That should make the marquess really trust him.
“Shit! Didn’t get him!” Luke cursed loudly, then made a run for it. As if running would be a problem. Everyone here was under his command, after all. He ran upstairs where Lach and Moe were waiting with the marquess’ unconscious daughter, who they’d tied up with a rope.
“What should we do with her?” Lach asked.
“We’re taking her hostage,” Luke said. “Then we’re saving Sion Astal. Since Marquess Wahti now believes that Marquess Tenglon is after his life, he’ll naturally trust the opposing side…”
That was his optimistic prediction, anyhow.
Their script was that Sion’s faction sent soldiers to help Marquess Wahti after learning that Marquess Tenglon wanted him dead, so seeing as Sion’s men were there in his time of need, Wahti should want to help the fight against Tenglon.
“Though it’ll turn into ‘where exactly is Sion Astal’s aid coming from?’ if Miller, Claugh, and Sion all turn out to be dead,” Luke said. “How will it turn out, I wonder?”
Lach and Moe took Marquess Wahti’s daughter out the window and left. Then Luke turned his eyes down towards Lear.
“Not that I have any choice in what to do either way. I have to trust in everyone else and help hold down position,” Luke whispered. He jumped out to the outer windowsill.
He was going to return to where Claugh was fighting. Claugh had the heaviest burden right now, so it only made sense to go support him, no matter how small the power Luke had was.
Claugh was the sole person proving that the revolution’s stronghold was intact, after all. Luke had to go and save him soon.
“Even Claugh isn’t invincible, despite his devil’s luck,” Luke said to himself as he jumped back up on the mansion’s roof. The military headquarters was lit up with just as many explosions as before. So Claugh was probably still alive. “Amazing,” Luke couldn’t help but say with admiration.
Anyone could see how impressive it was that Claugh continued to fight his lopsided battle unflinchingly, even after so long. But it wouldn’t last forever, and from the looks of it, Miller’s reinforcements never arrived.
“Guess Miller really is dead,” Luke said to himself. If that was the case, then that meant that they failed to gain Duke Abaaz’s support. But as long as Lear didn’t mess up, Marquess Wahti should send an army to help fight Tenglon… though it’d take them at least two hours to arrive. And it was impossible for Claugh to keep this up for another two hours.
So Luke had to go help him.
“Though my power alone will hardly change our situation,” Luke said with a bitter smile. He ran out into the darkness, to do whatever he could to keep the flame of the revolution burning—
Luke Stokkart tap-tap-tapped on his temple.
“Hm, hmm, what to do,” he whispered as he thought. Due to the nobility’s experiments on him, he thought much faster than others. He was able to quickly understand the situation in front of him and think up two, three, no, over ten ways to deal with it and their resulting consequences in no time flat.
He had white hair despite only being in his early twenties and tended to view the world through slitted eyes, so thinly opened that they appeared closed to others.
He verified the current information through the slit of his vision as he stood atop the roof of Marquess Wahti’s estate.
They were living the worst case scenario.
Miller’s plan had an expected pace that they’d follow, but they rushed far past it, for a single reason: Sion Astal had killed his older brother, Prince Kestalus.
There was an explosion on the other side of the night. Another, another. Countless explosions that probably shouldn’t be happening in the noble’s quarters went off in quick succession.
Luke smiled faintly. “Ah-ah, Claugh sure is doing his best. But how long can he take fighting when he’s outnumbered one to ten?”
Claugh Klom’s revolutionary army was currently being attacked by soldiers loyal to Marquess Tenglon in the heart of the Roland Empire. The sky was constantly alight with red from flashes of Abstract Phosphorescence and violent explosions of large-scale magic.
It was a real battle, right in the center of the city. Luke could understand what was going on just from watching the number of explosions from afar.
“Mmm, Claugh’s definitely doing his best, but.” Luke sounded a bit troubled.
It looked like Claugh’s officers were losing. They were shooting off magic like their lives depended on it, and they probably did - his officers were probably being cornered, and doing their best to avoid being caught outright. At this point, a single mediocre order would lead them all to their destruction.
