Do Your Own Revolution-Chapter 169
#169
“Huff… Gasp…!”
“Water… Wa-ter…!”
Two weeks into the operation. Gloucester Territory.
From the moment they were surrounded by snipers at the Gloucester mansion, a hellish time began for the Black Knights of House Sutherland.
“Nothing here either…!”
“Not here either…!”
“Those vicious bastards, they planned this from the start, driving us in here!”
They searched the mansion’s basement like rats looking for drinking water, but not a single source of clean water remained.
“Ugh…! The smell…!”
“Just hold on a bit longer. This path must lead to an exit…!”
“Blegh! Hurk! Cough…!”
They traversed the sewers looking for an escape route, but all they found at the end was contamination seeping in from the frontier zone.
Crunch, crunch.
They began catching and eating rats that moved through the sewers when they couldn’t find food, but even this often ended in failure.
To make matters worse, mages had higher metabolisms compared to non-awakened individuals, making them more vulnerable to starvation.
A normal person might have somehow endured the hunger pangs, but their bodies continuously demanded calories and food, stripping away their reason.
In such extreme circumstances, what happens if nutrients aren’t replenished in time?
Non-awakened individuals would merely complain of hunger, but for mages, the situation was far more severe.
If starvation persisted, the magical power generated by their magic circuits would gradually decrease.
As the magical power circulating through their bodies was depleted, they would enter a state of magical power exhaustion.
Without proper intervention, they could only last half a day at most.
Far from Count Gloucester’s predicted month, deaths from starvation began occurring in less than two weeks.
The knights of Gloucester Territory, hardened by years of living in extreme cold and exploring contaminated zones, knew this fact all too well.
The Special Magical Power Unit, which had traversed various battlefields and unfamiliar Republic territories, also knew this well and had taken precautions.
They maintained emergency personal rations at all times.
They distributed water purification supplies and trained in various survival skills for field operations.
However, the knights of House Sutherland…
No, the Knight Order under the magic nobles had overlooked even these basic aspects in their tactics.
After all, how could a noble Knight Order lack supplies?
It was unthinkable that they, descendants of heroes, would fight in such harsh conditions.
The scene unfolding now was the result of such complacent tactics.
This was the hell they had brought upon themselves.
“Dying… I’m dying…!”
“Hey, stay with me! Open your eyes! Please!”
Though their dying comrades lay before them, there was nothing they could do.
These knights who had looked down on and despised non-awakened individuals, thinking themselves chosen ones.
But now…
The knights trapped in the Gloucester mansion cursed their magic-awakened bodies.
Why did they grow hungry so quickly?
Why did they tire so easily?
Despair, hopelessness, self-loathing, pain.
The numerous humiliations they experienced for the first time made them think death would be better.
How much time had passed like this?
When the desolate full moon illuminated the sky, it finally happened.
“What… What are you doing…?”
Waking from hunger in the late night proved to be the beginning of trouble.
The sound of something being chewed coming from somewhere.
Following that sound, the count could not utter a word at the scene before his eyes.
“Your… Your Lordship…!”
A warrior’s grave, dug up by human hands.
A knight sitting beside that grave, staring at him with blank eyes.
And in his hands, a knight’s arm.
No explanation was needed to understand what had happened.
One of the Black Knights…
One of House Sutherland’s elite mages…
Had put his mouth to a dead comrade’s corpse.
Slash-!
The count executed the knight who had eaten his comrade with extreme fury.
Knight? No, such a thing was no knight.
Not even human.
A beast that had succumbed to hunger.
He felt like cutting off his own hand that had knighted such vermin.
‘No, no.’
But that feeling lasted only briefly.
When the count turned around, he saw the sight of knights licking their lips while looking at the dead body.
And what filled Count Sutherland with the most revulsion…
Was the hunger that seized a corner of his mind when he saw the decapitated knight’s body.
“…So this is how it ends.”
The sensation was chilling even upon reflection.
The moment he felt it, Count Sutherland abandoned everything with empty eyes.
“I surrender.”
Walking out in front of the mansion, he spoke toward dozens of gun barrels aimed at him.
The enemies gradually revealing themselves from the darkness.
Watching the count kneeling with a bewildered expression, Margrave Gloucester said.
“We’ve won.”
A single utterance, completely devoid of emotion.
***
“Move slowly. Keep your hands visible.”
“Hey you! Where do you think you’re going!”
The moment the Knight Order’s leader Count Sutherland declared his surrender, everything proceeded smoothly.
The knights moved slowly in line with their hands raised above their heads.
Having discarded their armor, their hollow eyes showed no trace of a knight’s dignity or nobility.
Thud.
“B-bread?!”
“Damn it! Give it back! Give it back…!”
“Let go! You son of a…!”
No.
Those figures fighting over a piece of bread that fell from the food truck… This went beyond dignity.
They didn’t even look human, let alone knights.
