The necessities for the rebellion were few.
First, manpower.
Though it might have been possible to proceed with the rebellion using only those from the Northern Empire, Aslan did not rate the chances of success very highly should that be the case.
The adversaries are the guards. These are the individuals who maintain order in this city, and they were originally from Olpasbet before becoming guards here.
Presumably, these are people with some experience in combat. With them donning armor made of white steel, there was no ordinary chance for victory for prisoners attempting a rebellion.
Thus, more manpower was needed.
At the very least, numerically, this side had to overwhelm the opposition.
No matter how much preparation one could do, it was impossible to overpower guards clad in white steel armor through equipment alone.
The entity that played the most significant role in gathering this manpower was none other than Tiamat.
Tiamat’s colossal physique was itself persuasive, and if that wasn’t convincing enough, showing Catherine who accompanied them would suffice.
Catherine herself seemed reluctant about being summoned in such a manner, but at the command of her mistress Maria, she appeared without any sign of reluctance.
With that, the forces gathered, and the rebellion began with a surprise attack.
The subdued guards had their armor taken and were imprisoned, increasing the number of prisoners clad in white steel armor.
The prisoners’ goal was to capture the lord and secure ownership of the city.
On the other hand, the lord’s goal was either to escape outside the city or suppress all the prisoners.
Considering that all the city’s guards were allies of the noble, either option wouldn’t be too difficult.
Except for one possibility.
Veterans.
Not just one, but an astonishing five veterans.
With the veterans actively participating, what was normally a rebellion whose success was hard to predict quickly turned into a threat to the entire city.
In response to this city-wide threat, what would the noble do first?
Maria could easily anticipate it.
It would be capturing the woman who unexpectedly came to the reception room asking for an audience.
This time, however, the woman who unexpectedly requested an audience was Maria herself.
Maria leisurely tilted her teacup while listening to the approaching footsteps from afar.
After sipping and setting down the teacup, the door swung open.
“Maria!”
“Are you done with your business?”
“Is this something you’ve orchestrated? Do you covet my land so much?”
Shouting while pointing an axe, Maria smiled faintly.
“Orchestrated? I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”
In response, the noble distorted his face and pointed the axe at the man sitting beside Maria.
The man with bandages on his face—Maria’s husband.
Though well-built, that was all. No weapon in sight.
There were also no signs of the usual bodyguards or guard troops around.
“Don’t try to play dumb. I know everything already. Where are the bodyguards?”
“If you’re referring to Catherine, she’s probably still asleep. She’s quite fond of sleeping in.”
Confirming the absence of the hybrid bodyguard—the greatest threat in the current situation—the noble smirked.
The sound of the guards drawing their white steel armaments behind him was clear.
“…Ha, whatever. You seem to be trying to buy time here so I can’t escape, but that won’t work.”
A nod of the chin. The guards drew their weapons and approached Maria and the man beside her.
“Don’t kill them. We may need them as hostages to escape.”
“Aye!”
The distance closed. As the man stood up and took a step back, the guards approached, smirking while aiming their weapons at him.
As the blades aimed for the man and the distance sufficiently closed…
The man moved.
Crack!
The sound of a jaw breaking. A guard collapsed. But no one saw exactly what happened.
Seeing his comrade fall, another guard swung his sword without hesitation.
Aiming for the neck. Even a glancing blow would be fatal. Cutting it properly might be tough, but a slash would cause critical injuries.
Though they were told not to kill, subduing without killing was unlikely. That much was clear.
So, Lord, please let this pass. Thinking thus, the guard swung his sword at the neck, and his judgment seemed correct.
Bang!
Just bad luck with the opponent.
A hand shot towards the swinging blade, striking it precisely.
Thus, the blade, making a metallic sound, slipped out of the guard’s hand and embedded itself into the floor.
As the guard widened his eyes, the man moved sideways.
Groan!
The following agony. Consciousness faded. Another guard collapsed after receiving an elbow directly under the jaw, and the other guards widened their eyes.
The first guard fell unconscious from a punch unseen by the eye, and the second lost his weapon and fell.
Startled by the unexpected turn of events, the noble shouted.
“…What are you doing? Go and kill him!”
Even as the guards rushed forward at their master’s voice, the outcome was obvious.
None of them dared to guarantee victory, and indeed, it went as expected.
Driving in and thrusting the spear, the bandaged man caught the spearhead and leaned his body, causing the guard holding the spear to topple heavily onto the ground.
Crack!
A kick to the guard lying on the ground. The toe accurately found its way through the helmet gap, stealing consciousness.
The incoming sword strike. Dodging it, the man grabbed the guard’s neck and pulled him close, driving his knee upward.
Crash! The helmet crumpled as the guard fell.
As the guards collapsed helplessly, those conscious besides Maria were only the noble and the man.
“Ugh… Damn it!”
It was at that moment that the noble charged.
Knowing he couldn’t handle the man, he aimed to take Maria hostage.
Reversing the high-lifted axe, the noble intended to strike Maria’s head with the back of the axe. Just as he swung it, the bandaged man moved.
