A Villain's Journey Begins in the Type-Moon World

"He's a good actor; he can fool others, and even... he fooled himself."

"He genuinely believed that he was completely different from the cowardly and incompetent guy he used to be... until he discovered that he was nothing more than a pawn to be used and then discarded, and only then did he finally understand... that nothing had ever really changed."

After speaking, the black snake slowly emerged from the shadows.

"What?" the man shrouded in black mist asked with a playful tone, "So you're already planning to personally send him on his way?"

"You, as a fellow member of the Imperial Guard, know better than anyone the methods the Imperial Guard uses to carry out executions," Black Serpent said without turning his head, his voice icy. "After all, I've used him for so long. Out of consideration for that, I'll personally send him off on his final journey, so he won't have to suffer any more torment that would make him wish he were dead."

Leaving those words behind, the black serpent lingered, taking steady, silent steps as it headed straight for Baikal's mansion, which resembled a giant prison.

Chapter 430 The Emperor's Wrath

Three days later, at Saint-Germain Castle, in the Imperial Parliament Hall.

The oppressive atmosphere was almost suffocating. A somber report was presented, and the official reading it spoke in a dry, heavy voice:

"The cities in the southern part of the Eastern Region are now in turmoil, and the situation is completely out of control! The Third Army Group deployed in the southern cities has also completely lost control, and bloody clashes are constantly taking place on the streets of various cities, escalating more and more!"

"Even more serious is that the Integral bandits have suddenly risen like wildfire in the southern cities! First, Chernobog declared independence and openly submitted to the Integral banner! Then, they actually defeated the Imperial Army's 100,000-strong encirclement and suppression force on the main battlefield!"

"Such a crushing defeat terrified the troops stationed in the south, and their morale plummeted! The bandit forces, starting from Chechnya, began to infiltrate and support various cities in the south."

"As a result, just eight days after repelling the 100,000-strong army, three important cities, with their instigation and assistance, had completely broken free from the control of the municipal governments and the Imperial Army, and had also declared...independence..."

When the alarming report was read aloud, the entire parliamentary hall fell into a deathly silence. All the ministers held their breath, not daring to even exhale; the air was thick with fear and disbelief.

How many years have passed! Since the last devastating civil war, the mighty Ursus Empire has once again faced a crisis of division!

However, last time, at least it was only the legions within the empire that pressured the emperor for the benefit of their respective factions, and Ursus's vast territory was at least nominally intact.

But this time... it's a complete and open split! It's the city's blatant independence!

If we add the three cities that the Reunion Movement previously occupied in the northern part of the Empire, now... a total of seven cities have fallen into the hands of the Reunion Movement!

This is tantamount to trampling on the dignity and face of the Ursus Empire repeatedly!

What's even more terrifying is that the surrounding nations are watching coldly as Ursus puts on this huge farce and joke, while they are all eager to pounce, like jackals that have smelled blood, ready to tear a piece of flesh from this wounded giant bear.

"What...aren't you all usually so eloquent? Why have you all become mute now?"

Emperor Fyodor's icy gaze, like a tangible blade, slowly swept over the silent, trembling courtiers.

Every minister whose gaze fell upon him felt as if pricked by needles, involuntarily shrinking back; the air was so heavy it seemed you could wring water out of it. His deliberately slowed tone concealed an impending, thunderous rage:

"Since the Third and Fourth Army Groups set out to the north to suppress and consolidate the bandit forces, bad news has been coming one after another. But you tell me that these losses are all due to personal problems..."

He slammed his hand on the imperial desk, the heavy sound echoing in the deathly silent hall.

“Yesterday, it was your family that suppressed theirs… today, it’s theirs using this to suppress yours…” Fyodor’s voice suddenly rose, filled with barely suppressed resentment, “The North has been fighting endlessly without any results, and you’ve been fighting endlessly down here without any results either…”

Fyodor leaned forward slightly, his hands gripping the table, his knuckles white from the pressure. He stared intently down below, each word escaping through clenched teeth:

"Now it's good, the results are finally in. Our army's campaign against the integrated bandit army has only resulted in the integrated bandit army growing stronger day by day!"

He took a deep breath, his chest heaving violently, and his voice suddenly turned into a furious roar: "Then I'd like to ask you gentlemen... after fighting for so long, which side has gained the upper hand, and which side can resolve this current situation for me and for the Empire—!?"

