WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ The Reluctant Imperialist

Chapter 182

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Aftermath

In front of Mason Industries headquarters.

An armored vehicle slid into the heart of the ruins, the place blanketed in explosion debris and piles of corpses.

Had he been watching from somewhere far away? Had he never doubted Falkenrat's victory for a second?

The car door opened, and Hector Mason stepped out.

"......What is this?"

Hector's face was already twisted with rage. His eyes were fixed less on the half-destroyed headquarters and more on the executed bodies of Outcast.

"Maximilian. Do you even understand what you've done?"

Veins bulged in Hector's neck. I simply wrapped my longsword in bandages, then retrieved it and rested it against my back.

Beheading did not suit that bastard. He deserved a far more painful future.

"This is what His Majesty wanted. Those bastards had to be kept alive and used for experiments."

Hector kept ranting, but honestly I could barely hear him.

Before the battle with Outcast, I had already injected about half a dose of super stim pack in case of unexpected variables.

"You have defied His Majesty's supreme command."

The advantage of super stim pack was the boost in physical ability, but the drawback came from that same boost. My amplified body could not fully endure the strain, the burden flooded in, overheated brain cells flashed, and memories from my old life came back vividly.

That was why I could not stop remembering Outcast even while I executed them.

"Maximilian of Ebenholtz. This is high treason."

Before I realized it, I was already right in front of Hector. I looked down at his small frame.

"......"

I stared at his face for a moment, then let out a low scoff.

"You still don't understand."

Blood vessels burst across Hector's eyes.

This man had already lost his reason.

"You're the one who doesn't understand."

Pathetic. He still could not grasp the situation and kept barking.

Still, if he did not understand, I only had to crush him as he was.

I had already used helicopters to evacuate the researchers from Mason Industries' rooftop.

I had secured everything, material evidence and human evidence alike.

"His Majesty-"

"His Majesty."

Hector tried to invoke the Emperor again, but I cut him off.

"......Hah."

I was just annoyed.

I had no desire to waste words on vermin like this. Long explanations were dull. Pointless effort, no fun.

Instead, I reached out and slapped him across the face.

"-Ghk!"

Hector Mason's body flew back pathetically. A knight's physical strength was enough to crush an ordinary man's face with a single blow. His cheek tore open as he rolled on the ground, and shattered teeth clattered across the asphalt.

"Y-you bastard......!"

Hector staggered backward, face drenched in blood.

"Y-you, ghk, son, khh!"

He could not even form words. The wheezing wind through his broken teeth sounded ridiculous.

His secretary and bodyguards rushed over, but even they did not dare point weapons at me.

"Y-you, you! You're a traitor! His Majesty made me, made me-!"

I mocked Hector as he clung to the ground and spat nonsense.

"That position suits you."

"W-what-!"

I ignored his flailing and moved on.

One person remained.

Hector had already counted the bodies sprawled across the ground too.

Four out of five.

Filty was missing.

Hector Mason and I both already knew where she would go.

* * *

Underground city, Tavern Qwanda.

Filty returned to the hideout and looked around the empty interior.

"......"

No one was there.

Not Master Qwanda, who had always welcomed her with a warm smile. Not the noisy customers who used to clink glasses. Not the comrades who gathered around, saying her comics were fun.

Now they were all gone.

With trembling hands, Filty picked up the pages she had drawn.

[ Elje: Meden...... you can stop now...... ]

[ Meden: ...... ]

She reread those lines and their final moments again and again, tracing over those who would never come back.

Filty forced the rising emotions back down.

She crushed sorrow so deep she could barely breathe.

Bang!

Suddenly, the tavern door burst open. Filty flinched and turned.

"Filty."

People with masks covering their faces. Probably Mason Industries private troops. They poured in. Filty looked at them with half-resigned eyes.

"Is that right? Filty......"

One trooper paused and pulled out a document. He looked like he knew almost nothing about them.

Filty answered for him.

"......No family name."

Filty was just Filty.

Meden was just Meden, Elje was just Elje, Kade was just Kade, and Pain was just Pain.

Because those were the names they gave each other.

