Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 71

Chapter 71
By the end of the sixth day, the Rubena domain was in ruins, torn apart by the hit-and-run battles waged by the two vampires and Leon’s group. Given that both sides had fighters strong enough to wield Aura-Weapon-level destructive power, once they decided to smash things, the results were bound to be catastrophic.
Each night, they clashed at least three times, sometimes five or more. Though the fighting was staged, the force behind it was all too real; every skirmish leveled dozens of meters around it.
More than ten of the Count’s magical structures were damaged beyond repair, and the magical power of the barrier around the city walls had weakened dramatically.
As far as wearing down the Count’s strength, they’d achieved exactly what they wanted. For something done in just six days, it was impressive. However, the time had come to end the show.
—
He’s calling you in first thing in the morning. Guess he’s finally caught on.
El-Cid snickered, reading the Count’s mood. He was spot on.
The damage Count Rubena had suffered over those six days was enormous. Because so much of it was tied to magic, he couldn’t publicly admit how truly costly it really was, but just the valuation of the destroyed buildings had to be worth thousands of gold coins.
Not to mention the knights he’s lost,
Leon thought bitterly.
After the first night, a handful of knights had shadowed their group. It was suspicious enough that none of Leon’s group ever got hurt—yet a whole magical structure had somehow been destroyed right under their watch. Still, the Count had no proof to blame them directly, so the nighttime charade had continued.
—
Couldn’t be helped. To those vampires, the knights were
the
enemies who’d hunted their kin.
Yeah...
Leon admitted quietly.
The two vampires had unleashed real killing intent on the knights. And with the power of near-A-rank high-tier vampires, they’d slaughtered them with ease.
The body count was already in double digits. There was no way the Count could let that slide forever.
“Go ahead.”
The knight standing guard outside the reception room opened the door. His eyes were ringed with shadows—maybe from lack of sleep due to the fear of ending up like the comrades who’d been slaughtered over the past few days.
Leon and the others stepped past him into the reception room, and immediately, something flew at them with a loud clattering sound
.
A lead ornament rolled across the floor, hideously dented, most likely hurled by the Count.
The moment the group ducked, the Count roared, “Are you mocking me?!”
The calm, courtly air was gone. His eyes were ablaze with rage as he glared down at them.
It was clear that if he caught even the glimmer of something to suspect, he’d crush them where they stood. Leon and the others kept their eyes fixed on the floor, careful not to meet his gaze.
“I asked you to hunt down the vampires, not destroy my entire domain! You’ve torn everything apart for days and you still haven’t caught a single one!”
“M-my lord, I don’t know what to say...” Arnold stammered.
“
Oh
, you don’t know what to say? My men are dead while you lot keep yourselves perfectly safe! Explain that to me, merchant!”
The Count’s fury pressed down on Arnold, who knelt at the front, shoulders shaking under the weight of that murderous glare. The Count knew that he was the easy target. The mercenaries were too hardened to crack under pressure alone.
However, Gustav wouldn’t let Arnold stand alone. “My lord, allow me to explain.”
“Go on.”
The Count’s eyes narrowed, daring him to speak, but Gustav, seasoned captain of the Steel Claw, didn’t flinch an inch. His voice was steady as stone.
“They won’t fight us directly, my lord,” Gustav explained.
“What...?”
“It’s simple. When they face us, they block or dodge—never do they strike to kill. The only strikes with any real force were aimed at your buildings and men.”
As the new information sank in, the Count’s brow twisted into a deep scowl.
“Those filthy vermin...”
The cleverer a man, the more he trusted his own reasoning. Right then, the Count jumped to exactly the conclusion Leon wanted him to reach.
They didn’t kill outsiders. They only killed his men. Somehow, they’d even sniffed out the magical structures and used Leon’s party as a decoy to destroy them. If things went on like this, he’d just keep being toyed with.
No doubt he won’t bother asking us why,
Leon thought, keeping his head low.
He knows exactly why the vampires are targeting him.
El-Cid murmured dryly,
—
Trapped in his own clever tricks
.
Funny.
Sure enough, the Count didn’t press them any further. Instead, his voice turned cold and razor sharp.
“I’ll stop here. My men won’t come back to life, no matter how much I rage. From tonight, you are all dismissed. You’ve failed, so the promised reward is void. When the mess you made has been somewhat cleaned up, you’ll be gone from my lands.”
“Yes, my lord,” Gustav answered on behalf of the group.
The Count turned his back on them without another word, and Leon’s group carefully backed out of the room. Their faces stayed calm but sweat trickled down their spines the whole way out. They didn’t breathe a word until they were back in their quarters, door safely shut.
“
Haah
... Thought we were finished,” Karen muttered.
“I told you, didn’t I? Even he wouldn’t push it without proof.”
“If he’s still holding back his true colors after all this...”
“It means he still needs more time.”
“We need those Inquisitors to get here as soon as possible.”
A bit of regret lingered that the farce had ended after only six days, but all things considered, they’d wrung the best result they could out of it. Now all they could do was wait for the Holy Iron Inquisitors to arrive on time.
Karen, chin propped on Leon’s shoulder, whispered softly, “So, shall we?”
No matter how many servants they dismissed, there were always people in the residence who answered to the Count.
Only Karen could move freely, unseen by his eyes and ears. She knew where and how to meet the Inquisitors, so all Leon had to do was stay put.
At his single nod, her presence vanished without a trace. Her stealth always made his skin crawl.
