Chapter 34: The Emperor’s Strongest Sword

But he’d already heard everything.

A languid voice broke the suffocating silence.

“So… I heard you became a hero.”

“……”

“Hah, hahaha! Ahahahahaha!”

What unbelievable luck. He couldn’t help but laugh.

When told to head to the border with news of a new hero’s emergence, Deon remembered the Demon King’s words.

[As you know, heroes and demons don’t mix well, right?]

“……”

His laughter abruptly ceased.

“My dear brother.”

“……”

“It seems you’ve even managed to get your hands on a fragment of the Hero.”

He strode through the doorway.

His rank, His Majesty’s orders, and the immense pressure he exuded prevented the gatekeeper from even considering stopping him. The guard could only stare blankly.

Then, the gatekeeper’s eyes met those of the Killer Knight squad members, who were murmuring about what to do.

“……”

“……”

An awkward silence fell.

***

Thud.

With each step, crimson footprints stained the pristine palace corridor. Splatters of blood decorated the floor around them as if to emphasize his path.

The soldier guarding the banquet hall doors was startled by the arrival of this clearly abnormal figure and instinctively reached for his spear, but upon recognizing him, hastily backed away.

Deon Hart, Honorary Count.

Why would he arrive in such a state, especially on the day of the banquet?

Stopping before the door, he casually wiped away the red liquid that kept obstructing his vision and said in an indifferent voice,

“Open the door.”

“……”

Was it permissible to open it?

His hesitation didn’t last long, but even that brief moment was too long for Count Hart.

He approached the door and thrust it open with both hands.

The soldiers watched Deon Hart enter without a moment’s hesitation, then their gazes fell to the red handprints on the door, their expressions dumbfounded.

“Am I… dreaming?”

“I understand the urge to escape reality, but this is real, buddy.”

“……He really is as fearsome as the rumors say. But why does he look so upset?”

“Think about who the guest of honor at this banquet is.”

“Ah.”

Cruel Hart.

Once inside, Deon paused, surveying his surroundings.

The banquet hall seemed peaceful, as if no one had noticed his arrival. No, judging by the sound of sharp intakes of breath nearby, a few had.

He didn’t bother with them.

They were people he might exchange a word with once in a lifetime. The only person he needed to focus on was—

‘The Emperor is…’

There.

His gaze landed on a man sitting on a dais, looking down with a bored expression.

Blonde hair and golden eyes. An appearance so youthful and beautiful, it was hard to believe he was the Blood Emperor.

Wasn’t he only twenty-eight?

Lost in these trivial thoughts, Deon slowly began to walk.

Straight across the banquet hall, directly towards the Emperor.

Red footprints marked an unwavering path.

A young noblewoman gasped, the first sign that his presence was drawing the attention of the entire banquet hall.

“Oh my.”

“Good heavens…”

“How utterly disrespectful.”

Disgust at his rudeness mingled with palpable fear.

Amidst the gazes filled with negativity, two held a spark of interest.

‘So, you survived.’

Duke Starbe Illuster, a small smile on his lips, scanned Deon Hart, whose battle scars were plain to see.

‘It was wise to send the Knights to greet him.’

Emperor Eudoardo Deserte. A faint smile touched his lips as he watched Deon Hart.

At some unspoken signal, the Emperor’s and the Duke’s eyes met. But the Emperor quickly looked away, refocusing on Deon Hart.

The Duke’s gaze also disappeared as if nothing had happened.

Deon Hart, having reached his destination, lowered his blood-soaked mask and knelt on one knee, bowing his head.

A final drop of blood, clinging precariously to the tip of his hair, fell to the floor.

“May the Empire shine brightly. The new Deon Hart greets the current Emperor.”

Silence descended.

The only sounds were the occasional drips of water, no, blood.

Watching the blood drip from Deon Hart’s hair, the Emperor leaned forward, his eyes sharp.

“Deon Hart.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“What is the meaning of this disrespect?”

These were the Emperor’s words. Everyone in the banquet hall held their breath.

In the tense atmosphere, Deon spoke calmly.

“I was ambushed on my way here.”

“An ambush, you say…”

This was all an act.

Knowing everything, the Emperor frowned as if hearing the news for the first time.

He adjusted his posture, muttering slowly. His voice, though measured, was thick with suppressed killing intent.

“It seems there are spies in the Count’s manor.”

“My apologies.”

“I could deal with them myself if you wish. What are your thoughts?”

“There’s no need for Your Majesty to dirty your hands.”

“Hmm, if you say so.”

The Emperor slowly rose.

He watched Deon Hart, who still knelt with his head bowed, and a faint smile touched his lips.

“You must have much to tell me.”

“……”

“I, too, have much to hear from you. It seems we have a long conversation ahead of us. Let us move to a more private setting.”

***

The Emperor sat in the newly prepared reception room, his eyes fixed on Deon across from him.

A truly troublesome individual, full of contradictions. Even his titles ranged from one extreme to the other.

‘The Vampire Count, was it?’

A fitting name.

Pale skin, red eyes, and a battle frenzy that made him seem like he reveled in blood. What else could he be but a vampire?

And that wasn’t all.

‘The Bloodthirsty Vanguard’ and ‘Master of the Killer Squad’ contrasted sharply with ‘Hero of the Empire’ and ‘Companion of the Last Hero.’

Furthermore…

‘The one who stopped the Demon King and recovered the Hero’s body.’