Because they had no house to belong to.

"I see."

The troopers pulled out electric shock devices.

They had come already knowing she had no lethal combat ability.

But she had a weapon too.

A grenade for self-detonation.

If she was going to die, taking more of them with her would be better.

One step, then two.

She gripped the grenade as they slowly approached, and just before they could take a third step.

---.

An unidentified silver arc surged in first.

Srrk-

A silent flash split the air. The troopers' necks flew up all at once.

"Uh......"

Filty stared blankly ahead.

Blood geysers erupted as their bodies collapsed. Beyond them, wavering in the haze, was the silhouette of a man.

Filty's hand went slack.

-Shaaa.

The comic pages in her arms spilled to the floor.

"N-no......!"

She crouched in panic and tried to gather them, but the blood-soaked pages kept slipping through her fingers.

-Splash.

A bloodstained military boot stepped on a page without care.

"Stand up."

A frost-cold voice. Filty trembled and raised her head.

"......"

It was him.

The blond knight who had noticed her observation and butchered all her comrades, Maximilian Ebenholtz.

"Filty of Outcast."

Her comrades' enemy stood before her.

Close enough to reach if she stretched out her hand.

But there was no way.

She could not even scratch him.

Even if she set this grenade off, only she would die a pointless death.

"Filty. Is that right?"

At his dry question, Filty moved her swollen lips and answered with effort.

"......Yeah."

Then Maximilian bent one knee and picked up a page from the blood-soaked comic.

[ Maximilian: Mason Industries will collapse. ]

As he read it, one corner of his mouth twisted.

[ Maximilian: Because I obtained evidence of illegal human experimentation under Imperial law. So bastards like you never appear again. ]

"You have an unusual ability."

Thud.

He set his longsword on the table. He placed the stained comic page there too, then asked,

"I'll ask you. Do you intend to resist me?"

The man who had cut down all her comrades asked her that.

"......"

Deep resentment still swayed in Filty's eyes.

The final images of her comrades that she had drawn rose in her mind.

[ Maximilian: Do you have anything to say? ]

[ Meden: Ah. Yeah. I do. Feels weird saying this the first time we meet, but...... fuck you-! ]

[ Elje: Go fuck yourself, you moron slave of the Empire! ]

The knight gripping his sword as he looked at those two.

[ Maximilian: ......Right. ]

But when he beheaded them, the smile Filty had drawn on his face...

[ Maximilian: You worked hard. ]

It was never joy.

It was sorrow.

"......What you said there."

Either way, Maximilian had definitely killed her comrades. That alone made him Filty's enemy. Still, she had one wish left.

"Was it sincere?"

Filty held out the page.

[ Maximilian: Mason Industries will collapse. I will bring them down. ]

Maximilian answered without a moment of hesitation.

"On my honor."

Filty drew in a breath.

If that was true, then for now.

She still had one reason to keep living a little longer.

"If I say I won't resist you?"

Maximilian's gaze tilted quietly.

"You were not caught in the act of directly participating in terror under Imperial law. Your treatment falls under my authority, as the knight who secures your custody."

"......"

Filty clenched both fists.

She hesitated for a long time, then let out a deep sigh and nodded.

She would do it.

Maximilian asked,

"Are you fine even if you're not with them?"

"......I want to see those bastards fall."

Filty sorted out her priorities.

"Meden, Elje, Pain, Kade......"

A knight did a knight's work, and Outcast did theirs.

As Outcast, they had always aimed at a greater cause that came before their own deaths.

"They would want to watch those bastards' ruin too."

Killing intent settled into her voice.

"Only then...... only then......"

She could not go on. Her heart held an ocean. Tears welled up and fell, drop by drop, into the pool of blood.

Maximilian watched her in silence.

......

Qwanda Snopf. He had sold Elje's plan to Mason Industries exactly as it was, then left the underground city and got into their vehicle.

On the promised day, at the promised time, they were supposed to head to the top hospital in Imperial Central.

In his arms lay his little daughter, breathing in ragged gasps.

"Just a little more, just hold on a little more......"

Mana intoxication syndrome.

