Chapter 330: Nothing Personal

“Three minutes will be enough.”

“Take your time. We’re waiting for the pursuit party anyway.”

Homi bowed to Eugene and headed to the nearby water source. When she canceled her Sea Warrior transformation while dried blood was still caked all over her body, the smell of blood reportedly lingered even after multiple baths.

-That’s fascinating. I wonder what the principle is?

-If you’d like to conduct an experiment…

-No. I can’t let you suffer just to satisfy my curiosity.

-It’s an annoying phenomenon. A trivial drawback compared to the power gained, though.

-Let’s think positively. There must be some way this is useful too.

-Yes?

-What if you spray perfume before canceling the transformation?

-…Wow!

Homi, who had never considered such an angle, could only marvel.

*

The victorious soldiers roamed the battlefield collecting spoils. A Britannian mercenary kicked over a fallen Viking’s corpse with his foot. An axe lay beneath it.

“Another axe?”

“There’s almost no one with a sword. Did these guys chop firewood at home before coming to fight?”

Securing two swords was considered good luck. Only a handful wore decent armor.

“Shoes are no better either. This one’s got footwraps, that one’s got footwraps.”

Those who lacked seniority or arrived late had, as always, targeted footwear, but even that was disappointing. Quality leather boots or iron-plated greaves were hard to come by. A single pair would fetch a week’s wages.

“Argh!”

Here and there, the wounded were being stabbed to death. While searching through the spoils, they were simultaneously executing those too injured to walk on their own.

“W-wait!”

“What? You guys love dying on the battlefield, don’t you? That… Valhalla thing? Isn’t that where you’re supposed to go?”

“Mercy…”

Thud!

Begging for mercy didn’t work. The mercenaries, already on edge from the pitiful spoils, showed no quarter.

“Your Excellency. We have too many prisoners.”

“There might be more enemies. It’s dangerous to be ambushed during escort.”

The knights who had finished regrouping reported. Their expressions were grim, as this was a land where the concept of ransom barely existed.

They were worried this merciful lord might order an escort all the way back to the Moving Castle.

“Kill them all.”

But Eugene had no intention of extending mercy this far. Anyone willing enough to participate in an assault on the Hero’s Tomb was no ordinary stubborn fighter. Whether they knew he was undergoing the trial or not.

Escort was one thing, but imprisoning them in the Moving Castle was also a potential risk factor. They already had more than enough prisoners. If they incited others inside to start a rebellion, that would be troublesome.

Even if they endured this inconvenience and risk, the price they’d fetch at the slave market wouldn’t be high.

“Move it!”

Since there were so many, the method of having two hold them down while one slit their throats wasn’t practical. Instead, they herded them into a relatively low-lying area, surrounded them, and deployed spears and crossbows.

“We really didn’t know! We had no idea a hero’s trial was ongoing!”

“We don’t care about your culture. You beggar scum.”

The Britannian mercenaries sneered and began the slaughter.

“Be grateful you’re getting a clean death!”

The Bargeant warriors showed no mercy either.

As those who had gone in pursuit returned one by one, Eugene prepared to depart. However, during this process, an incident occurred.

“No! Stop him!”

“Damn it, it’s already too late.”

Ivar had committed suicide. After being disarmed, his hands bound, and his strength spent from being slowly crushed underfoot, he had one hidden trick.

“Gack… gurgle…”

Blood spurted from his neck as he convulsed. A small spike lay beside him.

“Creating an informant, launching an assault during the hero’s trial, and even having insurance for when he was captured. Thorough to the end.”

“I’m sorry! We definitely searched him thoroughly. I don’t know where he got something like this.”

While Thorvald, who had been in charge of the escort, bowed apologetically, Eugene removed Ivar’s shoes.

Click.

Fiddling with them, he extracted another spike from the sole of the shoe.

“Ah!”

“It’s too small to use as a weapon for an ambush or anything. Looks like he kept it hidden for suicide.”

“It was my failing. Please, punish me.”

“It’s fine. I can’t punish an ally because of a dead man.”

The Sovereign’s faith, like most external religious orders, forbade suicide. They believed those who died that way would fall into hell, not Valhalla.

