The Demon King is unfathomable

Chapter 621 All under the tacit approval of the gods

The howling wind and snow swept across the northern part of the Golden Plain.

Antoine, the commander of the Sixth Militia Regiment of the Republic of Leyne, stood behind a makeshift bunker, gazing with a worried expression at the gray sky to the north.

It is now mid-January.

The wind and snow in the sky are no longer as fierce as they were at the beginning of winter. If we just endure for another month, the warm spring will dispel this severe cold.

For now, he can only pin his hopes on the weather, praying that the spring rains will be heavy enough to slow down the Rhodes' offensive through the muddy roads.

Currently, although the royalist army is fighting under the banner of the Allied Forces, its main force is still the Duke of the North of the Kingdom of Rhodes, followed by the Duke of Eiffel who supports the king.

Once they conquer Roland with overwhelming force, the royal families of various countries that are eyeing the border with predatory intent will likely follow suit without hesitation.

By then, this newly formed National Assembly will likely be doomed, and even the Grand Duke in the south will no longer help them.

Antoine was the battalion commander who led the raid on the Royal Prison in Roland.

Because of his outstanding performance in that uprising, he has now been promoted to regimental commander on the spot, and is even hailed by the citizens of Roland City as "the iron bulwark of the northern border of the Republic of Ryan".

This is one of the National Assembly's propaganda achievements.

Both the Chartists and the Stonemasons agree that Roland City needs a hero.

However, only Antoine himself knew that this honor was nothing more than an overstatement born of the current fervor.

Whether it's his cultivation of extraordinary power or his ability to lead troops into battle, he wasn't among the most outstanding officers.

He was just a nobody being pushed along by the tide of events; he was simply not worthy of the weighty title of "Iron Wall."

"Your Mightiness!"

A messenger trotted up to him through the snow, stood at attention, and gave him a military salute.

"A rider is heading our way!"

Antoine immediately inquired.

"Where did you come from?"

"North!"

North?

Antoine's expression instantly tightened, and he dared not be negligent in the slightest, placing the still-hot coffee cup in his hand on the wooden table beside him.

"Take me there quickly."

"Yes!"

When Antoine trudged through the mud to the front post, his adjutant Marmont had already stopped the lone rider.

The man dismounted and limped past Marmont, coming directly to Antoine.

The man raised his frozen right hand and gave a heavy, weary military salute before shaking hands with Antoine.

"Lord Antoine, how have you been?"

Looking at that weathered face, Antoine's eyes were filled with astonishment.

"Commander Wilt? What are you doing here?"

Isn't the 7th Militia Regiment stationed in Longway?

Wirth lowered his head in shame, not even having the courage to look Antoine in the eye.

"I am extremely sorry, Your Excellency, Langwei City has fallen..."

Facing the swirling snowflakes, Wilt recounted the humiliation he had suffered in a somber tone.

He had originally planned to lead his men in a desperate fight to the death, relying on the city's defenses. However, the citizens of Longway had no intention of fighting alongside their republican army.

Wealthy merchants and citizens who valued their lives rushed into the military camp, pleading with him to open the city gates and surrender, which ultimately led to his defeat in the war.

Count Thijan Clement, who had captured the city without bloodshed, released him and even gave him a horse to take back a letter of persuasion to Marshal Fayette and the citizens of Roland.

Although he had anticipated the fall of Longville, Antoine's heart still felt heavy as if a weight was pressing down on it when he actually heard the news.

The war had barely begun, and the National Assembly had already lost the northern gateway to the Golden Plains. At this rate, his Sixth Militia Regiment probably wouldn't even survive until the spring rains of March…

The two remained silent for a long time amidst the wind and snow.

Antoine took a deep breath and asked in a low voice.

"What did Thijang do after entering the city?"

"That gentleman did nothing; he was a true nobleman, and even treated me according to the standards nobles would show to prisoners of war. But those royalists who followed him into the city were a different story; they were nothing short of a bunch of heartless butchers!"

