Chapter 307

Chapter 307: Chapter 307

While the two groups confronted each other in the street, a pair of eyes was closely watching the situation from a nearby restaurant.

The observer was a woman with short silver-white hair and striking, heroic features.

A fitted black military uniform emphasized her sharp, commanding presence.

She was one of the Empire’s promising young generals—

Najenda.

"Syura again."

Her fingers tightened around her wineglass until her knuckles turned white, revealing that she was nowhere near as calm as she appeared.

"That bastard really does whatever he wants."

"Well, can you blame him?"

The green-haired young man beside her wore his usual carefree, roguish smile.

"His old man is Prime Minister Honest. If I had someone that powerful covering my ass, I’d probably be arrogant too."

Lubbock glanced toward the street and sighed.

"Those girls are the unlucky ones. They’re all so young and beautiful, and now a pack of animals like that has set its sights on them..."

"They look pretty capable."

"Sure, but Syura’s people aren’t pushovers either. Look—several of them are Imperial Arms users."

The other young men at the table joined in, each contributing a comment, though their voices carried obvious sympathy for the girls outside.

Najenda abruptly stood.

"What are you doing?"

Lubbock gave her a look that practically said ’Of course you are,’ though he still bothered to ask.

"I ate too much."

Najenda walked toward the restaurant entrance.

"I’m going outside for a walk."

With that, she pushed open the door.

Lubbock and the others exchanged amused smiles before following her.

But in the brief time it took them to get outside, the situation had already changed dramatically.

...

Syura stood casually in the middle of the street, his followers spread out behind him.

There were roughly twenty soldiers in each of the two groups accompanying him.

All wore Imperial military uniforms and carried themselves with the hardened bearing of elite troops.

But the people standing closest behind Syura were far more eye-catching.

There was a wandering swordsman dressed like a far-eastern samurai, a blade of grass hanging from his mouth.

A pretty girl with shoulder-length blond hair wore a dress with black-and-white striped stockings.

Beside her stood a voluptuous woman in a revealing camisole and miniskirt, looking more like a dazzling singer than a fighter.

There was also a thin, black-haired young man wearing an absurdly revealing skintight outfit, as well as a grotesquely obese clown holding a round ball in one hand.

Every one of them radiated an unusual presence.

Clearly, none were ordinary fighters.

Worse still, the way they looked at Kiriya’s group was intensely predatory, as though they were examining livestock waiting to be slaughtered—or toys sitting on a shelf waiting to be purchased.

It was deeply unpleasant.

"Oh?"

Esdeath barely spared Syura a glance.

"You want to invite us somewhere?"

Her tone was casual.

"And who exactly are you?"

Jeanne and Ryuu’s gazes were equally cold.

"How dare you!"

Before Syura could answer, one of the soldiers behind him eagerly jumped forward and shouted.

"Do you even know who he is? He is the son of the Prime Minister, Lord Syura—"

His words abruptly stopped.

Syura had already seized him by the throat and lifted him from the ground like a duck.

"Hey."

Syura stared at his overeager subordinate with terrifying coldness.

"What exactly was that supposed to mean?"

His fingers tightened.

"You think being the Prime Minister’s son is the only thing about me worth mentioning?"

"Or do you think I’ll never surpass that old bastard?"

Yes, he was Honest’s son.

Yes, the authority and prestige he currently possessed ultimately came from his father.

But Syura took no pride in that.

He had only ever had one real goal—to surpass that old man.

In Syura’s mind, accomplishing that would be the greatest act of filial devotion possible.

Traveling the world to absorb the strengths of different martial traditions, gathering powerful Imperial Arms, refining his own combat abilities...

Everything he did was aimed toward that single obsession.

That was precisely why nothing irritated him more than being treated as merely an extension of Prime Minister Honest.

Anyone foolish enough to reveal that kind of thinking rarely ended well.

"I... didn’t... I only..."

The soldier’s face had already turned dark red and purple.

His eyes rolled upward as he tried desperately to beg for mercy, but he no longer had enough breath to speak.

Crack!

Syura had no interest in listening.

With a small movement of his hand, he snapped the man’s neck.

The soldier went limp instantly.

Syura had just killed one of his own men—a subordinate who had been enthusiastically trying to flatter him—without the slightest hesitation.

The remaining soldiers immediately fell silent.

