Chapter 135

Merion Dam.

Next to the vast pool of water, a bronze giant lay with its neck severed.

Both Kukulo Del Conti and Pneuve were dazed, but Tibel Bartole did not lose her composure.

She threatened me with the explosives hidden beneath the dam.

“What will happen if the dam bursts?”

The Regressor Prince wasn’t intimidated in the slightest.

“Will Merion get flooded?”

“That would be nice, but it’s too far away for that to happen.”

Tibel Bartole said with a vicious look.

“But it will completely change the surrounding terrain.”

The explosives had been installed with that plan from the very beginning.

The Empire’s scholars put their heads together to figure out how to inflict the maximum amount of damage on the land with that immense amount of water.

The Imperial spy, Tibel, twisted the corners of her mouth.

“The canal will be ruined, of course, and it will be impossible to rebuild.”

“You’re going to cut the lifeline of the Bururade Grand Canal?”

“So please, let us withdraw peacefully.”

Tibel Bartole bit her lip.

The explosives under the dam were truly a last resort.

Even Kukulo didn’t know about them.

“You seem to be planning something in the Bururade Peninsula as well, so it would be very troublesome for you if the Grand Canal is completely blocked, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m planning something? Are you sure?”

“You didn’t even try to hide it. You’ve been swallowing up the Del Conti family’s businesses instead of destroying them.”

“You caught me.”

I chuckled quietly.

“Blowing up the dam to cut the lifeline of the Grand Canal… If that’s true, it’s not a very welcome story for me.”

“So we can talk.”

“But shouldn’t we also hear a professional’s opinion?”

He gestured behind him.

“Meh.”

“Yes, Shion.”

A man walked out from between the trees.

His skin was dark and he had a long mustache.

His sharp eyes were like a bird of prey.

He was Meh al-Hmed, the Special Inspector of the Bururade Peninsula Alliance and the Head of the Technical Department of the Canal Company.

“Does what that woman said make sense?”

“It does.”

He spoke with a fluent Western accent.

“Blowing up the dam to cut the lifeline of the canal is not an easy task, but it is possible. It would be possible with the capital and technology to create a magi-soldier.”

“I see.”

I nodded my head.

“Will it affect our project?”

“No. It won’t matter.”

Kukulo Del Conti muttered blankly.

“…Project?”

“Ah. Mr. Kukulo, you’re a thorough person. I couldn’t seem to take the land around here.”

The Merion Dam and the canal business were the Del Conti family’s lifelines.

Because of that, even with a secret ledger and enormous capital, I couldn’t take them over.

It wouldn’t have been impossible if I had put in the effort, but I decided to choose an easier method.

“So I decided to dig a new canal.”

“…Huh?”

Kukulo doubted his ears.

Dig a new canal?

That Grand Canal was a national-scale construction project that had been undertaken by betting on the fate of the Bururade Peninsula.

No matter how much wealth a person had, this was not something an individual could discuss.

“Of course, I don’t mean starting from scratch. I’m going to dig a short waterway that avoids your land. I’ve already talked to Meh. Selling about three silver mines should be enough.”

“I also discovered corruption during the construction of the Grand Canal. The waterway design was structured to be favorable to the Del Conti family.”

“I’ll correct your mistakes for you. Aren’t you grateful?”

I smiled faintly.

“How long will it take, Meh?”

“The new waterway itself is very short. It will take eight months.”

“What if I give you four times the budget you asked for?”

“Give me five months.”

“Oh, Mushat!”

“Mushat.”

Meh and I looked at each other and smiled.

The face of Tibel Bartole, who had had her last resort blocked, turned as white as it could possibly be.

“What are you doing, Tibel Bartole? Aren’t you going to press it?”

“……”

“Aren’t you upset about the explosives you went to all that trouble to install?”

I took a big step forward. Even Tibel Bartole was now terrified.

“Kukulo, you say something too.”

Kukulo Del Conti realized there was nowhere left to retreat.

Fear surged up from the depths of his throat.

A voice that was close to a scream burst out without him even having time to think.

“…D-don’t come! Don’t come!”

Naturally, I did not stop.

Kukulo waved his hand and let out a groan.

Tibel Bartole and Pneuve Freira were by his side.

They were competent guest retainers, like his left and right arms.

But now, they didn’t offer him even a little bit of comfort.

“…If you kill me, you’ll regret it!”

“Why?”

I stopped.

I was about twenty steps away from Kukulo.

“Let me hear it. Do you have a hidden card up your sleeve?”