At this point, Wilt clenched his teeth, his eyes bloodshot, wishing he could devour that royalist baron alive.

"Especially that Goron! He dragged everyone who had robbed him to the riverbank and shot them one by one! I heard... at least three thousand people died!"

It's hard for him not to hate.

After all, Count Clement had told him, in a boastful tone, that Baron Goron had intended to kill them all as prisoners of war, but thanks to the Count's mercy, he and his men were spared.

In fact, Count Thijan Clement wasn't telling the truth either.

The feud between Baron Goron and the city council was a private grudge between the old and new nobles, and had nothing to do with these militia officers who had come all the way from Roland.

However, Count Thiján was also someone who was very good at adding his own dramatic flair, and in his version of events, things turned out this way.

Of course, Wilt himself wasn't telling the truth either. Baron Goron had killed a total of three hundred enemies, but he added a zero to that number.

Hearing that shocking number, Antoine's heart skipped a beat.

Three thousand people?!

How many permanent residents does Longway have?

Even as a war hero who had experienced the early battles of the Revolution in Roland, Antoine felt a chill run down his spine upon hearing these terrifying figures.

The royalists have gone mad—

If what Commander Wilt said is true, then being captured by the nobles of the Kingdom of Rhodes is actually better than falling into the hands of these bloodthirsty nobles of the old dynasty.

Seeing Antoine remain silent, Wirth gritted his teeth. He couldn't swallow his anger, nor could he bear this humiliation.

Reaching into his robes, he pulled out the letter, warmed by his body heat, and handed it to Antoine without hesitation.

"Your Excellency Antoine, please pass this letter on to Marshal Fayette."

Antoine was taken aback.

"This is……"

Before Antoine could ask, Wirth continued in a heavy tone.

“I heard that you are a confidant of the Marshal. When we attacked the Royal Prison, you were his battalion commander. I think it might be better if you hand it over to him personally.”

When he said these words, Wilt felt a little ashamed.

The real reason he made this choice was that he had lost the northern gateway to the Golden Plains, and he was ashamed to go back to face the citizens of Roland City and those who supported him.

Rather than face trial and the cold stares of others in the rear, he preferred to die with his last shred of dignity in this icy wasteland.

He will prove to the citizens of Roland that it was not he who surrendered.

Instead, it was that group of cowardly Longwayne men.

Antoine instinctively reached out and took the letter.

Seeing this, Marmon, who had been standing silently to the side, quickly spoke up to remind them.

"Sir, we are currently on defensive duty at the front lines, you..."

Antoine raised his hand, abruptly interrupting his adjutant, and spoke after a slight movement of his Adam's apple.

"Your Excellency Marmont, I know the soldiers at the front need me, but the citizens of Roland need me more..."

He paused for a moment, a hint of reluctance flashing through his mind, but ultimately spoke in a righteous and awe-inspiring voice.

“Someone must let them know what’s happening at the front as soon as possible… Only in this way can we prevent them from making wrong judgments.”

Marmont stared blankly at his superior, a hint of disappointment rising in his eyes.

Although Antoine presented his reasons for retreat in a seemingly airtight manner, Marmont, as his adjutant, saw through the mask of hypocrisy at a glance.

The regimental commander, hailed as an "iron wall" by the citizens of Roland, was frightened.

This is actually inevitable.

The allied forces of the kingdoms were formidable, and even after emergency expansion, their Sixth Militia Regiment only numbered a mere 30,000 men.

Moreover, the vast majority of these 30,000 people were civilians, whose only opportunity to handle a gun was hunting birds. Unlike the Campbellians who slept on powder kegs, they, after all, did not have a maze beneath their feet.

To think that one could lead such a group of new recruits to defeat the regular army of the Kingdom of Rhodes head-on on the flat, golden plains is nothing short of a pipe dream.

Worse still, with the death of King Theodore, the Duchy of Campbell's military support for the Republic of Lane has come to a standstill.

