Chapter 586
Roland City is Burning
Chapter 586 Roland City is Burning
Just as night fell over Colin Manor, the night sky over Roland, upstream on the River Run, was ablaze with the glow of fire.
The burning and wailing of this ancient capital were reflected on the cold river surface, while the bullets and Molotov cocktails flying toward the royal prison carried the anger of millions.
“You traitors! You took Campbell’s gun and bullets and rebelled against your king! You will all be sent to the gallows!” a royal guard roared from behind the barricade, but as soon as he poked his head out of his cover, a bullet ripped off his epaulets.
The power of the Roxay 1054 rifle was so great that ordinary superhumans dared not show themselves easily.
Behind every window might be a dark gun barrel, and those gun barrels have been aimed at them for who knows how long.
Someone pushed a cannon into the street, and a grenade exploded through the barricade. The flying shrapnel instantly sent the Royal Captain, who possessed steel-level strength, flying away.
While the strength of superhumans is formidable, they are not invincible.
They will die just as easily if they are shot.
It will hurt just like being burned.
As the royal guards fled in all directions amidst the flames, the civilians, huddled behind cover, fired back at them while roaring in anger.
"Traitors? You and the king behind you are the traitors! You betrayed Saint Sith long ago, betrayed your own oath, how dare you use the word 'traitor'?"
"You're the ones who should be on the gallows!"
"For Ryan! For the glory of the Knights' Land! There are no cowards among the people of the Rushing River!"
A new offensive has begun.
Despite the rising anger of the citizens, the retreating Royal Guard continued to hold on, with the tomb keepers standing behind them.
"Where are the city garrison? Why haven't they arrived yet!" Sir Skedkin grabbed his subordinate by the collar, spitting as he cursed.
The subordinate, who had been sprayed with spittle, trembled and turned as white as paper. It took him a long time to speak, his voice trembling.
"They...did not leave the military camp."
"They haven't left the camp?!" Skedkin's expression changed slightly. "What do they mean? Are they planning a rebellion?"
The subordinate did not dare to utter a sound.
Strictly speaking, the city garrison is His Majesty's man, and their loyalty is no less than that of the Royal Guard, who are directly under His Majesty's command. However, during the great fire last winter, the King distributed the fire-fighting cake, which originally belonged to the guild and the city garrison, to the Royal Guard and Baron Wickton's White Gloves.
This incident caused the morale of the city defense troops to plummet, leaving everyone from the officers to the subordinates without food.
That meager military pay was simply not enough to feed them.
Theoden used all the gold coins in the treasury to support the civil war in the Duchy of Campbell. Baron Wickton probably never expected that the city's garrison would be needed, so everyone forgot about them.
From that time onward, the city's defense forces in Roland began to slack off.
The entire city's black market was a revenue-generating window they created with a blind eye, and every prostitute and their madam were paying tribute to them.
He didn't think these good-for-nothings wanted to rebel; in his view, they were simply corrupted by money and desire and had lost the ability to fight.
Aren't you Royal Guards supposed to be quite capable?
Then you guys should do more.
Anyway, you guys took the money.
The most pitiful one was Sir Geedkin. He did receive some benefits from Newcastle, but the lion's share went to Baron Wickton.
Later, Newcastle United and the Lombardy family got together, and his ranking dropped from second to third.
Now he had to lead his brothers to do all the work for the city's defense forces and bear the brunt of the citizens' growing anger.
Yes, the Wickton Baron and the Lambane family disappeared at this time, and apparently they didn't think it was their problem.
The entire city of Roland is now burning.
After sending his men to the front lines, Sir Skadkin made the sign of the cross in prayer, silently reciting the name of Saint Sith.
Saint Sis above—
Now only you can save this city from its current turmoil.
Clearly, given Sir Skadkin's status, he would not have known that Bishop Claude had already written to the Holy City.
The Holy City has long since abandoned this desecrated land.
Outside the prison, the situation is turbulent.
Inside the prison, however, the scene was quite different.
This fortress, which once symbolized the authority of the laws of the Kingdom of Ryan, is no longer simply a prison for criminals; instead, it has been completely transformed into a magic workshop.
