Forced Imperialist
To Kill, or To Save (3)
September 18, 2025 | Views 4,703 | Recommended 330
WEEEEEEE—!
“Aaaaargh—! Get him, that bastard—!”
WEEEEEEE—!
The streets of Genen echoed, a chaotic mix of sirens, screams, and shouts.
“Fuck, who the hell set off the bomb?!”
The leaders of the independence faction fled as far from the bridge as they could. They had organized the protest, but the bomb itself was unexpected. It wasn't part of the plan. It had just fucking exploded out of nowhere.
“I don’t know what son of a bitch did it—”
“—but it must mean they were that desperate.”
Seiji said. As a ranking member of the independence faction who also had ties to the Revolutionary Corps, he had always drawn scrutiny from the leadership. Some of them had warned that ‘accepting help from the Revolutionary Corps would tarnish the purity of their cause.’ Seiji despised such higher-ups, calling them cowards.
“Seiji, you don't mean…”
Just then, they reached an alley.
“Here.”
Seiji looked at his wristwatch. It was a state-of-the-art terminal embedded with a mana crystal; he had already requested support.
“Here? It’s a dead end.”
“Support will arrive if we wait…”
Step.
A cold footstep suddenly echoed through the alley. Everyone’s gaze snapped toward the sound.
Step— Step—
Blond hair and golden eyes. A Sentinel’s uniform, navy blue embroidered with gold thread.
He was a nameless knight of the Empire.
He held a sword in one hand as he scanned them over.
“Don’t come any closer!”
They all drew their weapons at once.
“We’ll hold him off! Seiji, you go first!”
Seiji was a leader. The rest were merely comrades. If they had to distinguish between who could be caught and who couldn't, the former was Seiji, and the latter was them.
“...Thanks. I'm sorry, everyone.”
The other comrades smiled at Seiji’s words.
It's fine. We were prepared for an end like this.
“You shall not pass.”
They stood firm, blocking the path.
VROOOOOM—!
Just in time, a hoverboard from the Revolutionary Corps appeared. As Seiji grabbed onto it without a moment to lose—
SWOOOOOSH—!
Something sliced through the air. It was too fast to see with the naked eye. A gale-like shockwave simply ripped through the alley, and the hoverboard was torn to pieces.
Everything came crashing down.
An eerie silence fell over the space. Gripped by anxiety, they looked around.
In the blink of an eye, the knight who had been yards away now had Seiji’s face in his grasp, ‘lifting’ him.
“S-Seiji!”
“You son of a bitch—!”
A revolver fired. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. The entire cylinder was emptied, but the bullets simply crumpled against the longsword.
Ssk.
The knight’s coattails swayed faintly. He remained silent, standing perfectly still. But his presence alone was overwhelmingly intimidating.
Gulp.
The remaining members of the independence faction swallowed hard. A suffocating tension seized their bodies—
“—Hey! Over here!”
A shout suddenly rang out from the sky. A member of the Revolutionary Corps—it was impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman—wearing a slightly more unique rabbit mask on a much more unique hoverboard, pulled out a ping-pong-sized ball.
Whoosh!
They threw it to the ground and shot out a wire simultaneously.
BANG—!
The ball erupted in a flash of light and smoke, and the wire snatched the four surviving members into the air.
“Gyaaaah!”
“Aaaaaargh!”
The separatists screamed bizarrely as they clung to the hoverboard. The rabbit-masked figure quickly changed direction. As they sped away, they glanced down at the ground. The knight was watching them intently before sheathing his sword.
It seemed he was letting them go.
“That was, that was Seiji…”
“I know. Got a glimpse from a distance. Looked like a Sentinel. A real monster.”
A uniform of navy blue, emblazoned with a golden eagle. From the Revolutionary Corps’ perspective, they were the most terrifying foes. Unlike the Imperial Guard, who relied on overwhelming numbers, every single one of them was a precious, high-ranking noble.
To top it off, that knight’s hair and eye color were special. Anyone could tell he was an aristocrat.
“When you see guys like that, just run. Don’t try to be a hero. You can’t win, and even if you do, it’s worse. By the way, why’d you use the bomb?”