Currently, only three thousand Roxay rifles have been sent to the front lines. More than half of the remaining personnel are using old-fashioned firearms, and some are even using spears to make up the numbers.

really--

He could only trust himself.

Thinking of this, Marmon clenched his fists.

Seeing that Marmont still wanted to say something, Commander Wilt nodded solemnly, agreeing with Antoine's statement.

"Lord Antoine is quite right, the Ryan people have reached a crossroads of destiny..."

After he finished speaking, he turned to look at Marmon, whose face was full of complicated emotions.

"We need to make the right choice, even if it's difficult. Please go with your superior."

Marmont took a deep breath and looked at the defeated general.

"What about you?"

Wilt did not back down; his weathered face was filled with unwavering determination.

"I will stay here and live or die with the Republic."

Marmont remained silent.

In the past, he might have been moved by such a heroic statement. But he could see that this guy was taking it literally—

He didn't care about the future of the republic at all; he just wanted to die for it, but didn't want to be buried with people's infamy.

If we really hand over 30,000 brothers to him, everything will be over.

Looking at Commander Wirth, who was prepared to die for his cause, Antoine felt both moved and somewhat ashamed.

He carefully put the letter urging him to surrender into his pocket and reached out to pat Commander Wilt on the shoulder.

“I sense your sincerity. Stay here, Wilt, I will personally deliver this letter to Marshal Fayette.”

After saying this, he turned to look at his adjutant beside him.

"Major Marmont, you—"

“Please let me stay here, Your Excellency,” Marmont said earnestly to his superior. “If the Rhodes want to set foot in Roland, they will have to step over my dead body.”

Both regimental commanders looked at the young man in surprise, then exchanged a glance, their eyes revealing their astonishment.

Antoine was silent for a moment, then patted him hard on the shoulder.

“I will bring your heroic deeds back to Roland City… From now on, command of the Sixth Militia Regiment is in your hands.”

Even knowing that the upcoming battle was likely to be a fight to the death, Marmon still stood at attention, placed his right fist against his chest, and nodded solemnly.

"Please rest assured, I will make sure they never return."

Antoine patted Marmont on the shoulder again, without saying anything more.

He turned around, his feet sinking into the thick snow, and strode quickly toward the barracks without looking back...

……

Before the devastating news of the fall of Longway City could reach Roland City, earth-shattering news from the distant northern wilderness made headlines on the front page of Citizens' Voice.

The Cathedral of St. Clement, representing the highest religious authority of the Empire, took the lead in launching an attack, unleashing true divine punishment upon the towering Source Law Tower, and proclaiming to the world through the adventurer guilds stationed in various cities, detailing the heinous blasphemous crimes committed by the Academy.

The counterattack from Xuebang was equally fierce.

They not only swiftly announced the establishment of the "Holy Magic Kingdom," but also completely refuted the Empire's accusations as baseless charges.

In the Great Sage's pronouncement, the Imperial Senate had long since become an arrogant puppet, and all the chaos from the Twilight Province to the Northern Snowfields stemmed from the Empire's lofty arrogance.

Moreover, he called on the kingdoms of the continent of Austro to unite against the empire's blatant breach of ancient pacts.

However, those shrewd feudal lords were not so easily manipulated, nor were they so easily swayed by a single word to lead their people into battle. Invading the Kingdom of Ryan was for their own ruling interests, and intervening in the war between the Empire and the Academy would bring them no benefit whatsoever.

For this reason, the kingdoms surprisingly chose to wait and see, and none of them got involved in the battle between these two behemoths.

The continent of Os seems to have regressed to the end of the First Era, that barbaric era of warring kings.

Kings wage war against each other, and barons wage war against each other in villages. The two sides are clearly distinct, drawing clear lines and having no connection with each other.

If a baron and a king happen to have their eyes on the same castle, the rule is simple—whoever plants their flag on the castle first owns the castle walls.

However, there is one thing that is beyond dispute.

The flames of war have been completely ignited on the continent of Os.

No living being on this land can truly remain uninvolved.

Meanwhile, the fervor within Roland City continued to intensify.