On the cold, damp floor tiles, countless inscriptions emitted a crimson glow. A lingering stench filled everyone's nostrils, making every magic apprentice who passed by look like a butcher.
The guards on duty were trembling with fear, not daring to meet the eyes of these men in gray robes, for fear of being captured and forced to participate in their experiments for offending them with their gaze.
Although they haven't done it before, who can guarantee they won't be the first?
When the towering mountains thousands of miles away began to devour people, they could still treat it as a lighthearted joke. But when someone actually ate people right in front of them, not one of these good-for-nothings was left trembling with fear.
“These damned insects are getting louder and louder…” Standing by the window of the towering watchtower, Cassius stared at the street ablaze with a gloomy expression.
This winter is colder than usual, but the fuel shortage seems to be the least of Roland's problems, and the peasants have started to go out into the streets to keep warm.
The deafening shouts of battle seemed to shatter the snow in the sky, and the enraged insurgents had already set fire to the watchtowers surrounding the prison.
Although most of them carried rudimentary weapons or even farm tools, the sheer number of people surging in made this isolated prison seem precarious.
Cassius withdrew his gaze, turned around, and walked expressionlessly to the foot of the tower, entering a gloomy and empty cell.
There, a young mage dressed in a grey robe of the School of Law stood before an obsidian stele, in which a huge glass container was embedded.
The container was filled with murky liquid, and countless distorted faces were faintly visible within it, like imprisoned vengeful ghosts.
“Lord Eddie,” Cassius frowned, his tone clearly displeased, “I don’t understand what we’re waiting for. Why not just use magic to wipe out that bunch of reckless thugs outside?”
The young mage, known as Eddie, looked to be no more than twenty years old, with the paleness and arrogance characteristic of the scholars.
He answered casually as he adjusted the pressure valve of the spirit container.
"Clean up? Why clean up?"
Cassius chuckled.
"Are we supposed to wait until these ants break in before we make a move?"
Eddie didn't turn around, but spoke in a nonchalant tone.
"Lord Deathstroke, you seem not to have grasped our purpose. The killing itself is meaningless; what we want is not their flesh and blood, but their souls."
Is there any difference?
“Of course there are, and the difference is huge. Only a paste simmered in the flames of fear and despair can fully ferment… Ah, though I think even if I explain it this clearly, you still only have a vague understanding.” Eddie didn’t like this savage collaborator.
In contrast, Mr. Marius, with whom he had only had a few brief encounters, was clearly more studious and intelligent.
It was for this reason that Lord Omon revealed to him some of the secret research of the Soul School, things that were absolute secrets unknown even to the Empire.
Unfortunately, no one expected that the Kingdom of Ryan would encounter such a huge problem. The crisis, triggered by the impotent rage of mortals, turned out to be the ant that broke the dam.
Cassius narrowed his eyes.
He also disliked the magician, but with the entire city of Roland ablaze, Xuebang was the only force he could rely on.
"What about my soldiers?"
Cassius gestured with his chin toward the door behind him. "The gravediggers' elite are bleeding outside. They won't be able to hold out for long."
"Your soldiers?"
Eddie chuckled, as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world.
The young mage turned around, sizing up the intelligence chief of the Kingdom of Ryan, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
"Lord Cassius, you are a future god. Things have come to this point, do you still need to care about the lives of a few ants?"
Cassius paused for a moment, stared at Eddie for a few seconds, his previously stiff facial muscles gradually relaxed, and finally he let out a soft laugh.
"Hehe...that's true."
Cassius loosened his grip on the sword, and a confident smile returned to his face as he raised his index finger to loosen his collar.
indeed--
He thought he cared a lot, but then he realized that he didn't need to care about those ants at all.
The so-called elites are nothing more than superhumans who are slightly stronger than ordinary people; in the face of true power, they are nothing more than stepping stones.
As an extraordinary being about to ascend to the throne of gods, he simply hasn't yet adapted to that new, lofty perspective.
Seeing the humanity rapidly fading from Cassius's face, Eddie continued slowly and deliberately.
"In fact, you should thank those rioters outside."
Cassius: "Reason?"
Eddie: "The reason is as you can see. Thanks to their indiscriminate attacks like mad dogs, Grand Master Hagmer of the Lionheart Knights was kept in the palace and had no time to deal with the 'treacherous ministers' in his eyes... Isn't that right?"
