I'm the Crazy One in the Family-Chapter 349: Who’s Crazier? (2)

Keter, who was standing before the Primes, walked with complete ease. As if out for a stroll, he stepped between them.

“You have a choice to make as well. Will you fight to the end, or surrender?”

It wasn’t a rhetorical question. Before anyone could answer, Keter continued.

“Of course, you won’t make the foolish choice of fighting to the end. You can’t defeat me. That much is obvious. And at best you’d struggle and kill a few hundred Sefira soldiers before it’s over... So what would that gain you?”

Keter slipped between Jeffrey and Dust, the Primes from Luban, and slung an arm around their shoulders.

“What grudge do you have against Sefira? None, if we’re honest. You fought because the situation demanded it. Who’s going to blame you for surrendering now? Look over there. Your army has already surrendered.”

At Keter’s gesture, the Primes turned their gaze. They didn’t actually need to look.

Clatter... clatter...

Across the battlefield, the quiet, unmistakable sound of the allied soldiers discarding their weapons echoed.

“Do not lay down your arms! We have not lost yet!”

Unable to bear the sight of surrender, one general raised his weapon and shouted, but an arrow pierced straight through his forehead. It was the work of Nelson, Sefira’s finest marksman.

“Ahh!”

“An arrow reached all the way here from that distance?!”

The alliance had believed they only needed to beware of Keter. Once again, they realized how wrong that assumption had been. Those who had hesitated now cautiously set down their weapons.

Hissop, Sefira’s patriarch, seized the moment and called out in a resounding voice. “Sefira does not mistreat those who surrender. The Bydent family was treated thus. The royal army was also treated. Surrender. Think of the families waiting for you at home. Is risking your life truly the path for their sake?”

Moved by Hissop’s heartfelt appeal, even the knights lowered their weapons. But Daul still held his, and so did the generals, commanders, and aides. Their gaze gathered on one man—Daul, the commander-in-chief. If Daul chose to fight to the end, they would follow.

Keter, curious about his decision, watched alongside the Primes.

At last, Daul shouted, “Are you Hissop, patriarch and commander-in-chief of Sefira?”

“I am.”

Though the distance was great, amplification magic allowed them to converse clearly.

“Our family alliance army numbers over one hundred thousand, including vassals and families. Can Sefira truly accommodate us?”

“You will be disarmed and placed under supervision, but otherwise we can promise you freedom.”

“Does that apply equally to commanders?”

“That is not possible. So long as a center of command exists, you would remain a time bomb ready to explode.”

“Then what will you do with us? Execute us?”

“Sefira does not lie. We promised your lives, and we will spare them. However, all commander-level warriors must accept exile to foreign lands. You may not return until the war against the princes has ended.”

Hissop’s terms were practical. Sefira could not imprison one hundred thousand captives. As such, Sefira had to either kill them or give them freedom, but they weren’t vicious enough to kill all the captives. However, granting them complete freedom would create a future uprising waiting to happen; if Sefira was attacked from the inside and the outside, it would be trouble.

Daul sighed. The proposal was realistic and therefore believable. Still, he could not agree lightly, as the fate of hundreds of thousands rested on his words. But he had no other choice: surrender, or die here. Naturally, he chose the former.

“I accept the treatment of the commanders. But what of the Primes? Exile would not restrain them.”

No foreign nation would accept a Prime, nor could anyone monitor and confine one.

Hissop hesitated upon hearing the question. The decision regarding the Primes lay entirely with Keter. Daul understood the silence, and all turned to Keter.

As if he had been waiting, Keter addressed the Primes. “Your commander has chosen to surrender. Now it’s your turn. Will you acknowledge defeat and surrender... or cling to your pride and fight to the end?”

Unlike before, he gave them no time to deliberate. He pointed at Dust.

Click.

Dust slid his sword back into its sheath. It did not diminish his combat ability, but it was enough to signify surrender.

