The Terminally Ill Young Master is the Mad Dog of the Underworld-Chapter 341

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]

Chapter 341: How Did They End Up So Black-Hearted

“Did you say you felt sorry for me?”

Amilcar glared at Allenvert, feeling the agony of his churning organs and a visual disturbance so severe that he was seeing double.

“You mock me until the very end.”

“Mock you? I am truly lamenting the fact that a warrior of your stature was used as a disposable pawn.”

“What do you mean?”

“You ask, even though you already know.”

Allenvert walked over slowly, his back blocking the sunlight.

“You lost to me. But if I were truly in the 9th-tier, do you think you could have even dreamed of escaping from this place?”

“……!”

“You would have died. The Dark King, upon receiving the report of your death, would have muttered, ‘If they were all wiped out, he must have reached the 9th-tier,’ and then recalculated his strategy.”

“……Don’t make assumptions.”

“Do you want to deny it? Of course you would. His order was likely something close to, ‘Give them a proper greeting and return.’”

“!”

“You probably didn't think he would use you as a pawn to be discarded. But isn't your self-regard a bit too high? You should know well how others have been thrown away by the Dark King until now.”

Allenvert spoke as if he were an insider who could see right through their organization.

“To the Dark King, you are nothing more than a ‘slightly more useful and hard-to-replace’ consumable. Strictly speaking, everyone except Gulbark is in the same boat.”

Allenvert looked down at Amilcar with a stoic face.

“Did you think you were different?”

“Shut up. What do you know to be running your mouth?”

“The Dark King doesn't care about losing you. If he did, he wouldn't have sent you to this place of certain death. It's good if you can escape, and it doesn't matter if you die.”

Allenvert didn't say aloud that if the Dark King himself had reached the 9th-tier, he no longer had any need for powerful subordinates.

But Amilcar knew that fact better than anyone.

“If we are defeated, the Dark King's reign will be truly terrible. Won't all people become one man's slaves and live miserably? Ah, I can't let a world like that come to pass.”

Allenvert sneered.

“In the first place, what great cause does that bastard have? What justification? Does he claim people will live better if he rules the continent? Will workers be safe and will merchants' trade flourish? Not a chance. Merchants will be ruined, and people will starve and die in vain.”

“Absurd. Have you heard any stories about Flanders being ruined?” Amilcar retorted.

“It might not be ruined. But you can't know how rotten the inside is just by its outward appearance. You, who have enslaved even royalty and nobility, would you treat the powerless with respect? Would you truly create a world that is good to live in?”

It would be an era full of schemes, the logic of power, and heartlessness.

“What does that bastard even want? He rules because he is strong? Where is there such a moronic and childish reason? So greedy. My goodness. That damned son of a bitch.”

After spouting a string of somewhat emotional words, Allenvert changed his tone.

“Amilcar. Are you, perhaps, envious of us?”

“What kind of bullshit is that now?”

“I’m asking if you, a dog on a leash, are envious of us, who freely stand against him.”

…How on earth did he know that?

“But for you to be envious of such a thing is shameless. A man who has lived while abandoning both morality and faith. That's just ugly jealousy.”

Allenvert looked at Amilcar, whose fighting spirit was now completely broken.

“Should I destroy your dantian? Or should I cut off your head? Your subordinates have probably been wiped out by now anyway. You won't be lonely, you'll have many companions on the road to death.”

“……”

Amilcar's eyes became empty, then regained their light.

‘Dammit, this Amilcar will not die like this.’

Without even distinguishing who that defiance was for, or who that anger was directed at, Amilcar tore the teleport scroll he kept in his tunic.

Zzzzzzzk!

…It was a scroll he had personally acquired from the black market long ago.

Its quality was, without a doubt, top-tier. It was capable of moving the user to a designated coordinate the instant it was torn.

“Hmm.”

But as expected, Allenvert had more than enough time to react.

“Go and report it. Your defeat.”

Allenvert intentionally let him go.

“But leave one arm behind.”

Slice!

Just as Allenvert’s slash severed Amilcar's left arm, a blue light enveloped him and transported him far away.

“What is this. Ugh, disgusting.”

Allenvert picked up Amilcar’s severed arm.

“I can't just let Lord Heinz's enemy go peacefully.”

He had let him go this time as part of the plan, but he intended to take his head next time.

“Allen!”

Seeing Geninghen and Leszek flying over from the distance, Allenvert grinned.

“Amilcar got the hell beaten out of him and ran away. Pathetically, I might add.”

And he had run away with a complete misunderstanding of Allenvert’s strength.

* * *

The Dark King’s reaction upon hearing Amilcar’s report was indifferent.

“It is the same as Ivan’s report.”

He spoke as if the only meaning he found in the report was that it cross-verified the information.

“You may leave. Speak to Gulbark about reattaching your arm.”

“……”

Amilcar gritted his teeth. He could almost hear Allenvert’s mocking laugh in his head.

‘See? He doesn't care at all. Not that you lost an arm, not that you crossed the threshold of life and death, not that you lost the troops you worked so hard to train.’

“What are you doing? Amilcar, I cannot hear your answer.”

At the Dark King’s cold voice, Amilcar finally replied.

“Yes, I will do so. I will take my leave.”

As Amilcar slowly retreated and turned his back, he had a new realization.