Cassius glanced at him with interest.
He was absolutely right.
Theodon Devalo's fear of death exceeded everyone's expectations. Originally, everyone thought that His Majesty would sit idly by and watch the Gravediggers and the Lionheart Knights fight each other, until the appearance of a mysterious assassin completely changed His Majesty's mind.
That guy was elusive, lurking on the edge of the palace, eliminating the core of the tomb keeper's forces, making Theodon restless and unable to eat or sleep.
The Lionheart Knights were recalled to the palace, and Theodore forbade Hagmer from leaving his side, demanding that the demigod protect him at all times.
And it was at this time that the rebels' power suddenly grew.
They, who originally rebelled with pitchforks and smoothbore guns, suddenly found themselves armed with thousands of the most advanced standard-issue rifles.
As for the prison? It was already completely blocked by tens of thousands of angry citizens, and the small number of troops that Hagmer sent out simply couldn't get in.
From this perspective, the mob did indeed become their human shield.
"You seem to know us quite well."
Eddie said calmly.
"That's for sure. I know you better than you know yourself."
Cassius: "Can I know when it started?"
Eddie said with a smile.
“From the time of the Isaac dynasty, which you yourselves have forgotten… but those things are too long ago, and we have changed many things over the past thousand years. At first we were your guardians, and now we are your ‘enablers’.”
The one who makes the decision...
Cassius savored the word, a smile playing on his lips.
He roughly understood what Xuebang wanted to do: they wanted to recreate a mechanical god and then use this piece to fight against the Os Empire.
It's really fun.
Even the most obedient dog under the empire's command has now betrayed the faith in the Holy Light. Perhaps this vast empire is finally approaching the end of its lifespan.
Cassius felt little unease about the mission he was about to shoulder. After all, Saint Sith was dead, and no one in the entire city of Roland questioned it; they had long been abandoned by the Holy Light in the endless night.
If that's the case, he, who is about to become a god, might not necessarily lose. Not to mention that he has the support of the Academy behind him, and the entire mage tower on the snowfield will become a supporting force for him.
And what does an empire have?
They only have one war that has been going on for a thousand years without ending. The demons of the Demon City have long coveted the fertile soil on the ground and are thinking about returning to take revenge at all times.
They had absolutely no chance of winning.
Having figured this out, Cassius's mind returned to the upcoming ceremony.
He glanced at the constantly flashing crimson runes at his feet and spoke with a hint of impatience, "My last question: how long will it take for the ritual to begin? Do you have enough offerings? The fuel we stored has run out. If not, I can take advantage of the chaos to capture another batch."
Eddie smiled faintly upon hearing this and said in a nonchalant voice.
"No need for all that trouble. The magic circle beneath your feet is connected to the city's ley lines. Haven't you realized that yet? The offerings were already on the altar."
When the Royal Guard dragged the first stonemason into the alley to execute him—
The ceremony has already begun.
He simply hadn't found Cassius yet, because at that time they had chosen Marius, the "hand of the former king" who died in the Ten Thousand Mountains.
Upon hearing Eddie's voice, Cassius was slightly taken aback. Even the ruthless "Deathstroke" couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine at the sheer scale of this undertaking.
He instinctively asked a question.
How many people will die?
It wasn't out of sympathy; he simply needed to understand the cost of the ritual.
Eddie turned around and answered casually.
"About 100,000 people."
Upon hearing this number, Cassius finally felt relieved.
The permanent population of Roland City and its surrounding areas is close to three million. If you include the people that idiot Hagmer brought back, the number should be even larger than they know.
They sacrificed the lives of a mere 100,000 civilians to create a true god who stands above demigods.
This deal is incredibly worthwhile.
“Not many.” Cassius shrugged, his tone relaxed, as if trying to convince himself. “A plague or a famine would take away more than that number.”
Upon hearing this, Eddie paused in his actions, raised an eyebrow with amusement, and looked at Cassius as if he were a fool.
"...I think you've misunderstood something. I was referring to the people who would survive in the end."
Cassius's expression faltered slightly, and his voice became serious.
