The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 261

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Mad Spearman of the Northern Front (261)
The low rumble emanating from the Castle Wall was far more than mere noise.
The dull clash of Spears and Swords colliding.
And the roars and screams of thousands of Soldiers locked in battle reverberated across the entire Capital.
The Capital had already transformed into a Battlefield, and the civilians within trembled in terror, unable to find sleep.
“….”
Upon a Hill, standing at a distance from the City Gate.
Sedrian gazed down upon the Capital in silence for a long moment.
In the hazy light that marked the boundary between Dawn and day, the silhouettes of Soldiers moving across the Castle Wall appeared like shadows.
Because I understood all too well that most of those within the walls did not truly desire this conflict.
A tangle of melancholy, sorrow, and anger pressed heavily upon my chest.
Sedrian, still gazing upon the Capital, spoke softly.
“Commander Belkain.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Belkain answered tersely.
Sedrian continued, his gaze still fixed upon the Capital.
“I hear the Commanders already know before the fighting begins.”
Sedrian’s voice was calm, yet that very calmness carried greater weight.
“From the moment the Operation is devised, they know how many of our Allied Forces will perish to achieve victory in this battle.”
Belkain did not deny it.
Just as Sedrian said, a Commander directing an Operation begins the fight already knowing the approximate cost in blood.
At Belkain’s silence, Sedrian turned to look at him.
“If… our Troops and Belkakrode’s forces defending the Capital were to clash head-on here.”
A brief silence.
The question remained unfinished, yet the answer was already being demanded.
“What would be the extent of our Soldiers’ sacrifice?”
Belkain did not answer immediately.
Though brief, that silence contained countless calculations repeated once more.
The density of defensive Troops, the Morale of internal forces.
And most critically, the Terrain leading through the Capital’s City Gate—called impregnable—along with the various Magic Circles had to be considered.
After deliberating further, Belkain finally opened his mouth slowly, having reached his conclusion.
“Simply to breach the City Gate and enter… at least ten thousand or more will fall in battle.”
The words were concise, yet the numbers they contained were cruel.
Fewer than thirty thousand Troops in total.
More than ten thousand of them would die merely to ‘enter’.
Sedrian’s brow trembled slightly.
And he did not bother to ask aloud about the calculations that would follow.
The battle that would unfold within the Castle, the friendly fire in the chaos, the collapse of command structure.
When all of that was added together….
‘Both sides combined would be at least fifteen thousand… no, far more than that.’
He clenched his teeth.
‘What in the world are you thinking, Belkakrode?’
The Capital held more than just traitors.
Craftsmen, merchants, children, and ordinary Imperial Citizens simply trying to survive another day—they were all there.
And the soldiers gripping swords atop the Castle Walls were someone’s sons, husbands, and fathers.
‘Was it truly necessary to go this far to claim that throne?’
The position of Emperor was not a symbol of dominion.
At least, not for Sedrian.
That seat existed to prevent Imperial Citizens from raising blades against one another.
A position that should have been a shield against external foes now faced the inevitability of being drenched in the blood of its own people.
If tens of thousands died in fraternal conflict, what material could such a crown possibly be forged from?
Sedrian slowly clenched his fist.
“…Help them.”
The words emerged barely audible.
A whisper that bordered on prayer.
The small elite force that had just entered the Capital.
No one could guarantee how large a crack they might create.
Success would save tens of thousands of lives, but failure would sweep everyone—from the soldiers standing Below the Hill to the Imperial Citizens within the Castle—into a bloodbath.
Sedrian gazed upon the Capital once more.
‘Please….’
Those words never left his lips.
Yet they echoed endlessly within his heart.
Succeed.
Let this Empire not drown in its own blood.
Sedrian could only resent his own helplessness and wait for word from those who had ventured inside.
* * *
The Great Hall of the Imperial Palace was excessively vast.
Towering columns stretched toward the ceiling in orderly rows, while the walls displayed reliefs and flags commemorating the achievements of successive Emperors.
A space bearing the weight of centuries of imperial legacy.
Under ordinary circumstances, majesty and grandeur would have been the first impressions, but the Great Hall was different now.
Upon the central dais.
Belkakrode sat upon the Imperial Throne with leisurely composure, his hand resting upon the armrest.
