Chapter 99: The Empire and The Sovereign

He had sensed them coming; two powerhouses. One of whom had almost single-handedly finished off a Godbeast in moments.

There would be no use trying to outrun such a person. So Mikael decided to sit and wait for them to come seek him out.

He struck Ragnarok’s shaft into the ground a few inches away from where he sat, and got comfortable. The soil hissed faintly where the black metal touched it, as though the earth itself disliked the contact.

Fortunately, before the beast fully went down, they, he and the scythe, had absorbed a great deal of energy. Enough to actually put up a fight against the likes of General Erica, and even Duke Alan. Whether or not he could face off the newcomer was a matter to be tested in a few moments.

His body protested. The mortal frame had endured a great deal tonight: a beam that should have erased it, a cycle of agonizing transmutation, and a backlash that still throbbed behind his eyes. But pain was a luxury he didn’t even care to make time for.

For now, he straightened his back, steadied his breathing, and let his face settle into calm.

And they did come. The new General looked like he was in his thirties, with raven black hair and black eyes. But unlike his bleak, almost chill physical appearance, his presence, his aura felt hot. Fiery hot, like he was a living bonfire walking in plain sight.

Heat shimmered around his boots with every step, and the grass beneath him curled and blackened. He did not seem to notice.

Mikael studied him more. He was a wielder of fire, and a very refined one, if the steady, controlled flow of heat was anything to go by. That would also explain the beam that did away with the Lion Turtle.

“Generals,” Mikael greeted from his rocky chair.

“Mikael?” General Rodain dropped to the ground as he stared the lad in the eyes. “Quite the spectacle, boy. You definitely look the part; the ingenious, brilliant inventor.”

Erica glanced at her husband, then sighed. Things here might actually get messy if the boy did not pick his words very carefully. Not wanting to be around when egos started flying around, she just turned and continued on her way.

“There might still be S-class Ravagers around. Best to take care of them,” she said as she sauntered off.

General Rodain was usually the all-smiles man, warm and jolly, most of the time. But when it came to defending the Empire or its pride as a sovereign powerhouse, he was not known to hold back!

And honestly, from her few previous encounters with Mikael and from rumors about him, it was clear to any reasonable person that he too was a man quite unflinching in his ways. Basically, he too had quite the ego. Whether or not he had the power to back it up now was another issue altogether.

As she left, she threw a glance over her shoulder at the malevolent scythe at Mikael’s left hand side. She shuddered. “Such a troublesome weapon,” she muttered.

Ragnarok hummed faintly just then, almost like it was amused. All the mana it had absorbed went a great way in bringing back its shine.

General Rodain was still all smiles as he gauged Mikael’s capabilities, sizing him up.

The lad’s aura hovered somewhere around the Grandmaster and Sage Ranks, although, just a few months ago, per the Imperial Merchant Office’s report, he was at the Master Rank.

‘Makes sense if he used his invention to push himself up,’ Rodain surmised. There was one thing he would not do for sure.

Underestimate him.

And there were a few reasons that were glaringly obvious to anybody with the tiniest bit of common sense.

The eyes, gold and half interested, in addition to the inscribed geometric patterns said a lot. And they were reported to have the ability to cancel out spells.

Not to mention the fact that his sitting posture was not actually one that was relaxed, not even in the slightest. From his years as a knight and soldier, Rodain could tell Mikael was actually prepping to take him on or flee if the need somehow arose. And the fact that Mikael actually sat down to wait for them to come was proof the lad was quite confident in his ability to somehow leave.

Then there was the issue of the scythe that just stood there, but didn’t exactly stand there doing nothing. The aura from the scythe was sickeningly deathly. It crawled up the skin and caused this special type of revulsion to creep up the back of one’s throat! And there was its hunger. Almost sentient, and so greedy.

‘Surely, this weapon of his is some relic from somewhere very unpleasant.’ Whatever it was, it did not belong to a mere inventor. And yet the boy kept it within arm’s reach as casually as a walking stick.

