The city of the Lana Guild. The city hall of Arte della Lana.
In one room of the mansion, adorned with the guild’s symbol—expensive woolen textiles—Dale was present.
“I heard that Ray Yuris, the representative of the Crimson Duke, met with the Master of the Lana Guild.”
Through the Shadow Court’s intelligence network, they had already ascertained which representative of a great noble had contacted which guild master beforehand.
“……!”
“You are aware of the assassination attempt on the Master of the Kalimala Guild, I presume.”
“At least I know the Shadow Court vouches for Confucius’s innocence.”
The Master of the Lana Guild spoke, and Dale nodded quietly.
“Master of the Lana Guild, do you intend to become the next City Master with the backing of the Empire and the Red Tower?”
“…The City Master will be elected lawfully, in accordance with the republican tradition of the Seven Great Guilds.”
Seeing him feigning composure, Dale remained silent.
“If the City Master’s ledger falls into the Empire’s hands.”
After the silence, Dale spoke.
“How long do you think Guild City’s vaunted ‘republican conventions’ will last?”
“…….”
“The Golden Empire, once the Seven City Republic, now reduced to a mere city-state, its very heart now in the Empire’s grasp.”
Recalling the landscape of the ‘Seven City Republic’ he had once destroyed with his own hands. Even their prized treasures of gold proved utterly meaningless before the hero’s sword.
“Do you think the Empire would tolerate a ‘republic of the Seven Great Guilds’?”
Dale continued.
“It certainly takes no small amount of courage to defy the Empire and the Red Tower.”
“…….”
“But rejecting the favor of our Black Order also demands courage no less formidable.”
It was a blatant threat, plain and simple. Yet without playing such a hardball move, the guild masters couldn’t be swayed. The master of the Lana Guild remained silent until the very end.
This was the very definition of the saying, “When whales fight, the shrimp get crushed.”
Some time later.
Before the black market opened, and to quell the unrest circulating within Guild City, a meeting of the seven guild masters was convened.
Additionally, to escort them, the strongest warriors within Guild City, the high-ranking assassins of the Shadow Court, accompanied them.
──Following the orders of the ‘Shadow Lord’ they served, every detail of their conversation flowed into Dale’s ears.
With the Shadow Court present to protect the Guild Masters, not even the faintest whisper could escape their ears.
Some time later. After the seven major guilds each settled their accounts, Guild City split into two major factions.
The Imperial faction, seeking to ally with the Empire and the Crimson Magic Tower.
The Black faction, which supported the alliance with the Black proposed by Dale.
Amidst the shifting alliances, secret meetings were held repeatedly, and each time, it fell to the ‘Shadow Court’ to protect them.
The assassins of the ‘Shadow Court,’ sworn to protect Guild City, were unaware even in their dreams that they had become Dale’s henchmen.
You could go straight to the City Master, strangle him, and seize the Guild City’s ledgers. You could secure the list of hostile factions and send the Shadow Court’s assassins to eliminate them.
But there was a reason Dale didn’t do that, and furthermore, the Empire didn’t choke them by force either.
The masters of the Seven Great Guilds always hold information to keep their own heads on their shoulders.
Moreover, the true value of the City Master’s ledger lies not in what is already written, but in the ‘information yet to be recorded’.
Whenever a transaction occurs across the empire, utilizing the network that Guild City has established across the entire continent. The flow of funds spanning the entire continent—where swords are sold and where they are bought, where armor is exported and where it is imported…
Which regional lords bear how much debt, and how much more they intend to take on.
Not the past, but a compass for charting the continent’s future course.
Unless it is secured in a state where it can be accessed at any time, it is meaningless. That was the context behind Dale and the Empire desperately trying to get their hands on the ‘next’ City Master.
Intangible information.
That was precisely the greatest reason why Guild City might bow its head, but what they possessed could never be taken from them.
Separate from the affairs of the Seven Great Guilds, the next winner’s match at the Fight Club drew near.
“WAAAAAAAH!”
Leaving the roar of the crowd behind, Dale turned his head. Above the Lake of Darkness, an innumerable host of Shadow Lurkers revealed their might.
Monsters of shadow.
With serpentine bodies and menacing limbs formed from scythes. Countless spiked tentacles writhed along their backs.
“Ha, ha, haaaah…!”
And before Dale’s opponent could even finish his words.
Thud!
The spiked tentacles plunged into his body in unison. Blood gushed forth, and a frenzied scream echoed.
A strike to prove the cruelty of the ‘Black Prince,’ who shows not a shred of mercy to his enemies. And it was a decision born of cold calculation, aimed at eliminating even one more competitor in the black market.
The Saxon family’s ‘Black Prince’ proved his ruthlessness, and then the next match began.
“This is another spectacle you won’t want to miss!”
“Mikhail of Lancaster! The second son of the Duke of Lancaster, Prince Mikhail!”
‘…House Lancaster?’
That name, capturing Dale’s attention, made him turn his head toward the arena. There stood a handsome man with golden hair.
