Descent of the Demon Master
Chapter 1110. Squashing (5)

Chapter 1110. Squashing (5)

“Well, well. Goodness me. Calm down, Sir Wellinger,” said the Master.

Despite Wellinger’s clear hostility, the Master didn’t get agitated or flustered. Why would he lose his cool, though? When he held the only ‘weapon’ in this place?

This weapon happened to be the most dangerous demonic sword boasting unparalleled sharpness. As a matter of fact, it was so dangerous that incorrect handling could even result in him getting beheaded, instead!

However, at least in this moment, that demonic sword was pointing at the other Knights. As such, the Master had nothing to fear.

“Losing your cool won’t solve anything, Wellinger,” the Master said, his attitude that of a parent gently chiding his young child.

Wellinger sighed deeply. “Master.”

“Yes, you may speak, Sir Wellinger.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“...Hmm?”

Wellinger stared straight into the Master’s eyes. “I respected you once upon a time, sir. I never doubted your dedication to lead the Round Table into the righteous path. And that is what motivated me to try my best as the Knight of the Round Table.”

“I see. Yes, you certainly have.”

The Master had no issue acknowledging that Wellinger used to be one of the most dependable individuals he could count on.

Wellinger knew the value of honor and responsibility. Not only did the temptation of personal benefits fail to sway him, but it only served to reinforce his desire to maintain the balance in the world.

If it hadn't been for Leveaux, widely acknowledged as a genius who stood above other geniuses, Wellinger would have already taken up the role of the unofficial voice of the Knights of the Round Table.

...Like he was doing right now!

“So, why are you doing this?”

“...”

Wellinger's expression distorted hideously. “Those who rely on violence will lose themselves to it. That is why, at least within the Round Table, we must not let ourselves be controlled by the differences in national strengths and discuss with each other as equals. Before resorting to violence, we must resolve the situation via dialogue. Wasn't that your long-held belief, sir?”

The Master slowly nodded. “Yes, it was.”

“Then why!” Wellinger suddenly raised his volume. “Why are you doing this! We are Knights of the Round Table! We should be the ones you consult and discuss with before making a decision, not them! So why have you not talked to us once! Why are you trying to suppress us without telling us the reason?!”

His voice was loud and vicious. It contained his grief, rage, and even worry.

As if his cold, aloof demeanor while entering this grand hall was a lie, Wellinger unleashed his pure, unfiltered anger toward the Master.

Unfortunately, the Master’s expression didn’t even waver once. “Is that all you want to say?”

Wellinger cried out, “Master!”

The Master listened to the impassioned, nay, enraged roar of Wellinger with coldness akin to the Arctic's icy storm winds, then responded with a voice even colder than his attitude. “Sir Wellinger.”

“What is it, Master?”

“It’s about time you wake up to reality.”

“...I beg your pardon?”

The coldness in the Master’s gaze grew even icier than before. “Tell me, Sir Wellinger. Would you have relinquished your command over your forces if I spoke to you first?”

“...!” Wellinger immediately clamped his mouth shut.

Of course he knew what the correct answer was. And that was “yes.”

As long as there was a sound justification, and if he believed doing so was the best available option, Wellinger would have willingly offered the command of his forces to the Master. Not just him, but other Knights, too—since what they wanted was the continued prosperity of the Round Table, not securing benefits for their individual nations.

Yes, that was the expected answer.

However, Wellinger couldn’t bring himself to utter it out loud. Why? Because he knew that would be a lie.

He would never be able to relinquish the command. Regardless of what, it’d be completely unthinkable. No Knight with a sane mind would agree to that.

“Sir Wellinger. What is dialogue?”

“What do you mean, Master?”

“When we’re trying to arrive at a destination that will benefit everyone even more, then yes, dialogue will greatly help us. However, do you honestly believe such a destination exists for us?”

“...”

The Master grinned weirdly at Wellinger. “Of course I understand what you're trying to say, Sir Wellinger. However, I didn't want to waste time if I could help it. Imagine wading through tedious dialogues during meetings that go nowhere fast as I try to make you yield on a matter you simply cannot. After going through all those cumbersome processes, we’d have eventually reached this point. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Wellinger grimaced. “But, I...”