“Claugh’s doing his best,” Luke repeated.
It was a hopeless scenario, but Claugh was on-track to keep himself above water for two hours. And that in itself was amazing.
If given the same situation down to the soldiers, Luke would be highly unlikely to last that long. He wouldn’t be able to survive in the face of that despair. If he saw that the enemy was that much stronger and that much more numerous, he wouldn’t be able to keep his troops motivated for two whole hours with the belief that they could still do it. He wasn’t nearly charismatic enough for that.
“Claugh sure is amazing,” Luke said from a place where Claugh would never hear him. He smiled to himself. “Though I suppose he’s always been this absurd, even when we first met.”
Another explosion fired off far away. Luke once again felt that Claugh was at a disadvantage as he watched the battle from above.
“But that’s why I have to say that it’s not like he can make the impossible into something possible.”
Luke moved his eyes to where the key player in Roland now - Rahel Miller - was, over towards Duke Abaaz’s mansion. If Miller’s plan was a success, soldiers would soon march from Abaaz’s and move to punish Marquess Tenglon.
“…Has Miller failed?” Luke wondered.
That was possible. Duke Abaaz was the strongest noble in the country. He wasn’t someone who would lend his hand to them on a whim. No matter how outstanding Miller may be…
“…This country can be pretty stubborn.”
That went without saying, he supposed. But they couldn’t stop the revolution now.
“…If we don’t hurry, Claugh will die—”
Another explosion. This time it was in the military headquarters.
“…Did Claugh die just then, I wonder?”
Luke couldn’t go save him. Even if he tried, it wouldn’t change anything. Luke didn’t have enough power to make a difference right now. So it was best if Claugh stayed in position, and Miller stayed in position.
“…And I’ll stay in position too. I’ll defend it until the end.” Luke dropped his gaze to the mansion he was standing on - Marquess Wahti’s.
Wahti was a noble of considerable influence and power. He was on the same level as Marquess Tenglon. Everything would be over if he decided to lend his power to Marquess Tenglon. They wouldn’t have a chance of winning.
“Ideally, we would use our influence to disperse his power…”
Luke jumped down from the roof to land on a windowsill and quickly checked to make sure that the magic trap was disabled. It was. His subordinates had already taken care of the mansion’s security system.
Luke’s window led to the bedroom, judging by its ceiling-high canopy bed. It was a huge room. Easily big enough for countless people to sleep in. A family of five or six could fit in the bed if they needed to.
Luke looked around. The lights were off. It was dark.
A woman - no, a girl - was crying. Luke looked towards the source. A blonde girl of sixteen or so was held on the floor as she sobbed by one of Luke’s subordinates - a man who hadn’t yet turned twenty with calm eyes and a Rolandic military uniform on his slim but well-trained body.
“Hey, Lear. What’s the situation?” Luke asked.
Lear looked up and spoke with a tone that came off just as calm as he looked. “It’s coming together. How’s outside?”
“Terrible. We might lose.”
“I see.”
“We’ll need to think of a plan B. Miller hasn’t contacted me… and Claugh could be dead.”
“Understood.”
“We don’t have much of a chance if both Miller and Claugh are dead,” Luke said. “We’ve been following Miller’s plan this whole time, but if it fails, then I’ll need to revise it.”
“I’ve thought that we should follow your plans since the beginning,” Lear said.
“Have you?”
“Yes. Because I don’t know anyone as smart as you are.”
Luke smiled flippantly at the apparent praise. “But my plans have always been heartless. And I have a feeling that heartlessness won’t change this country.”
Lear tilted his head, a bit confused. “Heart… Doesn’t that just lead to actions like Major General Sion Astal’s?”
Lear was referring to Sion killing Prince Kestalus, the move that had gotten them into this mess by ruining the predictability of Miller’s plan. All it took was for Sion Astal to kill a single one of their enemies for everything to go to hell. Marquess Tenglon moved far faster and more forcefully than they expected him to in retaliation, and Miller’s faction was unable to respond appropriately, since they hadn’t prepared for something like that to happen.