The conflict between the three factions did not stop because of the war outside; on the contrary, because of an assassin, they had another reason to tear each other apart.

The barricades' members of parliament waved flags and shouted in the square, demanding the unconditional release of Doc, the gunman who assassinated Earl Sean, an imperial nobleman.

In their eyes, he was a hero who fired the gun to defend the Republic.

However, Chartist members of parliament clung to the bottom line of the law, insisting that the perpetrators of murders committed in the street must be hanged in accordance with the criminal penalties that have been in place since the old regime.

In an effort to quell the escalating turmoil, Marshal Fayet, who held military power, was forced to step forward and deliver a speech in Triumph Square.

"...If murderers can be acquitted simply because they were fighting under the banner of revolution, then it won't be long before our ranks are filled with criminals."

This resounding assertion immediately garnered strong support from the old encyclopedists in Roland, as well as from some members of the stonemasons' faction.

The escalating chaos in Roland has severely impacted their lives. Or, to put it another way, the fire they themselves started has finally burned their own backsides.

However, the flames now rising in Roland City cannot be stopped immediately by anyone shouting for it to stop.

In the dilapidated beer hall in the downtown area, the air was filled with the sour smell of cheap ale.

A gaunt dockworker angrily swung his fist and smashed it against the greasy wooden table in front of him, making a deafening noise as he roared, spittle flying everywhere.

"If killing an Imperial Earl who despises us Ryan people is a crime, then is sending the King to the guillotine also a crime?"

"This is absolutely outrageous!"

That gruff voice quickly resonated throughout the tavern.

Another drunken man raised his glass and loudly echoed his sentiment.

"That Fayette guy really is a damn royalist! He was very good at disguising himself before, but we still saw through his disguise!"

"That damned thing deserves to go to hell! Saint Sith will not let him get away with this!"

In this city driven to madness, the voice of reason has long become the scarcest and most precious fuel.

On the one hand, it is indeed extremely rare. On the other hand, its untimely appearance, instead of extinguishing the fire in people's hearts, fueled the madness that was enough to burn everything.

Logically speaking, the tit-for-tat conflict between the Chartist and Barricade factions should have been a perfect opportunity for the Stonemasons faction to expand their influence.

However, the situation always unfolds in unexpected ways.

The stonemasons, who were already extremely radical on many issues, were now caught between reason and fanaticism.

Because they weren't radical enough, they not only failed to reap the benefits, but also became the first to be torn apart in this storm.

Clearly, they have ideals and haven't degenerated to the point of saying things against their conscience for personal gain.

Amidst this chaos of factional infighting and ideological collapse, an extremist organization called the "Rage Faction" quietly emerged.

It started as a few angry, lowly stonemasons cursing in a tavern, but eventually it spread wildly and unchecked in the dark and secluded alleys of the lower city.

"...That old bastard Theodore doesn't have any bread either! It seems our bread wasn't just eaten by the nobles, but also bitten by that damned empire!"

This is quite different from the other three factions that are still arguing heatedly over the charter and bread.

The furious young men cared neither for the charter nor for bread; they sought something beyond that—

relief.

If the Encyclopedists used the weapon of knowledge to give concrete names to the suffering of the common people, then the young men of the Fury faction took it a giant leap forward.

They simplified all the complex logic and the root of suffering, along with things they themselves didn't understand, into a simple and crude slogan.

The benefits are obvious: now all suffering has a name, whether it's the oppression of noble lords or accidentally twisting your ankle while walking at night.

The downsides are also obvious to the naked eye.

Their suffering is like the New Testament in the hands of Protestants; they can fill it with all sorts of unpleasant things and then slam it onto the head of anyone they don't like...

……

Deep in the alleys of the downtown area, in a wooden hut even more remote and dilapidated than the cheapest beer hall, the dim candlelight flickered, casting several gloomy shadows on the moldy walls.

The dilapidated wooden door was pushed open, and a man wearing a tattered felt hat strode in with a cold expression, accompanied by a biting wind carrying shards of ice.

