The Mad Dog of the Duke's Estate

Chapter 121

The meeting soon ended and the deep darkness of night blanketed the camp. Silence reigned as most of the group went to sleep.

"At your age, you should be sleeping to grow taller, Commander. If you miss your sleeping hours, you won't get any taller, you know?" Kerra grumbled, his face filled with dissatisfaction as he was dragged outside by Caron.

They were back in the wide clearing where they had shared drinks earlier. Tonight, the moon shone exceptionally bright. Thanks to Kerra's earlier work of clearing the surrounding trees, the brilliant moonlight illuminated the clearing in its entirety.

"I'm already taller than you," Caron retorted flatly.

"Can't argue with facts, can I?" Kerra shrugged.

"That's enough. Did you bring your sword?" Caron asked.

"Of course," Kerra replied, nodding as he gave his scabbard a light shake. He asked with a smirk, "Are you planning to dance with swords under the moonlight or something?"

"Something like that," Caron said, flashing a sly grin as he glanced at Kerra.

Kerra couldn't help but recall Caron's earlier brutal suggestion.

—"We just need to instill fear. Make them think, 'If I set foot here again, I'm dead.' Plus, if we add the name of the Ducal Family of Leston to the mix... It'll be over."

The first time Kerra had heard those words, he'd thought that it was such a Commander thing to say.

Fifty years ago, when Cain was the commander of the Imperial Guards, he'd dealt with matters in much the same way. Whether it was ruthless criminals or rebels disrupting the empire's peace, his solutions had always been bold, direct, and brutal.

The memories of those days still lingered vividly in Kerra's mind. "Some things never change," he muttered, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Holding Guillotine, Caron frowned slightly and asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you've always had the habit of drawing your sword when something bothers you. That's why you had no allies in the Imperial Palace," Kerra said.

"That's because I was a former slave," Caron replied curtly.

"...Is that what you really believe?" Kerra asked, his tone taking on a more serious edge.

The truth behind why nobles had despised Cain wasn't so simple. While his status as a former slave certainly contributed, there was something else—something much deeper.

It wasn't hatred. It was fear. The nobles had feared Cain, the slave-turned-commander of the Imperial Guards. And the reason was remarkably simple.

"You were a lunatic who wouldn't listen to reason," Kerra remarked, shaking his head.

One story in particular stood out. It was a story of how Cain had brutally slain a scion of a prestigious noble family in the heart of the capital.

Killing a noble, even for a commander of the Imperial Guards, was an unforgivable crime. The incident had sparked outrage among the aristocracy, and Cain had been imprisoned in the palace dungeons for two months as punishment.

On the surface, it appeared to be the worst kind of transgression. But Kerra knew the truth behind the story.

"You're a lunatic with an annoyingly great sense of justice and nosiness," he muttered under his breath.

The noble Cain had killed wasn't just any scion. That man had committed heinous acts, starting with assaulting a commoner woman who was already engaged. When her fiancé confronted him, the noble had silenced the man by burying him.

It hadn't stopped there, however. The noble had erased not only the woman's family but also the fiancé's family, wiping them off the face of the earth in a single day.

Once Cain uncovered the truth, he'd acted without hesitation. He'd found the noble and punished him on the spot. That incident marked the first time the slave-born commander of the Imperial Guards killed a high-ranking noble.

"Was it five times after that? The nobles finally shut up after you swished your sword like a madman," Kerra said, then smiled bitterly as memories of the past flickered through his mind. He continued, "There's a reason they called you the Mad Dog of the Imperial Palace, Commander."

"Well, they kept pissing me off. How's that my fault? Blame those bastards, not me," Caron replied bluntly.

"Well, at least in this life, you can do as you please," Kerra said, unsheathing his sword and tossing the scabbard lightly to the ground. He glanced at Caron and smirked. "In this life, you can chop off as many heads as you want."

"I already chopped a few on my way here," Caron replied nonchalantly.

"Of course you did," Kerra muttered. "You're as consistent as ever."

The title of Mad Dog clung to the Commander like a second skin, but his madness always had a target—the corrupt.

Perhaps it was tied to the stories Cain had once shared over drinks, stories of his time as a slave. But there was one thing Kerra knew for certain: That Caron Leston, the once-feared Cain Latorre, was a good person.

"Mad as you might be... You're a good man, Commander. I can vouch for that," Kerra said.

The Commander's fury had never been turned on people. It only ever struck those who had abandoned their personhood. Like now.

"I just hope that vengeance doesn't consume you entirely," Kerra added, his voice quiet but resolute.

"Did you already know there's a chance the Malevolent Emperor might still be alive?" Caron asked.

"I didn't know," Kerra admitted. "But if you're still alive, it's not exactly far-fetched to think that bastard might be too."