He turned his head this way and that, as if he was looking for something.

“Now that I think about it, it seems one of your subordinates is missing…”

“…You’re sharp.”

Kukulo’s thin lips moved.

“Why do you think Onseu Om isn’t here?”

“I wonder why.”

“Your leisure ends here. You took the Vercello people out of their mansion and hid them in the flour mill, didn’t you?”

When his thin lips twisted, his smile looked so wicked.

“You let your guard down, didn’t you? I sent Onseu Om to the Vercello flour mill.”

I nodded my head. It was as if I was telling him to say more.

I could have broken Kukulo’s neck at any moment, but I didn’t.

Thanks to that, Kukulo was able to finish what he was saying.

“Do you know what that means?”

“Why do you think I wouldn’t have a useful sword?”

I grumbled.

“Amethus is there.”

The Regressor Prince smiled.

His smile contained an unconcealable pride.

“I wonder if you know what that means.”

***

The Vercello flour mill was the last remaining traditional flour mill in Merion.

They made flour and baked bread by grinding grain themselves.

Its location was in the suburbs, about a 15-minute walk from Merion.

“I’m going to die from this heat.”

Onseu Om adjusted his hat irritably.

It was the tenth month, autumn after the harvest, but the sun was strangely bright.

The inside of the dark blue frock coat he always wore was sweaty and uncomfortable.

Most of all, his right shoulder ached.

His brass arm, no matter how great the technology used to make it, was still metal.

In this weather, it would absorb heat and feel unpleasantly slippery where it met his shoulder.

“Why would they hide in a flour mill instead of their mansion…”

Onseu Om was a person who was always impatient.

The added discomfort made him even less at ease.

He casually glanced at the flour mill.

It was big, but it was old. It didn’t look like there was anything worth taking even if he wanted to.

He was thirsty, so he casually gulped down some hard liquor.

His thirst was not quenched at all, and his throat felt even drier.

Still, out of habit, he gulped down a few more mouthfuls before putting the liquor bottle back in his pocket.

“What did Kukulo say again…”

Since he had drunk hard liquor, it was time to smoke some tobacco.

The smell of the smoke was pungent.

The people inside the flour mill had already noticed the presence of “Brass Arm” Onseu Om and were holding their breath.

Onseu Om didn’t seem to have any intention of hiding, so he puffed on his tobacco.

He could feel the terrified feeling from inside the flour mill.

“…He said I should take all of them hostage and kill them one by one when I get a message?”

Anyway, it was something like that.

He hadn’t listened carefully so he didn’t remember.

He rubbed the end of the finished tobacco with his fingers to extinguish it.

Since his fingers were brass, it didn’t feel hot.

He carelessly threw the remaining trash on the ground and scratched his head.

His hair was greasy from not being washed for a long time, and the smell of tobacco was very strong.

“What a bother.”

A dark blue mana rose.

The three 16th-district mana reactors hummed with an activation sound, and the dark blue flame burned brightly, clear even in the bright sunlight.

If he were to unleash the dark blue mana once, that old building would disappear without even leaving a single grain of dust.

The people inside, of course, as well.

“It should be fine to kill about half of them first.”

A dark blue light poured out.

It burned the air with a terrifying momentum as it flew.

It was more than enough to burn the flour mill and the people.

However, a double-edged sword intervened.

“Huh?”

The pouring dark blue light was cut at the waist.

A guy appeared holding a double-edged sword and scattered the dark blue light into the air.

He had put some power into it, but it was so easily scattered that it was unpleasant.

Onseu Om frowned deeply and twisted his mouth.

“You’re pretty good, aren’t you? Merion is an interesting place for a backwater town, after all.”

That guy named Shion he saw in the sewers, that agent named Dussell Duke, and now this guy with the double-edged sword.

In his opinion, they were people who would be fully recognized even in Maesh.

So why were they rotting in a place like this?

“You must know. I’m ‘Brass Arm’.”

He triumphantly pulled out his dark blue mana sword.

It was because his competitive spirit as a swordsman had been ignited.

“If you don’t want to see the Vercello family’s rabble die, then be prepared to die from the start… Hey, I’m talking to you, you bastard!”

“……”

Amethus clenched his lips tightly and swung his double-edged sword again.

Onseu Om blocked his sword while being irritable.

His movements were incredibly fast, which was hard to believe for a person who had been drinking hard liquor.

A double-edged sword and a dark blue mana sword.

Amethus thrust his sword quickly. He did it several times.