Moreover, since the concept of prisoner ransom was scarce, awareness of preventing suicide was relatively low.

“This is not Lord Thorvald’s fault. It was my failure in the search. I squandered the opportunity to earn Your Excellency’s favor.”

“Redeem yourself by fighting harder in the battles to come.”

They had already kept enough prisoners for information gathering. Eugene consoled the Jarls who were begging for forgiveness and sent them away.

“Just in case, strip these ones down to their shoes.”

The prisoners kept for interrogation were forced to march naked because of Ivar.

“It’s a shame we captured them alive, only for this.”

Homi, who had returned after washing, clicked her tongue when she learned of Ivar’s death.

“Could you call me ‘oppa’ like you did earlier?”

“…No.”

Homi shyly lowered her head.

The Sea Warrior transformation didn’t just drastically increase combat power. It also heightened aggression and encouraged honesty with one’s inner desires.

The Skill Hand of the New Continent had also spoken to Homi about his concerns regarding this.

-Sea Warrior transformation is a double-edged sword. It’s not just a physical change to a beast-like appearance, so you must always remain vigilant. During actual combat, the enemies will be dead so it’s fine, but in situations like sparring, there’s a risk of causing a catastrophe.

-But Homi is almost no different from normal?

-Surprisingly, I’m amazed too. She’s naturally calm and has incredible self-control.

Even Homi’s deviations while wrapped in wildness amounted to nothing more than calling him “oppa” when no one else was around.

“Everyone probably wanted to see the Count punish him personally.”

“Ivar is dead. That’s enough.”

“Was your anger when you stroked his back just an act then?”

Since they had always been together and her senses were sharp, Homi could guess that Eugene had been feign anger.

The Hero’s Tomb was nothing more than a useful tool to Eugene. In fact, he was grateful to Ivar for providing a way to skip the troublesome execution method.

“Punishing those who surrendered and then played dirty tricks is what matters.”

The betrayal punishment was a more important issue than Ivar, who was an enemy anyway.

*

After returning to the Moving Castle, Eugene rested for a day and then immediately began interrogation.

A man sat naked and bound tight in a chair at the center of a dark interrogation room, rolling his eyes.

“I committed a terrible crime. I was blinded by greed for your territory and launched that despicable attack…”

The news that Ivar had committed suicide to avoid the Eagle’s Punishment had already spread. The remaining prisoners were too afraid of the same fate to be defiant.

“Shh.”

Eugene tapped the prisoner’s lips with the Blood-Draining Ritual Dagger in his hand.

“Hyieek!”

The prisoner broke out in goosebumps all over and shrank back. He was a man who had toughened his courage through countless battles on the battlefield, but this ominous dagger was enough to burn away his courage just by looking at it.

“Forget about the assault.”

“Yes?”

“If you stumbled upon a wolf pack versus a snake appearing in your own home, which would concern you more?”

“Well, obviously…”

“The latter, right?”

The prisoner nodded vigorously.

“Tell me who the informant is, and we’ll both be more comfortable. A man draws a blade, something has to be cut. If I’ve announced a death sentence in front of my men and then let it slide, that would be problematic.”

Eugene turned around and pressed the tip of the Blood-Draining Ritual Dagger to the prisoner’s spine.

‘Hm?’

Was it the blood? Or the body?

The moment the dagger touched him, the healthy skin around it turned white. As if the blood was fleeing from the terrifying presence.

Zzzzzz.

Being careful not to slice, Eugene moved the dagger tip behind the heart.

Thump!

At that moment, the heart contracted violently. He could feel it through the contact with the dagger.

It was an artifact that had become even more powerful by devouring countless beasts and monsters. The body reacted to the threat it posed.

The prisoner also shuddered at the sensation, as if Kalash’s tongue were licking his soul.

“If you stay silent here, I’ll have to dig into you first. Then when I find the informant later, I’ll have to dig into him too. That’s doing the work twice. That’s… troublesome.”

When Eugene turned back to face him, the prisoner was panting and drenched in sweat.

“So. Who was the informant?”

“Raif! Jarl Raif! He promised that if the attack succeeded, he would receive a marriage alliance and land after the war…”

The prisoner eagerly spilled everything he knew. After sufficient interrogation was complete, Eugene moved to the next room and did the same.