Annoyed, Keter raised his fist. “If you don’t say it, I’ll beat you to death.”

An archer threatening a swordsman with his fists should have been a blow to their pride, but Dust’s voice trembled, certain he would lose.

“I... surrender.”

“Good. Next.”

Magon, captain of the Garcia knights, let out a short sigh.

“How has it come to this for the García family... We surrender.”

“Next, Senior,” Keter said, addressing Zerphi with more respect since he was the former Sword of the South.”

“It was a fine match, Keter. I surrender.”

“Kid, you haven’t even used your Authority yet. You might have better odds. Want to try?” Keter asked Rajis.

Rajis was the only Prime who had not revealed his Authority. Keter found his caution both admirable and irritating.

“If I surrender, what will become of us?”

The others clearly shared the concern. Keter jerked his thumb toward Sefira.

“We can talk about that over a meal. We’re all fighting to make a living, aren’t we?”

And so Keter and the four Primes headed toward Sefira’s dining room.

* * *

Sefira’s dining room was gorgeous. Beautiful, lavish chandeliers hung overhead, illuminating an emerald table laden with delicacies from land and sea.

In a daze, Dust muttered, “I heard Sefira lived frugally...”

“Sefira does. I just don’t.”

Keter popped a couple of boiled eggs into his mouth. At a glance, they looked like chicken eggs, but they were actually harpy eggs, each worth several hundred gold.

“Why aren’t you eating? Afraid I poisoned the food?”

Keter continued eating, completely unconcerned with the Primes’ mood. Rajis showed visible discomfort.

“Sir Keter, the nation is at war. Even nobles restrain their luxuries, and Sefira cannot be so well off...”

Whoosh!

Keter tossed an egg at Rajis. He caught it easily, yet for some reason it burst in his hand.

“Do you know what I think when I see you? I’m reminded that I also make mistakes,” Keter said.

“What do you mean?” Rajis replied.

“I thought your bluster and hypocrisy would fade. Instead, they’ve gotten worse.”

“....”

“Relax. I’m not going to kill you. Not worth the trouble, anyway.”

Gulp, gulp.

After downing a mouthful of strong whiskey, Keter climbed onto his chair and looked down at the Primes.

“Not hungry? I’m the only one eating like a beggar.”

“Since becoming a Prime, I have never felt hunger,” Jeffrey replied, almost apologetically.

“Really? That’s unfortunate. You only know the happiness of filling your belly if you’ve felt hunger.”

Crunch.

Keter bit into a glossy red apple, seeds and all. The Primes watched him in silence.

“It’s about time you told us what you intend to do with us.” Dust pressed.

Keter wiped sauce from his mouth with a finger.

“If this weren’t wartime, I’d have killed you all since you would have been too troublesome. But consider yourselves lucky—the war saved your lives.”

“What does that mean?” Magon asked, hand hovering near his waist.

They had left their swords behind, but they were Primes. They could manifest Aura Swords at any moment. The others also tensed, ready to strike.

Keter nodded in approval.

“I was worried you might cooperate. That would’ve been inconvenient. So thanks for being openly uncooperative.”

“Stop mess...?!”

Whoosh.

Every candle on the table and along the walls went out at once. The Primes sensed something was wrong.

Clang!

All four leaped into the air, unleashing attacks at Keter and in every direction. However, every attack vanished as if swallowed by the walls.

Crack... Crunch!

The dining room was shrinking. This was not an illusion but reality.

“Keter!”

Rajis glared at him.

Keter only shrugged.

“What?”

Despite the sudden assault from the Primes, Keter stood unscathed and utterly calm.

Meanwhile, the room had contracted to half its size—not the walls closing in, but the space itself collapsing.

“Some kind of spatial magic.”

“We must use Mindsword.”

As seasoned warriors, the Primes quickly understood what was going on. They also knew that only a Mindsword could cut space. All Primes could wield Mindswords. Though it didn’t work well on other Primes, it was always effective in cutting space itself.