──The House of Lancaster.
One of the ‘Three Great Ducal Houses’ of the Empire, alongside Saxony and Barbarossa.
Needless to say, there was no doubt that the Three Great Ducal Houses would send representatives to the Black Market.
‘Still, for the second son of the Duke of Lancaster to personally step into the fight club…’
Dale tilted his head in puzzlement, having forgotten even that he himself was the eldest son of the Saxon ducal house. He must have appeared in the round of 32 as well, though he hadn’t watched all the matches from that time. Yet he too recalled hearing the name ‘Mikhail Lancaster’.
Not from a past life, but after becoming the eldest son of the Saxon Duke’s family.
The sword prodigy said to be closest to the realm of the next generation’s Seven Swords of the Continent. In truth, it was hardly surprising that children of duke-level families were called geniuses in swordsmanship or magic.
In any world, there’s no such thing as a guaranteed life like being born with a silver spoon in your mouth.
The world is unfair and absurd, with one’s status determined from birth. The three great duke families of the empire were like incarnations symbolizing that very unfairness.
In a sense, Philip, the reckless scion of the Count’s house, could be called the irregular who defied destiny.
Dale finished his musings and turned his head. Mikhail Lancaster drew the hilt from his waist. It was a knight’s sword, its blade stained crimson.
‘Bloodflower Sword…’
Not an ordinary sword, but a legendary blade on par with the finest artifacts.
His opponent was also a knight from a renowned count’s house, and it seemed like a perfect opportunity to witness his skill firsthand. It should have been.
But the moment the signal to begin the match sounded, his opponent’s head was already rolling on the ground.
Without even a chance to cry out in surrender, without even the aura blade wrapping around him.
‘……!’
One strike.
Even Dale projected the hero’s might, activating his circle to focus. Such swiftness was impossible to track unless one concentrated. The majority in the arena, unable to follow that speed, fell silent.
Mikhail Lancaster sheathed his sword and glanced over his shoulder.
Toward Dale, the eldest son of House Saxon.
After looking at him, he bowed respectfully and flashed a brief smile. True to his name as the second son of the duke’s house, he was extremely polite and dignified.
His swordsmanship was equally so. So clean and beautiful that one could only be mesmerized.
Mikhail Lancaster, the Sword Ghost.
That was his epithet, and unconsciously, Dale could sense it.
Now, in this era, the mighty who command the continent. Even the mighty who flourished in the same era as their past selves will eventually grow old and fade away before the passage of time. But that void will never last long.
The next generation of mighty warriors will take their place.
Dale did so, Ray Yuris did so, and Michael Lancaster does so.
The mighty ones unknown to the Dale of the past will form the next generation, and he will engage in life-or-death battles with many of them.
Reflecting on that fact with stoic calm, Dale too bowed his head respectfully.
The fights in the Fight Club moved swiftly.
In this hell where opponents fell one after another before they could even cry out to surrender, those who knew their place chose defeat before the fight began. After this relentless culling, only four remained.
The final four.
Dale, Ray Yuris, Mikhail Lancaster, and one representative from the Marquis House.
“…Didn’t the Barbarossa family send someone?”
The maritime powerhouse that has established itself in the Archipelago of Death, commanding an invincible fleet. It cannot be ruled out that they might quietly participate in the black market without revealing themselves in the Fight Club.
At least, it wasn’t something to think about right now.
Inside the Fight Club, roars filled the air, more heated than ever before. Craving the thrill of blood and madness. To meet their expectations, Dale raised his head.
“Ah, so we finally meet like this.”
The heir to the Crimson Tower, whose authority no one dared challenge. Ray Yuris stood there.
The commentators’ shouts, which had been echoing, were no longer audible.
‘He’s an opponent I’d have to face anyway.’
Instead, what burned in Dale’s chest was a fierce competitive spirit.
Thus, the Black-Blue Vortex surged forth, and in response, Ray Yuris accelerated his own circle.
“Resound.”
Dale accelerated the four circles and opened his mouth. Simultaneously, blue particles began scattering in all directions. Along with a clear, yet inexplicably unpleasant harmony.
“Blue Barrel.”
Having reached the realm of the 4th Circle, he loaded the 《Blue Dissonance》 Sepia had taught him into the barrel.
He submerged the entire arena into a lake of darkness, drawing forth the creature from the shadows. The Death Knight behind him re-gripped Saxon’s black sword.
Seal the enemy’s magic, overwhelm them with our superior numbers, and seize the advantage. After formulating his strategy, Dale showed not a hint of hesitation in his actions.
“Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
The Shadow Lurkers roared, spewing barbed tentacles. The shadow beasts surged forward, and before them, Ray Yuris extended his arm.
Leaving behind the ‘Blue Dissonance’ aimed at him, ready to seal his magic if necessary.
Within the swirling vortex of crimson and black, Ray Yuris spoke.
“──O ‘King of Cold Ashes’.”
He uttered the name of the grimoire he could never forget.