His name was Coles, a genuine Roland commoner, and once the spiritual leader of countless radical young men in the commoners' association "Barricades".

However, when he discovered that the barricades' members still harbored illusions about the monarchy and the empire and attempted to negotiate a compromise, he ultimately withdrew from the barricades in disappointment and became a staunch opponent of the National Assembly and Marshal Fayette.

Of course, he wasn't opposing for the sake of opposing; he also had his own stance.

for example--

He greatly admired Dolrich, especially the phrase "Let every commoner be qualified to become a demigod," which he worshipped to the extreme.

Although he did not display any talent in the field of magic, it did not prevent him from looking up at the demigod's radiance and feeling filled with infinite power.

Facing the gazes directed at him, he remained silent and slammed the newspaper in his hand onto the scratched round wooden table.

The newspaper was the latest issue of *The Voice of the Citizen*, its bold, blacked-out headline particularly jarring. And the content of the report was major news from the northern wastelands—

“The evil empire has indeed torn off its mask of hypocrisy,” Coles said with a sneer, his voice laced with sarcasm. “First, they claimed that the Academy had degenerated into a puppet of chaos, and then they couldn’t wait to unleash their so-called divine punishment upon the tower.”

A chorus of boos and curses erupted from the dark wooden cabin.

"That damned empire!"

"I knew these guys were no good!"

"That undead sitting on the throne is the root of all this chaos! He deserves to be hanged!"

Even though the National Assembly had previously publicly revealed various incriminating facts against the late King Theodore de Vallout, not everyone was willing to believe the ink published in The Citizen's Voice.

Ultimately, Theodore's relationship with Xuebang has never been harmonious.

The bet that the king made with the magic apprentices of the Academy in the Roland City court was so well-known that Theodore himself was too embarrassed to mention it again.

Furthermore, Fayette's apparent weakness in the face of the Empire and the Duchy of Campbell led many in the cabin to firmly believe that the National Assembly was deliberately smearing Xuebang in an attempt to gain the Empire's sympathy.

Although these guys themselves couldn't explain how they used such flirtatious tricks as slinging mud to gain the sympathy of the suzerain state.

The Senate would not sympathize with the Ryans over such a trivial matter, much less send troops over it.

Regardless, Coles and his followers achieved logical consistency and idolized the brave Lord Dolrich.

After all, Marshal Fayet often scolded him.

“I’m not surprised at all. They’ve done the exact same disgusting things in the Twilight Province, and this is just them repeating the same trick.”

A man with sunken eyes spat on the ground and continued speaking in a sinister tone.

"Anyone who dares to stand up against them will be labeled as chaotic. As for the so-called evidence, it's utterly worthless."

The man leaning against the window with his arms crossed also had a gloomy face, and his hoarse voice sounded like a mouse grinding its teeth.

"The most regrettable thing is that our National Assembly has once again sided with the Empire. The Empire invaded the Academy for its own interests, and they actually followed the Empire's lead and even blamed the Academy for the mess that old man Theodore did."

The roar interrupted him.

“I saw through them long ago! They are no different from Theodore. That Fayette never hid from the beginning that he was a damn royalist, and those idiots in the council hall actually thought they could sit at the table and negotiate with him.”

"What can those spineless cowards do? After all, Fayette has a gun in his hand. What can they do besides lick his shoes?"

"Haha, so calling them cowards is perfectly accurate!"

The excited shouts and curses sounded even more intense in the dim candlelight.

Coles stepped forward and stood before the crowd.

"Gentlemen! We all know in our hearts that the Os Empire is the biggest cancer on this continent, the black hand that always hides behind the scenes stirring up trouble! The evil of demons cannot even compare to a hair on their head!"

He raised his voice as he spoke, and his fist pounded on the table, making a cracking sound.

"And now, they are afraid! Afraid that we, who have just cut off the king's head, will turn our blades on them in the next turn! They are even more afraid of the true knowledge in the Tower of the Mage of the Academy, which can break the 'soul level' barrier!"

