The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 271

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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 (271)
The doors to the Great Hall swung open with deliberate slowness.
Creeeeak.
As the thick wooden panels ground against each other, parting to either side, the air from within the Imperial Palace spilled outward.
A cold, sterile atmosphere—utterly unlike the reek of blood that permeated the world beyond.
Faint traces of lingering Mana hung suspended in the chamber, barely perceptible.
And at the far end of the central corridor, where a crimson carpet stretched in an unbroken line.
Upon the Platform, seated upon the Imperial Throne itself, was Belkakrode.
“….”
Dawn light filtered through the shattered windows, illuminating his face.
Though he wore the armor of war, his eyes alone burned with a cold and—unmistakably—arrogant brilliance.
As though all the chaos unfolding now… and someone’s death were nothing more than a fleeting disturbance.
Arteon advanced with measured steps.
Shhhhk.
The tip of the Spear gripped in my hand scraped across the floor, producing a low metallic ring.
In that instant, Belkakrode’s gaze locked precisely upon Arteon.
“So you are Arteon.”
He spoke in an even tone, neither surprise nor fury breaking through his composure.
Belkakrode continued.
“I recall seeing you at the Merit Evaluation and Rewards ceremony held at the Imperial Palace long ago.”
A moment of silence.
Never could he have imagined that the young boy receiving honors beneath that Platform would become the one to topple his Great Enterprise.
A hollow emptiness bloomed deep within Belkakrode’s chest.
Beyond shock lay only a void—a sensation that enveloped his entire being.
‘So that young wretch defeated Baolent….’
The fact that he had entered this Great Hall meant Baolent had already fallen to him.
The sharpest and most unyielding blade protecting him… had been broken.
‘What if….’
Had Baolent not endured the previous battles? Had his body remained in peak condition—would the outcome have differed?
Countless doubts flickered through his mind.
He wanted to deny this present reality.
As Belkakrode’s composed gaze grew tangled with complexity, Arteon—observing him—was likewise seized by intricate emotion.
Though of course, it was a vastly different kind of feeling than what consumed the Emperor.
“….”
Arteon lifted his gaze to regard Belkakrode upon the Platform.
‘This man….’
Was he the very architect of ruin—the one for whom my past self and countless Comrades had to perish?
The one who had transformed the Northern Region into a sea of blood for his own selfish ambitions.
Thousands… no, tens of thousands of us, mere instruments to sustain his power….
In the moment I beheld him, something heavy descended into my chest with a dull, crushing weight.
My past life.
The Northern Region, drenched in blood.
The very origin of that cruel and catastrophic death—where I and my comrades were forced to perish without even understanding why—stood directly before my eyes.
At that thought.
Crunch.
Without realizing it, my grip tightened around the Spear Shaft.
‘But….’
It was strange.
I had expected rage to surge the moment I laid eyes on him. I thought I would scream until my throat tore.
Why had he done it?
Why had he discarded us so carelessly, as though we were nothing but trash?
What was so important that we were beneath his notice?
But the instant I faced Belkakrode, even those questions vanished.
I could see it in his eyes.
To him, ‘ordinary people’ were no different from a handful of dust.
Yet here he sat, having committed this mad act of treason.
Standing at the precipice of failure, he remained utterly unmoved upon the Imperial Throne.
As naturally as if it had always been his.
Watching him, I raised my Spear.
“That seat is not yours.”
Brief. Resolute.
Belkakrode’s brow twitched.
“Not mine…? You wretched creature, how dare you!”
For a moment, fury blazed through his voice. But then he steadied his breathing.
This was not the time to be consumed by rage.
Belkakrode suppressed the rising anger and spoke to me calmly.
“…I have already heard much of your ability.”
Belkakrode spoke slowly.
“But it would be wise for you to consider something carefully.”
“…?”
My brow twitched.
What was he getting at?
Yet Belkakrode continued unhurriedly.
“Are you truly receiving treatment befitting your current ability?”
A faint smile.
“It is not too late even now. If you submit to me, I shall appoint you Supreme Commander of the Empire once this revolution concludes.”
The air within the Great Hall trembled subtly.
“Your strength is too precious to be squandered in the thick of battle. Should you not stand in a position commanding the entire Empire?”
My pupils flickered ever so slightly.
“…Supreme Commander?”
“Yes.”
Belkakrode brimmed with confidence.
“Though Baolent was injured, the ability to defeat him is more than worthy of the Empire’s Supreme Commander. I shall also bestow upon you the title of Marquis.”
Marquis.
A position unimaginable for someone of commoner birth.
In all of the Empire’s history, no commoner who was not born a Noble had ever ascended to the rank of Marquis.
Belkakrode continued.
“Sedrian, that rigid man would never make such a decision. He watches the eyes of other Nobles and is not one to permit such vertical ascension.”
He rose slowly from his seat.
Then, descending from the Imperial Throne’s platform, he walked across the crimson carpet.
His footsteps remained confident.
“But I am different.”
One step.
Another step.
He descended below the platform and extended his hand toward Arteon.
“I am generous in elevating talented individuals of ability. Coming under my rule would be beneficial for you as well….”
“Silence.”
The air froze.
Arteon’s voice was low, yet resolute.
There was no more conflict in his eyes.
“Neither the position you speak of, nor any title.”
The spear tip rose ever so slightly.