They were progressing three… no, two days too early. The battle had started too abruptly for them to finish preparing. That was why they were having so much trouble fighting it.
But this wasn’t the time to make a fuss about how hard things were. Claugh could be dying or dead and Miller’s whereabouts were unknown.
Luke ran the situation through his mind. Was the revolution already over? He had to consider that first. If Claugh and Miller were dead, did Luke’s faction alone really have a chance?
If Claugh and Miller were dead, then this wasn’t the time for Luke to be here in Marquess Wahti’s mansion picking a fight. His best bet would be to flee as soon as possible. Because if Miller and Claugh both failed, then even if Luke was successful the revolution still wouldn’t be able to succeed.
That was if Miller and Claugh were both dead, which was more than likely.
“Shouldn’t we give up on everything and retreat?” Lear asked, voicing his correct opinion with the perfect timing.
Luke looked down at Lear. He was an extremely bright kid, far brighter than one would expect seeing as he was still so young. He hadn’t been a victim of human experimentation to improve his mind like Luke was or anything; he was just naturally bright. Lear was able to make correct decisions, not emotional decisions. He never lost his cool and always arrived at correct choices.
And Lear’s choice right now was to run. Sure enough, if one considered the information they had, it was a sound decision. They were starting from such a disadvantage that winning may be impossible.
Miller and Claugh hadn’t contacted him. Believing that they were alive and continuing to fight was just…
“…Just stupid,” Luke whispered. He tapped at his temple.
What action would be the most correct to take now? What would lead to the smallest number of sacrifices? What would preserve their revolutionary potential the longest? He thought it through again and again. But the answer that kept coming back was that he ought to retreat.
Lear was correct. There was no point in remaining where they were. There was no value in that action. And yet, for some reason—
“Let’s fight a little longer,” was the answer that came out of Luke’s mouth. He didn’t understand why. Maybe he thought that Miller would figure something out. Maybe he believed that Claugh would make a miracle happen. Maybe he felt that Sion Astal would break through the ambush.
“……”
He couldn’t understand his own feelings.
Luke looked back to Lear and spoke. “If we withdrew now, the plan would end at once. It would take ten years to gather enough power to try aga—”
“If you thought of a new plan, Luke, it’d only take four,” Lear interrupted.
Luke ran that through his mind.
Four years. Four years. Four years.
Was that long? Or was it short?
Could he really do what Miller had done and change this country in just four years? He didn’t think so. Because Roland didn’t run on proper logic. Despite its corruption, the country only ever seemed to get stronger. Every day their military became stronger, their population got larger, and the surrounding countries became more afraid of them.
It was so odd that Luke couldn’t believe that the source of the country’s power was human. If Luke alone tried to power through it, one hundred years would pass and he’d still be at a stalemate.
Could he really change a country like Roland?
“Haha. That’s impossible,” Luke said quietly. He’d never even find the motivation to try. He was a little smarter than others, sure. But that was all he had going for himself.
He was quick to give up when he felt that the odds were overwhelming. He wouldn’t do things if they weren’t efficient. The second he decided that he was more likely to lose than win, he couldn’t even make himself try.
“…I really don’t think I’m capable of changing this rotten country,” Luke said. He was far better off going along with others’ plans - Miller’s, Claugh’s, Sion’s. He was so much more suited to working with people who could do reckless and stupid things than trying to do them himself. Because if left to his own devices, he’d always run from situations like this.
So…
“Even if the odds are overwhelming—”
Another explosion echoed from far away. The bedroom was dark, and the explosion didn’t reach it. Luke turned towards the window. Its curtain was faintly wavering with the breeze. Then he looked back down at Lear, who was still holding the girl to the ground with a hand on her mouth.
“Let’s continue as we originally planned,” Luke said. “Make the girl scream.”
Lear nodded, then looked down at the girl. “I am going to rape you and then gouge your intestants,” he said, then let go of her mouth.