“You’ve had a tough two weeks. Why don’t you take a rest?”
“I can’t do that.”
If I don’t submit reports on time, the Operations Division will have something to say.
Matt replied to the Margrave’s words and began writing in his notebook what he would send to Special Magical Power Unit headquarters.
But that didn’t last long.
“By the way.”
Watching the knights walking to the transport vehicles, Matt asked in a casual tone.
“What do you plan to do with the captured knights?”
“What else is there to do?”
Extract their magic circuits and magic imprints, then investigate their personal information.
Those who committed crimes will disappear like dew on the execution ground.
Those without crimes will be sent back home.
After saying this, the Margrave silently observed Matt who was busy writing his memo.
The force in his hand holding the pen.
The gradually rising magical power.
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Sensing this, the Margrave spoke while watching the departing transport vehicles.
“What, would you prefer them all dead?”
“Honestly, yes.”
“How honest of you.”
“Why?”
“It’s for personal reasons.”
“That’s fine.”
“No, I care about it.”
When Matt muttered this with a sour expression, the Margrave silently shrugged his shoulders.
He may be like a block of wood, but he’s not a cold-blooded person like Eugene.
Sitting down, the Margrave spoke in a low voice.
“Go ahead and tell me. If you’ve come all this way following Eugene, there must be quite a story.”
“Is there any particular reason you need to hear it?”
“Listening to stories like this is my elderly hobby.”
“What a terrible hobby.”
Saying this, Matt took off his glasses with a slight sigh.
“It’s not a particularly special story.”
His birth mother was a nobleman’s mistress without a name, frequently visiting noble houses for living expenses, and saw many unsightly things in the process.
As he said, it was nothing special – just the tragedy of an illegitimate child.
“And your mother?”
“She passed away when I was young. She was overjoyed saying my birth father had called for her again, but the next day she returned as a corpse.”
Even while recalling that horrific experience, Matt’s voice remained emotionless.
It was too long ago, showing the appearance of someone who had no strength left to pour emotions into it.
“After that, I met my current parents who adopted me, and entered military academy to live up to their expectations. And following Eugene, I ended up here…”
“I see.”
Saying this, the Margrave silently handed him a cigarette.
After forcibly drawing out old memories, this small consolation was all he could offer.
Until the cigarette in Matt’s mouth burned down completely, the Margrave didn’t say a word.
Thud. Tap tap.
As Matt finished the cigarette he was given and was about to discard the butt.
“May this sentimental old man offer some advice?”
“Are you going to tell me not to seek revenge? That it’s futile?”
“Find that bastard by any means necessary, and take your revenge.”
What kind of advice is this?
As Matt looked at him, surprised by the unexpected answer, the Margrave pulled out a cigarette from his breast pocket and put it in his mouth.
“The one who did that to your mother. Anyone related to him. Everything he cherishes and loves. Destroy and take it all away. Do everything you can until your anger is satisfied. Don’t even think about forgiveness or anything like that.”
Speaking firmly, the Margrave looked at his expressionless face.
“Some say the forgiveness of the weak is submission, and the forgiveness of the strong is tolerance.”
“…”
“However, I think differently.”
Kalkas said.
“Forgiveness is neither submission nor tolerance.”
“It is merely turning a blind eye to your grudge.”
“It’s no different from abandoning the great scar in your life.”
The cigarette burning down like Matt’s.
The Margrave inhaled the bitter smoke and coughed dryly, unable to handle the acrid tobacco.
‘Freddie, that damned fool, what was so good about chain-smoking these things in his youth?’
Grumbling thus, the Margrave carelessly tossed away the unfinished cigarette and said.
“And after you complete all that revenge, clear it from your mind cleanly.”
“…”
“Don’t remain trapped by old grudges anymore, move on to what needs to be done next.”
Because if you miss the timing, the festering wound will only continue to worsen.
“Your Lordship.”
Matt, quietly contemplating those words, spoke while staring at the cigarette in his hand.
“Did you do this yourself?”
“No.”
A short answer.
But simultaneously an answer filled with much regret and remorse.
However, that was brief.
Kalkas, clenching his wrinkled hand, added one more thing.
“I plan to do so now.”
The old Margrave slowly rising.
In his hand was a pistol.
Thump-!
The moment Kalkas stood up, Count Sutherland was dragged out by knights and made to kneel before him.
The count looking up at him with hollow eyes.
Looking at that face, the Margrave aimed the pistol at his head.
“Kal…kas… You…”
“Go to hell, Drake.”
An emotionless voice.
Emotions dried up from too much time passing.
Nevertheless, Kalkas pulled the trigger without hesitation.
“This is purely personal.”
Even if it was too late.
Revenge was still revenge.
Bang-!
With the gunshot, Count Sutherland’s body collapsed in the ruins.
A head of one of the 12 Great Magic Houses that ruled the Empire.
His final request was for a piece of bread and a glass of water.
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