By the time he finished in the second interrogation room, Ophelia emerged from the third. She had interrogated three people simultaneously.

“You’ve worked hard.”

“I’m just glad I can be of use to the Lord.”

She was wrapped head to toe in robes as usual, but a strong smell of sweat emanated from her. She seemed exhausted from using her secret arts on three highly intelligent individuals far superior to Hobgoblins.

She must have found it quite uncomfortable to have to keep her body covered in robes despite the heat.

Whoosh!

Eugene, as if waiting for this, unfolded his folding fan and wafted air inside Ophelia’s robes.

“You… you don’t need to do this.”

“But isn’t it nice?”

“…Yes.”

The Elf girl smiled shyly.

“Is this a magical artifact?”

“Yes. It’s a fan that holds winter wind, apparently. A surrendered Bargeant lord offered it. An ancestral relic they plundered, but apparently it had no use in Midgard.”

“Ahh… it’s cool.”

Ophelia closed her eyes and enjoyed the cool breeze. The refreshing chill that seeped into her circulated through her body, cooling her down.

“So who did everyone say the culprit was?”

“A man named Raif.”

“He was promised a portion of the conquered land in exchange for a marriage alliance?”

“That’s correct. Your perception is remarkable, my Lord.”

Ophelia seemed pleased, opening her robes wider to enjoy the fan’s breeze.

Cross-verification to avoid creating wrongful victims was sufficient. Now it was time for punishment.

*

Jarl Raif and his bodyguards, who had been staying in the castle as guests, were arrested on the spot.

When people pulled this kind of trick, they usually had contingencies prepared and would flee outside in case things went wrong.

Sometimes, for an even greater return, they stayed inside and continued their subversive activities. Raif was the latter.

“That’s why people with not much time left are so scary.”

Raif, who was brought in, was an old man with hair and beard turned completely white.

He had lost his family to Britannian raids and a plague. The only heir left was a twelve-year-old grandson back at his territory.

If he could exchange his remaining life to leave behind something more than a barren territory, he would have no regrets.

“Do you have no regrets?”

“Hehehe.”

Raif laughed loudly even facing death.

“If an old man starts regretting, there’s no end to it. If I hadn’t gone on the fifth raid, my eldest wouldn’t have died. If I’d paid more attention when my second son started coughing, it wouldn’t have progressed to a serious illness.”

“I imagine your grandson would have preferred living quietly with his grandfather in a small village.”

“What grandfather doesn’t want to leave behind more for his grandchild?”

“I sympathize with your affection for your grandson, but I can’t feel it.”

“I sensed it at the banquet too, but you tread upon this land without any emotion.”

“It’s necessary work. There are no personal feelings involved.”

The old man’s sharp eye discovered that the gaze Eugene fixed upon him held no resentment. It felt more like the attitude of someone watching an inevitable event unfold.

“When you accept this many converts, it’s inevitable that some will harbor ill intentions. Think of it as the price of getting thousands of elite soldiers for free. Of course, even so…”

“You must still extract punishment.”

“My policy has spread widely. By the time the war is over, all of Midgard will know.”

At Eugene’s gesture, Raif was dragged outside and secured in the stocks.

The old man, lying face-up with his back exposed to the sky, maintained a composed expression. However, he couldn’t stop his body from trembling at the impending terrible pain.

Eugene picked up the Ritual Dagger obtained from the Forecaster Draugr instead of the Blood-Draining Ritual Dagger. After all, Kalash was an evil god. He didn’t want to give that god a taste of human flesh.

“Almighty Sovereign, please grant me the strength to endure this trial…”

Thrust!

“!!!!!!”

Raif’s eyes bulged. But this was only the beginning.

“Hnnngh!”

The sensation of the blade cutting through him made tears stream from his bloodshot eyes. To endure this far alone showed extraordinary willpower. Most people screamed at this first stage.

Even in his youth, Eugene had respected Raif for his bravery despite his weak forces, which was why he had been given preferential treatment.

Shhhhhhh.

But even that couldn’t withstand the pain of the second stage.

“Aaaargh!”