Vmm...

A Mindsword manifested and sliced the void. The cut was real, but they could not escape. Beyond the cut lay only black emptiness.

“W-what...?”

Keter sat on the table, chuckling.

“I couldn’t seal you with ordinary spatial magic. So I prepared something special.”

“Seal us? Ridiculous! You’re trapped too!”

“You’d seal yourself along with us?!”

“This wasn’t part of the agreement, Keter!”

The Primes surrounded him, killing intent rising.

“Relax, relax. I’ll explain. First, I needed bait to gather you in one place. That bait was me. Second, what you’ve been caught in is Three Thousand Worlds, an ultimate spell. Escape is impossible, so don’t waste your strength. Take it from someone who’s experienced it. Third...”

Magon swung his sword mid-explanation. Keter caught it between his fingers like swatting a fly.

“Don’t want to listen? Then I’ll be going.”

Keter reached upward, and his hand vanished from the space. This meant he could leave this space at will.

“Wait,” Rajis hurriedly stopped Magon. “Finish your explanation, Sir Keter.”

“Sir?”

Keter raised both arms, both vanishing from the dining room.

“I beg you to please finish your explanation, Lord Keter,” Rajis said again with more respect.

“Not sincere enough, but since I should irritate you a bit more, I’ll tell you. Third: I’m not killing you. I’m just locking you away. I don’t have the luxury of managing four Primes. But I can’t leave you free either. Fourth: I will release you someday. When you emerge, the world will be very different. Either Sefira will have fallen, or the kingdom will.”

“....”

At last the Primes understood: nothing they did could free them. Keter’s confidence had always been grounded in truth. As enemies, they knew better than anyone that he did not lie about matters like this.

Keter waved goodbye.

“They say great power carries great responsibility. Now’s your turn.”

Because Unchain, his first Authority, blocked any binding spells, Keter stepped out of Three Thousand Worlds, leaving the four Primes behind.

“...”

Within the endless white expanse of the Three Thousand Worlds, the four stood in silence.

“...Ha.”

Jeffrey sank to his knees, head lowered.

“To suffer such humiliation!” Magon vented his fury, carving at space with his Mindsword.

Dust closed his eyes and began to meditate in resignation.

“I do not intend to remain trapped here. I will search for an exit.”

He walked into the endless expanse and was never seen again.

* * *

Sefira had claimed victory in the Family War against the Bydent family, in the war against the royal army led by General Colton, known as the General of Reversal, and in the war against the alliance of the southern families. With these triumphs, Sefira had completely pacified the south. There was nothing left in the south capable of blocking its rise.

Of course, this was not Sefira’s strength alone. Territories had been promised to the external forces that joined them, and those allies received their share. It would not be an exaggeration to say that roughly one-third of the south now belonged to other nations.

However, Sefira did not regret this in the slightest. From the beginning, they lacked the manpower to govern the entire region. If one greedily seized land too vast to digest, one’s belly would burst. Hissop understood this principle well, so he neither coveted more nor lamented what was given away.

Instead, Hissop found himself buried under an even greater mountain of paperwork. With the pacification of the south, the number of matters requiring attention had multiplied dozens of times.

In the patriarch’s office of Sefira, Hissop no longer worked alone. Thanks to talented individuals recruited from various places, he had far more breathing room than before.

Even so, he could not suppress a deep sigh.

“Whew...”

The war against the alliance of the southern families had indeed ended. The aftermath was proceeding smoothly. That was largely because Keter had cleanly dealt with the four Primes who had been their greatest obstacle.

Of course, it was not free. Half of those who had stayed in Sefira departed afterward.

“This is more than enough payment. Do not seek my help again.”

Ivan had provided decisive assistance to both Keter and Sefira, but it had not been simple goodwill. Everything had been compensation for Keter’s treatments. And this time was the last. Ivan left behind the orb that imprisoned the four Primes and departed.

Keter let him go without protest. It was his principle to never stop those who came, and even less those who left.