“If you want, we can always pretend that we have held discussions on this topic. That won't change anything, anyway.”

“From the get-go!” Wellinger roared again. “Have you not been acting unreasonably?! Let's say the authority to command the knight orders is handed over to you! Then, what are we the Knights good for?! What is the point of our existence if you sever our hands and feet!”

“Are you implying there is nothing for you to do?”

“...What? Yes, you could say that.”

The Master smirked weirdly as his eyes locked on Wellinger, but the latter couldn’t endure the glare and eventually turned his head away.

“No, no. Wellinger, you’re mistaken. You still have plenty of things to do. After all, Knights don’t only lead knight orders into combat. Besides, getting my permission does not mean your right to command your knight orders has been rescinded, anyway. Wouldn't you say?”

Wellinger grimaced and turned his head back to glare back at the Master.

“In the end, it boils down to this one simple thing. Will you get my permission or not? All of you came rushing here because you wanted to protect that one little process.”

“And? Do you wish to criticize us for it?”

“No, of course not. I’d have done the same had I been in your shoes. Unfortunately for you, I am not. You can’t afford to let go of things in your grasp because you didn't acquire them through your own strength. So I know you can't casually hand me the authority to command your forces as if you're a generous fellow. However...”

The Master’s voice progressively grew icier.

“I must have my way regardless of what your story is.”

Wellinger’s expression grew just as icier. “Master...!”

“Call it an old man's greed. Call me senile if you want. Whatever you insult me with, I'm fine with it. However, do know that my decision will not change. I must have it. And I'll take it!”

“For what?! Why!”

“Why does that matter?”

“Are you saying the reason isn’t important?”

The Master laughed loudly. “Of course it isn’t!”

“...!”

“Look, Wellinger. It’s time we’re honest with ourselves. Would you have given me your knight orders if I provided you with legitimate and righteous reasons?”

Wellinger frowned without saying anything, knowing he’d still not do that.

“Since the result won't change no matter what, why care about reasons? When you won't change your mind? If it were the old me, yes, I'd have tried to persuade you somehow. I still believed that was the right way. But that's no longer the case.”

“...!”

The Master scanned the Knights and spoke loudly as if to make a declaration. “Sometimes, doing what seems right will lead us to absolute worst results. Although outcomes aren't the be-all and end-all, that doesn't mean we should obsess over finding the 'right' processes either. So, my advice to you? Back down. Nothing will make me reconsider, after all. Even if you try to persuade me or threaten me!”

Wellinger silently glared right into the Master's eyes. What he got in return was the Master's cold glare staring right back at him! Despite the coldness, though, he sensed the Master's unshakable belief, his determination.

That was when Wellinger realized something.

It was as the Master said. Dialogue was no longer possible. It didn’t matter what Wellinger or the other Knights said here since the Master would never, ever change his stance.

“Master...”

That was why it was time Wellinger made his decision, too.

“I’m sure you’re already aware of what happens once a discussion reaches an impasse?”

“Of course, of course, Sir Wellinger,” the Master grinned brightly. “In a way, you could think of us as a contradiction, an irony, of sorts. I'm talking about how a group of people who worship strength more than anyone else decide their fate through dialogue, not strength. This contradiction has been building up more and more pressure inside of me. You can consider this situation as that pressure finally erupting into the open.”

“Master, humans are not mindless beasts,” Wellinger growled. “And that’s why we can resolve things via dialogue if we want to!”

“You're wrong again. Even beasts can communicate. And humans are number one when it comes to suppressing each other through strength. Or even killing others!”

“So...” Wellinger slowly raised his head. “Are you saying we should kill and be killed?”

“Look here, Sir Wellinger...!” The Master replied calmly. “If I was afraid of that outcome, do you think I’d dare come this far? I won’t tell you to sympathize or even understand me.”

It was as Lee Hyeon-Su said.

The Master didn't need these people to understand him. Because the moment they did, their fear of the opponent would evaporate.

“Very well,” said Wellinger, then stood up. “The Master I used to know does not exist anymore. From this moment on, I shall not acknowledge...”

