Olsen noticed a faint tremor laced at the end of it.
'That feeling earlier... it wasn't an ordinary splint.'
It seemed as though a thin, iron-made splint had been wrapped around his forearm.
That alone wouldn't allow him to exert strength in his arm, so perhaps it was a splint designed with a special structure to disperse impact.
Olsen's guess was very close to the truth.
Thud!
An impact was felt from behind. Olsen too was disarmed and forced to kneel on the ground.
"Just because it's broken doesn't mean it's useless."
Dane muttered coldly as he surveyed the surroundings.
Grrr...
The number of shadow wolves had decreased significantly.
Dane's strategy of offering the bodies of the blood relatives as bait while taking down the wolves was highly effective.
Howl!
The wolves' leader signaled for the others to retreat. The losses were greater than anticipated, as evidenced by their more cautious demeanor compared to before.
Thud!
The knights tossed several corpses of the blood relatives toward the wolves.
"-!"
The wolves hesitated at first, then rushed in and began greedily gorging on the flesh.
"--!"
"Heek!"
The faces of those still alive turned deathly pale. The knights prodded them with the tips of their swords, herding them toward the cliff's edge.
"Your Grace, Your Grace! Please spare us!"
"Please forgive us!"
As death stared them in the face, some began to beg desperately.
"The first one to make noise gets thrown to the wolves."
At Dane's single remark, they fell dead silent.
"......"
Olsen and Marcus said nothing. They merely glared at Dane with bloodshot, reddened eyes.
"Good, that's how it should be."
Dane looked at the two men and slightly curled the corners of his mouth.
"Bring that here."
When he steadied his breathing and gave a slight nod,
"Here it is."
A knight presented a practice longsword he had prepared in advance. The blade had been blunted to prevent accidents during sparring.
"What...?"
Marcus recoiled as he saw Dane approaching.
Press.
A knight pressed down hard on Marcus's shoulder and forced him to his knees on the ground.
"It was the right ankle, wasn't it?"
Dane muttered as if recalling something, then raised the practice longsword.
Crack!
The blunt blade of the practice longsword struck Marcus's leg directly.
"Aaaagh!"
Marcus screamed and twisted his entire body, but Dane did not stop.
Crack! Craaack!
Marcus's leg skin tore messily. No—it looked as though it was bursting apart.
"Mmph! Mmph!"
The knights grabbed Marcus's jaw and stuffed a cloth into his mouth. It was to prevent him from biting his tongue.
"It would be best to stay still."
Dane said indifferently as he lifted the longsword caked in blood.
"If you move, other parts will get crushed too."
As the practice longsword struck Marcus's leg several more times,
Snap!
Finally, the sound of Marcus's leg bone shattering rang out. From his ankle to his shin, it had become like a mangled lump of meat.
"Ghk, ghhhk..."
Saliva dripped from the cloth wedged in Marcus's mouth. Dane approached the trembling man's side.
"As of today, your houses will be struck from the noble registry. Your territories and assets will be confiscated as well."
It was a solemn voice, as if pronouncing a death sentence, but also a flat one, as if merely listing predetermined facts.
"This is the price for targeting the lord of Schmaichel."
"......"
Marcus glared at Dane with snorting breaths. Over eyes streaming with tears, hostility glistened.
"Ah, you still had a daughter left, didn't you."
"......!"
Dane's casual remark reminded Marcus of that dreadful carriage.
The carriage that had contained the remains of his precious son.
"I'll find a suitable 'marriage match' for her, so close your eyes without worry."
Dane murmured in a rather kind manner.
Whether that match would truly be a marriage partner or simply someone to warm an old noble's bed was anyone's guess.
"Mmmmmph!"
Realizing this, Marcus's face turned deathly pale.
Thump! Thump!
He began slamming his forehead against the ground.
He couldn't utter a single word, but the meaning was clear.
"You'll do anything if I just spare your daughter?"
Dane muttered as he watched the sight. Marcus jerked his head up and nodded with all his might.
"Mmph! Mmph!"
Even looking at Marcus's forehead stained with paternal love and blood, Dane's face showed no emotion whatsoever.
"You seem to be mistaken."
He said it in a tone so indifferent it was cruel.
"Your conditions aren't even worth putting on the negotiation table."
Having finished speaking, he turned around.
As if that action was a signal, the knights began producing glass bottles from bags strapped to their horses.
When the bottles were uncorked, a smell akin to a thirst for blood began to emanate. Olsen wasn't the only one who had prepared the solution.
"Drench him thoroughly."
"Mmmmmmmph!"
The solution from the glass bottles began to be sprayed over Marcus's body.
Step, step.
Dane approached Olsen. Olsen clenched his jaw and glared at him.
'Vile bastard.'
He hadn't expected to eliminate the man he'd failed to kill despite trying every trick for three years, not even now.
But it was bitterly painful that every measure he had prepared was broken, and even turned against him.
'As if he knew everything all along...'
In a fragment of the past that Olsen knew nothing about, Dane had already confronted his schemes.
That was why he could fully prepare for something like today—something the current Olsen simply didn't know.
Step.
