Of course, here is the English translation of the provided novel chapter.
Semi-Coercive Imperialist - Chapter 1
Date: 2025.09.01 | Views: 1,106 | Recommendations: 50
Tick-tock.
I am lying in the deepest, coldest part of an underground prison where not even a sliver of starlight can enter. The flow of time is imperceptible. I can’t tell if it’s day or night, yesterday or today.
Thud.
A heavy sound accompanies an approaching footstep—a familiar yet strange, rhythmic sound of military boots.
A tone as sharp as a blade,
"It's already been a year."
Beyond the bars, his silhouette was still solid.
Edmon Windol. Once a fellow knight, he had at some point become one of the empire's strongest enemies, and now he stood before me as a member of the new cabinet.
I spoke to him.
"How are things outside? Is the weather nice?"
"Nice is an understatement. Every day is golden."
Confidence overflowed in his voice. Edmon had always been like that, but today he seemed particularly full of it.
"Oh. Getting married too?"
"There's a lot of work to be done, so I probably will soon."
When Edmon spoke to me, his old way of talking still lingered. A peculiar tone, as if he felt uncomfortable with the difference in our stations, yet also slightly pitying.
I gave him a slight smile.
"Congratulations."
"There's no need for congratulations."
Thirty-five. At such a young age, he had succeeded in bringing down the empire.
My father, a high-ranking noble of the empire, was 'justly' executed, his head displayed in the central square, and I was caught after years on the run.
Even one with misguided beliefs receives respect if they have dedicated their life to loyalty. But a defeated man like me, caught after fleeing to the very end, is only covered in shame and filth.
The only reason I'm still breathing is entirely due to Edmon's lingering affection.
"Maximilian. You stay here in the underground and keep watch. Watch how we, who brought down the empire, soar."
His voice was filled with hope.
"Oh? Just watch? I thought you were the executioner."
"You're better off kept alive. Your father was a pillar of the empire and needed to be broken, but you're just a flawed piece of jewelry. Suitable enough to be taken as a spoil of war."
Spoil of war. I chewed on his words. A living spoil of war. It sounded kind of cool.
"Thanks. For letting me live."
I was being sincere.
Edmon turned away with a faint smile. He left me in this underground prison and ascended the stairs.
His voice echoed emptily.
"Farewell, Max. I'll come visit from time to time when I have the chance."
Maximilian von Ebenholz.
It was a name foolishly thrown away. My life had rotted behind the shadow of my father's prestige.
All I knew was a little bit of swordsmanship and a little bit of magic.
But thanks to that ignorance, I managed to survive. In that sense, I could say I am the victor among my family.
Tick-tock.
How much time had passed? The cell bars opened again, and Edmon appeared. There were a few more lines on his face.
It was his second visit, but it seemed quite some time had passed.
Being locked up made the flow of time feel unfamiliar.
"Oh, Edmon."
I raised a hand to him.
"Yeah."
"How many years has it been? The guards never tell me anything."
Edmon stared at me for a moment.
"Three years."
"That long? Is the outside different?"
"It is."
He clearly said it was different. But his voice lacked its former confidence, replaced by a subtle weariness.
"Three years. You must be married by now, with a kid, right?"
"......"
Edmon looked at me without a word. The eyes of the man who was once busy with numerous projects and had to design a glorious future after the empire were now somewhat shadowed.
"I've postponed the marriage. I'm busy."
"When were you not busy? Did you get dumped?"
At my mischievous joke, the corner of Edmon's mouth twitched slightly. He seemed to be forcing back a laugh.
"You haven't changed."
His form of address had shifted from the informal "you" to a more formal one.
Was it a subtle distance, or a sign of respect?
"Ah, I get it now. You've learned a thing or two about the harsh realities of politics, haven't you? The revolution was a success, but the aftermath has been a bit of a headache, right?"
Edmon let out a sigh instead of an answer.
"It's more complicated than I thought. But still... it's a process of change, I suppose?"
He spoke as if seeking my advice. But as a prisoner in an underground jail, I had no words to offer him.
"Who are you asking right now?"
Edmon nodded silently and turned to leave. The sword at his waist was gone.
He, who was a candidate for the title of the Empire's greatest swordsman, had given up the sword.
It seemed the world was changing in that way.
Tick-tock.
I opened my eyes.
Thud.
The sound of footsteps came again. This time, they were a little slower, a little heavier.
"Has it been... 10 years?"
Muttering to himself, Edmon approached me. A small flame on the wall illuminated him. I almost fainted at the state of his hair.
"Edmon, where did your hair go?!"
"My hair?"
"Yeah. Did the rats eat it?! Oh, my god."