That was when...!

“Sit down.”

A calm but subdued voice dug sharply into Wellinger's hearing. Even before he could interpret the meaning behind that command, his body reacted first by obediently sitting back down.

“...?!”

Wellinger’s brows shot up, and he urgently turned his head toward the man who said that.

That voice belonged to Kang Jin-Ho. He was staring right back at Wellinger while reclining against his chair, his expression that of boredom and mild disinterest.

“How boring.”

Kang Jin-Ho muttered while pulling out a cigarette packet from his pocket. After mouthing a cigarette, he ignited its tip by snapping his fingers.

“Fuu-woo...”

He leisurely puffed away at the unhealthy smoke before glancing at the Knights.

“Why don’t you people talk about this some other time? It’s not like you won’t have the opportunity to do so, anyway. Besides, what you need to decide here is something else.”

Wellinger dazedly listened to Kang Jin-Ho seemingly rambling on some random stuff. What was this man trying to say?

“You only have one decision to make. Will you obey? Or will you not obey?”

“...!”

What had Kang Jin-Ho been listening to until now? Maybe his English wasn’t quite good enough to understand complex sentences?

If he had indeed understood what was being said until now, figuring out what choice Wellinger and the Knights on his side had made should have been easy enough.

Considering how fluent Kang Jin-Ho was in English, though, there was no way he misunderstood the contents of the conversation.

“Now, decide,” Kang Jin-Ho relaxedly spoke as if he didn’t know, or care, what Wellinger was thinking about. “Whether to obey or not.”

As it turned out, he did understand!

The Knights’ faces instantly reddened after figuring out Kang Jin-Ho’s intention!

They were still frightened. Kang Jin-Ho frightened them to no end even now.

He had achieved far too many feats to be dismissed as a mere martial artist from some minor nation in the East. And the oppressive aura gushing out of him easily exceeded the Knights' imaginations, too! Even then...!

Even then, he must not be allowed to threaten the Knights within the sacred hall of the Round Table. Never!

“We were being nice to you, yet you dare cross the line!”

Even before Wellinger could say something, someone else shot up to his feet and roared in rage. This Knight’s face was crimson after his blood had rushed to his head. His shoulders visibly quivered after his agitation had gotten the better of him.

Although he clearly hadn't overcome his fear, his expression was still filled with determination not to back down. And it was this determination that successfully suppressed his other emotions!

This Knight, who went by the name of Yankova, roared while unleashing his fighting spirit. “What will you do if we choose not to obey?! How dare a man who is not even affiliated with the Round Table act so...!”

Knight Yankova suddenly stopped talking. Others immediately assumed that he stuttered and faltered due to his rage.

However, no matter how much they waited, Yankova did not finish his sentence.

Wellinger turned his head to look in confusion, only to discover Yankova standing there, completely frozen. More importantly, though, he could see a thin crimson line rapidly appearing on Yankova’s neck.

As Yankova stood there with a slightly stupefied expression frozen on his face, the red line on his neck grew thicker from what was initially hard to discern to something far too distinctive not to spot.

What a strange, nay, bizarre sight that was. Eventually, though...

Riiip!

As the sound of a dried something splitting apart echoed in the hall, Yankova’s head separated from the rest of his body and fell to the floor.

Splat!

Everyone wordlessly stared at this shocking spectacle. It was as if time itself had stopped moving for them except for Yankova.

Plop!

Eventually, Yankova’s headless body fell to the floor, too. Blood gushed out from his neck and dyed the pristine white marble floor in a sickly crimson hue.

‘What...?’

Wellinger’s thought process stalled. Rather than freaking out, the first thing that hit him was flabbergast. Even before he could regain his wits, though, Kang Jin-Ho’s calm, subdued voice dug into his hearing again.

“Who’s next?”

Wellinger tore his gaze away from the corpse to look at Kang Jin-Ho, only to find the latter leisurely smoking away, his expression still one of mild disinterest.

Only then did everyone here realize something important. And that was...

Their freedom to choose had been taken away from the moment that man stepped inside this hall!

That was how the deal with the devil usually unfolded, after all!