Chapter 163: Act 96 – The Fall (Part 1)
The battle had long since ended. Conrad, along with the dark cultists and the Dark Priest, inspected the battlefield strewn with corpses. White smoke from the embers curled into the air, and the ground was littered with the dead. The bodies of dark-robed cultists, demons, and mercenaries lay everywhere; just moments ago, they had still been alive in this world. Now, as blood cooled in their veins, their skin turned into a gelatinous mass, resembling a pile of molds. He moved a few steps and turned over the body of a mercenary clad in leather armor, who let out a soft groan. The demon leader frowned and thrust his sword into the mercenary, ending his life.
Conrad raised his head and said impatiently, “No, the only heir of the Grand Duke of Luun isn’t here. That guy Makarolo—”
“Since you know him so well, why bother chasing him into battle?” the Dark Priest replied in a grim tone. “We lost many men, all because of that tall guy around Makarolo.”
“No investment, no gain?” Conrad raised his head and grinned bloodthirstily, licking his lips. He pulled his bloodied sword from the corpse and shouted at a few subordinates nearby, “Bring the remaining captives here!”
A few trembling gray wolf mercenaries were soon brought forward. In the earlier fight, these men had fought like the bravest warriors. But away from battle, the halo of courage faded, leaving them powerless to resist. Especially after witnessing their comrades being gruesomely devoured by demons, they realized their strength could not dictate fate.
Understanding this brought forth a paralyzing fear of the unknown.
Among the five was a white-haired youth known to Brendel, who looked scornfully at his pale-faced companions. He had stayed behind to cover Yula and the others’ escape, so being captured was to be expected. He raised his head to see the guy named Conrad—whom they had thought was merely the leader of a paper card mercenary group, their adversary—but to his surprise, the guy named Brendel had been right: they were not just colluding with the Dark Cultists but were also the minions and dogs of the Shepherd.
This guy named Conrad was about the same age as Brendel. The mere thought of Brendel made his teeth clench; nobody had dared to discipline him that way except for his father, making it a disgrace that made him grit his teeth. Meanwhile, Leidi had already come to view both this guy and Brendel as a similar breed, both equally despicable, casting him the most disdainful look in an attempt to provoke his anger.
“As long as he comes looking for trouble, I can humiliate him properly and show those worthless guys the courage that a gray wolf mercenary should have.”
He schemed internally but didn’t expect that when Conrad caught his gaze, he paused briefly, then merely smiled, shifting his focus to another mercenary.
“Do you look down on me?”
Leidi seethed with anger, struggling to advance. But his shoulder was firmly held by a dark mercenary, leaving him unable to move. Even cursing was impossible as his mouth was bound, only allowing muffled sounds to escape. He watched as Conrad approached the rightmost mercenary and whispered something to him. The mercenary froze for a moment, then shook his head with great difficulty.
He thought Conrad would at least question him further, but unexpectedly, the demon merely shook his head, and his companion was dragged away without a fuss. Leidi could not see what was behind him, but from the piercing scream emitted by that mercenary, he could imagine it wasn’t a pleasant destination. Then he heard clattering sounds, as if bones were being extracted from flesh, and entrails slipping out—horrific screams gradually lost their strength, morphing into wails, and eventually into crackling, hoarse sounds—before culminating in a deep growl.
When the sounds finally ceased, the remaining mercenaries couldn’t help but shiver in unison.
Conrad then moved to the next mercenary, asking something. That mercenary was so frightened he simply knelt on the ground, at a loss for words. The young mercenary leader shook his head in disappointment, straightened up, and stabbed the mercenary in the eye, then kicked him away.
He clapped his hands and ordered his subordinates to drag the body away.
Three mercenaries remained, including Leidi.
The white-haired youth watched his two companions, who were now nearly in a state of shock, as if they only now realized they had just come to this profession to earn a living. The former honor, beliefs, and pride built upon the illustrious achievements of the gray wolf mercenary corps collapsed in that moment. They trembled, their faces pale, realizing they simply wished to survive.