A relaxed smile graced his face, yet his eyes held no mirth whatsoever.
Like a beast before its prey, absolute certainty of control permeated his presence.
Then a Messenger rushed forward and dropped to his knees.
“Your Majesty.”
“Speak.”
“Those bastards… have entered the Capital.”
At those words, Belkakrode’s head tilted ever so slightly.
“Those bastards?”
“Yes. It appears a small force of elite troops has moved out. And among them… it seems Svein and a young man named Arteon, who distinguished himself in the Northern Region, are included.”
In that instant, the air within the Great Hall shifted subtly.
“Arteon?”
Belkakrode’s brow twitched.
That name was far more than the designation of a mere soldier.
It was a vexing name that surfaced without fail whenever Sedrian’s northern expansion was discussed.
‘Helikel Gorge… and even Belikezel.’
Impossible military achievements.
Accomplishments worthy of being called miracles.
He had already received multiple reports that a considerable portion of the victories won in the Northern Region had been forged through that young man’s hands.
‘I heard he was deployed on the battlefield at Preldior as well….’
Belkakrode’s lips curled into a slow smile.
“So he came all the way here alongside Sedrian.”
Svein’s presence did give him some pause. But that was all.
Arteon was no different.
“Unless they exceed 7-Star caliber… there are countless ways to handle them.”
His words carried absolute certainty.
This Imperial Palace was a fortress, a trap, and simultaneously a slaughterhouse.
Troops already positioned, assassins, knights, and even hidden trump cards.
No matter what variables emerged, he was prepared to counter them.
“Scrutinize Duke Carbain’s movements more carefully. The moment he harbors different thoughts, the entire game changes.”
“Understood.”
“As for the rats that have infiltrated the Capital, deploy the Nocturne Assassins and the knights to eliminate them.”
He spoke as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Once those bastards disappear, Sedrian will have no more blades left to wield.”
In a sense, this very situation laid bare the limits of a man named Sedrian.
“A weakling, truly.”
Belkakrode muttered with derision.
“To think he believed he could claim the Imperial Throne without spilling a single drop of blood.”
The seat of the Emperor was not a throne that could be ascended through such naive idealism.
‘And yet… here I stand in this very place.’
Belkakrode understood it well.
Sedrian would never command his soldiers to advance.
The moment he issued orders toward the City Gate, a full-scale battle between Imperial forces would erupt.
‘Tens of thousands would perish.’
Could someone as weak as Sedrian truly endure such a sight?
This was why the battle was already decided before it even began.
This small elite force that had infiltrated the Capital was merely Sedrian’s final desperate gambit.
Once this assault was repelled, the Imperial Throne would naturally become his own.
“Strengthen oversight of those held as hostages. Keep the reins tight so they cannot entertain other thoughts. If there are no variables… this revolution cannot fail.”
“Understood.”
Baolent bowed his head in acknowledgment.
But in that very moment.
Kwaaaang!
A thunderous sound erupted from beyond the Imperial Palace, shaking the very earth.
The pillars of the Great Hall trembled faintly, and dust scattered from the ceiling.
Belkakrode’s gaze snapped toward the window.
Baolent moved swiftly and peered outside.
After a moment, a low, measured voice emerged.
“It appears Prince Sedrian’s sword is quite sharp.”
At those words, Belkakrode’s expression hardened for the first time.
Yet….
‘Nothing changes.’
Belkakrode rose from his seat and spoke.
“Then shatter that sword completely.”
With that command, those in the Great Hall began moving with urgency.
* * *
Aura erupted between the Golden-Patterned Armor, causing the air to tremble.
It was no mere Killing Intent.
As dozens of Knights simultaneously entered combat stance, the walls and floor of the corridor resonated with a low hum, and fine cracks spread outward.
And leading them was Jeidilk, Commander of the Iron-Blooded Knights.
A Blue Aura enveloped his body, flickering like flames.
A 6-Star Warrior.
Though he did not reveal himself, by sheer ability alone, he ranked among the strongest in the Empire.
Under Belkakrode’s command, he had traversed countless battlefields in the Underworld, and he had always emerged victorious.
Thus his voice carried weight.
“No matter how you rampage in the Northern Region.”
Jeidilk’s gaze pierced through Arteon.
“It is impossible to defeat us here.”