"Therefore, they incited the armies of the kingdoms to declare war on us, and encouraged us and our brothers and sisters from other kingdoms to kill each other! Then they turned their blades on the Academy, attempting to kill that omnipotent sage, the esteemed Lord Doryuk!"

"And our National Assembly, those spineless cowards sitting in the Summer Palace, are bowing and scraping to the Empire! They're fawning over the Duke of Campbell! Doc is right, those nobles don't care about the Republic of Ryan at all; they just want to sell it for a good price!"

These words ignited the anger in everyone's hearts, and their bloodshot eyes seemed to burn in the dim light.

Coles's voice was almost a roar, making the door panel tremble.

"Compromise will never bring unity, only a noose tightening around our necks! We must get the Republic back on track and use invincible thunder to shatter the darkness before our eyes! We must make them open their eyes and see who our real enemy is!"

"Well said!"

Applause and roars erupted from inside the wooden house.

A bald man jumped down from the wooden crate piled with miscellaneous items, walked a few steps to Coles, and spoke in a deep voice.

"So what do you plan to do, Coles?"

His name was Bloom. He had been an adventurer and a mercenary, and he returned to Roland when it needed him most.

He wasn't particularly powerful, but he was willing to give everything for his hometown.

“It’s very simple. I intend to follow the example of our hero, Mr. Doc, who was imprisoned in the dungeon by the National Assembly.”

Coles glanced around coldly, then stretched out his thin fingers and turned the newspaper on the table to the second page.

By the flickering candlelight, the magic photos printed on the newspaper were just visible.

In the photo, a pretty young woman is waving gently at the camera with a dignified smile.

He rubbed his index finger against the photograph, gave a sinister smile, and continued speaking.

"Ophelia Castellón, the eldest daughter of the Castellón family. Her father, Andrei, controls the Empire's largest fleet and is a powerful figure in the Senate! Currently, this young lady is in Roland City for a so-called cultural exchange, and there are daily news reports about her in the Citizen's Voice."

"Even if our Voice of the Citizens uses the most flattering words to portray her as a learned and enlightened scholar, it cannot change the fact that dirty blood flows in her veins! Especially now that the Empire is slaughtering the pioneers who led us to civilization in the northern wastelands, while the daughter of an Imperial Elder sits unharmed in our Roland City drinking red tea and enjoying opera!"

At this point, Coles suddenly drew a rusty dagger from his waist and plunged it in.

With a muffled "thud," the sharp tip of the knife pierced the magic photograph, piercing directly through Ophia's face.

"Once she dies, the false alliance will crumble instantly! The National Assembly will no longer be able to appease the Empire, and we will form a new alliance with the kingdoms, turning our blades against our true enemies!"

This plan sounds crazy, but if it can actually be realized, it would be a decisive and effective solution.

They don't need to argue with those spineless cowards in parliament; they can directly bring the most correct answer to the table.

Inside the cabin, everyone held their breath, their eyes exchanging glances. Some were fearful, others ruthless, but regardless of the motive, the underlying tone was madness.

Bloom frowned slightly.

"I have a question. This duke's daughter must be surrounded by the most elite imperial guards, and Prince Colin's strength is unknown. How can we get close to her?"

Seemingly anticipating this question, Coles's lips curled into a cruel smile as he spoke casually.

"Roland City will soon be plunged into unprecedented chaos, and we can take advantage of that time to make our move."

Bloom looked slightly puzzled. He glanced at the bleak night outside the window, then looked back at the leader and shrugged slightly.

"Isn't it chaotic enough already?"

Coles shook his head slightly.

"It will become even more chaotic."

Bloom pressed for an answer, puzzled.

What is your basis for this claim?

Coles slowly raised his head, his face, flickering in the candlelight, radiating a chilling madness.

No basis is needed.

"Because that's what the gods told me themselves."

-

(Thanks to "一行博莱尔" for the generous donation!!!)
(End of this chapter)