Chapter 151

“So you’re not joking after all,” Noyer said, his suspicion growing, thick and undeniable. His brows furrowed as he processed the implications of what Rezette was suggesting. Five times the number of reinforcements? It was deeply troubling. What could he possibly be planning with such a vast army?

“What are you scheming?” Noyer demanded, his voice tight with disbelief. “Dragging that many soldiers to your wife’s homeland—what do you intend to do there? Are you going to help rebuild Argan yourself?”

Rezette’s eyes were cold, his voice unwavering. “That duty belongs to the people of Argan. It’s not my role.” He paused for a beat, his gaze sharp. “And my wife won’t be satisfied with just the crown of Van Yela.”

Noyer blinked, taken aback. “The crown of Van Yela…” His voice trailed off, confusion giving way to alarm. “What are you saying?”

For a brief moment, Noyer was utterly speechless, caught in the wake of his brother’s unexpected declaration. The air seemed to thicken, the tension palpable.

Then, without warning, it escalated. Rezette’s massive hand shot out, larger than half a face, grabbing Noyer by the collar and yanking him downwards.

“Brother,” Rezette said, his voice low and clipped.

Noyer’s feet stumbled beneath him as he was pulled downward, clumsy and off-balance. He was forced to take three unsteady steps before finally coming to a halt, now staring up at his younger brother. Even in his disoriented state, a scowl twisted his face.

“What kind of disrespectful address is that?” Noyer growled, his voice thick with indignation.

Rezette let out a dry scoff, clearly unimpressed. “This man,” he muttered under his breath, “truly hasn’t changed. Perhaps it’s fortunate for me.” His eyes flicked over to Noyer, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re so predictably consistent. Easier to read that way.”

The memory surfaced suddenly—one from long ago. It was over twenty years ago when Rezette first learned to speak the human tongue. His nanny, Rebecca, had gently explained that he and Noyer were half-brothers. It was the first time Rezette had ever called Noyer “brother,” and when he did, the young man had looked at him with nothing but contempt in his eyes, drunk on power even then. The disdain had been as sharp as a blade, and it had left an indelible mark on him.

“No, Rezette. You mustn’t call me that,” Noyer had said, his voice cold, dripping with condescension.

“Why not?” 

“Just because one raises a dog like family doesn’t mean the dog calls a human ‘brother,’ does it? Especially not a king.”

“All you need to do,” Noyer had continued, his voice smooth as silk, “is bark loyally while keeping your eyes on me. If you want to be endearing, call me Master instead. And watch your tone. Seems you still need to learn proper honorifics.”

“Surely… Rezette, you’re not thinking of betraying me now, are you?”

Rezette’s chest tightened, a mixture of anger and regret seeping in. The youthful idol he had once looked up to—like the sky, untouchable and infinite—had vanished. In his place was a man weathered by time, his eyes bloodshot and bitter. The softness of youth had long since faded, replaced by a hard, cynical edge.

The sharp contrast between the two brothers was stark. While Rezette had grown into a handsome, formidable man, Noyer’s middle-aged frame was a stark reminder of time’s cruelty. His once-rich brown hair was streaked with gray, and the skin around his eyes had started to sag with age. Yet, his eyes—the same sharp, calculating eyes—still gleamed with that same youthful cunning.

“Who was it that named you?” Noyer’s voice was dangerously quiet now, the question laced with disdain.

Rezette remained silent, unwilling to offer a response.

“I know what you desire most, Rezette,” Noyer pressed, his voice seeping into the space like poison. “You care deeply about your place in the world. You’re a dog who needs someone to obey and revere. Isn’t that the identity you forged for yourself?”

Rezette’s lips twitched, the truth in Noyer’s words stinging, but he didn’t flinch. “You’re right. That hasn’t changed.”

“Exactly,” Noyer continued, leaning forward slightly, his expression almost triumphant. “Dogs are loyal. And they don’t betray. Even if their master abandons them, they wag their tails without shame—stupid but faithful creatures. Dogs never abandon their masters first, Rezette.”

Every word seemed to strike with the force of truth. Rezette could feel the weight of it all—the years he had spent tethered to Noyer, following orders out of habit, out of some twisted sense of loyalty. It had been simple, easy, and comfortable. Had he not met a woman who saw him as more than just a beast—who questioned him, worried over him, and cared for him in ways no one ever had—he might have continued to serve Noyer until his last breath.

But now, there was no reason to remain under the shadow of this so-called brother. There was no reason to continue being the dog.

Rezette’s voice was icy, his words deliberate. “Then consider the dog you raised to be dead.”

Noyer’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What?”

But Rezette did not respond to the shock in his brother’s voice. His cold blue gaze swept over the grand audience chamber, his eyes briefly resting on Noyer’s throne, the golden crown that sat atop his head, and the opulent tapestries that draped the walls—symbols of power, of dominance, of a world that no longer held his allegiance.