"Isn't this... a bit too much?"
The death of 100,000 would be acceptable, but with only 100,000 left... how could he rule such a vast territory?
However, Eddie simply downplayed his hesitation.
"Every great miracle is forged with blood... Actually, I don't think it's that much. Three million died, but you still have nineteen million, right? Out with the old, in with the new. With a little effort, you can be reborn soon."
Cassius's Adam's apple bobbed, his face unsure of what expression to make. He gripped the sword hilt, then loosened and clenched it again, finally managing to force a sickly and twisted smile onto his face.
"You seem to know quite a lot about us..."
Eddie smiled faintly.
Didn't I just tell you that?
“We have been watching you for a long time.”
……
Beneath Roland City lies an abandoned wine cellar.
This place was once the printing base for the "Encyclopedists" brochures, and now it serves as the temporary headquarters of the National Assembly.
The dark, damp air was thick with the smell of mildew and sweat. The kerosene lamp hanging from the rafters swayed precariously, casting anxious shadows on the walls.
A huge map of Roland City hung in the center of the wall, covered with countless red and blue flags.
Red represents the districts controlled by the rebels, and blue represents the royal army's defensive line.
Judging solely from the area controlled and the scale of their deployment, the insurgents clearly had the upper hand. However, faced with the current situation, Marshal Fayet, appointed by the National Assembly, was far from optimistic.
He took a deep drag on his cigarette until the butt burned his fingers, then calmly stubbed it out.
Although the National Assembly now commands a large following, with tens of thousands of armed militia surrounding the Royal Prison, Fayette, as a professional soldier, understands better than anyone the terror of those who have risen to the highest ranks.
Especially Hagmer, the "Radiant Knight," who is an army in himself. Although he has sympathy for the people, it doesn't mean he would betray his oath and family for them.
The same applies to tomb keepers.
They somehow obtained a large amount of "holy water" and cultivated a large number of silver-level and even gold-level superhumans.
If it weren't for a mysterious assassin, none of the high-ranking members of the National Assembly would have escaped; they would all have been executed by the dagger hidden in the king's sleeve.
The key issue right now is the royal prison on the banks of the rushing river.
The citizens of Roland City who were still observing all regarded that place as a flag. If they could pull it down, the unshakable crown would show signs of loosening... and more people would join them.
Moreover, according to intelligence provided by an informant within the Royal Guard, the mysterious holy water seemed to have originated from that prison.
They used human infants as a medicinal ingredient to filter and purify spiritual matter, creating something called soul matter. It was said to be an omnipotent wish-granting machine, a liquefied deity... and could even grant mortals immortality.
Just as Fayette was staring at the prison on the map in deep thought, a shrill scream suddenly rang out without warning.
Immediately afterwards, the passageway outside the door was filled with the dull thud of heavy objects falling to the ground and the sound of chaotic footsteps!
"Run! Marshal! They are—ah!"
The sound of swords piercing flesh cut off the shrill screams.
Before anyone inside could react, the three-centimeter-thick oak door was kicked open, sending splinters flying like shrapnel!
"boom--!"
Before the dust had settled, three tall, slender figures entered the basement like ghosts.
They wore black cloaks, held silver longswords, and had a badge shaped like a bronze bell tattooed on their chests—the emblem of the "death knell," and also the emblem of the gravediggers today!
The guard standing at the door immediately drew his gun, but before his index finger could touch the trigger, it was severed by a flash of silver light.
"Ahhh!" The guard screamed and fell to the ground, clutching his bleeding hand.
The tomb keeper who wielded the sword simply walked over him casually.
The oppressive aura of a Gold-level expert was released in an instant, causing everyone in the room to hold their breath, their throats feeling as if they were glued shut.
A bead of cold sweat trickled down Fayette's forehead.
What terrifying strength!
How did this guy find this place?!
As he observed the head gravedigger, the gravedigger was also watching him with a mocking gaze, like a fox toying with its prey.
"Look what we found? A rat hiding in a burrow. Your men are out there dying, and you're here smoking... Is that appropriate?"
Fayette reacted extremely quickly.
The moment the other party spoke, he had already drawn the revolver from his waist and quickly pulled the trigger—this was the latest weapon smuggled from Thunder City to Roland City, capable of emptying the magazine in a very short time!
