Zote ordered the Sergeants to eliminate all civilian resistance within the city.
The rest of the city had been suppressed, and Zote had also arrived here.
Marcus, repelled by a force field, retreated over ten meters and did not engage further, his breath uneven.
"It’s rare to find someone you can’t kill."
Zote did not blame Marcus.
He was now assigned to rescue operations across various locations. The situation was increasingly grim, with rebellions cropping up everywhere, backed by Lords from different regions.
Violence was gradually proving ineffective, leading to more backlash. He suggested Ogne seize power, but Ogne was still in contemplation.
The powerful aura of that man was too terrifying; not only the numerous craftsmen in the smithy felt it, but even Henrik’s spine sweated.
"There are many blades here."
Zote, empty-handed, casually surveyed the surroundings.
"Sir, I am loyal to the King and wish to serve the Royal Court."
Henrik repeated the same words as before, his cold sweat instantly drying, fingertips trembling slightly, yet he gripped the handle of his blade, his calm eyes reflecting the burning city.
Zote ignored him and walked to the iron chains in the courtyard, touching the cold, gleaming blades.
"Your business must be good, everyone needs a blade.
With a blade in hand, one always wants to cut something.
Some people become chefs, some become butchers.
Some... become like us.
Thus, we have the world today."
Zote chuckled, casually taking a blade from the iron chain, weighing it in his hand and swung it. It was agile and sharp; the craftsmanship was truly impressive.
"There’s nothing in the world that a blade can’t solve.
The only consideration is whether the blade is fast enough.
What do you think about yours?"
Zote pointed the blade tip towards Henrik, inquiring.
Behind him stood many Sergeants, each a one-in-a-million formidable figure, making escape virtually impossible.
Henrik just repeated the phrase, appearing extremely submissive, willing to serve the Royal Court.
And that really annoyed Zote.
"You fear these men behind me too much. Now, with the ongoing war, I will use my life to divine the future, to settle matters of fortune and misfortune. Next, I will duel you. If you kill me, Marcus... you take over as deputy head of the Secret Department, and then let everyone go."
After saying this, Zote, if he won, would not seek a way out, waiting instead for the decisive battle in the Royal City in due time.
Henrik still showed weakness.
"I am serious, you must do this."
It seemed like a lifeline.
Henrik’s blood boiled in his chest, murderous intent surging like a tide, his eyes fierce. Today, there was only one battle, he was to arm Duke Soterlan’s rebellion, without blood, there was no escaping this calamity.
"Like I once told you, Marcus, they are always secretly following their ’Will.’ Come, I know you, Absolute Blade, Henrik. Let’s see if you are as the rumors say, an ancient overpowering the present."
Zote’s smile did not fade, but the warmth in his eyes receded, leaving only a cold gleam.
Inside the house, Henrik’s wife covered their child’s mouth, preventing his cries from being heard, her spirit tormented, her gaze toward the courtyard below more sorrowful than the night.
Henrik did not relax, his long blade by his side, slowly pacing sideways towards Zote, not yet making a move.
Zote testing fortune, simply used a blade forged by the forge, also slowly approached Henrik.
In a moment when ash from the remnants of ruined walls floated between the two.
Henrik made his move, pulling the blade and twisting, silver light flashed, the blade’s wind was fierce, overpowering the surrounding flames.
No one could see the movements clearly.
When they came to their senses, it was over.
The Absolute Blade, forged from fine steel of Ancient Divine Continent, broke in half, crashing heavily to the ground with a clang that tolled doom for everyone.
For the mother and child inside, it was even more chilling than the guillotine.
Zote’s blade circled past the silver light, severing the Divine Weapon before it could strike, and although Zote’s blade notched, it was lethal enough, lightly landing on Henrik’s shoulder.
That feather-like lightness.
Yet, it felt like the sky was falling.
His legs gave way beneath him, and he collapsed to the ground, his eyes losing focus.
Zote stabbed Henrik in the abdomen, not wanting this great sinner to die so easily; he knew a lot about blades. The blade Henrik drew was the same make as those held by the rebel forces.
"Due to Henrik’s assistance to Duke Soterlan in organizing armed forces, he is convicted of treason in the name of the Royal Court and sentenced to hanging," Zote officially stated. "Take everyone out and kill them, hang this traitor below the city gate, to accompany Duke Soterlan." Read full story at NoveIＦire.net
The remaining people in the forge resisted desperately.
But these men... were all one-in-a-million Sergeants.
Efficient like reaping a wheat field.
Henrik’s wife and child, attempting to escape through the back wall, were captured by members of the Secret Department, dragged into the courtyard for a collective execution, about to be chopped by a Sergeant.
"Sir! I beg you! Spare them."
Bleeding from his abdomen, Henrik, just an adventurer, had no better words.
"How can your words convince me? I saw the blade you wielded, I knew you supported Duke Soterlan, yet you kept lying to me, time and again. You do not submit to the royal power or my authority; you have continuously followed your own, despicably, Henrik.
you’ll understand the essence of power."