The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 264

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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 (264)
The moment Duke Carbain dismounted from his horse near the South Gate, he grasped the situation at a glance.
The stone ground was fractured, and more than half of the buildings inside the City Gate lay in ruins, exhaling smoke into the air.
A Battlefield etched with overlapping marks of Spears and Swords.
“….”
Carbain’s gaze swept rapidly across the surroundings before fixing upon a single point.
And at its center.
Standing in the middle of the fractured stone ground was a solitary figure.
“…Svein. I never expected you to come yourself.”
Duke Carbain’s low voice cut through the Dawn air.
He had anticipated it.
Yet facing him now, he could not conceal his astonishment.
The man who had always stood at Prince Sedrian’s side, occupying the safest yet most burdensome position, now stood before him on the front lines of Battlefield.
Svein turned his head quietly to face Carbain.
He wore no helmet, only bearing a Sword.
There was fatigue in his eyes, but no wavering.
But then it happened.
A sharp voice pierced through the fallen Soldiers.
“Kill that man, Duke Carbain!”
It was Rumack, another Subordinate of Count Edrian who stood with Haksent.
From the expression mixing fear and urgency, it was easy to see that he had lost his senses.
Had he retained them, he could never have addressed himself in such a commanding tone.
Yet this man believed that what he carried on his back was his own strength.
Seeing him issue commands like this made it clear.
At that cry, Svein merely turned his head slightly to regard him.
A cold gaze.
Svein then spoke calmly.
“…It would have been better to kill that one.”
At those words, Carbain let out a small laugh.
“Still lacking in perception, I see. Hehehehe.”
Behind the laughter lay a subtle bitterness.
One could tell by observing the surroundings.
Many had fallen, yet none had breathed their last.
Only those with broken bones, those knocked unconscious, and those groaning while bleeding.
‘As I thought….’
It was likely an order from Prince Sedrian.
This single scene alone made it abundantly clear how Sedrian and Belkakrode intended to lead the Empire.
Carbain lifted his gaze briefly toward the sky.
Starlight dimmed and obscured by smoke.
‘Truly….’
It was a moment when I had to do something I didn’t want to do.
After gaining a certain level of power, I had believed such emotions would disappear.
But I was wrong.
In the end, when standing before an unavoidable choice, humans rediscover their old feelings.
He turned his gaze back to Svein.
“Still, I’m grateful that it’s you I face this with.”
Svein drew a short breath.
“I’ve known the circumstances for some time.”
And he added quietly.
“So… you needn’t hold back.”
That was the moment.
The Aura that had been contained within Svein’s body began to slowly flow outward.
Not explosive, but dense and compressed pressure.
The air grew subtly heavier.
Duke Carbain’s pupils trembled slightly.
This was clearly different from the Svein he had known.
“…It seems you achieved something significant in the Northern Region.”
He spoke with sincere eyes.
“My congratulations.”
“I encountered a fateful opportunity.”
Svein offered something like a smile.
“I’ll introduce them to you later, Duke.”
“Hah, at my age, no less.”
Duke Carbain said nothing more.
He raised his Sword.
Both of them understood that they could no longer continue this pleasant conversation.
As he drew forth his Aura, the air around them transformed completely.
Dust from the Ground rose faintly, and the groans of the Wounded instinctively quieted.
Duke Carbain saw a Soldier lying on the Ground.
“Escort these people to safety.”
A piercing gaze.
The Soldier who met that stare stiffened involuntarily.
Duke Carbain’s voice dropped low.
“Remember well—the slightest discourtesy, and your head may roll.”
“Yes, understood!”
The Soldiers moved with urgency.
The Carriages carrying the nobles began to move, and the Wounded were gradually transferred to safety.
The Battlefield emptied rapidly.
At last, only two figures remained before the South Gate.
Duke Carbain regarded Svein and tilted his head slightly.
“Then… would you oblige me?”
“Yes.”
A terse reply.
In the next instant, power erupted simultaneously beneath both their feet.
Kwaaang!
A tremendous shockwave detonated, flipping the stone floor before the South Gate entirely over.
Before the sound of Sword clashing against Sword, the thunderous roar of air being torn asunder shook the entire South Gate district.
An unwanted battle fought merely to buy time.
Yet because there were eyes watching, I could not afford to be careless—I could only hope this battle would end swiftly.
* * *
The moment I stepped into the Imperial Palace Hall, the very texture of the air transformed.
The chaos and smell of blood from outside seemed to fade at the threshold, replaced instead by a heavy, frigid silence that filled the hall.
The ceiling soared high, and the pillars were excessively straight.
As if someone had long ago conceived of this space as a ‘Battlefield’ and designed it accordingly.
Soon, Soldiers came into view.
Those guys stood in well-ordered Formation, their eyes bearing a different light than the Soldiers I had faced before.
Certainty rather than fear.
Not the expression of those dragged here against their will by unjust Orders.
At a glance, I could discern they were different from those I had fought earlier.
Not those reluctantly conscripted into this rebellion, but those who had sworn their complete loyalty to Belkakrode.
I exhaled sharply.
‘All the better.’
There was no reason to hesitate.
Neither persuasion nor restraint was necessary.