His voice grew louder and louder until Fyodor was practically grinding his teeth as he squeezed out each word.

He never imagined that Ursus would lose territory under his control... How will future generations record this "useless" emperor?

Was he destined to become like the last emperor of the Eagle Empire, branded a tyrant and hanged in front of the people of the capital?

This wasn't the first time he'd lost his temper, but this time, his killing intent was unwavering; he was determined to kill a whole bunch of people.

"Where is Prince Baikal? Is there still no news?" Fyodor took a deep breath, suppressing his surging anger, and asked in a deep voice.

“According to the report from the Internal Security Department…” Speaker Witt forced himself to stand up, his voice hoarse, “Three days ago, after learning of the battle report from the front, Prince Baikal rushed out without taking many personal guards. As a result… he ran right into a demonstration in the city, and after a conflict, he was beaten to the point of near death.”

Witt could hardly bear to look at the investigation report, which was so dramatic it bordered on absurd, that the internal guards had handed him. But in the end, he could only read it aloud: "The result was that on the second day, due to severe internal injuries, he ultimately… succumbed to his wounds…"

"Hehehe... Hahahaha..."

Fyodor laughed in fury. The report brought not only boundless anger and an extreme sense of absurdity, but also a profound sense of desolation and despair.

His last hope for these old noble forces had been completely extinguished.

"A duke was beaten to death by the citizens under his own jurisdiction near his own doorstep..."

Fyodor's laughter, chillingly cold, echoed in the silent hall.

"Hahahaha, how ridiculous! The most ridiculous and absurd thing on the entire continent! And yet, this kind of thing has happened to me, Ursus!!"

He abruptly stopped laughing, his eyes turning icy cold:

"So this is the Grand Duke of Ursus? So stupid that he could be beaten to death in the street!! When did the Grand Duke of Ursus become so cheap... that even an idiot can become one?"

As Fyodor spoke, he slowly sat up straight, his face becoming unusually calm, and he pronounced his verdict in a completely flat tone:

"From this day forward, Baikal is stripped of his ducal title, and all members of his collateral families are to be exterminated and their property confiscated."

His gaze shifted to the other two locations, his voice not loud, but carrying an undeniable chilling authority:

"Furthermore, Lord Shuysky and Lord Kolchakov, your two families have a history with Baikal, and you even vouched for him before... Now that Baikal is dead, he must be lonely. You two, along with your families, should go down and keep him company."

"Your Majesty, spare my life!!"

Two middle-aged figures, their faces ashen, practically sprang up from their seats, their voices hoarse as they begged for forgiveness.

However, Fyodor didn't even lift an eyelid, and simply waved his hand to signal the guards to drag the two away like dead dogs.

The desperate wails echoed for a long time in the empty council hall, like a death knell tolling in the hearts of every minister present, sending chills down their spines.

"And another order..." Fyodor's voice regained its imperial coldness as he issued a new command, "Have Constantine, who is still campaigning against the bandits in the north, immediately withdraw his troops south! Take complete control of the situation in the southern cities!"

"This... Your Majesty," the only military commander present hesitated, a troubled look on his face, "Now that Duke Constantine has gathered enough forces and begun a decisive battle with the integrated bandit army, would it be... too risky to order them to retreat south at this time..."

“Ha…” Fyodor let out a short, cold laugh. “Constantine delayed the war for so long because of his son, and you all pleaded for him. Now that I’m stopping him from fighting, you’re telling me he’s already started the final battle? What was he doing all this time?”

His tone suddenly turned stern, and he questioned:

"The current situation is that the south and the north are both on fire at the same time. He either gives me the option to fight on two fronts, or if he can't, he gives me the option to focus on the southern cities! Let's resolve the issues in the southern cities first!"

He paused briefly, his sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd, his voice carrying an undeniable air of authority:

"The northern regions are, after all, poor. Compared to the cities in the south, which have a large population and numerous industries, which is more important and which is less so? I'm sure Constantine himself knows the answer to that."

Upon hearing this, the military commander said no more and could only sigh inwardly, lamenting his bad luck.

……

The meeting was adjourned again, and as always, Witte was left alone by Fyodor. (The rest of the text appears to be gibberish and unrelated to the previous sentences.)