He caught the axe heading toward the woman’s head and twisted it, muttering incomprehensible words.
“I apologize, but she’s my fiancée for now.”
Though the movement was barely a few centimeters, the noble reacted strongly. His body leaned low, and then he was pinned down.
A technique known in common parlance as “submission” unfolded, and Richard followed by grabbing the wrist. Twisting it behind the body.
“Ah, kuhhhhh!”
Amidst the cries of pain, Maria sipped her tea.
“Truly, this is beyond me. It’s not something I’ve orchestrated.”
While dismissing such nonsense, the noble’s mouth only emitted painful groans.
“Because all of this is the work of the Veteran of Combat, Aslan.”
The Veteran of Combat, Aslan.
The noble flinched at the name, and the woman smiled faintly.
“But you got one thing right. Yes, my goal is to delay you from escaping here. Looks like it’s working, doesn’t it?”
In short, a dead end.
But the noble had no time to worry about that.
His screams of pain had ceased.
Because a certain voice flowed into his mind.
A voice in a language he didn’t use, yet he understood its meaning.
A sticky, almost boiling voice.
The meaning and proposal of this voice were simple.
And it was mesmerizing enough that the noble, facing a crisis, couldn’t refuse.
That bewilderment stemmed from this.
But soon, the confusion subsided. The noble’s eyes gleamed wildly as he pulled his arm, twisted so severely that the joints were starting to tear.
Enough to make Richard exclaim in surprise.
Yet, by that point, it was already too late.
“Urgh, stay still! If you keep that up, you’ll lose your arm…”
Creeeeak!
Richard’s warning was rendered meaningless as the arm was torn off, and poison immediately overflowed from the man’s whole body. At the moment Richard panicked and snatched Maria to flee,
“…I offer it.”
The noble swelled dramatically.
*
Ordinarily, when there’s a huge difference in equipment, rebellions rarely succeed.
However, the current rebellion was smooth.
Despite the extreme disparity in equipment, there were individuals capable of turning the impossible into the possible.
Phey, moving with stealth imperceptible to humans, executing perfect ambushes with swordsmanship and fighting skills honed to perfection.
Angie, displaying unparalleled suppression abilities with sheer overwhelming strength and basic combat techniques taught by I’taar, regardless of the numbers.
Tiamat, who could put the entire city at risk by seizing just the right watchtower.
And Lumel, who could hold off a hundred men with just a long staff on the narrow staircase leading to that watchtower.
Because they were present.
If conditions were met, even a hundred men could be handled effortlessly by unparalleled heroes gathered in one place, making such a rebellion effortless.
Moreover, the variable artist was confirmed to be absent, so there was no problem.
As a precaution against the artist leaving a priest behind for unforeseen reasons, Aslan and Ereta were separately on standby, leaving no gaps.
To prevent such situations beforehand, Aslan stood on a high post, facing the wind, glancing briefly at Ereta.
Among the fluttering strands of white hair, Ereta wore an anxious expression,
as if worrying about some situation.
Aslan knew what Ereta was worried about.
She was guarding against the possibility of her mother dying helplessly amidst this chaos.
It was an expression worthy of her choosing to join Aslan voluntarily to extract information from those who might know her mother’s whereabouts.
An expression that couldn’t be consoled or scolded. Aslan gave up thinking and retracted the hand he had extended unconsciously.
Still, turning his head to look outside the post, Aslan couldn’t help but wear a similar expression.
The heat of the rebellion spreading across the skin. The city thrashing and rolling its feet. Aslan felt its ferocity and wore a troubled expression.
Ultimately, people will die.
Whether it’s the guards or the prisoners, someone will die on either side.
That fact was troubling.
Though taking directly doesn’t necessarily improve things, inducing such a situation left a lingering sense of guilt.
Still, asking for no deaths and complete suppression or telling the guards to stop fighting and seek peace wasn’t feasible.
That would be childish.
Thinking it would have been nice to possess the immense power to practice such childishness, Aslan fiddled with the hilt of his sword.
Until suddenly, a commotion reached them from somewhere.
When Aslan and Ereta turned their heads toward one side of the city upon hearing the commotion, they suddenly noticed a massive creature appearing in that direction.
The size of five stacked barns, at least ten meters tall, the creature was a lizard.
A very large, deep green lizard.
But instead of a lizard’s head where it should be, it was a grotesque monster with a strangely decayed human head.
Recognizing the direction from which the monster appeared, Aslan recalled that it emerged directly from the lord’s castle.
Then, he realized how familiar the monster’s head, its face, looked.
“Lord Olpasbet…”
An involuntary utterance. As Aslan blinked, Ereta stood up beside him.
“Aslan, let’s go.”
A decisive tone. The hands gripping the axe tightly until they turned white. Seeing those hands, Aslan understood that the person Ereta was looking for was over there.
Since the person who best knew the whereabouts of Ereta’s mother, the Spider of Fire, except for the artist, was Lord Olpasbet.
Looking at Ereta’s expression filled with some kind of resolution, Aslan involuntarily nodded.