Everyone watching was equally stunned.

"Ah! He killed someone!"

A passing woman clearly could not handle the sight and screamed.

The surrounding civilians immediately scattered in panic, desperate to get away from the dangerous scene.

The shrill cry made Syura frown.

"Annoying."

Before the word had even fully left his mouth, the scantily dressed black-haired man behind him disappeared from his original position.

He appeared beside the woman and raised a hand, intending to knock her unconscious.

’Heh. Not bad at all for her age.’

A greedy expression appeared on his face.

’She could be fun to play with.’

His name was Enshin, a pirate chief who had dominated the southern islands.

His considerable strength and insatiable lust made him a natural match for Syura, and the two had quickly become partners in crime.

This time, Enshin had followed Syura back to the Imperial Capital specifically to indulge himself.

The woman before him looked to be in her thirties, but she had taken good care of herself.

Her skin was fair, her figure shapely, and she retained plenty of mature beauty.

Enshin immediately took an interest.

And now that Syura had effectively given permission, there was nothing stopping him from enjoying himself.

Shhk—!

A flash of sword light crossed the street.

Enshin’s body split cleanly in two while he was still in midair.

The two halves fell heavily onto the ground.

"Ah..."

Agonizing pain surged from the severed wound.

Enshin tried to scream, but only managed a short gasp before Kiriya’s sword flashed again and removed his head.

"So damn noisy."

Kiriya casually flicked the blood from his blade.

Everything had happened in the blink of an eye.

To Syura and his followers, their vision had barely blurred before Enshin had already become several pieces of meat scattered across the street.

Shing! Shing! Shing!

Once the soldiers recovered, they immediately drew their weapons and stared nervously at Kiriya.

’Strong.’

The samurai-like swordsman’s expression became serious.

An expert could recognize another expert from a single exchange.

That slash Kiriya had just performed had been perfect in speed, timing, and angle.

It was unmistakably a killing sword honed through countless battles.

The swordsman felt his blood begin to heat.

His fighting spirit was awakening.

"Syura."

He turned his head slightly.

"That one’s mine. Any problem?"

"Just make it quick."

Syura waved dismissively.

He did not care.

As far as he was concerned, Kiriya was merely some brute with a little strength.

This was the Imperial Capital.

Did the idiot really think he could overturn the heavens here?

The wandering swordsman moved immediately.

A heartbeat later, steel was already ringing as he and Kiriya exchanged rapid blows.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Syura stopped paying attention to them.

His eyes remained fixed on Esdeath, Ryuu, and Jeanne, his blood growing hotter by the second.

He wanted them.

Badly.

He wanted to get his hands on such exquisite toys and enjoy them thoroughly!

That blue-haired girl had eyes full of confidence and pride, sharp as drawn swords.

Breaking that pride and forcing her onto her knees would undoubtedly be entertaining.

He could already imagine all the interrogation tools he might use.

Then there was the blond girl with those pure eyes.

She looked religious.

Devout, even.

If he could make someone like that truly fall while standing before the very symbol of the god she worshiped...

Syura nearly shuddered with excitement.

And finally, the pointed-eared blond girl.

What was she?

Some rare foreign race?

That cold stare of hers looked as though she were looking at garbage.

Perfect.

Give her enough powerful drugs to make desire burn through her body, and eventually she would be crawling on the ground, helpless to resist whatever he wanted.

In only a few seconds, Syura had already imagined exactly what he intended to do with all three of them.

"Ladies."

He smiled.

"Are you going to come with me willingly, or do I need to use force and drag you away?"

The words had barely left his mouth when a fist appeared in front of him.

It moved so fast that Syura had no time to react.

BANG!

The fist sank deep into his abdomen.

"Uwaaagh—!"

The overwhelming force tore through muscle and slammed directly into his internal organs.

Syura suffered devastating damage instantly and collapsed onto his knees, coughing up mouthful after mouthful of blood.

"Impossible..."

His head rang violently.

"H-How... is she... this strong?"

He could not understand it.

The girl looked like nothing more than some ordinary swordswoman from the countryside.

How could her barehanded combat ability be this overwhelming?

He had not even been given the chance to fight back.

"You?"

Esdeath grabbed a fistful of Syura’s white hair and yanked his head upward.

Her expression was filled with naked contempt.

"A piece of trash like you actually thought you were qualified to come after me?"