…His own situation was no different from that of the ant-like soldiers he so despised, or the undead who could not find rest even in death.

‘In that man’s eyes, I was also nothing more than a sword, a consumable.’

“Amilcar.”

Gulbark, who was waiting outside, spoke.

“It doesn't have to be your original arm, does it? I will select a strong ‘Death Knight’s vessel’ and find an arm of a similar build for you.”

“……Understood.”

What a humiliating way to be treated.

To think they would attach the arm of another biological puppet to him, as if swapping parts on a toy.

But Amilcar could say nothing.

.

.

.

“The surgery is complete.”

Ragerian, the only great mage and 8th-tier necromancer.

He was also the commander in charge of managing the Death Knights’ bodies and controlling the various undead and monster legions.

“Is there any discomfort?”

Amilcar moved his new left arm.

“Not really. Though the skin color is foreign.”

“Heh heh, it looks like an arm made of demonic arts, doesn't it? Very cool.”

“……”

Amilcar stared silently at Ragerian.

“Ahem. A joke.”

“I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

“Of course not. My apologies.”

Ragerian scurried away as if fleeing.

‘That unpleasant necromancer.’

He habitually looked down on Ragerian, but then his heart sank as he realized he was in no position to look down on anyone.

“Dammit.”

A short while later, Ivan came to see him.

“Sir, are you alright? I heard the surgery went well.”

“……Why are you here.”

Ivan.

He was a subordinate who had once been below him, but through diligent training, had reached the 8th-tier, just as he had.

“To offer my condolences.”

“Save it.”

“Still, it’s fortunate you didn't lose your dominant arm.”

“And you call that comforting?”

As Amilcar sighed, Ivan asked.

“……Was Allenvert strong?”

“He was. Strong, but he has not surpassed the 9th-tier.”

“Is that so.”

Ivan furrowed his brow.

He wanted to confirm the source of the confidence Allenvert had shown him before.

‘Was it a bluff, or did he hide his strength so thoroughly that even Amilcar couldn’t detect it?’

Amilcar asked Ivan sharply.

“Is that what you came to ask? You have your answer, so get lost.”

“……Sir.”

Looking at his irritable reaction and contorted face, Ivan replied in a low voice.

“Do not take out your own pathetic behavior on others.”

“What did you say?”

“Your light, too, has faded greatly over the years.”

Ivan sighed and said.

“If Karzan of the past had seen this, he would have been disappointed. He was a man who once inwardly admired you.”

“Karzan, that damn Karzan!”

Amilcar shattered a water bottle on the desk with his new left arm.

“Who the hell is that stupid Karzan that you keep bringing him up? Wasn't he just some worthless guy in the late 6th-tier you'd trip over anywhere?”

“Because he was a man who rose from the very bottom to that position without demonic arts, or even proper sword arts or mind arts. He was a man who possessed a talent that even His Grace was wary of.”

Ivan replied calmly.

“If that man had received the seed of demonic arts and was still around, he would undoubtedly be above you by now.”

“Ha!”

Amilcar sneered.

“Didn't that Karzan die at your hands? What honor does a man who killed his friend have to—”

“What honor does His Grace's sword have? It just cuts where it's swung.”

“……”

In that answer, Amilcar once again felt the reality of his own position.

It was an unbearable feeling.

“Dammit. Get out.”

“I will take my leave, Sir.”

Amilcar glared at his retreating back, then let out a long sigh and stared at the black ceiling.

“Damn it all.”

…Over and over, Allenvert’s voice flickered in his mind.

* * *

“Why did you let him go?”

We quickly cleaned up the battlefield and continued our voyage.

I brushed back my hair, which had become sticky from the salty and humid sea breeze, and said with a grin.

“Since I've completely fooled Amilcar, isn't it better to have him personally testify and add to the credibility?”

“It seems there’s more to it than just that.”

At my father's meaningful question, Verdzig also chimed in.

“Are you perhaps planning to sow discord?”

“Heh heh heh.”

I laughed sinisterly.

“As expected of you, Brother. You're truly in a class of your own when it comes to this kind of scheme.”

“Hmm. You be careful, too.”

Verdzig returned my joke with one of his own. Others might have found it spine-chilling.

“Do you think it will work? Amilcar is not a man of low caliber. Even Venion and I struggled greatly against Gulbark’s cunning.”

“To be honest, I don't know how effective it will be.”

I admitted readily.

“It's just that I saw an opening to shake him, so I shook. And since I had to let him go anyway, it was more like a slightly malicious trick.”

“Hmm.”

My father nodded.

“It's true that you have a tendency to be more careless and just do 'good enough' than I am.”

Verdzig said with a smirk.

“But that has surprisingly worked out more often than not.”

He was right. Until now, I had somehow managed to parry and counter all of Verdzig's various attacks.

If Verdzig’s strength was in laying out a grand strategy, mine was in improvising to shake and overturn that very strategy.

‘Wait, in that case, doesn't that mean Verdzig is more suited to be the clan head than I am?’

That, hmm.

Let's just pretend I didn't think of that for now.

“I say, Clan Head.”

“Yes, Elder.”

Geninghen, who had been watching us brothers, threw a pointed joke.

“You've done a fine job with their upbringing. How did they end up as such black-hearted-fellows?”

“Hahahaha!”

My father burst into laughter at those words.

“It seems I may have left these boys to their own devices for too long.”

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]