The Count’s Youngest Son is a Player

Chapter 255

Dum, dum, dum, dum.

Waaaah.

The Kerden Plains in front of the capital, Thurium.

Not long after the bloodshed of countless soldiers had created streams, tens of thousands of soldiers were once again facing each other with swords and spears.

And now, on the eve of the final battle. The camp of the alliance, led by the Sixth Prince, was filled with the leaders of the kingdom’s most prestigious families.

“Haha, to think they would choose an open field battle. Viscount Raul, your prediction was correct.”

“It was just luck.”

Sword Saint Marquis de Templeton said with a pleased expression, and Raul, standing at the podium in the conference room, bowed humbly.

“Despite my pleas, you never left your territory, and now I understand why. You have raised your children into dragons, Count Melvin.”

“What have I done? They grew up on their own.”

The Sword Saint praised Count Melvin de Ashton, Raul’s father, who sat opposite him. Count Melvin responded with a pleasant smile.

‘I really haven’t done much.’, he thought. Behind him stood his eldest son, Dylan, and second son, Lawrence.

Dylan, who was adeptly managing the territory in his place. Not only had he developed his governance skills as the next count, but he had also reached the level of a master.

His physical development was even more remarkable, often being described as having an almost inhumanly perfect body.

Since mastering the use of aura, he had learned to strengthen his muscles with it, to the point where he could deflect knights’ mana blades with his bare body.

Without the need for power armor, he created a ‘muscle force field,’ reaching the level of a true superhuman, pioneering a new path.

Lawrence, the second son, had perfectly absorbed the power of the Naga great warrior ‘Nemadotoji’ he had inherited at the barrier.

The Ashton household’s great swordsmanship, performed with his four arms, exhibited tremendous might that even the family’s other masters found hard to withstand.

And Raul…

‘…There’s no need to say.’

His growth was so rapid that it would be no surprise if he surpassed him who was speaking. Raul had long surpassed the confines of the Count’s family.

Without Raul, the current Count Ashton household would not exist.

“It’s been a while, Marquis. I am glad to see that your long journey has borne fruit. Congratulations on reaching the next level.”

One who occupied a significant place in the conference room was Fidel de Greer, the Marquis. Ken’s father and Raul’s staunch supporter was naturally attending the meeting.

“Thank you. I’ve only just reached the beginning. It’s all thanks to that child.”

The Marquis looked at the podium with a pleased expression. Having restored the spear techniques of his long-cherished family and reached the level of a master, his confidence was evident.

‘Haha, they look good together.’

The Marquis couldn’t hide his broad smile as he looked at Raul standing on the podium and Ken (Kaylee) standing a little apart. The Duke’s gaze finally settled on someone.

Sword Saint spoke to the person sitting with a somewhat somber expression.

“You must be deeply distressed. But victory and defeat are part of a soldier’s life. The day will surely come when the Count’s family spreads its wings again.”

“…Thank you for your kind words. However, while the glory of my family is important, today, I must release my anger.”

“That is also the Count’s choice. I wish you success.”

Silently bowing his head and readjusting his grip on his sword. He was none other than Count Hudson de Randal.

Having recently suffered a major defeat at these very Kerden Plains, he had reappeared. In truth, it wasn’t surprising.

It was Raul and his subordinates who saved Count Hudson on the day of the defeat. They had also succeeded in extricating one more master from Count Randal’s ranks.

Count Hudson, along with this master and his scattered children and remaining forces, had joined the alliance.

‘Today, I will surely avenge that day’s humiliation.’

It was inevitable that Count Hudson would draw his sword of revenge.

Thus, the heads of the Templeton Duchy, the Greer Marquisate, the Ashton County, and the Randal County gathered in the conference room.

Four of the five martial families of the Ruben Kingdom had united. This was likely the worst-case scenario that Marquis McNeil had feared.

His plan to defeat them individually had been entirely disrupted by Raul.

‘Things turned out even better than I initially planned.’

Raul stood on the podium, feeling reassured by the gathered assembly in the conference room. Even the number of masters present was overwhelming.

The Sword Saint and the six newly emerged masters from the Templeton Duchy. Marquis Greer and the two knight commanders from his marquisate. Count Randal and the remaining master from his ranks.

These alone made up twelve.

From the Ashton County, there were:

Count Melvin de Ashton, the patriarch.

Brothers Dylan and Lawrence.

Golden Bear Knight Commander Sir Hesse.

Grand Commander Viscount Ernest de Vogel.

A total of five masters.

In Raul’s First Viscounty, including his officers and combat unit commanders, there were ten masters.

‘Twenty-seven masters!’

During the peak of the war against the Empire in his past life, even the allied forces of four kingdoms did not have twenty masters.

Superhumans consumed in the civil war. Promising individuals eliminated by the Imperial Hounds. Those who perished in battles against the Empire.

Superhumans devoured by high-level gates and didn’t return. Despite the arrival of the ‘era of superhumans’, their forces were continually being depleted, never gathering beyond a certain number.

But what about now?

Thanks to the Connect system, the Ashton County and First Knight Order alone had fifteen masters.

‘And if we include the mages from the First Magic Tower, led by Nakia, and the guild’s superhumans….’

An immense force that no one could disregard had been assembled.

Of course, it wasn’t perfect yet. Just as not all Experts had the same skill levels, not all masters were equally skilled. In fact, the disparity among superhumans could be even greater.