His lips twisted into a wry smile as he pointed the tip of his blade toward Caron and said, "Alright, Commander. Just tell me what you need."

There was no way Caron had called for a sword at this late hour without reason. Kerra knew better. And, as if confirming his suspicion, Caron exhaled softly and drew a strange energy from his sword, Guillotine.

Saaaahhh...

Purple smoke began to seep from the blade, its sinister glow making Kerra grimace. He said, "That energy... That's what you were talking about earlier, isn't it?"

"It's the mana of Slaughter," Caron explained. "Until now, I've only kept it sealed inside the blade. I haven't fully absorbed it."

If bloodlust could take a form of mana, this would be it—a dark, oppressive power that clung to the air like a suffocating fog.

"Just looking at that makes me think it's probably terrible for you. Why have you kept it around?" Kerra asked.

Caron smirked, nodding slightly as he said, "To take a bite."

"...After all the hell you went through with the Malevolent Emperor in your previous life, you're seriously still—" Kerra began, but was cut off.

"Watch your words. That time, it was forced on me. This time, it's different," Caron interrupted.

"How is it different?" Kerra asked.

Caron gave his sword a small shake and said, "My sword can absorb dark magic."

"Wait, what? Is that a demonic sword?" Kerra asked.

"This is the sword our founder used," Caron explained.

"Let's keep that little detail from Duke Halo, shall we? As expected of the founder's sword, even its appearance screams 'masterpiece.' It's a legendary weapon, alright," Kerra said, then narrowed his eyes before asking, "So, what do you need me to do?"

"It's simple," Caron replied, his stance shifting as he held his blade in a middle guard position. The tip of Guillotine shimmered with violet smoke, twisting and curling like a living thing.

"I need you to cut the mana of Slaughter into bite-sized pieces. It's a bit early to leave this to the kids," Caron said, his voice laced with a matter-of-fact edge.

"But there are 8-Star knights at Azureocean Castle," Kerra countered, raising a brow.

"Oh, so you're suggesting I march up to the elders of the family and say, 'Excuse me, I'm going to absorb a Demon King's aura, so could you help me with this?' Think they'd be thrilled to oblige, you little bastard?" Caron's sarcasm hit like a slap, his words followed by a low hum.

Whoosh!

The Azure Mana emanating from Caron began to coil around the violet mist. The sinister aura pulsed as if it still possessed a will of its own, releasing a wave of murderous intent that chilled the air.

Kerra felt it prick against his skin, his lips curling into a faint smirk as he remarked, "That's enough bloodlust to turn an ordinary man into a rampaging demon. So, how exactly do you want me to help you with it?"

Caron grinned in amusement and said, "You already know how."

"Ah, of course. My area of expertise," Kerra replied, his voice dripping with mock professionalism.

Whoosh!

A towering wave of mana burst from Kerra, shaking the air around them. His presence became palpable, heavy like a mountain pressing down on the clearing. Amid the crackling tension, he licked his lips, his smile widening.

"Well, I was a bit disappointed earlier that I couldn't give you a proper thrashing. But since you're volunteering now, I'm more than happy to oblige. Though, won't the noise wake the others upstairs?" Kerra asked.

"Who cares? As long as we don't wake Aqua, we're fine," Caron replied without missing a beat.

Kerra adjusted his grip on his sword, studying Caron carefully, and said, "It also looks like you're almost about to reach 7-Star."

"With two 7-Star knights on the other side, I've got to level the playing field somehow. I can't rely on you for everything, can I?" Caron replied.

"Well, aren't you so considerate today? Look how much you've grown, Commander," Kerra said.

At Kerra's words, countless petals began to materialize from his blade, fluttering outward and filling the air. It was Imperial Sword Form 7: Falling Blossoms.

The petals, forged from pure sword energy, swirled in every direction to create a breathtaking yet deadly spectacle. Standing amid the cascade, Kerra locked eyes with Caron and spoke in a low, deliberate tone, "Fifty years' worth of condensed lessons, coming right up. Bite down and brace yourself."

"Let's go with less talking and more attacking. I'm getting sleepy," Caron replied, his tone as dry as ever.

"Just don't come begging me to stop later," Kerra shot back, his smirk sharpening.

Moments later...

Drop, drop!

The petals converged, their deadly brilliance raining down on Caron like a merciless storm.

***

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

On the third day after Caron's group had made contact with Kerra, they arrived at the southern edge of the Great Forest, at the so-called Silent Shore.

"Get moving, you bastards!" one pirate bellowed as the gangplank thudded against the sand.

"The boss said whoever gets off last will get ripped to shreds!" another yelled.

"If you don't want to die, hurry up!"