As his voice resonated, the Knights drew up their Auras in unison.
Red and Blue light intermingled, and the corridor blazed with brilliance.
Then Jeidilk spoke.
“Coming this far alone means you have confidence in your strength. It matters not if the surroundings are destroyed. Kill him without fail.”
The moment the command fell, the Iron-Blooded Knights moved as one.
Thud!
Their footsteps struck the ground with explosive force, and sword strikes poured down from all directions.
A bewilderingly complex assault that clashed with their black armor.
The Knights encircled Arteon in an instant.
Auras layered upon one another, crashing down toward him.
But….
“….”
Watching them, Arteon quietly released his Aura.
Boom!
In that instant, an inexplicable dread seeped into the Iron-Blooded Knights who moved swiftly to encircle him.
A youth who appeared to be barely past twenty.
Yet the Aura radiating from him was utterly alien.
‘What, what is this…?’
‘This, what is this Aura…?’
The moment that thought surfaced, a single realization flashed through their minds in unison.
‘Could it be… a 7-Star Warrior?’
But they immediately shook their heads.
Absurd. Impossible.
The 7-Star Realm cannot be reached by talent alone.
Even those who dedicate their entire lives to the blade—most halt before the 4-Star threshold.
They themselves had wielded a sword since childhood, and only through that lifetime of devotion had they barely reached the middle ranks of 4-Star.
Yet at that age, 7-Star?
“Hyaaaah!”
“Hah!”
As if to drive back their unease, the knights roared louder than usual and swung their blades.
Auras clashed in a tempest, attacks converging from all directions.
There were no openings.
At least, that was what they believed.
Until Arteon tore through their Aura.
Screech!
With the wail of metal, Arteon’s Spear rotated.
Crash! Crackle!
The front ranks of knights were sent flying.
They collided with walls and ground, crumpling down, yet no blood spilled.
Their screams were brief. Soon all lay motionless, unconscious.
“…!”
The faces of the knights charging in behind them went rigid.
The armor of the fallen was not torn—it was dented.
He had not killed them… he had struck them unconscious with the flat or shaft of the Spear.
‘He subdued them without killing…?’
To fell an opponent without killing in such a combat situation required an overwhelming disparity in power.
The Iron-Blooded Knights.
Though they did not shine in the light of day, they could pride themselves on being among the top five in martial ability throughout the Empire.
The fact that they were crumbling before him was difficult to accept.
“Get back!”
At that moment, Jeidilk shouted and burst forward.
A blue Aura erupted like a tempest, swelling with overwhelming force.
It was on an entirely different plane from the Aura of other knights. Instinctively, they parted before that momentum.
A Division Commander who had reached 6-Star was different.
The power of his Aura was formidable, and his Sword Technique ranked among the finest in the Empire itself.
That young one was certainly impressive, but now that the Division Commander had stepped forward, it was surely over.
“…Hah.”
Arteon watched Jeidilk charging toward him, his eyes narrowing to slits.
Not vigilance—assessment.
‘He’s certainly strong, but…’
With his Spear held low, he waited briefly.
‘…Why is he so slow?’
I was measuring the timing to parry, yet it came far later than expected.
Boredom nearly brushed against me.
Then Arteon’s body rotated, and his Spear traced a wide arc.
Shwik.
The sound came first.
“Gaaaaaahhhhh!”
Jeidilk’s right arm severed through the air and fell to the ground.
His blue Aura wavered for an instant, and his body, robbed of balance, lurched forward.
Arteon then drove his left foot precisely into Jeidilk’s chest.
Boom!
With tremendous impact, Jeidilk flew backward and crashed into the wall.
Thud.
He lost consciousness on impact.
Silence descended upon the corridor.
Arteon twirled his Spear lightly, regarding the knights who stood frozen.
“I have no time.”
His voice was calm.
“So come at me quickly.”
Yet not a single knight stepped forward.
The battle was already over.
Confronted with an impossible spectacle beyond imagination, the morale of the knights had completely shattered.
Arteon, observing their state, spoke.
“If you do not follow, I will not attack. However…”
His eyes flashed with sharp intensity.
“Should we meet again inside, then I will cut with the Blade, not the shaft.”
With those words.
Whoosh!
Arteon began to charge rapidly into the Imperial Palace.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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