The Genius Son-in-law of the Swordmaster Household—Blessed by Authority

Chapter 170 : Disposition (1)

Disposition (1)

Underground, at the demonkin containment facility.

In the place where a chill pervaded the air, there stood a single massive cylindrical tank.

Within the tank, submerged in blue-tinged preservation fluid, was Rosalia, the Sin of Lust Cult Leader.

Her condition was appalling.

The arms and legs that used to entrance countless heroes with seductive gestures had been severed from the root, and the two mesmerizing eyes that had once scrutinized the world with allure had been gouged out, leaving only hollow holes.

And there was a clear, restrained scar running across her forehead.

With her frontal lobe removed, she could no longer think or resist. Now, she was nothing more than a magic power battery.

― Bubble, bubble.

Occasional air bubbles rose from her mouth.

A life support device was forcibly keeping her alive.

For one purpose, and one purpose only.

― Vrrrrrrrr!

The needle on the magic power dashboard connected to the tank trembled as it pointed to the red zone.

[Magic power extraction efficiency: Optimal]

[Output: Stable]

Demonic energy gushed ceaselessly from her heart, being systematically stored away.

The quantity was truly enormous.

Enough energy poured out every hour to keep even a decent Magic Tower running for a week without trouble.

"......."

Ian looked at that scene with indifferent eyes.

No vengeance, no pity.

It was merely the gaze of a manager inspecting a highly efficient battery.

'Excellent.'

True to her reputation as a Cult Leader, the quality and quantity of her magic power were exceptional.

This would be a great boon to his future plans.

Without hesitation, Ian turned away.

There was nothing more to see.

― Thump. Thump.

Sunshine Castle.

Ian returned to his office and sank deep into his leather chair.

Capturing the Sin of Lust Cult Leader had been a major success, but he could not rest yet.

'Wrath, envy, gluttony, lust... I've captured the Cult Leaders, but plenty of remnants remain.'

― Knock knock.

Just then, someone knocked softly on the door to his office.

"Ian. Are you inside?"

It was Scarlet.

"Come in."

― Click!

Scarlet opened the door and entered.

She put a small glass vial on the desk.

"It's from a guy Noxcar big sis and the Sword Fiend caught. A bishop-level officer from the Cult of Wrath."

With her hand on her hip, Scarlet continued speaking.

"He'd been hiding like a rat after Brakium was captured, but the Sword Fiend tracked him down with a precision that's almost uncanny—more like a miracle. Our blood kin are still hunting down the rest with fire in their eyes."

Currently, Ian's comrades were focused on hunting down the Demon Cult.

"Thanks. Good work."

Ian briefly expressed his gratitude as he picked up the glass vial.

Inside, viscous blood sloshed around.

"But why do you keep asking me to bring you blood? It's not like you're a Vampire."

Scarlet asked again, and Ian answered awkwardly.

"It's a secret."

"... Honestly. Well, fine."

Scarlet left, and Ian opened the vial.

A pungent and fishy smell of blood wafted up.

'A bishop of the Cult of Wrath...'

The Cult of Wrath.

They were the most belligerent and destructive among the Great Cult of Sins.

In his previous life's memories, they always stood at the front lines of the cult, shattering and ripping apart humanity's defenses at will—mad dogs, through and through.

'This life, I won't let a single one even bark—I'll hunt down every last one.'

Ian inhaled the potent scent of the blood.

Bloodscent Mind Reading—reading memories and emotions contained in blood.

― Tssssk.

With the sharp stench, the bishop's memories began playing inside Ian's head.

Destruction, slaughter, arson...

Between the monotonous and gruesome memories, Ian probed deep into the man's mind, extracting the key information.

And then—

"... What?"

He discovered an entirely unexpected person in the memories.

'... Zakar Hisperion?'

The second son of the Heavenly Sword Lord. The second son, Zakar.

Why was he in the memory of a Cult of Wrath member?

Ian furrowed his brow and dug deeper.

And what he uncovered sent chills down his spine.

'These maniacs...'

Among the Wrath Archbishops, there was a man called Malus.

The Cult Leader was Brakium, but he was merely the strongest, a shock trooper.