Against such opponents, I need only kill them all.
I was about to draw forth my Aura.
Uuuuuuuung!
“…?”
Suddenly, an unfamiliar Mana began to move within the hall.
And with a low, prolonged vibration, the floor of the Imperial Palace Hall was dyed in crimson light.
A presence as if something were awakening beneath the stone floor.
Intricately interwoven Patterns rose into view one by one.
A Magic Circle.
The crimson light that began beneath my feet spread instantaneously across the entire hall.
And simultaneously, my body suddenly grew heavy.
“…”
It felt as though I had been forcibly dressed in a vest weighing hundreds of kilograms.
My breathing was not obstructed, yet with each step, resistance clung to me.
The flow of my Aura had also grown sluggish.
It was not completely severed, but distinctly ‘suppressed.’
A crystallized masterpiece of Imperial magical scholarship, concentrated to face a Grand Aura User.
The materials alone far exceeded the Empire’s annual budget, and only a handful possessed the capability to design and deploy it. It was a Magic Circle that approached the miraculous merely by functioning in real combat.
Facing ‘that’ in person—something I had only heard rumors of in my past life—left me unable to hide my bewilderment.
Arteon’s expression hardened.
But then it happened.
“Well, well… how unexpected.”
Someone emerged from within the Hall.
His footsteps were measured, carrying an air of composure.
Arteon recognized the face instantly.
A man I had crossed paths with exactly once before.
Count Adrian Valenluke.
And flanking him came two Warriors.
Solid presence, unwavering posture.
At a glance, they were no ordinary Warriors.
Adrian spoke, his lips curling upward.
“Had I known you’d become such a formidable figure, I would have invested more effort back then.”
His gaze swept across Arteon.
“I thought you were merely a fortunate survivor, nothing more.”
He remembered as well.
Arteon from the past, when my name had scarcely spread at all.
Arteon said nothing.
I simply held my Spear, gazing directly at Adrian.
Adrian chuckled, displeased by the response.
“But this place is your end.”
His tone was calm, yet the conclusion had already been reached.
“It is truly a shame to lose talent like you. But if you become an obstacle… you must be removed.”
After a brief pause to steady himself, he continued with a gentle expression.
“I make one final proposal. Why not take my hand, elevate Belkakrode as Emperor, and help us build this Empire into something far stronger?”
His lips curved even higher.
Soon Adrian spoke to Arteon with an expression as though he held everything within his grasp.
“If you accept my proposal, I will grant you everything you desire.”
Sweet words indeed.
Power, status, safety, honor.
You could obtain anything you wished.
And if this rebellion succeeded, it would not be hollow promises… but genuinely achievable.
But instead of answering, Arteon raised my Spear.
Aiming it precisely at Adrian with the tip of the Blade.
And spoke in a low voice.
“Since your head will soon be severed, ramble on as you please.”
In that instant, Adrian’s expression twisted violently.
“…Arrogant bastard.”
He stepped back.
In that same instant, two Warriors flanking him moved forward.
Arteon’s gaze shifted toward them.
“….”
There was something peculiar—or rather, remarkable—about them: they seemed barely affected by this Magic Circle.
Perhaps….
‘A Dispel Magic Circle is layered separately.’
The situation was far from favorable.
A suppression Magic Circle, Elite Warriors, and a Noble controlling everything from behind.
Not a single element of this situation pleased me.
‘But….’
Arteon’s gaze hardened.
That didn’t mean I intended to retreat.
If one thought such a Magic Circle could stop me, that itself would be Pride.
Kuuuuuuuung!
Arteon drew forth all his power.
The entire Hall trembled violently, and the Patterns on the Ground shook with feverish intensity.
The eyes of the Soldiers before me and the two Warriors flickered simultaneously.
To think he could unleash such Momentum within a Magic Circle designed to suppress Aura itself.
‘Just what Realm has this young one reached….’
As if reading their shock, Arteon spoke in a low voice.
“Do everything you can.”
His eyes had gone completely cold. And….
Whoosh!
Arteon vanished from sight.
* * *
Kuuung!
The Impact reverberating from deep within the Imperial Palace shook the air of the Great Hall.
The Decorations on the ceiling trembled faintly, and dust cascaded down between the Patterns carved into the pillars.
It meant an extraordinarily fierce Battle was unfolding.
A weighted resonance—the kind created only when force collides directly against force.
Before the Great Hall.
Baolent, standing alone in that space, turned his gaze toward the source of the sound.
Though he couldn’t witness the Battle directly, there was no need to.
The sounds alone told him precisely what kind of fight was taking place.
And in that fleeting instant, a single thought crossed his mind.
‘Perhaps… this matter.’
Baolent quickly erased the thought from his mind.
It had already begun.
Having come this far, there was no choice but to move forward.
Above all, he knew this truth: the point at which this crisis could be altered by a single person’s will had long since passed.
Everything unfolding within the Imperial Palace now was merely the collapse of accumulated choices crashing down all at once.
He drew in a slow breath.
The frigid air seeped deep into his lungs.
Even now, faint as it was, uncertainty etched itself into his mind.
“Is it crumbling of its own accord?”
To whom was he speaking?
The hollow words scattered into the void, devoid of emotion.

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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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