Octavia watched the scene unfolding before her with a resolute expression. She was not someone trained in combat, yet she was astonished by her ability to remain calm amidst such chaos. Quickly, she stole a glance at Arthur, hidden within the Thornshell, and thought:
'Did Lord Arvan anticipate all of this? He's truly not an ordinary man.'
Having received direct instruction from Arthur, he had trained her on how to act during sudden incidents. His most important advice had been: "Strike first, think later."
And that's exactly what she did—acting quickly, she attacked the nearest soldier. Surrounded and protected by the recruits, she felt a surge of safety and courage, and launched a second strike when she saw the Vice-Captain of the Guard drop his defense.
Though she tried to maintain her composure, she felt a mix of excitement, tension, and anxiety. From time to time, she glanced at Arthur. She didn't know why, but she felt he was the key. If he won, they would all win. If he lost, they were doomed. She didn't care whether he was real or fake, that wasn't her concern. She was merely a poor maid who had been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and she clung to it with all her might.
When the Vice-Captain made another move and charged toward Arthur, Octavia reacted instantly. She began visualizing the shape of a water blade, channeling mana from her magical core, and quickly muttered a few short words. She couldn't recite the full incantation, so she used the shortened version Arthur had taught her.
Swoosh!
A blade of water surged from her position toward the Vice-Captain. But unlike the first time, he dodged it easily and took a few more steps forward before Brock intercepted him. The Vice-Captain smoothly sidestepped Brock and reached the end of the hall. Pouring all his strength into his sword, he swung to slice through the Thornshell—however, before he could, dozens of thorny roots erupted from the ground at his feet.
They rapidly twined around him, causing him to stumble. He slashed through a few of them, but more kept emerging without pause. Within seconds, he was entangled like the Captain of the Guard before him.
Before he could devise a solution, Brock appeared behind him and stabbed him in the head, killing him on the spot.
When the hesitant castle soldiers saw the Vice-Captain die, they lost the will to fight and surrendered completely. He had been their strongest combatant after the Baronet and the Captain of the Guard, both Rank D. With him gone, half their strength was lost.
The recruits, led by Alvin and Otieno, surrounded them and ordered them to drop their weapons.
After a brief hesitation, one soldier threw down his sword. The rest followed suit. Immediately, the recruits ordered them to raise their hands high, as they had been trained. Once they were certain no foolish resistance would follow, they tackled and restrained them.
They did the same to other important figures, such as the treasurer, the advisor, the head of ceremonies, and the official scribe—who had been hiding in the back.
When the recruits approached Faelor, he calmly lay down on the ground, though his eyes never left Arthur.
…
Meanwhile, blood was flowing heavily from Arthur's nose as he watched his soldiers through a tiny slit in the barrier. Controlling a high-tier magical tool was immensely taxing. Though he could have dealt with Edgar swiftly, he chose the safer method, waiting for the poison to take effect. Fortunately, this allowed him to defend against the Vice-Captain's surprise attack.
'Good. Everything went according to plan. Now, I just need to finish what I started.'
Even though the plan had succeeded smoothly, Arthur felt no joy. After taking a deep breath, he turned to Edgar, now frozen in place. His body had turned a sickly blue, veins writhing bizarrely beneath his skin like worms.
Arthur's cold gaze met Edgar's terrified eyes. Without a word, he raised his hand, and dozens of thorny roots sprouted and wrapped around Edgar's body. It was the safest action; who knew if Edgar might launch a suicidal attack with his last strength?
More blood leaked from Arthur's nose. His skin grew even paler, but he ignored it. Calmly, he lowered the barrier and pulled a sword from his dimensional storage. Taking a few steps forward, he stood in front of Edgar and, without a word, drove the sword into his head with all his strength.
Then he pulled it out.
Then stabbed again. And again. And again, until he was certain Edgar was dead.
Everyone in the hall stared in shock at what he had done. Arvan truly was the monster the rumors claimed him to be. The surrendered soldiers trembled, some now regretting they hadn't fought to the bitter end. The recruits, however, some were glad their leader had won, while others simply exhaled in relief that they were on his side.
Having eliminated the obstacle that had disturbed his peace for days, Arthur turned toward the terrified Captain of the Guard, who remained frozen inside a prison of thorns, and began to plead:
"Please, my lord, spare me! The Baronet deceived me—"
Before he could finish, Arthur stabbed him in the head, killing him with a single blow this time. He then turned to the crowd in the hall, face twisted in fury.
"You ungrateful bastards… you cursed dogs… sons of whores… how dare you rise against me?! Are you tired of living?! Listen well, my punishment won't be light. Even if I kill you and your entire families, I won't be satisfied!"
Arthur was furious, not at the soldiers, but at himself. He had taken lives. Even though he had mentally prepared for this, it was still hard to accept.
But he couldn't truly kill all the soldiers. They were too valuable. So he forced himself to calm down and put on a cold, indifferent expression that made everyone in the room shudder.
"Do you want to die?" he asked coldly.
"N-no, my lord! Please forgive us!"
"Kill me, but spare my family!"
Everyone began to beg, deeply regretting that they had drawn their swords against him.
But Arthur's expression did not change. He stared at them in silence for a full five minutes—five minutes that felt like an eternity.
Then, indifferently, he said,
"Take them to the dungeon. I'll decide their punishment later."
"And gather everyone in the castle in the courtyard before the gate."
The recruits moved quickly, binding the soldiers and important figures and taking them to the castle dungeon—a cold, lightless, isolated place. A few guards were initially stationed there, but when they saw their comrades imprisoned, they were too stunned to react.
They were immediately relieved of duty, and a few recruits took over the guard duty to prevent any jailbreaks from within.
Within minutes, the castle descended into chaos. Every servant and uninformed soldier was rounded up and taken outside to the courtyard.
…
"Attention, everyone!" Brock's booming voice rang out, drawing everyone's gaze.
Instantly, all eyes turned to the top of the wall, where Arthur stood, indifferent.
Many wanted to ask what was happening, but none dared speak.
Arthur said nothing. He simply gestured with his hand.
At that moment, several bodies were thrown from the top of the wall.
They didn't hit the ground—thick ropes held them aloft.
But once the crowd realized the identities of the hanging corpses, screams of shock erupted.
Some even fainted on the spot.