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Three alchemical bullets were fired at the leader's vital points!
However, what appears as fast as lightning to ordinary people is laughably slow to a superhuman with gold-level strength.
The tomb keeper didn't even swing his sword; he merely shifted his body slightly and caught the attack with a blur of motion.
Three bullets struck the wall outside the door. The inscriptions on the bullets were activated, sparks flew, but it was all for naught!
"Too slow, Your Excellency Marshal."
The gravedigger smiled contemptuously, looking at the gun barrel shrouded in smoke and the officers around him, their faces ashen and unable to move.
"Although I don't know who gave you this toy, it's clear it can't save you."
Fayette's heart sank to the bottom.
Is this the insurmountable gap between mortals and the extraordinary...?
Facing three Gold-level assassins, he didn't even have the right to take them all down with him.
He was not afraid of death, but the thought that after his death, the citizens of Roland would face the endless night alone filled him with a strong sense of resentment.
Saint Sith...
Why is it that those with a conscience are always the first to die, while those who deserve to die are able to climb to the top, stepping over mountains of corpses and seas of bones?
Seeing that the rat was too frightened to speak, the gravedigger gradually lost interest in teasing his prey and raised his blood-stained sword once more.
"It's over, you bunch of lowly people."
However, just as the longsword was about to sever Fayette's head, a sudden change occurred!
A shadow deeper than darkness rose without warning from the shadow beneath the gravedigger's feet, as if the calm, still shadow had suddenly come to life and transformed into a man-eating monster.
There is no spell.
There wasn't a single wasted word.
The jet-black dagger, like a venomous snake, pierced the heart of the gold-level expert from behind.
"puff--"
A soft sound.
The lead tomb keeper stared in disbelief, his longsword raised high, and died, coughing up blood.
The toxins numbed his nerves.
He didn't even have a chance to turn around and see who killed him before he was killed by his own shadow!
The other two tomb guardians were terrified and hurriedly drew their swords to defend themselves.
However, the moment their hands touched the sword, a thin line of blood appeared on their throats as they were slashed to death by the silent dagger!
In less than a second, all three Gold-level gravekeepers who had baffled the National Assembly command were killed!
Fayette held the gun stiffly, his finger on the trigger, but he couldn't bring himself to press it.
He didn't even see what happened; he only felt a blur before his eyes, and those arrogant assassins turned into corpses.
The officers around them were the same.
Their eyes were wide open, their arms trembling as they held their revolvers, hesitant, unsure whether to aim them at their temples or at the eerie shadow.
It seems like none of it makes any sense?
The shadow at the doorway slowly dissipated, gradually transforming into a human figure.
He was a gentleman wearing a bowler hat and a large black trench coat, with the brim of the hat pulled low in a sophisticated manner.
Just before the blood was about to stain his leather shoes, he took a casual step forward, the sound of his soft heels hitting the ground breaking the silence of the room.
Fayet swallowed hard and asked in a trembling voice.
"Who are you?"
Faced with those hesitant gun barrels, Thanos merely glanced at him calmly, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
"You may call me Shadow."
“Shadow? Who’s behind you? Edward? The Kingdom of Rhodes? The Academy? Or… the Empire?” Fayet’s lips moved, the last word being something he made up on the spot.
To be honest, Roland City has now become an arena for various forces to contend with, and he can't tell how many forces are behind it all.
In this respect, the National Assembly may not necessarily have more intelligence than Sir Skadkin of the Royal Guard.
This is also the most helpless situation for ordinary people.
In any case, the word "empire" really amused Thanos, but he didn't have time to joke with the Demon King's "chess pieces."
Xuebang's intervention has already thrown the situation out of balance.
He had just received news that the Demon King was preparing to take action personally—it seemed that the Demon King had finally finished his preparations behind the scenes.
Thanos's shoulders trembled slightly, not out of fear of the Demon King. Quite the opposite, it was a tremor of excitement!
He suppressed the excitement and bloodlust in his eyes, looked at Marshal Fayet, whose eyes were filled with doubt, and spoke in a calm tone.
You don't need to know.
"If you don't want to die, follow me."
(End of this chapter)