The first thing Witt said was:

“Your Majesty, it is really a mistake to order Constantine to withdraw his troops and return south. After all, according to the information conveyed by the Imperial Guards, the 400,000-strong army is already at war with the Reunion Movement, and the battlefield is currently at a stalemate. If the troops are suddenly withdrawn, it will probably deal a heavy blow to morale.”

Witt carefully chose his words, his face filled with worry: "At that time, it might cause the loss of these 400,000 troops to be too heavy. At that time, what will be lost will not be just the northern territory."

“Witt, I know the situation all too well… but now it’s urgent, the southern cities cannot be lost…” Fyodor closed his eyes in anguish, then opened them again, his eyes bloodshot:

“You should know that those cities hold the future of Ursus and are Ursus’ last hope! Once the industrialization reforms are completed and enough resources and wealth are accumulated… Ursus may be able to break free from its fate of an eternal journey.”

"In a moment of carelessness, I underestimated the extent of the harm caused by integration, but what is even more infuriating than integration is that I misused mediocre people and ruined the empire's future."

Chapter 431 An Unexpected Joy

“My biggest regret is sending the Third and Fourth Armies to the Eastern Region…” Fyodor clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white. “They…they should have been completely disbanded! Otherwise, the people in the southern cities wouldn’t have been provoked to this extent.”

Fyodor's voice carried a deep weariness and a hint of barely perceptible guilt:

“I know perfectly well that I am sacrificing the people of those cities, sacrificing two or three generations of their lives, in exchange for the prosperity of the entire Ursus. I have done my best to delay the conflict, and in some places where local policies can reduce the pressure on them, I have turned a blind eye.”

His tone became low and complex:

"While on the surface we use those infected people as an outlet for the anger of the entire nation, how many infected organizations haven't been funded by our dark web? Azazel Clinic, various companies that treat diseases of the infected, medical organizations... we've even funded resistance organizations."

“Even the integration... before the arrival of that girl who inherited the title of Duke of Kosiché, the integration had our people. As long as we can reconcile the relationships between the different levels and let the conflicts slowly vent and ferment... the empire will be able to usher in a time of true prosperity.”

"But now... now everything is beyond repair."

Fyodor's voice suddenly rose, filled with anger:

"I have become the most hated culprit in the eyes of those people... Look at their marching speeches. Even if we really subdue these cities by force, the hope of Ursus is ultimately shattered, and it can never go back to the way it was before."

Fyodor's eyes were bloodshot as he pounded his fist on the table in a fit of rage.

"I hate it! I hate that short-sighted scoundrel, Quandor, and even more so, that selfish fool, Baikal! They died easily, but what about me? What about the future of my Chernobog, the southern cities, and even the whole of Ursus?!"

After Fyodor had vented his emotions and his chest had calmed down, Witt cautiously spoke to comfort him: "Your Majesty, please calm down... It's just a matter of starting over... As long as the empire doesn't fall, and you don't fall, one day Your Majesty will be able to clean up the political arena and allow the empire to rise again."

"...Starting over...it will take another twenty or thirty years, how easy is that?"

Fyodor exhaled a heavy sigh, a bitter smile on his face, before his tone hardened again:

“Those cities in the south, no matter what, must be taken back. Those industrial facilities cannot fall into the hands of the enemy, let alone the integration.”

"Moreover, the reason I made Constantine withdraw his troops was because I no longer believed in the combat capabilities of the Third and Fourth Armies."

Fyodor looked directly at Witt, his gaze sharp, and said:

“Every battle they fight against Integration only makes them more and more fragmented. I would rather they hold the city first than go on to attack again.”

"After the Second Army Group, Fifth Army Group, and Seventh Army Group have temporarily eliminated the threat from those restless countries in the surrounding area, especially from Kazimir, I will send the Fifth and Seventh Army Groups to advance into the Eastern Region to completely wipe out the integrated bandit army."

A resolute glint flashed in Fyodor's eyes as he finally made his decision:

"The Fifth and Seventh Army Groups have been fighting against neighboring countries for many years, and their numbers have always remained at full strength of one million. Their level of armed elites is far superior to that of the current Third and Fourth Army Groups. With these two million troops deployed, I don't believe we can't completely annihilate these bandit forces."