“Could ever be worth more than what I was meant to protect.”
Arteon’s spear extended straight toward Belkakrode.
The moment the spear blade stretched toward him, Belkakrode felt something heavy press down upon his chest.
Belkakrode instinctively stepped back.
But immediately upon realizing he had retreated, he furrowed his brow and stared at Arteon.
“You… dare refuse my offer?”
“….”
Arteon gazed at Belkakrode in silence.
A tempest of conflicting emotions swirled in his eyes.
Arteon suppressed something that threatened to burst forth as he spoke to Belkakrode.
“I have never once fought for power.”
Arteon’s gaze hardened with unwavering resolve.
“The people you trampled. The Northern Region you abandoned. The countless lives that never factored into your calculations….”
Arteon’s voice trembled thinly.
Past life.
The faces of comrades who met such a tragic death rose vividly before me.
‘We were merely….’
My throat felt as though it would close.
But Arteon swallowed hard, his gaze fixed upon Belkakrode.
“I simply wanted to live.”
There was only one reason I fought on that hellish Battlefield of the Northern Front.
The desire to survive.
To endure—day after grueling day in that cursed Battlefield—we became strength for one another, clinging to existence itself.
We survived, carrying the hope that someday we might return to our homeland where our families awaited.
Arteon’s gaze upon Belkakrode grew sharp and cold.
All the tangled thoughts had already been sorted through.
No—I had erased them entirely.
Now only one thing mattered.
Here, in this moment.
“I will collect the debt owed by those comrades.”
Even if I am no longer bound to this timeline, the past life….
Those who lost their lives so meaninglessly.
‘And… the price of my own life as well….’
Arteon placed the final period.
“I will take it all.”
Uuuuuuuung!
As Iglis vibrated softly, radiating a golden Aura, Belkakrode’s pupils began to tremble violently.
“W-wait! Please! If you desire it, I shall appoint you not as a Marquis but as a Duke! You shall stand at an unprecedented position in the Empire’s history!”
Belkakrode found himself backing away instinctively, ascending the Platform.
He could sense instinctively that Arteon’s resolve was absolute.
But Arteon did not hear his words.
Even if offered the position of Duke—or even the Imperial Throne itself.
“You alone shall die.”
With those words.
Whoosh!
Arteon’s form extended in a straight line, launching forward.
The leap of Arteon, who had ascended to the 8th Star realm.
It was something no mere Prince, who had yet to manifest an Aura, could possibly react to.
Thwack!
Only after the Spear had pierced through his body did Arteon’s figure become visible.
Crash!
Iglis, having run through Belkakrode’s body, flew onward and embedded itself in the wall.
“Gack…!”
A final death rattle mingled faintly with the sound of wind.
Belkakrode, pinned to the wall alongside Iglis.
He stared at Arteon with an expression of disbelief at his own fate.
“Ga….”
Even his breath would not come, and his vision grew dim.
‘To end like this… so meaninglessly… I never thought… it would… come to this….’
The summit was within sight.
I had dreamed of becoming the Emperor of the Empire and ruling this vast Continent.
But….
‘Where did things go wrong….’
I had believed this was something that could not fail, yet I failed nonetheless.
Both myself and my dream.
And in that moment, something entered Belkakrode’s field of vision.
The empty Imperial Throne.
I had walked this path all this time to become someone worthy of that seat.
Thud.
His head, which he had been struggling to hold upright with trembling effort, fell downward.
With Iglis embedded in him, his limp form caused Arteon to clench his teeth and close his eyes.
My nemesis….
‘I have repaid it.’
So… rest in peace now.
Arteon spoke, remembering the comrades he had fought alongside and those who had lost their lives so unjustly in the past.
Though this revenge now could not comfort their spirits, it would at least prevent the great disaster that was to come.
Having focused on only this one thing all this time, Arteon felt as though something essential had been pulled from his body.
Standing at the end of a path with nowhere left to advance… it felt almost as though I had lost my way.
‘Once this revenge is over….’
I thought something would feel considerably lighter.
What is this… this complicated emotion….
Arteon felt his chest grow heavy and his mind descend into confusion.
But in that moment.
“Arteon!”
A cry from someone behind him calling out his name.
As Arteon slowly turned his head to look back, there were his comrades who had fought alongside him and those supporting them from behind.
And….
Thump thump.
Sedrian emerged from among them and approached Arteon, seeing Belkakrode pinned against the wall.
A traitor, yes, but of the Imperial Family.
And… his younger brother.
Complex emotions flickered in his eyes, and tension settled over the faces of those watching Sedrian.
This was a situation where Sedrian could have blamed Arteon for unilaterally killing Belkakrode.
But….
“I’m sorry, for burdening you alone with this weight.”
Sedrian spoke to Arteon with calm composure.
Had Arteon not been there, Belkakrode’s rebellion might have succeeded.
If so, countless Imperial Citizens would have perished along with himself.
Such a great disaster….
“I express the Empire’s deepest gratitude for preventing it.”
Sedrian spoke while looking at Arteon.
At those words, Arteon turned his body and bowed his head lightly as he replied.
“I merely did what was necessary, Your Majesty.”
With this… I had completed everything I needed to do.
No.
‘Not yet….’
There was still something left to do.
Arteon silently turned his gaze toward the Silent Spear Battalion members who were watching him.

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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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