Half of his once-luscious black hair was gone, revealing his scalp, and what remained was streaked with white frost. The lines on his face had deepened, making him look at least a decade older.
"Hair isn't important."
"That's what all the balding people around me used to say."
"You're still the same. Miraculously the same."
He expressed pure admiration instead of anger. Or perhaps it was the look of someone seeing an incomprehensible phenomenon.
"My appearance, my voice, everything..."
"Really? Maybe it's because I don't get any sun."
Edmon wordlessly pulled up a chair and sat down. He was dressed in the attire of a full-fledged politician.
I asked him.
"Is the outside different?"
He remained silent. The flickering lamplight on the wall cast a shadow on his tired face.
"It will be different... No, I have to make it different."
His face was one of resignation, of someone who had accepted reality.
"Politics must be tough. Seeing how your face has changed more dramatically than the world."
Pfft. Edmon looked at me and laughed. The laughter that escaped him soon turned into a broad smile.
"Hahaha. Yes... Yes, I suppose so."
"They say you get gentler with age, and it must be true. You look like you've been beaten down by about 30 years. Where did the formidable knight go? All I see is a worn-out old fox."
"I wonder. Maybe he's rusting away somewhere."
Edmon smiled with a short sigh.
"Maximilian."
He called me by my full name for the first time. The friends of my past had all called me Max.
It felt a little awkward, but not bad.
"Is it different inside?"
He asked. I shrugged.
"Well, I just train in here. I'm cut off from the world."
"Can you train? In an environment like this?"
"Do you think I can?"
Khahaha, Edmon burst out laughing, and I laughed along with him. The laughter, once it erupted, filled the prison.
"Edmon,"
At the end of the laughter, I nodded my head.
"It will change. The outside."
For a moment, Edmon's expression hardened.
"Because the outside has people like you."
I looked him straight in the eye.
"A commoner who is far more valuable than a good-for-nothing noble like me."
His eyebrows twitched sadly.
I never thought I would see the weak side of an old politician in Edmon.
"My father used to say that. 'Edmon is a man of far greater worth than most of the Empire's nobles.'"
"Duke Sebastian. That great old man."
Edmon received my words.
"I still think about it sometimes. How he single-handedly cut down more than a dozen of the revolution's elite..."
His sentence stopped unnaturally. He cautiously raised his gaze, as if watching my reaction.
"It's okay. He's already dead. He wasn't a father I particularly wanted to remember anyway."
I spoke calmly. My father was the epitome of an imperialist. He championed racial discrimination and segregation, and the glory of the empire above all else, and I had completely deviated from his expectations.
"Well then... ah. I'm out of time."
Edmon stood up from his seat. This visit felt unusually short.
"Leaving?"
"...Yeah."
Edmon gave me a faint smile.
"When I come next time, I want to give you your freedom."
Edmon limped up the stairs. In his hand, instead of a sword, was now a cane.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
The regular ticking of this clock wakes me from my sleep.
It's an auditory hallucination that has always lingered deep inside me.
The ticking of a second hand that seems to swallow all the sounds of the prison and beat against my inner self.
Tick-tock.
When I open my eyes in the darkness, a faint shadow is visible beyond the bars.
"Edmon...?"
I tried to make out his face. He had changed too much to be described as simply old. He looked like an old man who had carried the world's sorrows for a long time.
"Max."
He pulled a chair and sat down heavily, as if collapsing. He looked much frailer than his previous visit.
I asked him.
"How many years has it been?"
"20 years."
His phlegmy voice was close to a whisper.
"But you're still the same. Still... almost exactly as you were when you were first imprisoned here."
A mixture of disbelief and deep sorrow flowed from him.
"Hey, no way. I must have aged too."
I raised a hand to touch my face. My senses were dull, so I couldn't feel it well.
I asked him the same question I always did.
"Edmon, how are things outside?"
"......"
Edmon didn't answer for a long time. His silence held great meaning.
"Max, I've been thinking about this lately."
His voice was cracked. As fragile as a cracked glass.
"Perhaps, if the empire had lasted longer, if we hadn't brought down the empire, then maybe humanity..."
Humanity.
I frowned. It was too heavy a word for an old politician to utter.
"What do you mean by that?"
"The Izenheim tribe, do you remember them?"
Izenheim. One of the many minority races persecuted by the empire.
"I know them. Why?"
"...might have survived longer."
"The empire was right. The empire designated them as a demonic subspecies and thoroughly isolated them. We... we saw them as subjects to be liberated and protected."
Suddenly, his face contorted in despair. Deep regret and self-loathing surged forth.
"But, the Izenheim..."
"What?"