Just then, Mikael’s body twitched for a second. An involuntary response of the mortal body when it had stayed in one single position for a while. But that was all it took for the entire situation to escalate.

The wind died. Even the crackle of the burning forest seemed to hold its breath.

In one split second, General Rodain surged forward with his two fingers pointed out and towards Mikael’s head. The air cracked between them like a whip.

Mikael himself, thanks to the mana he had taken in from Ragnarok, was able to notice the very instant the General’s body changed posture. So he reached for his trusty scythe and, having predicted where the General might attack, positioned its blade at where his neck would be.

Two seconds later, the duo remained in their attack positions; Mikael had two fingers pressed to his forehead while General Rodain was actually surprised to feel warm metal pulsing against his throat. Meanwhile, Mikael never got up from his rock.

Neither of them breathed. A single bead of sweat slid down Rodain’s temple and evaporated before it reached his jaw.

Either Mikael thought him not much of a threat, or the lad simply wasn’t fast enough to dodge. Rodain doubted it was the latter.

They stayed that way for a few more moments before deciding to let up, and each returned to their original position.

“Nice reflexes, boy. Did Duke Limnor train you?” Rodain said, breaking the ‘ice’ with a laugh.

It was a probe, and Mikael saw it. House Limnor had its fingers in too great a pie for the General to ask so innocently.

Mikael finally set down the scythe. A thin red line remained on Rodain’s skin where the blade had been, and he touched it with a thumb, amused.

“I’d like to think of myself as a genius in combat too, General Rodain. And to what do I owe this somewhat unpleasant surprise? I hear most people never get to see any of the five Generals, but I get to see the undisputed leader and his significant other. What odds! What’s the occasion?”

The decision to threaten the General rather than dodge had paid off well. Dodging would’ve only infuriated the man, and rile him up to actually fight.

“The summons, boy.” By now, General Rodain no longer smiled. “I am inclined to believe you have been sent letters, correspondence even bearing the seal of the throne more than once. May I know why you have sworn to never receive and answer the summons of your Emperor?

The heat in the air sharpened, dry and suffocating, like the breath of a furnace.

“No, no, no, no, General Rodain Lithorne. You mean ‘your’ Emperor, not mine. I kneel to no man.”

That statement earned Mikael a glare that masked intense killing intent. Somewhere behind them, a tree burst into flames from the heat alone.

Rodain’s jaw tightened. In all his years of service, he had heard such words only from traitors, and they all never lived long enough to say them twice.

“His Imperial Majesty, the Lord and Protector of this realm wherein you reside, is someone you should not dare hesitate to serve, lad. Or to answer his gracious summons at the speed of lightning.”

Mikael knew the subtext meaning. But he wasn’t going to compromise himself for a mortal’s sake. So he replied, “Not me. I do not exactly care what worth you ascribe to your leader, but I am not in any way inclined to ‘revere’ a mere mortal man with gemstones on his head who sits on an elevated chair in some fancy building. If he wants to see me, let him come to me. I too am a Sovereign in my own right.”

He said it calmly, the way one stated a simple fact.

Silence reigned for a moment or so among the duo.

“Is that so?” General Rodain asked, his gaze falling to the ground in what resembled regret, and pity.

It was coming.

Mikael heaved a sigh, a heavy sigh as he slowly shifted his posture.

“Unfortunately, ye-” He never got to finish that statement. It happened too fast to follow. Because the black-eyed General already had his hand on Mikael’s throat, and the grip was insanely tight.

The ground cracked under the sudden surge of heat. Mikael’s feet left the rock, and his fingers closed around the General’s wrist, finding nothing but skin hot enough to blister. Ragnarok, still planted in the dirt, let out a low, hungry hum.

Rodain’s black eyes held no malice, only the cold certainty of a man doing his duty.

“For your blasphemous utterances against the Throne of Romaria, Inventor Mikael, I sentence you to death. Be sure to repent in hell.”

Happy New Month folks!

Looking forward to your support this month once more. Gracias, and see y’all with tomorrow’s chapter.