As he stared, his thoughts began to crystallize. The plan he had arrived with, the one that had once seemed so clear, was slowly morphing into something else. He had intended to overthrow the imperial palace, just as he had done years ago when he infiltrated the throne room as a boy and dethroned the emperor. At that time, he had been driven by the need to take the crown from Noyer’s head and deliver it to Elise.

But now, standing in the heart of the empire, he saw things differently.

Van Yela, and Noyer, were nothing more than obstacles to Elise’s future. Yet, the truth was more complicated. Her true enemy wasn’t here in this room, sitting before him in the form of his half-brother. The real threat to Elise and to Argan lay elsewhere—beyond the kingdom, in the vast desert nation of Ugel, a serpentine land that stretched across the center of Grandel. Ugel, not Van Yela, was the true adversary, and it was the barbarians of Ugel who needed to be destroyed.

Still, Rezette couldn’t afford to discard Van Yela so easily. Despite the emperor’s failings, this country wielded enormous power. Van Yela ruled half of the continent, and his military strength lay not only with him but with the hardened knights of the northern mountains—men whose loyalty was forged through decades of grueling training. Mocking that kind of military might would be a grave mistake.

In the right hands, Van Yela could serve as a stepping stone—an ally in the fight against Ugel, and a means to eventually bring Rezette closer to Elise. After all, it was said that the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

But dethroning the emperor would take time. It would be tedious, a drawn-out process. There were the rebellious nobles to consider, each with their own agendas, making it nearly impossible for him to leave the palace and join the battle on the front lines.

And above all, Rezette had no desire for the throne. Not even the slightest. He had no interest in ruling a kingdom, especially when he was already responsible for his domain in Rotiara. The weight of an entire empire didn’t suit his tastes, and he had far more pressing matters to attend to—like reaching Elise. Every moment spent on politics was a moment stolen from his true purpose.

No, a puppet was needed. Someone to sit on the throne while he focused on his real goal.

And so, with a chilling clarity, Rezette settled on the role Noyer would play.

“My apologies.”

Rezette bowed his head silently, mimicking the gesture his brother had once taught him. It was the least he could do before the inevitable unfolded, especially since Noyer had once been his king.

“A mad dog is always difficult to handle, isn’t it?” Rezette continued coolly, his voice laced with an almost indifferent amusement. “The one who tames it is its master.”

Noyer’s eyes flared with anger. “You…!”

Rezette’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “So please, don’t feel too aggrieved. After all, in twenty years, even a dog will be gone. You can think of your loyal hound as no more, effective as of today.”

Without waiting for a response, Rezette’s hand shot out, his fingers brushing lightly against the cold, gleaming surface of the golden crown atop Noyer’s head. The symbol of Van Yela’s imperial power. He let his fingertips linger, feeling the weight of what he was about to do.

Noyer’s voice cracked with fury. “Rezette Kyrstan, have you forgotten who gave you a name like that?”

The realization hit him just as the crown slipped from his brow. Rezette didn’t flinch, his face as impassive as stone.

“Naming a dog a human name only makes it forget its place,” Rezette said, his voice cold, cutting through the tense air. “It would have been better if you had raised me as a beast from the start.”

Though the words were harsh, there was a quiet gratitude in Rezette’s mind. The name—his name—had always sounded different when spoken by Elise. Special. But there was no room for sentiment here. Not now.

Before Noyer could react, a tendril of magical energy snaked through the air, crackling like a whip. It wrapped around Noyer’s mouth, silencing him instantly. The magic bound his limbs, rendering him immobile in an eerie, swift motion. The precision was chilling, as though Rezette were embalming a corpse rather than dealing with a living opponent.

“I won’t make you step down right away,” Rezette added casually, his tone almost light. “Just stay quietly on the throne and do nothing. I’ll be back.”

He then removed the imperial signet ring from Noyer’s right hand, his movements fluid, almost leisurely, as if the weight of the action was not quite as heavy as it appeared.

Noyer, still bound and furious, glared at him with bloodshot eyes. His veins stood out like cords beneath his skin, his rage palpable. Every fiber of his being seemed ready to lunge at Rezette, to strangle him with the intensity of his hate. But when Rezette turned his back, leaving him alone, Noyer’s fury slowly gave way to something else—disbelief.

“Ugh… ugh… ugh!” Noyer choked out, the sound filled with frustration and humiliation.

That madman! Is he really going to leave me here?

Rezette let out a short, appreciative sound, his lips curling slightly as he observed his brother’s discomfort. Without a moment’s hesitation, he did as Noyer had done to him earlier—his index finger lifting Noyer’s chin with cold precision. The magic surged into Noyer’s mouth, a violent force that poured down his throat, unstoppable and relentless.