"They were the disaster. They weren't human. Those bastards ruined the world."
The empire discriminated against minority races. It treated them not as different races, but as subspecies (亞種). The basis for this was neither scientific nor magical. It was a policy close to a witch hunt, claiming they were descendants of demons.
"What are you talking about..."
Edmon bowed his head deeply. His shoulders trembled faintly.
"I'm sorry."
"Explain in detail."
"...The Izenheim. They were an alien species that consumes worlds. They weren't human from the start. The underground cities they dug, remember? We thought they gathered there to live, but it was to develop a dimensional gate. We were deceived by those demonic bastards."
I asked dumbfoundedly.
"What?"
Did I misread a novel somewhere?
Edmon gave a bitter smile. His complexion was already as pale as a corpse.
"Under the republic, those bastards revealed their true colors. After repeated research, they finally summoned the alien race. I'm sorry. If it had been the empire, they would have been pressured to the end and crushed, but we couldn't do that. We couldn't betray the cause we had established. We only attempted war at the very end..."
He looked at me and shed tears. I found myself asking without realizing it.
"Did we get our asses kicked?"
"With the help of the Yaken tribe, we had some success in the beginning."
"Yaken?"
"Yes. They had the power to resist the dimensional eaters. But there was a limit, and we tried a mana nuke as a last resort."
Edmon shook his head.
"It didn't work. We, humanity, were completely defeated. I'm sorry."
"......"
I still didn't understand, but Edmon had broken.
I had no choice but to believe the words of a broken man.
"No, no. You don't need to apologize to me. For some reason, the food stopped coming down these days. The guards must have all run away?"
For several days, not a single sip of water, let alone a meal, had come.
Yes, several days.
To me, it felt like only 'a few days'.
"...That's what's strange."
Edmon's wrinkled eyes stared at me.
"This underground prison was recorded as being closed and lost 7 years ago. So I thought you must be dead. I didn't even consider the possibility that you might be alive."
The old man who was Edmon paused, struggling to speak. He seemed to be in a lot of pain.
"Just in case, just in case, I came here. And you really are... Is this my hallucination? Created by my guilt?"
"Are you crazy?"
"Ha..."
Edmon let out a hollow laugh at my blunt reply.
"Max, it seems you were born with some talent that even you don't know about. There's no other way to explain this surreal situation."
"Me?"
Edmon fumbled inside his coat. A hand of skin and bones trembled as it dropped a rusty key.
Clang, clang. The key bounced a couple of times and rolled into the cell.
Kugugugugu!
A vibration ran through the ceiling. Edmon looked up at it.
"...I'm going now. To receive the end I deserve."
He slowly turned his back. His frail figure began to move away from me.
"Edmon."
I called out to the departing man.
"I never hated you. Not even once."
"......"
He said nothing. He simply ascended the stairs with a faint smile. His slow form was quickly swallowed by the darkness.
I picked up the key and opened the cell door.
Thud.
The rusty lock that had imprisoned me for 20 years was finally opened. I followed Edmon up the narrow passage and up the stairs.
And so,
I discovered a ruined world.
"Holy... shit."
The whole world was a pile of ashes. The buildings were skeletal remains, collapsed and broken, and traces of humanity remained as soot in various places.
The underground prison was right beneath the imperial palace.
In other words, this was the capital. One of the world's largest metropolises had been destroyed this completely.
I found scraps of paper scattered on the devastated asphalt. The inscribed words were clearly visible.
[Mana Bomb Failure]
[Prepare for the End]
[The Izenheim, They Consume Dimensions]
[.........Sentinel Knights Defeated]
[Summoning Ritual Performed.........]
[Mana Collapse.]
The things Edmon had said were recorded as facts. I stared blankly at the combination of letters and muttered.
"What the hell did you idiots do?"
Suddenly, I felt a horrifying presence. I quickly turned around.
There was a grotesque creature.
A monster that existed with only a form, without eyes, nose, or mouth, without a clear outline. It looked like a loofah, or a shapeless floating object in the air, but the 'mouth' on its maw opened wide and bit my face.
Tick-tock.
No, in the instant it was about to bite, everything stopped.
I don't know if I stopped, or if the world stopped, but—
Tick-tock.
The ticking sound that had been ringing in my mind for some time grew louder.
It wasn't a simple auditory hallucination.
The world turned back. The grotesque creature moved away, the collapsed city began to regain its form, and the ruined buildings found their places again.
The days I had lived through rewound like a film in reverse, speeding back.
My meeting with Edmon, my time in the underground prison, my father's execution, the fall of the empire—at the end of it all, rewinding,
Tick-tock.
There was my 20-year-old self.