The problem was that the war was not yet over. Though the southern Masters of Swordsmanship had fallen, the momentum of the two princes remained strong and continued to grow. They did not yet encroach upon the south, but one could feel it in the air—in the very atmosphere—that they were wary and preparing.

Exactly one month after the war with the family alliance ended, a massive incident erupted, shaking the entire kingdom.

“Lord Hissop! Urgent news!”

As always, Navakin appeared to deliver information. After hearing the report, Hissop was stunned. He blinked blankly for a long time.

“...This is something everyone must know.”

He posted the information Navakin brought as a public notice for all Sefira to see. That was how Daat, who happened to be passing by, saw it.

“Wow.”

The moment he read it, Daat ran to Keter. Normally, no one knew where Keter was, but now everyone did.

“Have you eaten, Big Brother?”

There was a hill in Sefira where the stars shone especially brightly. At its edge sat Keter.

Daat sat beside him and offered a sandwich. Keter silently accepted it, taking a bite.

“Tastes good.”

“I brought one for her, too.”

There was a small grave on the hill. It was so small one might overlook it, but carved into the stone was the name Serena.

Keter snatched the sandwich Daat was about to place on the ground and said, “Serena doesn’t eat meat.”

“Oh, really?”

Daat knew Serena, but this was the first he’d heard of that. She had been extremely quiet. Keter brushed off his hands and stood.

“She doesn’t.”

“Big Brother, I’m not mistaken, right? Were you just crying?”

“You think it’s sweat?”

Keter had told Daat everything that happened to him. Daat knew that Keter had survived thanks to Serena and Franken’s sacrifice. But this was the first time he realized Keter could shed tears for someone’s sacrifice.

“So you are able to cry, Big Brother.”

“Just one drop. Two would look pathetic.”

True to his words, Keter shed exactly one tear.

“So, what’s the news?” Keter asked.

In an instant, he was back to his usual self.

For a moment, Daat wondered.

If I died... would he cry for me too?

Hoping he would, Daat shook himself back to the present.

“Princes Rukan and Rakan have finally clashed in full force.”

“Oh? And? Who won?”

Everyone enjoys watching a fight—men, women, children, and even the elderly. Keter especially loved fights. His eyes lit up in extreme curiosity.

In terms of strength, Rukan held the advantage, both in quality and numbers. With Sefira pacifying the south, which had been Rakan’s domain, his influence had shrunk even further. Logically, if Rukan and Rakan truly clashed, Rakan should be crushed. But Rakan was not a fool. He must have prepared strategies and tactics to overcome the disparity, so the question was whether they had worked against Rukan.

“There’s something you should know first: Prince Rakan has gone mad. In this battle, the armies of Baen and Belferio joined him—a force of fifty thousand spontaneously.”

“Fifty thousand... That’s not probing involvement. That’s full intervention.”

Sefira had accepted external forces, but those had been choices of factions rather than official kingdom involvement. Rakan, however, had committed the madness of allowing foreign armies into the kingdom itself.

Keter stroked his chin, estimating the balance of power.

“Fifty thousand isn’t small, but without Primes it’s meaningless. How many came?”

“Don’t be shocked. Baen sent two, and Belferio sent three.”

“Wow. That’s generous—both Rakan for accepting it, and Baen and Belferio for offering it.”

If Baen and Belferio betrayed him from within, Rakan would be finished. Rakan had accepted that risk.

“Fifty thousand troops and five Primes... Unless Rukan anticipated this, he must have suffered a major defeat.”

There was no way Rakan would openly announce foreign reinforcements. He would have struck Rukan by surprise. Even if Rukan had considered foreign intervention a possibility, he likely never expected so many Primes.

“Everyone called Prince Rakan a traitor and a madman. But...”

When Daat grinned, Keter already knew the rest. He could already tell that Rukan, the crown prince, had done something even more insane compared to Rakan, who hid foreign armies.