Even if the entire superhuman force of the First Knight Order was mobilized, there was no guarantee they could defeat the Sword Saint alone.

‘This means our goal must shift now.’

Having previously focused on growing his forces and securing numerous superhumans, Raul now needed to improve his own abilities. And the final task awaiting him was the battle for the throne.

After organizing his thoughts, Raul began to lead the meeting in earnest.

“As you can see, the enemy has once again chosen an open field battle instead of a siege. The difference this time is that they have more forces than we do.”

Currently, the alliance forces of the Sixth Prince numbered about 200,000. The cavalry of Ashton County (Raul’s) numbered 60,000.

The Templeton Duchy contributed 100,000 troops.

The Greer Marquisate provided 30,000.

The Randal County supplied 10,000.

These forces were composed mainly of elite regular soldiers and mercenaries, not conscripts. In contrast, the forces of Marquis McNeil and the Third Prince’s faction totaled 450,000.

This included 40,000 of the kingdom’s most elite central army,

100,000 regular troops from the Marquisate,

30,000 reassembled player units from the Ripple Association.

The remaining soldiers were primarily conscripts from local lords’ armies.

“In terms of numbers, they outnumber us more than two-to-one, but I don’t believe the actual difference in strength is that large.”

This was why the Third Prince’s army had chosen an open field battle. Given their superior numbers, an open field battle was more advantageous than a siege.

Moreover, opting for a siege while having a larger force would have indicated their own inferiority, potentially affecting the soldiers’ morale.

From the outset, Marquis McNeil had no choice but to choose an open field battle. Raul also knew the strategy he had to employ.

Thud.

Raul’s baton tapped a specific point on the map.

“A concentrated breakthrough towards the enemy camp. This is our operational guideline. However…”

Raul’s briefing continued for some time, and the troops completed their preparations in a convivial atmosphere.

*

‘Templeton was not the real issue.’

Marquis McNeil was lost in thought as he gazed at the enemy lines from atop a low hill. His plan was complex yet simple.

He aimed to amplify the dissatisfaction of the families and people through the Third Prince’s tyranny.

If he released the other princes, some families would inevitably revolt, allowing him to reduce the number of princes under the guise of quelling rebellion.

Simultaneously, it was only natural to weaken any families that might obstruct his path.

The Duchy had always maintained neutrality, and he assumed that Count Ashton and Marquis Greer, being on the fringes, wouldn’t interfere much with central affairs.

After winning the battle against Count Randal, his plan seemed to have the wind at its back.

He’d defeat the kingdom’s greatest swordmaster with his own hands and, with the Empire’s help, bring down the Duchy.

During this process, he would kill any hidden princes in the Duchy and finally deal with the Third Prince holed up in the royal capital.

Naturally, ashton County or Greer Marquisate would be blamed for the assassination of the Third Prince.

Marquis McNeil would then purge them on behalf of the royal family, securing the vacant position of heir for himself.

It was a meticulously plotted plan that seemed close to fruition. In fact, he had pushed the Duchy to the brink of being completely encircled.

‘…Who would have thought those Ashton bastards would mess things up?’

What could have happened in that rural fief at the southern end of the kingdom?

It had only been a year since Count Ashton fell into a coma and a civil war erupted in the county. They should have been too preoccupied with recovery and territorial management.

‘Where did those unbelievable numbers of knights and masters come from?!’

The Marquis ground his teeth in frustration. Based on the information gathered from spies and foreigners dispatched to the enemy camp,

Marquis McNeil reviewed the report and could hardly believe his eyes. Over 20 masters, and possibly more than ten thousand knights.

Even if those numbers were exaggerated, even half of that would be a formidable force to contend with.

‘But I cannot give up.’

He was already at the point of no return. Having mounted the tiger, letting go would mean certain destruction. Moreover, it wasn’t as if there was no chance of victory.

Regardless of the number of masters, most of them were likely novices who had just reached that level. The only ones truly worth worrying about were the Sword Saint and the defeated Count Randal.

Shhh.

A dark figure emerged beside the Marquis.

“Have you made up your mind?”

A man in a silver mask. Imperial Hound, head of the Ruben Kingdom branch, Silver Zero. A faint drop of blood trickled from the Marquis’s clenched fist.

“…I will accept the proposal.”

“You’ve made a wise decision. His Majesty always shows generosity to loyal subjects, and you will not regret this.”

“…….”

Swish.

Silver Zero’s figure dissipated like smoke in the wind. The Marquis closed his eyes tightly.

King Consul.

It was the position proposed by the Cranen Empire. In return for the Empire’s superhumans participating in this battle, Marquis McNeil had sold out the kingdom.

Even if he won the battle, he would never become the true king of the Ruben Kingdom. He was promised the throne of a small, newly-formed principality in the northern region of the kingdom.

‘But I do not regret it.’

He had chosen to be the head of a serpent rather than the tail of a dragon. He had no intentions of continuing futile service under a foolish king.

Besides, the Empire had never managed to cross the barrier. Winning the battle and securing the throne, even temporarily, was his priority, and any future issues with the Empire could be dealt with later.

The Marquis consoled himself with these thoughts and glared at the enemy camp with eyes full of resentment.

‘Ashton! I will never forgive you.’

Above all else, the cause of his shattered dream. The youngest of the Count Ashton’s family. He vowed to sever Raul’s head himself.

“All hands, prepare for battle!”

At Marquis McNeil’s roar, the 450,000-strong army began to move.

(To be continued)