In fact, that last one was why he’d been given the title of hero.

Heroes weren’t solely defined by possessing fragments of the Hero.

Having a fragment was just a bonus; what truly mattered was the extent of one’s skill and achievements.

In that regard, Deon Hart was unmatched.

During the Eight-Year War, his accomplishments as a vanguard were immeasurable.

When he journeyed as the Hero’s companion, he achieved what no one else had: recovering the Hero’s body.

A hero defeated by the Demon King wouldn’t even find peace in death.

Limbs severed, body fed to monsters, and the head, its face forced into a smile with needles and thread, displayed on the border between the Empire and the Demon Realm.

Had Deon Hart not intervened, this era’s Hero would have undoubtedly suffered the same fate.

‘A truly remarkable feat… but it came at the cost of the Demon King’s curse, weakening his body.’

Carrying such a burden as the Hero’s corpse and facing the Demon King, even if he avoided direct combat, couldn’t have been easy.

Ultimately, Deon Hart succeeded in recovering the Hero’s body, but failed to protect his own.

The Demon King’s curse gnawed at him, causing him to cough up blood constantly, and even minor impacts placed a significant strain on his body.

As an emperor who valued talent, this was a truly regrettable situation.

“…Have you found a way to lift the curse?”

That was why he couldn’t stop Deon Hart when he declared his intention to enter the Demon King’s castle in search of a cure.

Instead, he decided to use this opportunity to employ him as a spy.

“Not yet.”

“How is the Demon King?”

“The same as always.”

The Emperor lifted the teacup in front of him, a languid smile on his face.

“Now, tell me what you wished to say. I’ve been waiting.”

“My gratitude for sending the Knights to greet me…”

“Not that.”

“…There was an intruder in the Demon King’s castle.”

The Emperor’s brow furrowed slightly, as if this wasn’t the answer he expected.

“You’re referring to the Hero candidate. He was insignificant. A fool who relied solely on possessing a fragment of the Hero.”

“It seems he committed a crime. Is that why you sent him to his death?”

“Indeed. I expected him to die on the way, and even if he somehow managed to infiltrate, I knew he would be caught. Furthermore, I doubted you would risk yourself to save him. Am I wrong?”

“…No.”

The intruder was imprisoned, and the authority to decide his fate was passed to the Demon King.

Deon saw him once, and that was the last he thought of it.

“Is there truly nothing else you wish to say?”

“……”

“There are rumors of the Commander of the 0th Legion appearing on the front lines.”

“My apologies. I had no way to refuse.”

“No, not that. Was there anything you saw?”

“……”

Deon Hart raised his head. His full face was visible, his red eyes meeting the Emperor’s golden gaze.

The Emperor calmly met his gaze, waiting for him to speak.

Finally, the anticipated topic emerged.

“Cruel.”

“……”

“Why did you elevate him to the position of Hero?”

A rare flash of anger flickered in his red eyes.

Deon clenched his fists on his knees, his voice strained.

“Your Majesty knows.”

Cruel Hart.

A name he would never forget as long as he lived.

“That not being able to kill him is my greatest regret.”

He is the only survivor of the Hart family besides Deon.

…Stating it like this won’t make sense, so let me rephrase it.

—Cruel Hart is the only survivor of the Hart family who survived Deon Hart’s wrath.

***

I was being choked by a monster-like member of the Revolutionary Army and lost consciousness… only to wake up in front of the Emperor!

I was so shocked, I almost panicked and jumped up.

In front of the Emperor, no less!

‘What the hell? What happened?’

I barely managed to regain my composure and started frantically looking around.

So, this is the banquet hall.

I’m kneeling on one knee, bowing my head before the Emperor, and for some reason, red liquid keeps dripping in front of me. And my whole body feels sticky, with a metallic, bloody smell…

‘Wait, what’s wrong with my body?!’

My whole body was throbbing; something must have happened. My pristine white uniform was stained red.

It was as if someone had poured blood over my head. It wasn’t just splatters; it was completely soaked, enough to wring out a stream of blood.

I realized the blood dripping in front of me was coming from the ends of my hair, and I couldn’t help but think of a certain maid.

The maid who pushed for the ‘frail nobleman’ image to reshape my public persona.

‘…Frail?’

If it were just a bit of blood, I could laugh it off as, ‘Oh, I’m so weak, I coughed up blood, haha.’ But this is a bloodbath. A scene straight out of a horror story.

This isn’t frail; this is a plague demon.

My current state was horrific enough to be mistaken for a demon.

And I came to see the Emperor like this? What were the guards at the door even doing, not stopping me?

‘Those bastards. Couldn’t they have stopped me?’

No, more than that, I feel bad for that maid.

She must have put a lot of thought into picking out this outfit. And even the hairstyle she painstakingly arranged is ruined.

Offering a silent apology to the nameless maid, I remained kneeling.

When you’re unsure of the situation, it’s best to stay still rather than doing something unnecessary.

But what exactly did I do?

“Deon Hart.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“What is the meaning of this disrespect?”

The Emperor uttered terrifying words.

I don’t remember what I did. I have no way of knowing why the Emperor is angry. And I don’t have enough time to recover my memories.

In other words, I’m screwed.

It felt like a knife was pressed against my throat, even though it was just words.

Suppressing the urge to touch my neck, I valiantly…

…lost consciousness.