“Half a year,” Rezette stated, his voice devoid of mercy.

“Ugh…!” Noyer gagged, his body recoiling at the unnatural sensation.

Rezette’s eyes darkened as he continued, his tone almost conversational. “Pray to the gods that I return within that time. Otherwise, the thing you just swallowed will take root inside your body.”

Noyer, choking and sputtering, could barely comprehend what was happening. What nonsense is this? His mind raced, but he was too weak to protest. Rezette, seemingly unconcerned with his discomfort, continued calmly.

“What I mean is, if I don’t extract my power from your body, you’ll die within half a year. So stop with the foolishness and wait quietly.”

Noyer’s eyes widened in horror, his breath shallow as he processed the chilling words. 

“Goodbye,” Rezette said flatly, his voice cold and final. Without a second glance, he turned on his heel and left, his footsteps echoing through the grand halls with the same unyielding pace as when he had entered.

That madman! Noyer’s mind screamed in a frenzy. Why not lock the door or send a servant in? Is he planning to starve me to death?

In his rage, Noyer kicked wildly, thrashing against the magic that bound him, but his efforts were futile—his limbs jerked helplessly, a tragic dance of frustration. It was as lonely as it was pointless.

Meanwhile, Rezette continued down the corridors, his steps resolute as ever. He reached the emperor’s office without obstruction, but the Imperial Guard hesitated at his approach. When they saw the imperial seal in his hand, their hesitation turned to caution. Without a word, they stepped aside, allowing him to pass.

No further barriers stood in his way. Rezette walked into the heart of Van Yela’s empire, his mind set on the task ahead.

It took Rezette no more than five minutes to write the summons for the Grandel Northern Alliance meeting. The document was succinct, only two lines long.

In the name of the Northern Alliance, a supporting force led by Rezette Kyrstan, the Supreme Commander, will be dispatched to assist in the conquest of Ugel’s southwestern Grandel. The ultimate goal of the support force is the annihilation of the barbarian tribes.

Rezette stamped the document with the imperial seal, then summoned a messenger to deliver it to the attending nations of the alliance. The meeting would be held in the southernmost part of Rotiara, near the Tene River. Using the authority of the dominant state, he instructed the messenger to bring an army to the meeting within a month. Tens of thousands of soldiers would converge on Rotiara.

With that, Rezette had completed his business at the imperial palace.

Upon leaving the palace, he noticed ‘Blackdog’ digging up the well-maintained central garden with its front paws. The dog, sensing its master’s presence, wagged its tail and trotted happily toward him. As Rezette grabbed the reins, Ruben, standing nearby, carefully spoke up.

“Your Grace, do you think the allied kingdoms will willingly send their forces?” Ruben asked, eyeing the dog with mild concern.

“There’s no reason they shouldn’t,” Rezette replied coolly, his gaze lingering on the dog.

“But with this, the second continental war will begin,” Ruben continued, hesitation in his voice. “The decision to join the war is at stake. If it’s not just about the south, but a full-scale war with Ugel… I suspect many nations will hesitate. Shouldn’t we offer them some bait to lure them in?”

Rezette turned to Ruben, his expression flat. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Ruben blinked in confusion. “Pardon?”

“With me as the Supreme Commander, what other bait is needed?” Rezette’s voice held a touch of amusement as he spoke.

Isaac, standing quietly by, pinched Ruben’s waist with a sharp motion, signaling him to stop asking such obvious questions.

“Ah, yes… you’re right,” Ruben muttered sheepishly, understanding dawning.

Despite the relative peace of the last few months, the name Rezette Kyrstan still struck fear into the hearts of many. Under the moniker “The War Demon,” he had once instilled terror across the continent. The army under his command had never been defeated.

When such a man, not out of compulsion but by his own will, unleashed bloodshed, the outcome was almost a certainty. Rezette Kyrstan’s very presence was a guarantee that support forces would rally from the allied nations.

As expected, the stakes of the war were clear: the winner would take everything from the loser. The rich southern territories of Ugel, vast treasures of gold and silver, and the war prisoners who would become valuable laborers—all of these would fall into the victor’s hands. The rare and precious items amassed by the barbarian tribes over the years would be claimed by the conqueror. It was a proposal that no one in their right mind would refuse.

“Then, Your Grace,” Ruben continued, still filled with curiosity. “What will you do after you crush those Ugel bastards? Perhaps, hmm… will you help the still-living emperor of Argan?”

Isaac sharply pinched Ruben’s waist again, his patience wearing thin. Rezette, staring at Ruben as though he had just heard the most absurd question, raised an eyebrow.

“Why would I?” Rezette asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

Ruben blinked, caught off guard. “Pardon?”

“Why would I help the emperor of Argan?” Rezette repeated, his tone cold and final.