Leidi looked at his once proudly courageous companions, who now exhibited such similar cowardice, and couldn’t help but curse them in his heart for being worthless. But he also cursed Conrad. “You better come find me, you bastard—” he couldn’t utter the words; they could only resonate in his mind. Leidi had never wanted to prove himself more than at that moment. Death was just death; he wanted to show his completely fear-controlled companions that there was nothing to be afraid of in dying.
The most shameful thing should be to surrender to the enemy.
Yet Conrad seemed not to hear him. He merely took each mercenary away one by one, as if he wasn’t interested in getting any information. Even when the last mercenary fell to his knees begging for mercy, vowing to join them and revealing everything he knew, his fate was simply to be dragged away.
Soon, only Leidi remained.
Conrad stopped in front of him—
The white-haired youth initially failed to react, instinctively lunging at him like a mad dog. But he was immediately struck in the chest, sent sprawling back like a frightened dog. As he picked himself up, he realized he was all alone. The realization sank his heart; who would ‘appreciate’ his bravery now? Who was he performing for? The enemy?
But looking at the indifferent face of Conrad and the similarly inscrutable expression of the Dark Priest, it was clear they would not appreciate his heroic deeds. A chilling cold enveloped him completely, and Leidi suddenly shivered. He thought about the question: would he die here without understanding, ending up in the same fate as those unworthy fellows?
But how could that be? He was Leidi, the most outstanding young man in the group, second only to Aike. If he died here, like those cold, lifeless bodies, who would know he had once been brave?
No, he couldn’t die helplessly like this.
But here, there was no one to record any of it. He wished more than anything that someone from his side was hiding in the forest. Or if someone was pretending to be dead on the battlefield. So they could record his generous sacrifice just before death. Leidi subconsciously told himself he wasn’t afraid of dying; what was death? He just didn’t want to die like those meaningless guys. But he knew that all of this was destined to be a wishful thinking. In front of the dark cultists, apart from the leader and Bud, nobody could hide in this forest.
Thinking about this made him internally conflicted. He wavered between dying or dying more meaningfully, his expression shifting constantly.
Conrad coldly observed the young man, saying not a word, and then abruptly drew a dagger from the Dark Priest’s waist—Leidi suddenly shivered, finally sensing death approaching. But he didn’t expect Conrad to ask him a single question; what a bastard. He was of the Fated Clan, a descendant of Knight Makar, the true heir of Erluin’s long-standing nobility. He struggled, but immediately felt the cold edge of the dagger against his neck.
No, he didn’t want to die.
In the final moment, despair finally surfaced in his heart, and the will to fight back faded naturally. All these changes did not escape the young leader’s eyes. Conrad promptly withdrew the dagger, ripped off the white-haired youth’s mask, and asked, “Do you want to die?”
Leidi opened his mouth, wanting to say something fierce, but he found himself trembling, unable to utter a word, ultimately just nodding silently—then he suddenly realized, hurriedly shaking his head. He felt a heat rising to his face, not from weakness but from being so frightened that he hadn’t even heard the other’s words clearly.
What a disgrace.
“Then let me ask you a question.” Conrad straightened up, looking down at the young man. “How many people were there in the other team that was with you, and which direction did they go?”
Leidi paused. If this demon wanted him to divulge some core information about the Gray Wolf Mercenary Corps, he realized he might genuinely hesitate to do so out of loyalty. However, since the topic turned to that group, he instinctively drew closer to the adversary, vaguely considering them as one. He believed this could hardly be seen as surrender; it was merely cooperation between enemies.
How dare he lecture him.
He thought through clenched teeth.
“They headed northeast before you launched your attack. There were fifteen people in total, led by a young man about the same age as your leader, accompanied by two women. He had twelve guards…” Leidi paused. “It seems they were all at least Silver-ranked; I learned this from eavesdropping on a conversation between the leader and Lord Bud.”
He recounted the details without omission, even without needing Conrad’s prompting, outlining Brendel’s betrayal cleanly. If Brendel were here, he would probably be enraged to the point of laughter, as he had merely punched this guy. In contrast, Conrad had kicked him like a dog, and this guy seemed to have forgotten everything.
Conrad exchanged glances with the Dark Priest beside him. (To be continued. For more, please log in for further chapters, support the author, and read legitimate versions!)