“Nooooo!!” She screamed as loud as she could. The sound echoed through the room. Luke raced out through the bedroom door. There was supposed to be a man here, too, not just the girl. Everyone else ought to have already been killed.
There was a flight of stairs just outside of the bedroom that led down towards the entryway. Luke looked down it. There, a man in a fancy robe was being held down by more of Luke’s subordinates.
“Lach and Moe, good work,” Luke said. “Take the marquess’ gag off.”
His subordinates nodded and did so.
Marquess Wahti looked up, his face the perfect picture of anger. “Y-you! Do you really think you can get away with doing this to a nob—”
Luke wordlessly pulled out a knife and threw it. It slid into the marquess’ buttocks with ease. Wahti was shocked for a moment, unsure of what had just happened, then cried out from pain.
“Guah!”
“Oh, my bad,” Luke said. “It slipped right from my hand. What to do. We can’t get away with doing this to nobles in this country… I’ll be killed, won’t I? You’ll do bad things to me, won’t you?” Luke pulled another knife out and began to descend the stairs.
“S, sto—”
“Ah, my hand slipped again,” Luke said and threw another knife into the other side of the marquess’ butt.
The marquess grimaced. He probably wouldn’t be able to walk until he got some medical treatment. And it was possible that he wouldn’t be able to walk even after he did. Luke signalled Lach and Moe to let Wahti go.
Wahti didn’t move from his place on the floor. He couldn’t move.
Luke approached, still looking down at the marquess. “Ah-ah, I really am sorry. I’m so clumsy. It makes my superiors mad all the time. This is the end for me, isn’t it? I’ve sullied a noble’s mood, and now I’d have to flee the country to escape my fate… oh, what to do?” Luke said. “By the way, one of my men has your daughter held down upstairs. He’s going to rape her and then kill her. I can’t believe I almost forgot to mention it. What to do. We might not make it in time.”
Luke glanced back upstairs. The girl was still screaming nonstop. There was absolutely no way that Lear would actaully rape her or do anything else to seriously harm her, so what he was doing to make her scream like that was a mystey.
Luke looked back to Marquess Wahti.
“Wh-who are you?” Wahti asked.
“Another noble’s dog,” Luke lied. But lying was for the best.
Marquess Wahti’s eyes narrowed. “Another noble’s… What’s going on? No one should be… ah, it can’t be that… Marquess Tenglon…”
There. He got Wahti to come up with Tenglon’s name and suggest him himself. Success.
Marquess Tenglon was leading the fight against Claugh. As the only noble to rival Wahti’s power, it was natural that Tenglon would be the first to come to his mind when thinking of someone who might break in.
“Yes, that is correct,” Luke said. “And I have received word that you’re supporting Sion Astal’s revolution and fight against my lord. That’s why I came to kill y—”
“W-wait!” Marquess Wahti said, flustered. “This is a misunderstanding! I never even thought of supporting Sion Astal!”
“Is that so?”
“It is! Tell Tenglon that I have no intention of fighting him for influ—”
“I can’t trust you that easily,” Luke interrupted. “My lord told me that anything you say will only serve to get in my way, so I’m better off just killing you.”
Luke gripped Marquess Wahti’s neck. Wahti tried to struggle, but it was obvious that he’d never had any training. It was just the futile struggle of a carefree man whose body was only good for eating. Luke squeezed. “Ah, and my lord said to do whatever we’d like with your daughter… He said to fill her with commoners’ sperm and dirty the Wahti family line with a half-bred child. Interesting thought, isn’t it? Though you won’t live to see it, of course. Ah, this is a pointless conversation. Please die.”
Marquess Wahti’s expression changed to one of uncontrollable anger.
In the next moment, the room turned to light.
It was the light of Abstract Phosphorescence.
The door blew down and men in black rushed in. “Kill all the intruders and save Marquess Wahti!”
Luke looked up. “Oop, this is bad.” He let go of Marquess Wahti.
“I’m right here!” Wahti said. “Hurry up and help!”