The one who actually ran and managed the Cult of Wrath was Archbishop Malus.

A long time ago, he had done something horrible to the newborn Zakar.

He had transplanted a piece of flesh from the Grand Duke of Wrath bestowed from the demon realm into the heart of infant Zakar.

'They were trying to use Hisperion's blessed body as a vessel to manifest the Grand Duke of Wrath.'

That flesh took root in Zakar's blood vessels and nerves like a parasite, gradually corrupting the host's disposition.

'That something like this happened to Zakar...'

Ian recalled Zakar from his previous life.

A man who could never control his anger, reveled in destruction and slaughter, and always sought out the most dangerous battlefields.

He'd assumed the man was simply born with a warrior's blood to excess and suffered a ruined personality—but to think it had all been the demon cult's vile ploy.

'And now... they're accelerating their plans.'

Ian's eyes turned sharp.

Originally, Zakar was only one candidate to be a vessel for the Grand Duke of Wrath.

But now, with consecutive defeats of the Cult Leaders shaking the cult, the Wrath sect had moved up their timetable.

They had decided there was no longer time to wait for the candidates' bodies to mature.

So, they were rapidly proceeding to use the strongest and most outstanding vessel, Zakar, for the Grand Duke's descent.

'They're planning to forcibly bring down the Grand Duke.'

The method was simple but cruel.

They would push Zakar's rage to the breaking point and overlay him with the Grand Duke of Wrath's consciousness.

And Zakar had already taken the bait.

'Zakar's walking straight into their trap.'

The location—the swamp at the Empire and Hisperion border.

'There's no time to lose.'

Ian sprang to his feet.

If he didn't act immediately, the second son of the Heavenly Sword Lord would die, and the demon realm's Grand Duke would descend.

"Wait for me, Malus."

Ian opened the window and hurled himself skyward.

* * *

The life of Zakar Hisperion was little short of a curse.

From childhood, he had to fight against a mysterious surging anger inside himself.

Rage would well up for no reason, and the sight of blood gave him a twisted sense of ecstasy.

As it grew worse, retainers avoided him, and his siblings despised him.

In the end, he left his family and became a mercenary.

The battlefield was the only place he could breathe.

― Shhhraaak!

"Kugh, gah!"

One day, he almost died.

He was rescued, after suffering a fatal wound in an unnamed rural village, by a young girl.

"... Are you awake?"

Isabel.

She nursed Zakar with devoted care, not knowing who he was or how dangerous a man he could be.

"It's hot. Hoo—blow on it before you eat."

"Bothersome. Just give it here. I can chew through heated iron myself. I'll feed myself, hand it over."

"Ah! If you eat it all at once like that—!"

"*Cough! Hack!*"

"Ai! See? Give it here! There, there. Say ah—! For all your size, you act just like a child!"

"...."

While with her, for the first time in his life, Zakar felt peace.

His urge to kill and the endless rage melted away before Isabel's innocence and smile like snow.

'If only I could live like this...'

But that happiness didn't last.

The parasite in his heart would not permit the host's tranquility.

The more his body recovered, the worse his mania became.

In the end, Zakar nearly killed a village local in a petty scuffle.

Blood covering his fist—Isabel's fearful eyes as she looked at him.

At that moment, Zakar ran away.

He had to leave before he did something truly irreparable while out of control.

In what seemed an endless hell of despair and wandering, the Demon Cult reached out.

'If you take this medicine, it will ease you.'

A blue pill from Archbishop Malus of Wrath. It was a shackle masquerading as salvation.

Taking the pill soothed his mania.

But once the effect faded, even worse pain and craving assaulted him.

'Tsk tsk... Lord Zakar. We don't want your money. Just take the jobs we give you.'

Malus used the medicine as bait to manipulate him.

To get the drugs—and in hopes of curing his mania someday—Zakar continued to take jobs he didn't want, on battlefields he didn't choose, committing killings he didn't wish to.

So years passed.

Zakar found himself back at the continent's swampy underbelly to get more medicine.

"The job is done. Give me the medicine."

Zakar panted raggedly, reaching out his hand.

But the old man in the red robe, archbishop Malus, only gave a twisted smile.