The process of the apricot-colored back being replaced by a red one was a moment no one could endure without screaming.

Eugene set down the now unnecessary dagger and surveyed the surroundings.

-You ungrateful traitor! May divine punishment fall upon you!

“Please, Your Excellency. I beg you to grant him the death by fire.”

The Britannian nobles, who had been ferocious when Raif was first captured, now fell silent. They had only heard of such extreme punishments; seeing it firsthand was far beyond their imagination.

Only the nobles and Bargeant warriors who had witnessed King Kruger’s atrocities during the civil war maintained their grim composure.

On the other hand, some watched with interest and no discomfort whatsoever.

“Midgard is quite impressive.”

“Linking religion and execution methods… Their imagination is richer than our Roman friends.”

They were the Dark Elves of the Black Hand tribe. Although they had been somewhat civilized under Eugene’s command, their roots were still nomadic warriors.

Cruelty toward enemies was a virtue to them. The more extreme it was, the more attractive it appeared in Dark Elf society.

“How delightfully cruel.”

“Ho ho ho!”

From the balcony of the Moving Castle, the Dark Elf women smiled brightly and sent their praise. Several blew kisses toward Eugene.

Eugene sighed and picked up the axe.

Now it was time for the third stage. To lay out a large fish properly, you had to break the ribs from the spine.

Whack!

A terrible scream echoed.

Whack!

With each swing of the axe, the screams grew quieter.

Whack!

What splashed on Eugene’s face wasn’t blood.

Whack!

Broken white bone fragments scattered in all directions like salt.

“……”

Raif died before the third stage was completed. But the axe didn’t stop. For Eugene, this was both an execution and a message.

Clank!

A short while later, Raif’s bodyguards were hanged one after another. The old man, spread out like a flying squirrel, hung before them. His skin fluttered slightly whenever the wind blew.

“You’ve worked hard, my Lord.”

When he entered the bath to wash off the filth, the maidens knelt before him, their faces more flushed than usual.

His overwhelming martial prowess, glorious achievements, and the grace of a far better life for his tribe—Eugene already received more than enough respect. But by their standards, there had been one missing element.

Today, they had witnessed it to their heart’s content and their faces were filled with satisfaction.

“You must be tired. Please, soak in the bath. We have aromatic oil massages prepared afterward.”

“…Thank you.”

The Black Hand tribe, whom Eugene cherished like family, had this sadistic tendency that he still couldn’t quite adapt to.

In any case, everything was now settled. All that remained was the decisive battle that would determine the fate of both armies.

*

King Skal had also rallied every Viking he could gather and assembled his army.

“What is the will of heaven?”

He asked his trusted shaman and seer.

Chirrrrrrr.

Tattooed hands scattered bone dice. After studying their arrangement closely, the shaman knelt before the king.

“A great battle will take place tomorrow or the day after.”

The Jarls glanced around at the shaman’s words.

“Our enemies are nowhere in sight.”

“Our scouts report nothing within three days’ march.”

They didn’t like the shaman. For a warrior, what mattered was the will to fight bravely on the battlefield.

Superstitious beliefs in the Sovereign were sufficient. The Jarls were all dissatisfied with King Skal’s excessive reliance on dice divination.

“Shaman. Can you see the outcome of the battle? Has heaven whispered anything to you?”

“Please stop. The outcome of war is forged by warriors, not decided by these damn dice.”

“How dare you interrupt the king’s question!”

“We have pledged our lives to the king. We must speak our minds.”

“…”

Skal didn’t like those who defied him, but with a great battle imminent, now was the time to soothe the Jarls’ feelings.

And at that moment.

“What’s going on suddenly?”

“Why is there such a dark cloud…”

The Vikings, gazing uneasily at the sky, focused their attention on the horizon.

Flash!

Brilliant lightning bolts were falling in droves beyond the horizon.

“The Sor! The Sor is watching over us!”

“The Thunder God is blessing us!”

“The Sovereign has sent his son!”

The Jarls weren’t alarmed by this natural phenomenon. Instead, they rejoiced and embraced each other.

Only the shaman wore a twisted smile. This seer knew that the terrible lightning storm had not originated from their god.