Finally, Dane stood before Olsen. He leaned down and gazed at him.
"I'm not particularly interested in your last words."
With a face that looked almost bored, as if Olsen's relentless torment all this time had been meaningless.
"Dane Schmaichel!"
That sparked the flame of Olsen's last remaining pride.
If only he knew how he had smiled the day his daughter left the estate, if only he knew how that flower-like child had died.
Dane shouldn't be making that face.
The fact that the child hadn't left even a fragment behind in Dane tormented him to madness.
"......"
The moment Dane's gaze—like a shard of ice—landed on him,
Crackle!
Olsen gathered all of his mana.
'I'll drag you to hell with me.'
Whirrr!
The Magic Stone Coal attached to various parts of his body began to vibrate.
"Your Grace! Dodge—"
The surrounding knights hastily threw themselves toward Olsen. It was an attempt to shield Dane from the explosion.
Boom!
The Magic Stone Coal exploded with a roar.
The erupted mana crushed the space and swallowed the entire surrounding radius.
...No, it should have.
Crackle!
Intense light burst forth from the pendant hanging around Dane's neck.
The magic stone inside the pendant flashed and vibrated violently. It was suppressing the Magic Stone Coal's mana from bursting out.
"What...?"
Olsen stared at the pendant blankly.
The amount of Magic Stone Coal he had prepared was enough to break through a defensive Magical Device with plenty to spare.
That wasn't a defensive Magical Device that formed a barrier using the power of magic stones. It was a Magical Device that operated on some entirely different principle.
"How?"
"What is that...?"
The knights who had surrounded Olsen also stared at the pendant with shocked faces.
"......"
While everyone was appalled, only Dane's face, bathed in the pendant's light, remained utterly indifferent.
Snap!
Finally, the Magic Stone Coal fell silent.
Having exhausted all its power from the magic stone, it was now nothing more than a pretty rock.
"Did you really think the same trick would work twice?"
Dane gently stroked the pendant and smiled faintly.
It was a smile directed not at Olsen before him, but at someone who had made this pendant for him.
"From the moment that carriage was destroyed, I anticipated you would prepare Magic Stone Coal."
Olsen knew that much himself.
Even so, Magic Stone Coal was something that couldn't be defended against. At least within the knowledge he possessed.
But why...
"Have you ever heard of mana reversal?"
Dane lowered the pendant and gazed at Olsen.
"It's my wife's creation."
"......"
"Ah, Andersen was involved too. Anyway."
Dane finished speaking and turned around, with an attitude as if Olsen wasn't even in his field of vision.
"...Gh, ghh."
Olsen finally realized.
That he had been completely defeated. That this was truly the end.
"Gwaaagh!"
A monstrous scream erupted from his mouth. The blood vessels in his neck writhed as if about to burst.
"Gwaaaaaaagh!"
It was a sound difficult to call human, no different from a beast's howl.
Even having steeled himself for his own death, how could he not even graze that bastard's skin?
Frustration, rage. All of it mixed together until it felt like his head would explode.
Krrk!
The sound of Olsen's molars cracking rang out.
"Dane Schmaichel!"
Even at his venom-filled shout, Dane didn't look back. Nevertheless, Olsen continued to scream.
"That bitch Rose—"
He couldn't finish his sentence.
Slice!
It felt as if cold iron grazed past his ear, and then—
"Gahhhh!"
A pain like a hot iron searing his jaw struck him.
Olsen's mouth and jaw were sliced off and dangling loose. For the first time, he could see his own lower jaw and the teeth within it with his own eyes.
It was by no means a pleasant experience.
"Ghhh, ghk..."
With his lower jaw dangling, he couldn't even speak properly. He could only writhe, hunched forward.
Swish.
The cold blade lifted Olsen's face from below. When the blade touched the roof of his mouth, the pain was excruciating.
"......"
Olsen trembled as he came face to face with Dane from inches away.
His eyes were burning blue-hot.
Who was it that called him the snow mountains of the north? Those eyes were blazing hotter than any flame.
He could instinctively tell that that single remark had touched Dane's reverse scale.
Slide.
Dane pulled the sword from Olsen's jaw and raised it above his head.
"...!"
Olsen sensed that his end had come.
Crack!
A clean sound, like a watermelon splitting, rang in his ears.
Just as the back of his neck turned cold, his vision swayed to both sides and he couldn't focus. Then his thoughts ceased as well.
Splat.
Olsen's body, split in two, spilled onto the ground.
"......"
Dane's knights held their breath.
It was their first time seeing their lord reveal such emotion. It was the first time they witnessed the tip of his sword—always so clean—trembling with rage.
In this situation, there wasn't a single knight who could voice a proper remark like, 'This will make it difficult to disguise as an accident.'
If Matthias had been present, he might have actually done so; fortunately—or unfortunately—he was not here.
"My."
Arikx and the Royal Knight Order had arrived at the scene right at that moment.
The stench of blood hung thick in every direction. Shadow wolves were tearing at corpses scattered all around.
"Your Highness the Prince!"
"Please save us!"
The collateral blood relatives who were still alive clamored desperately.