Just as the elder of Eär Village, Barad, had foreseen, the sea route had opened. The barrier erected by the elves to block the landing had been utterly destroyed. The pirates swarmed onto the beach, unhindered by any resistance.

Bessic, the leader of the White Shark Pirate Crew and the Sixth Hero under the Pirate Queen, watched his men land with a grotesque grin. He turned to Edward, the Fourth Hero, and said, "We'll take the vanguard, Edward."

"Do as you like," Edward replied coldly.

"As we discussed, everyone takes their own spoils. Don't come whining later about dividing things up evenly," Bessic said.

"Bessic, don't forget that we're here under the Queen's orders. The spoils can wait until the mission is complete," Edward said, his tone sharp and unyielding.

Bessic scowled, his gaze fixed on Edward. The man's smaller physique and pale complexion hardly seemed pirate-like.

Cocky little bastard, Bessic thought.

Edward was nothing like him. While Bessic had earned his fearsome reputation dominating the southern seas, Edward was one of the many the Queen had personally recruited. He was an outsider, not a true pirate. What's worse was that he was one of those types who were fiercely loyal to the Queen, willing to throw away his former knighthood to serve her.

That loyalty bled into every member of Edward's crew. They weren't like other pirates; they were elitists. Small in number but meticulously organized, Edward's group operated with military precision, recruiting slaves for rowing and crewing, while his sailors focused on navigation and management.

"Don't forget," Edward said firmly," the Queen ordered us to prioritize securing the hatchling."

The commanding tone grated on Bessic's nerves. Grinding his teeth, he glared at Edward's mustache and sneered. "If you talk like that again, Queen's orders or not, I'll pluck your eyes out and feed them to the fish."

The tension in the cabin thickened instantly. Their lieutenants exchanged uneasy glances, but Edward remained unfazed, calmly replying, "Are you really going to let your pride get in the way of the mission? Pirates like you are beyond my understanding."

"The Queen you serve is a pirate too," Bessic shot back.

"She is far beyond the likes of common pirates. Her ambitions surpass anything you could comprehend," Edward said.

"Ha! What nonsense. A pirate's a pirate. Let me give you some advice," Bessic said with a chuckle. Flexing his thick muscles, he stepped closer to Edward, spitting a wad of phlegm onto the floor beside him. He said, "If you've decided to be a pirate, act like one. Stop pretending to be some righteous knight."

It was a blatant insult, but Edward only sighed and met Bessic's gaze, then said, "There's no reasoning with you, is there? If not for the Queen's orders, you'd already be dead."

Bessic laughed, his voice rough and mocking. "For a lapdog, you've got some restraint. I expected you to come at me, foaming at the mouth." He reached for the enormous battle axe resting beside him and said, "Stand back and watch. I'll show you what a real pirate is."

"The Queen instructed us to wait until the nagas weakened the elemental spirits," Edward reminded him, his voice steady.

"Trust those fish-headed freaks?" Bessic scoffed, gripping the handle of his battle axe. "It's enough for their only job to be weakening the elemental spirits. Queen this, Queen that—always the Queen! Why wait when I can show them what real power looks like?" Bessic said.

With their elemental spirits diminished, the elves were no longer an obstacle. To Bessic, they were nothing more than easy spoils, waiting to be claimed.

After all, this wasn't Galad or any other major elven stronghold. It was just a remote village. There was no way anyone of real strength would be there. A swift raid, a quick haul of spoils, and this mission would be over in no time.

Bessic glanced back at Edward, a mocking grin appearing on his lips. "I'm not a coward like you," he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Without waiting for a reply, Bessic laughed and jumped up in the air. His powerful legs propelled him across the deck as he bounded over several of the ships heading toward the shore. As he landed lightly on the beach, his boots kicked up sand.

The pirates who had landed earlier instinctively raised their weapons, swallowing hard. The look on their leader's face wasn't just intense—it was downright ominous.

"Hmmm." Bessic let out a low sigh as he surveyed his crew. Slowly, he lifted his enormous battle axe high above his head and roared, "Anyone who captures an elf gets to keep them! You hear me, you morons? Sell them, kill them, eat them—I don't care! They're yours to do whatever you want with!"

At those words, the beach erupted into chaos.

"Ooooooooh!"

"Boss! You mean it?"

The pirates cheered wildly, their faces alight with greed and ambition. For many of them, this was the opportunity of a lifetime—a chance to turn their fortunes around.

Watching the fevered excitement spread among his men, Bessic nodded, a satisfied grin plastered on his face.

This is what being a pirate is all about, he thought.

The promise of overwhelming rewards—that was the essence of piracy. The drive to claim those rewards by any means necessary, without hesitation or scruples, defined who they were.

"Let's pull off something big, you crazy bastards!" Bessic bellowed, his voice booming across the shore.

At that moment, not a single one of them knew what lay ahead.