Chapter 198 - 193: The Reason, The Returnee’s Speech
Chapter 198: Chapter 193: The Reason, The Returnee’s Speech
The situation wasn’t actually that complicated.
After realizing an assassin had slipped into the Lord’s Mansion while Paris was away, Yed had immediately responded. He gathered everyone for a screening and sent out Ivory—who was supposed to be his personal guard—to help search for the assassin.
And because he knew he was likely the primary target, he insisted on waiting until everyone else was safely inside the hall before entering himself.
As a result, the assassin appeared at that very moment and stabbed him.
Witnessing her father’s assassination, Reya had unleashed her Power once more, suppressing the enemy.
And that’s what led to everything that had just happened.
After hearing the story, Jon could only sigh.
’Sigh... So this was the Otherworld’s version of exploiting a man of honor?’
’The assassin must have counted on this exact trait to succeed.’
’Otherwise, with Ivory protecting him, it would have been incredibly difficult for any ordinary person to succeed.’
Fortunately, the situation was still somewhat under control.
He knelt and supported Reya, who was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.
In her desperation to suppress an assassin far stronger than herself, the girl had once again forcibly activated the power of her Saint Spirit Stance. It was only natural that she would now relapse into the weakened state she had just recovered from a few days ago.
Looking at Reya’s frail appearance, Jon’s heart ached for her.
’This girl pushes herself too hard.’
He tightened his arms around her, using his other hand to brush away the strands of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, and soothed her in a soft voice.
"You did great. You were so brave. Don’t worry about Uncle Yed. His condition has stabilized."
He shifted slightly, allowing Reya’s gaze to fall on the shroud of soft, orderly light covering Yed.
"See? This Poison is tricky, but it’s been completely sealed. It won’t spread or corrode any further."
"As for it being some incurable poison, that’s just meant to be intimidating. Trust me, there’s no poison in this world that can’t be cured. Once we’ve had a moment to catch our breath, we’ll have all the time and methods we need to solve this."
Reya seemed to take his words to heart. Her body relaxed a little more, and she buried her face deeper into Jon’s chest, giving a faint, almost imperceptible nod.
Her emerald eyes were half-closed, and her lips twitched as if she wanted to say something, but she lacked the strength to even form a complete syllable. All she could manage were a few whimpers as faint as a mosquito’s buzz. As if all her bones had been removed, she nestled limply in Jon’s firm, warm embrace, drawing in the scent that brought her a sliver of peace.
’Sigh...’
’First it was Paris, now it’s Yed. None of them make things easy.’
’Both of them are "good men" in the conventional sense. They even have similar personalities, and they both dote on their daughters.’
’Yed, that loyal elder, would rather expose himself to danger than be a burden to others, even preparing to sacrifice himself.’
’And Paris, for the sake of the "greater good" as he sees it, is willing to use the sacrifice of some of Birch Town’s innocents as bait to lure out and eliminate the hidden cancer.’
Just as Jon was lost in thought, a violent crash came from the hall’s main door—the very one that was already hanging by a thread and which he had kicked earlier.
"BANG—!"
A figure burst in, almost stumbling, bringing with him a gust of cold wind from outside, the smell of gunpowder, and an air of unconcealable anxiety and exhaustion.
The newcomer was none other than the lord of Birch Town, Viscount Paris Manola.
His eyes immediately fell upon the shocking scene in the center of the hall: Nabelli, pinned to the floor by a Light Gun with a savage look on his face; Yed, whose fate was unknown as he lay enveloped in a strange Light Cocoon, guarded by Ivory and Reed; and Reya, nestled weakly in Jon’s arms.
For a moment, the Viscount nearly lost his footing.
But this loss of composure lasted less than a second.
No one knew how many thoughts raced through Paris’s mind in that single second.
But as the Lord of Birch Town and the convener of the Resistance Alliance, he ultimately forced his churning emotions back into the deepest part of his heart. He took a deep breath, straightened his back, and scanned the room before calling out his subordinate’s name in a loud voice.
"Locke! Tell me! What happened?!"
The named Knight immediately stepped forward and explained everything that had just occurred.
As Paris listened, his expression grew darker and darker. His knuckles turned white from clenching his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood.
A moment later, he slowly raised his head, his gaze sweeping over every pale, terrified, or scrutinizing face in the hall.
Among these nobles, some cowered, some forced a calm facade, and others had shifty eyes, already absorbed in their own petty calculations.
This made the last trace of hesitation in his heart vanish completely.
’I can’t wait any longer!’
’My plan was already a high-stakes gamble. The slightest hesitation could plunge the entire town into an inescapable abyss!’
’Right now, I have to use this opportunity to push the plan forward!’
Paris closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if inhaling all the stagnant air in the hall to gather strength for the words that would follow.
When he opened his eyes and spoke, his voice carried the do-or-die finality of someone who had burned their bridges.
"Everyone! You all saw it!"
"This is our enemy! Insidious, ruthless, and without a shred of decency!"
"The moment they get a chance, they will plunge a knife into our hearts! What happened to Viscount Yed is the most painful proof!"
He choked up for a moment, as if suppressing his emotions, before raising a hand to point out the window.
"And look outside! The thugs driven by ambitious warmongers are burning our homes and tormenting our people!"
"We can hesitate no longer! We can wait no longer! We must launch a counterattack!"
He took a sudden step forward, the sound of his foot hitting the floor like a heavy hammer striking everyone’s heart.
"I, Paris Manola, in my capacity as the Lord of Birch Town and the temporary convener of the Resistance Alliance, hereby declare—"
His voice was like a drawn sword—sharp, decisive, and carrying an irresistible will:
"To crush the enemy’s conspiracy! To defend our shared home! To ensure that good men like Yed no longer have to bleed and die!"
"We must immediately and completely consolidate all our forces!"
His gaze bore down on the noble lords and family representatives like a physical weight, permitting no argument or refusal.
"Hand over all your guards! Every private soldier who can wield a weapon! All of them! Immediately! Surrender them to the unified command of the Resistance Alliance!"
"This is not a request! This is the price we must pay for survival!"
"It is the duty of every person who is worthy of standing on this land and enjoying its protection!"
He deliberately or not, moved to stand beside Yed, his hand hanging slightly at his side, as if to say: ’In front of the man who was attacked while protecting you, in this desperate situation with enemies both within and without, can any of you really say "no"?’
The hall was dead silent. Naturally, no one said "no."
Only Jon, holding Reya, watched Paris’s "performance" with cold eyes.