Dragoon - Dragoon 125: The Port Town and the Empire

Starting from today, I am retired. But what should I be doing? I neither have the skills, nor the mind to do business, my only advantage is this pair of hands which have taken this world. What a headache…

Note: The usage of the term “retired” here doesn’t mean retiring from old age, work etc. It’s a specific term to refer to not involving oneself in the affairs of a certain society.

“So, Diana, what's your excuse for betraying me?”

His amber glinted eyes bore into the woman with bloodied, broken blue hair, kneeling in complete disarray.

“... you're evil.”

“Oh, so, looking out for all of you makes me evil?”

The man narrowed his eyes, contemplating the echoes of protagonist halos and heroines' mentality, starkly real now.

Coming from a world far removed from such grim reality, he had read about these personalities in novels, but experiencing their shortcomings firsthand was a different story.

“How am I evil?”

He looked down at his foot where a young man, limbless and crushed, lay in a state of complete brokenness, mustering the little strength he had left to utter some words.

“... y.. you ba..stard, You killed millions.”

Hearing these words, the man's internal amusement grew at the absurdity of these hypocritical people.

He had eradicated all the evil organizations within the Empire after ascending to his throne.

Wars were waged to crush rebellious kingdoms that stood against his Empire, uniting the entire Heidal Continent under one flag—the Selvius Empire.

He shifted his gaze towards another woman with pink hair, her body completely broken, supported by a rock to maintain a semblance of balance amidst the devastation.

“Hmm, so what about you, Karina? Wasn't your family about to be executed by the Aidiac Royal family? Is it wrong for me to have intervened?”

“You killed them without mercy, and although you saved my family, it was not worth it.”

“I just saved—”

“It's bullshit. You could have solved everything peacefully without drawing so much blood.”

Hearing all this, the man began to understand why those novels depicted these people as hypocritical and low in intelligence.

If he hadn't saved them, they would have suffered the most gruesome fate.

Yet, despite being saved, these ungrateful individuals chose to blame him. The bitter irony of their ingratitude gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Guess you all have the same reasons.”

The man looked towards the seven people, their disdainful gazes directed at him.

He had only aimed to change their fates, to rescue some from slavery, others from crippling circumstances, and a few from inevitable betrayal.

Yet, they all blamed him for saving them, unable to comprehend that he had severed the root causes that would have subjected them to excruciating suffering.

“Hahaha.”

“Indeed, now I see.”

He now understood what those novels had tried to convey—'these idiots think this whole world works like they think it would.'

'System.........

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My name is Charlemagne Theron, yes, that’s right, that’s the Theron you think of, and Ajan Lor’themar is my younger brother.

Don’t call me Daqiang, or I guarantee you will be beaten to three quarters to death. As a reliable time traveler, I will tell you responsibly, I…

“Charlemagne, what are you muttering, today is the day when my younger brother will inherit the position of Ranger General, you don’t want to be used by Cirvanas and Vereesa Hurry up when the arrow hits your nostril.”

“…Okay, my dear Alleria, here we go.”

When the two walked away holding hands, an imperceptible figure appeared on the spot.

“Brother, I wish you a happy Shura field.”

I am Charlemagne Theron, I have led the people to participate in the orc war, defeated the ancient gods and the second fool, I also fought against the Burning Legion, and I have made contributions to Azeroth , I bring salt for myself.

(PS: Don’t call me Daqiang, unless you want to grow an arrow from a certain key part behind you.)

Jianghu was in turmoil, an era of great strife. The leader of Great Qin wielded the Mo Blade, leaving the world battered and bruised. The ageless figures of Jianghu crouched upon the mountains, and with a single turn, they cast the entire world below them. Strong men measured the earth with their feet, and heroes of Jianghu could cleave the heavens with one sword, yet in the blink of an eye, they were drunk in the embrace of beauties. The Taoist carried his sword, the Scholar drunk on wine. Wearing tattered clothes, a beggar grasped a rotten branch and dared to storm the ancestral hall of the Taoist Sect. On the willow-lined causeway, in the long pavilion, a man who had sat withered for thirty years turned and stepped out, holding a peach blossom, with a flick of his wrist, he shattered ten miles of red candles. The era of Great Qin was renamed the Great Yuan Era. The youth with the Wooden Sword left his mountain village behind.