A disease where the body's mana receptors are abnormally small from birth, so the more ambient mana is taken in, the more the blood vessels burn, ending in death.

When Qwanda first heard that diagnosis, he realized his daughter could not survive in the underground city, where polluted mana hung thick in the air.

But it was different on the surface.

If she got surgery at proper medical facilities, and kept receiving expensive prescriptions afterward, she could live.

In other words, if he had enough money and the right to use a high-end hospital, he could save his child.

"Just hold on a little longer. Then you can live like a normal child too."

In truth, life-support treatment had already been provided by Mason Industries.

So now that his daughter was still breathing because of them, all that was left was surgery for complete recovery...

"......?"

Qwanda looked out the window.

Suddenly, something felt wrong.

The direction was strange.

At the intersection just now, they were supposed to turn right.

That led to Imperial Central, and the hospital was there.

But the driver kept going straight west on a deserted outer road.

"Excuse me. I think you took the wrong road......"

No answer came. The driver and the front passenger only glanced at the rearview mirror.

"Excuse me!"

Qwanda shouted urgently.

"This isn't the right way!"

The men's brows furrowed.

"Who, who are you people!"

"Ah. You're noisy."

A threatening voice. The passenger slid a hand inside his coat, and Qwanda's breathing turned rough.

Screeeeeech-!

Then someone appeared in the middle of the road.

The driver yanked the wheel. The vehicle lurched hard and stopped.

"Ah, this fucking bastard......"

"......Should we handle him?"

The driver and passenger exchanged looks. The passenger drew a pistol and stepped out.

"W-where are we?!"

Qwanda called out to the driver in that instant.

The man turned toward him with an annoyed face and muttered,

"Let's stay quiet, yeah? We both know what this is."

The moment those harsh words left his mouth.

Swaaaak-!

A longsword shot in from outside. It pierced the windshield, shattered the man's skull, then suddenly flew back through the air and settled into someone's hand.

"......"

Qwanda lost his voice. The man who stepped out never came back, and the man in the driver's seat was already dead.

Silence settled. Only the fading breath of his child grew louder.

-Tap. Tap.

Footsteps approached from ahead.

Before Qwanda could regain his senses, clack.

The rear door opened.

"Qwanda Snopf. Is that correct?"

"......"

Qwanda, pale as death, stared at the man outside the door. The first thing he saw was moonlit golden eyes locked on him.

Qwanda knew who he was.

A knight of the Empire, Maximilian Ebenholtz.

"Come out."

He gave the order. The weight of those words pressed against Qwanda's ears, but Qwanda shook his head. He held his child tighter.

"M-my daughter, my daughter is dying-"

"I know."

A gentle smile rose on Maximilian's lips.

With a politeness completely unlike what Qwanda had expected, he held out his hand.

"You made a difficult decision for the Empire. I prepared a fitting gift for you."

* * *

Hector Mason, owner of Mason Industries, sent a direct report to the Imperial Palace.

He reported in detail the violent acts committed by Maximilian Ebenholtz, acts bordering on rebellion, saying Maximilian had defied His Majesty's supreme command and slaughtered all the important test subjects.

He even added a grievance, claiming Maximilian had struck his face and left him with near-paralytic damage.

The result of that petition, poured out like blood, appeared at once.

"......So that's what happened?"

Estio, Princess Justine's secretary and closest aide, came to the Mason estate in the western Empire.

Hector Mason glared at him and ground his teeth.

"That's right. That arrogant brat killed every single valuable test subject His Majesty wanted."

With a strange expression, Estio gestured at Hector.

"So?"

"There is still hope. One of the test subjects is still alive-"

"And if Maximilian tries to kill that last one too?"

At Estio's question, Hector's pupils flashed like a viper's.

"That would be undeniable rebellion against the Imperial House, with no room for excuse."

"......Hm."

Hector looked as if he wanted exactly that outcome. Estio fell quiet in thought.

"Anyway. I will deliver this matter to Her Highness the Princess."

Estio slowly stood up. Hector, still seething with hatred, hissed through his teeth.

"Make sure you do! You must deliver it!"

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