Luke hurriedly turned to Lach and Moe. “Th, this is bad. We’ve failed. We’re retreating!”
They nodded and ran up the stairs to where Lear ought to be.
“I won’t let you!” A man yelled and crossed the distance to Luke. He was fast. He pulled a knife out and made to pierce Luke’s chest with it.
“Kgh!” Luke pulled back and aimed a punch. But his opponent dodged and slammed his own fist into Luke instead. “Guah!”
The hit stole Luke’s breath and sent him flying. His attacker ran closer still and grasped Luke’s hair with his left hand, pressed him against the ground, and swung his knife upwards.
“Kill him!” Marquess Wahti yelled.
His attacker lowered his knife. Luke caught his arm in his hand, but the knife still managed to push closer little by little.
Luke grimaced. “You’re strong, Lear,” he whispered.
“I have the high-ground,” the masked man whispered back.
“Think it’d be more realistic if you stabbed me?”
“I’ll leave the decision to you.”
“Hm. Alright. I’ll take the lead,” Luke whispered.
“No problem.”
Luke blinked, then let the power fade from his arms as he shifted his weight. He felt the knife dig into his shoulder. “Guah!” Luke yelled.
“Kill him! Hurry up and kill him!” Marquess Wahti yelled happily. But his joy was short-lived. Luke forced himself up and kicked Lear square in the head. Lear went flying. He landed near the marquess.
Luke pulled out another knife and threw it towards the Marquess.
“Wha!?”
“Marquess!” Lear yelled and held his arm out to catch the knife. It landed in his upper arm. That should make the marquess really trust him.
“Shit! Didn’t get him!” Luke cursed loudly, then made a run for it. As if running would be a problem. Everyone here was under his command, after all. He ran upstairs where Lach and Moe were waiting with the marquess’ unconscious daughter, who they’d tied up with a rope.
“What should we do with her?” Lach asked.
“We’re taking her hostage,” Luke said. “Then we’re saving Sion Astal. Since Marquess Wahti now believes that Marquess Tenglon is after his life, he’ll naturally trust the opposing side…”
That was his optimistic prediction, anyhow.
Their script was that Sion’s faction sent soldiers to help Marquess Wahti after learning that Marquess Tenglon wanted him dead, so seeing as Sion’s men were there in his time of need, Wahti should want to help the fight against Tenglon.
“Though it’ll turn into ‘where exactly is Sion Astal’s aid coming from?’ if Miller, Claugh, and Sion all turn out to be dead,” Luke said. “How will it turn out, I wonder?”
Lach and Moe took Marquess Wahti’s daughter out the window and left. Then Luke turned his eyes down towards Lear.
“Not that I have any choice in what to do either way. I have to trust in everyone else and help hold down position,” Luke whispered. He jumped out to the outer windowsill.
He was going to return to where Claugh was fighting. Claugh had the heaviest burden right now, so it only made sense to go support him, no matter how small the power Luke had was.
Claugh was the sole person proving that the revolution’s stronghold was intact, after all. Luke had to go and save him soon.
“Even Claugh isn’t invincible, despite his devil’s luck,” Luke said to himself as he jumped back up on the mansion’s roof. The military headquarters was lit up with just as many explosions as before. So Claugh was probably still alive. “Amazing,” Luke couldn’t help but say with admiration.
Anyone could see how impressive it was that Claugh continued to fight his lopsided battle unflinchingly, even after so long. But it wouldn’t last forever, and from the looks of it, Miller’s reinforcements never arrived.
“Guess Miller really is dead,” Luke said to himself. If that was the case, then that meant that they failed to gain Duke Abaaz’s support. But as long as Lear didn’t mess up, Marquess Wahti should send an army to help fight Tenglon… though it’d take them at least two hours to arrive. And it was impossible for Claugh to keep this up for another two hours.
So Luke had to go help him.
“Though my power alone will hardly change our situation,” Luke said with a bitter smile. He ran out into the darkness, to do whatever he could to keep the flame of the revolution burning—