Upon hearing this, Witte saw the unwavering determination in the Emperor's eyes and knew that Fyodor had made up his mind to defend the remaining cities in the south, even at the cost of sacrificing the Third and Fourth Armies.

Therefore, he could only nod silently, offering his unwavering support for Fyodor's decision.

……

“Black Serpent, you should know very well that while Baikal deserves to die, he absolutely shouldn’t have died at this critical juncture…”

Wang Chong's voice came from the black mist, carrying obvious dissatisfaction.

Just recently, Black Serpent had informed Wang Chong of Baikal's death, an outcome clearly not what Wang Chong had hoped for.

"With Baikal dead, the situation in the south will certainly descend into complete chaos. But this will also mean that command of the Third Army will fall entirely into Constantine's hands. Wouldn't our original plan to keep the remaining 100,000 of our 400,000 troops bogged down in the southern cities be completely thwarted?"

Wang Chong demanded sharply, "Tell me, now that Baikal is dead, who will bring back the 100,000 troops from the north to sabotage Constantine's decisive battle against the Northern Reunification Movement?"

"To be honest, I didn't expect Baikal's death either."

The black snake's voice was low and cautious:

"He was already barely clinging to life after being attacked by angry citizens, and wouldn't last more than a few days."

“I was worried that he might give orders to the Third Army to cooperate with Constantine’s operation before he died. In desperation, I executed him secretly as quickly as possible and made it look like he died from his injuries.”

The black snake paused briefly, seemingly considering its words:

"Moreover, I know the code for mobilizing the Third Army. Therefore, I have sent a final secret order to the Third Army in the North, ordering them to return to the South immediately at all costs and informing them that the situation in the South is about to completely collapse."

“With this arrangement, even if the Third Army receives news of Baikal’s death, it will only exacerbate the unease of the commanders who received the secret orders,” Black Serpent tried to explain. “They will definitely rush back to defend their southern base.”

"Black Snake! How dare you! When did you think I was so easily fooled?"

Wang Chong's voice suddenly rose, carrying a chilling aura. A condensed black mist instantly appeared, tightly gripping the black snake's throat, causing her throat bones to creak and making it almost impossible for her to breathe.

"With Baikal dead, the generals of the Third Army have lost the protection of the powerful nobles behind them. How dare they defy the wrath of the Imperial Council and Constantine and withdraw from the northern front without authorization? Black Serpent, you even dare to deceive me?!"

Wang Chong's tone grew increasingly chilling, the invisible pressure almost suffocating the black snake. The black snake could only manage to squeeze out a few words through clenched teeth: "Please... calm down..."

The black mist that had been gripping her throat loosened slightly, and the black snake collapsed to the ground, coughing violently, her fingers instinctively stroking her almost crushed neck. She gasped for breath, trying to explain:

"Cough...cough...it's my fault. I shouldn't have placed all my hopes on a secret order...but this secret order can still play a role."

"At least until they receive news of Baikal's death, they will definitely try to break away from Constantine's forces, create chaos to escape and return to their aid, and then... hmm?"

Suddenly, the black snake let out a soft exclamation, its entire body freezing instantly like a puppet, its eyes losing focus.

Wang Chong coldly observed this familiar change, knowing that the black snake's consciousness had temporarily left this body and transferred to another clone located in Saint-Germain Fortress. Clearly, an unexpected discovery had been made there.

A moment later, the black snake regained consciousness, its eyes instantly bursting with uncontrollable ecstasy, its voice trembling slightly with excitement:

"My lord! It's fantastic news! There's no need to worry about the war in the north anymore!"

"Oh?" Wang Chong's voice carried a hint of inquiry. "Why? What happened at Saint-Germain Fortress?"

The black snake immediately revealed Emperor Fyodor's latest decision:

"That emperor... Fyodor ordered Constantine to halt the offensive in the north, consolidate the main force, and retreat to defend the southern cities! He has completely abandoned the plan to conquer Talulah, and now all forces are focused on the south where you are!" (The last part, "你梅没在林你空你林在在没呢," is a nonsensical string of characters and doesn't translate directly. It's likely a result of OCR errors.)

"It seems that the strategic value of the many cities in the south was far greater than we imagined in that emperor's mind. He was willing to give up the gains in the north in order to do everything he could to protect the foundation in the south."