They have to come in the next two days,
Leon prayed.
At most.
That was all he asked for. He didn’t know why, but his gut told him that if they didn’t come within that time, things would take a turn for the worse.
The instincts of a hero doomed to the stormiest of lives whispered a warning. Unfortunately, the Holy Iron Inquisitors did not arrive the next day.
***
Two days had passed. Karen came back from her usual rendezvous point and held up two fingers.
“Leon, we got two!” she ed.
Two wasn’t bad. Leon had hoped for at least three, but he hadn’t counted on it. Even a single Holy Iron Inquisitor was enough to crush an organization like the Bastard gang of Blaine. Sending three would have been overkill.
“Let’s go meet them,” Leon said.
First, he had to judge their strength for himself. They were surely B-rank or higher, but even within the Holy Iron Inquisitors, there were two kinds of elites.
Some specialized in sacred spells while others in martial skills or Aura. Caesare had leaned more toward the latter.
Leon stepped out at once and told a maid he would be dining out in the city. It was a way to muddy Count’s suspicions by leaving a visible trail.
Walking beside him down the main street, Karen muttered approvingly, “A reservation restaurant,
huh
? Clever move.”
The method for contacting the Inquisitors was simple but ingenious—they just had to leave a name at the reservation desk of a busy restaurant. The two of them followed a familiar route to the place, then gave their name to the staff at the door. Of course, they hadn’t used his real name.
“Hello, I have a reservation under Noel.”
The code was Leon’s name spelled backward.
“
Ah
, welcome, sir. You’ve reserved a room on the fourth floor, correct? May I ask for your menu choice?” the host asked.
“We’ll have the day’s special, please.”
“The special for all four of you. Perfect.”
Guided upstairs, they entered the fourth-floor room, where two people were waiting. A man and a woman, both impeccably dressed.
Judging by appearances alone, they looked to be in their late twenties. Leon’s eyes swept over them, head to toe, in the blink of an eye, and he couldn’t help but be impressed.
They’re unarmed, just sitting there, and yet there’s not a single opening.
El-Cid agreed, —They’re strong. Quite strong.
They weren’t quite Caesare’s level, but definitely A-rank. Leon, who’d grown used to measuring power thanks to sensing Karen’s massive presence all the time, could read their strength without much effort.
The Holy Iron Inquisitors were accepted as the strongest force on the continent, and their members showed why. Leon gave a polite nod and took the seat across from them.
He greeted, “It’s an honor to meet you. I am Leon, the one who asked for your help.”
The man, with soft brown hair and calm green eyes, introduced them politely, “Yes, Brother Leon. Bishop Caesare told us much about you. My name is Demian, and the lady beside me is Angela. She cannot speak, so I ask for your understanding.”
Demian and Angela.
Leon turned the names over once, then asked, “How much do you know about the current situation?”
“
Hmm
, let’s see...” Demian thought for a moment, then smiled and continued, “We know you and Tepes have been staging fights to disguise sabotage operations.”
“You know Tepes?” Leon asked.
“Yes. The Wallachia clan’s labor sentence is quite well known.”
Two hundred and fifty years of forced servitude—only to be tangled up in something like this afterward. They really were an unfortunate clan.
Demian spoke again, sympathy in his voice.
“Still, just in case we’ve missed something, could you explain everything from the start?”
“Of course.”
The briefing didn’t take long. When Leon described how the Wallachia clan had been captured by the Count and farmed like cattle, both Inquisitors’ expressions hardened.
Magic that extracted life force that way could mean only one thing. It was black magic.
“I see what he’s trying to do now.”
Demian’s tone dropped lower. That alone showed how serious it was. Unlike Leon or El-Cid, Demian’s knowledge of magic was deeper than most scholars.
“Vampires are a race without a clear line between flesh and spirit, and he’s using them to stockpile power. The drain magic of black sorcery works best on spiritual bodies—so he feeds them the blood of the poor, then squeezes them dry again when they’re stronger.”
“Is that really possible?” Leon asked.
“Normally, no. If vampires could grow infinitely strong just by drinking more blood, they’d have conquered the world long ago. Mass blood consumption is actually one of their taboos—it can drive them to ruin. But...” Demian took a brief pause and then continued, “Whether the vampires live or die isn’t the Count’s concern. His goal is to use them as a filter—to absorb their power for himself. Once he drains them dry, they’re disposable.”
Angela, listening quietly, held up three fingers.
Seeing that, Demian explained, “This incident is classified as Danger Level 3. We’ll need your full cooperation.”
“Level 3?” Leon asked.
“It means a city-scale disaster. The City Swallowing you stopped was also Level 3. Level 2 means a nationwide calamity, and Level 1 is something that could threaten the entire world. Though, so far, nothing but the Demon King has ever reached that.”
In truth, Level 3 was practically the ceiling. If a Level 2 crisis broke out, half the Holy Iron Inquisitors would mobilize, and every nation would be called to help. If disasters of that scale were common, the world would already be a wasteland.
Demian’s face turned grim again as he said, “It looks like we have no time left to wait and see.”
“Yes. I agree.”
Leon wasn’t the only one who felt that heavy, restless air filling the city and coiling around Rubena like the calm before a storm. A single prick of a needle, and it would burst.
“Tonight, we’ll interrogate Count Rubena. If he refuses, we’ll pass judgment in the Holy Church’s name.”
No one at that table argued. About eight hours remained until sunset.
The final reckoning was near.