Frilian: The Adventure of the Hero

Chapter 91 Revenge Must Be Acquired in Blood

The room was simply furnished.

The countess is wiping a sword.

This is a broadsword covered in scratches and with a somewhat worn edge. Whether in the eyes of a warrior or a soldier, it is already considered a "scrap" sword.

But the Countess wiped it very carefully, her gaze towards the sword gentle and loving, as if it were the most precious treasure in the world.

Squeak—

The door to the room was pushed open by two soldiers, and Count Guranat walked in.

He was dressed in military uniform, his face cold and stern, exuding an aura of decisiveness and authority—a very imposing figure. But when he stood behind the Countess and spoke, his voice surprisingly calm, "Madam."

The countess looked up and gave him a gentle look.

"How's it going? Has my sword-wiping technique improved?"

Count Granat took the sword from her hand, a fleeting look of sorrow in his eyes. "There's been progress. That boy shouldn't complain anymore."

"Haha." The Countess chuckled. "You brat, always complaining that I'm clumsy."

Count Guranat placed the sword back on the table, raised his hand and patted his wife's shoulder twice in a comforting manner.

The countess placed her hand on that rough, large hand, and the two of them, one sitting and one standing, nestled together.

A tender feeling flowed between them.

After a moment, the Countess spoke again, "My dear, do you remember what it was like when we first met?"

Upon hearing this question, Count Guranat stiffened.

His gaze involuntarily fell on the Countess's legs.

The Countess sensed her husband's anxiety and gently stroked his fingers. "Don't worry, it was just a sneak attack by two demon children that tore off a leg. It doesn't hurt anymore."

Count Guranat frowned slightly at the lady's understated narration.

"The wounds inflicted by the demons' bites are so severe that even the most talented monks in the Holy City of Shutral would struggle to fully heal them. How could they possibly not hurt anymore?"

The countess's hand, resting on her lap, slowly tightened.

She thought she was putting on a good act.

It turns out that even when you're smiling, your closest people can see the pain behind that smile.

"Yes, it's hard to heal."

As she spoke, the Countess's gaze returned to the sword she had just wiped.

"I saw a boy today. He had a pair of very beautiful black eyes. The look in his eyes was calm yet sharp, just like our son."

"Moreover, even the confident and swaggering manner they exude when they speak is exactly the same."

I liked it the moment I saw it.

"Coincidentally, he also likes to use a one-handed sword—"

Count Guranat listened quietly, a hint of gentleness gradually appearing in his eyes.

"Do you remember what that brat said when you were teaching your son swordsmanship?"

"Broadswords are clumsy and ugly. I'm going to win the King's Tournament. So many beautiful ladies are watching me. Of course I'll use the coolest one-handed sword." Count Granat imitated his son's tone, a nostalgic expression on his face.

The Countess laughed. "Later, when the king bestowed this sword upon him, he immediately changed his mind, saying he still needed a broadsword for the battlefield. Really, what's an 18-year-old doing on the battlefield—"

At this point, the Count and Countess fell silent in unison.

Yes.

An 18-year-old child.

"Why should the demons wage war whenever they want, and then just stop whenever they want? What are humans to them, anyway?!"

"My dear, I don't want to see any more children die. Between us and [Aura]—"

Let's put an end to this.

Count Granat's gaze passed through the room's window, looking out at the streets of the castle, where merchants haggled over prices, children played and frolicked, and countless ordinary people lived peacefully and contentedly.

They live in peace now.

But just three months ago, this street was filled with the occasional sound of mournful weeping.

That was the cry of a mother who had lost her son, that was the fear of a child who had lost his father—that was the terror and panic of people who had been constantly attacked by demons.

After a long while, the count's deep voice echoed in the quiet room.

"it is good."

Many more checkpoints have been set up on the streets throughout the main city.

Soldiers have even started patrolling the market.

People quickly closed their doors and went inside.

Because the demons have entered the city.

Looking at the soldiers and civilians who were on high alert, Luguna gave Count Granat beside him a somewhat helpless expression.

"I am deeply sorry to see people in such a state of panic, Your Excellency."

"Our peace talks have indeed come too late."

Count Guranat neither confirmed nor denied this, saying, "It is impossible to resolve long-standing hostility in a single day."

Upon hearing this, Liuguna nodded slightly.

"In that case, we must work even harder to bring peace to this city as soon as possible."

"certainly."

The two entered the Earl's mansion amidst polite conversation.

Squeak—

The soldier pushed open the door, and the group entered a small, somewhat simple room.

Liuguna glanced at it.

Although his knowledge of human etiquette was only superficial, it was still somewhat unreasonable to choose such a simple place as the venue for the peace talks.

Or, to put it another way, this is a "show of force" tactic in negotiations.

He scoffed inwardly, thinking how low-class it was.

However, on the surface, he still cooperated by making a somewhat surprised expression.

"here it is?"

"My son's room. He sacrificed a lot for this peace talks."

"Oh? So you're a peace enthusiast too. May I ask where your son is now?"

"He died ten years ago in a battle with Aura."

Count Guranat had barely finished speaking.

Swah—

A beam of seemingly solidified magical light pierced through the wall from the other side, accompanied by a huge explosion.

Caught completely off guard, Luguna was instantly pierced through.

The force of the impact sent him flying, crashing into a wall and creating a terrifying crack.

Beside him, a little demon girl with pink hair didn't hesitate and immediately drew a weapon made of magic, ready to fight.

The Countess, staff in hand, slowly emerged from the shattered wall.

At the same time, Count Granat's angry voice rang out: "Lucuna, I didn't bring you here for some bullshit peace talks. Our sole purpose is to avenge all the warriors who died at your hands!"

"You man-eating beasts, die!!"

As Luguna listened to the Count's furious roar, he lowered his head and couldn't help but laugh out loud.

His horrific wound, which had shattered half his body, was healing rapidly. "Count Granat, you have lost your last chance to save this city."

Faced with this illogical situation, the count and countess, who had been so confident of victory, froze instantly.

Just then.

No one noticed that a purple figure appeared outside the window —