It was a thrusting attack that was too fast to even count, like a rainstorm falling sideways.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk-!”

Onseu Om made a clicking sound with his tongue and widely swung his dark blue mana sword.

He couldn’t keep up with the speed of the thrusts, but since his dark blue mana was so powerful, it was not difficult to block them.

He almost got hurt a couple of times, but he somehow managed to avoid them.

“You’re a noble, I take it? You learned proper sword fighting.”

“……”

“But that’s strange. You’re not from Erta or Maesh. I’ve seen you somewhere before. What kind of sword style was it?”

It certainly wasn’t from Schmeizen or Konland.

He had definitely fought against it somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember where.

After all, ‘Brass Arm’ Onseu Om was already close to forty.

The number of people he had crossed swords with was over a hundred.

“But hey! Why don’t you answer me? Do you not even want to speak with a guy like me?”

Amethus nodded silently.

A thick vein popped on Onseu Om’s forehead.

After spending seven years with Shion, Amethus had unknowingly learned how to get under someone’s skin.

“…Ah, so that’s how you’re going to be.”

Onseu Om’s Ars,

‘Nostalgic Golden Feathers.’

“You’re making me stubborn. I’ll make you open that mouth of yours.”

The luster of his soul flashed.

Even though it had faded, it was still powerful. Its exterior was still beautiful.

A golden feather was stuck in his hat.

His old dark blue frock coat and tricorne hat turned as good as new, and golden ornaments appeared on top.

Golden light was mixed with the dark blue mana and on his chest, the emblem of Maesh.

His homeland, which he had missed so much that he had ended up hating it.

“That outfit…”

“Ah, you’re finally going to talk?”

Onseu Om felt good. It was because he had succeeded in making Amethus, who had not said a single word, speak.

He was certain it was because his opponent was scared.

“…You look like a Master from Maesh.”

“Heh. That’s right. You must be scared, aren’t you?”

For his opponent to recognize his glorious past and be scared, there was nothing more enjoyable for a middle-aged man living in the past.

He swung his sword with the golden feather still in his hat.

The dark blue mana, which was already powerful, gained momentum and split the air.

It looked as if it would cleave a mountain in half.

But Amethus calmly flicked his sword, making the sword attack disappear as if it had never happened.

“Huh?”

Onseu Om’s eyebrows twitched.

Amethus didn’t even care and covered his face with his hand.

He examined Onseu Om’s dirty long hair and the features beneath it and let out a very deep sigh.

“How can fate be like this…”

Amethus’s emotions were far from fear. He was chewing on a strange bitterness.

“A very, very long time ago…”

He rummaged through his old memories.

It was certainly more than ten years ago, before he came to the West, before he became a confidant of Ferbias, before he was a Security Knight, when he was still a student.

“…I once fought a Master from Maesh.”

Only then did Onseu Om realize that Amethus’s jade eyes were very clear and he also remembered that he had seen those jade eyes somewhere before.

“I was young then, and I couldn’t tolerate an insult to my family, so I ended up cutting off your right arm…”

“Don’t tell me…”

“…I never thought we’d meet like this.”

His sigh was deep.

Onseu Om’s eyes began to tremble so violently that they looked inhuman.

“…Is that you? Was that you…?”

The Brass Arm slowly raised his fingers.

“That brat who cut off my arm back then, the one who said he was a descendant of the island of Arete…!”

His severed right shoulder ached excruciatingly.

It had been ten years since it had hurt this much.

“You were that guy…!!!”

“Yes, it was me.”

Amethus twisted his face into a smile.

“I was the one who cut off your arm.”

“Why, why, why are you here…! You were supposed to be…!”

He was told that he had become the next emperor’s confidant.

That’s what he was trying to say.

“I’m sorry, Brass Arm.”

But Onseu Om couldn’t say anything more.

It was because Amethus had already covered his mouth.

He was much, much faster than he had been until now.

“I wasn’t going to let you live anyway, but…”

Onseu Om was utterly helpless.

The Ars ‘Nostalgic Golden Feathers,’ the brass arm with three 16th-district mana reactors and the Master’s swordsmanship all couldn’t push Amethus back even a little.

Amethus’s jade eyes sank deeply.

Onseu Om knew.

He knew that Amethus wasn’t from the West, that he was the confidant of Emperor Ferbias.

So he had to be cruel.

“I can’t allow you to speak even a single word now.”

Onseu Om’s head flew into the air.

The smell of tobacco and hard liquor was pungent.

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