"You've done well, Lord Zakar. But there is no medicine for you today."

"... What? What kind of crap is that?"

"The circumstances have changed. We won't be giving you medicine anymore."

"...? Wh—what the hell did you say?!"

Zakar hesitated for a moment before grasping the situation and reaching for his sword.

But the demonic humans' trap moved faster than him.

― Chaarrrk!

Scarlet chains burst from the darkness and coiled around him.

Demon artefact 'Stake of Fury'.

"Ku, kkkhhh...!"

Zakar groaned in pain, dropping to his knees.

The chains dug into his flesh, tightening to the bone.

He couldn't exert any strength.

"How dare you... betray me!? Release this before I kill you all!"

"Heh heh. Yes, that's good—I'm glad to see you so angry. But that's still nowhere near enough. You must be so much more furious."

Malus gestured.

"Bring them in."

From the darkness, demonic humans dragged out a number of people.

"Mmmpf! Mmph!"

Bound and gagged, they were hauled out.

At the sight of them, Zakar's heart seemed to stop.

"I-Isabel...!? Village chief?!"

The people he had missed so dearly, the ones from his only true haven, his village—all captured.

"How... how did you...?"

How had they found his weakness?

"Hehehe... Surprised? The Grand Duke's sacred flesh inside you connects you to us. We know what you watch, who you think of, and what you long for—we see it all."

Malus roughly took Isabel by the chin.

"U, uuh!"

Isabel's terrified eyes looked to Zakar.

"Stop it! Get your hands off her!"

― Charrk! Charrak!

Zakar struggled to break the chains, but the more enraged he became, the tighter they gripped him.

"KAAAAAH!!"

"Excellent—very good. That rage, that's exactly what His Excellency the Grand Duke desires."

Malus's eyes glistened with madness.

"There's no need to suppress yourself any longer. Today, you'll be reborn here."

The demonic humans dragged the villagers up to a makeshift scaffold one by one.

"No, don't—! Stop, stop it!"

Despite Zakar's anguished screams, the executioners idly sharpened their axes.

"Simply killing them is too dull. To truly perfect your rage, you need a strong stimulus."

Malus seized Isabel by the shoulders.

"First... The main dish, of course, is this woman."

"U, uuuh...! Kya!"

Malus toppled Isabel, pinning her to the ground.

She tried to resist, but there was no overcoming a dark mage's might enhanced with demonic energy.

"Stay still. Your husband should get a good look, don't you think?"

Malus drew a dagger and ripped Isabella's collar.

― Shraaaak!

As her white skin was exposed, isabel shrieked and curled up.

"Kyaaaah!"

"You bastard...! Aaaagh!!"

Zakar's eyes reddened, about to burst.

He could hear the last thread of reason snap in his mind.

"Heh. Watch closely, Zakar. See what happens to the woman you love."

Malus pressed over Isabel, looking back at Zakar as he spoke.

"And these villagers are the seasoning. Every time this woman screams, and whenever I reach my own climax... one of their heads will be sent flying."

At Malus's signal, the executioners lowered axes to the villagers' necks.

"GRAAAAAAA!!!"

Zakar's eyes rolled back completely.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!!!"

Pitch-black demonic energy erupted from Zakar's body.

Behind his back, the shadow of a towering devil flickered.

― Kkkrrrk!

Even the Stake of Fury began to crack.

"Ooooh! He's coming! The descent is happening!"

Malus exclaimed, thrilled.

"More! Before this searing rage cools! We must begin—now!"

Malus hurriedly fumbled to untie his own belt and toss his pants aside—

"Ahh..."

Isabel turned her head to look at Zakar.

Her eyes held no resentment or fear.

Only sorrow and compassion.

'Poor Zakar. It's all right. It's not your fault.'

Her gaze said as much.

'... I'm sorry.'

The moment he saw those words forming on her lips—

"UAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"

Zakar's heart caved in.

If only she'd resented him, if only she'd cursed him.

It felt as if his soul had shattered to pieces.

And just as Malus's filthy hand reached toward Isabel's chest—

― KWAAAAAANG!!!

The ceiling collapsed.

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