“It wasn't in our, in our plans.”
The rabbit-masked figure clicked their tongue.
“Ah~ fuck, of course. These bastards can't stick together.”
It was one of two things. Either it was the work of a radical faction of Genen separatists who wanted to fully merge with the Revolutionary Corps, or it was a setup by Genen imperialists who wanted to use this opportunity to wipe out the independence movement entirely.
Either way…
“This is seriously fucked. If you want to live, hold on tight!”
The hoverboard roared as it tore through the sky.
“Loyalty! As expected of you, Sir Knight!”
By the time the afternoon riots had somewhat subsided, the police were presenting the head of a key leader to a certain Sentinel knight.
The knight asked.
“Is this the man?”
“Yes! It is! Seiji Jen.”
The face, the features—they were an exact match for the wanted poster’s sketch.
“A high-ranking member of the independence faction, with ties to the Revolutionary Corps—”
“Vermin.”
“...Yes, that is correct!”
The knight gave a nod and walked past them.
“Thank you for your hard work!”
“Thank you for your hard work!”
The police officers saluted the departing knight. Only after he had completely disappeared did they run their hands through their hair and let out a sigh.
“What a fucking mess. All because of those dumb bastards…”
Immediately after the bridge terror incident, the Genen Police Department’s investigators were fully mobilized.
Using prior wiretaps and intel, they tracked the location of the separatists believed to be the culprits.
“…Ready.”
In the darkness, a total of nine police officers planted an explosive on the entrance of a stationery store.
“Go!”
BOOM—!
The door exploded, and the police stormed in immediately. Inside, members of the independence faction were huddled together like rats.
The suppression squad raised their batons first.
“You little rats! You fresh-faced little shits! Get ‘em all!”
“Kyaaaah—!” “Guaaak—!”
They beat the separatists down, literally. Some of them had young faces, but it didn’t matter.
Separatists were no different from dogs or cows.
Crash—!
Just then, a man stumbled over a bookshelf. He looked to be 13, maybe 14 at most. With a bloodied face, the boy trembled, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Well, well.”
Investigator Zendo approached the boy.
“That’s gotta hurt.”
Known for his notoriety in the field, he grinned and kicked the back of the boy’s head.
…
“We rounded up about 200 people from 14 locations in total. These were the most fanatical ones.”
“So I see.”
Investigator Zendo nodded as he listened to his subordinate’s report. Before him, eight people were trussed up like pigs. Bags covered their heads, and their hands and feet were bound in cuffs.
“The names are, in order, Bell, Ren, Kellio, Sato, Yan…”
Zendo scanned the faces until he stopped at Yan.
“This little bastard. How many times does this make?”
He kicked the boy in the head. Yan’s body shuddered in pain.
“Hey—you crazy bastards. When you were carrying out that terror attack, do you have any idea who was there?”
Zendo said, strolling casually through the room.
“Maximillian was there. Maximillian von Ebenholz. Do you worthless worms know who that is?”
When no answer came after a long wait, Zendo’s face twisted in annoyance.
“DO YOU KNOW OR NOT—!”
The pigs trembled violently. A hoarse reply, something like ‘We know,’ came back.
“Right. A man more precious than ten million of you combined got caught up in that terror attack. So.”
Zendo tapped his palm with a baton.
“You’d better start talking. If you don’t, you probably won’t be walking out of here alive.”
The investigators of Genen interrogated the separatists.
They put wet towels over their faces, hung them up like roasted pigs, threatened their families… It was, for all intents and purposes, torture.
“It doesn’t even have to be related to this terror attack. You know some guys, the ones who shine a little brighter. Yeah, guys like them.”
Zendo shoved several photos in one man’s face. They were pictures of the independence faction’s leaders.
“We don’t want to do this either. It’s for public safety, you know. When you guys are blowing up bridges with bombs, well, even the people who thought well of you are all going to turn their backs.”
The man said nothing. He just trembled and gasped for breath.
Zendo tapped his head with the photos.
“Aren’t you angry? Huh? Those bastards are living it up as ‘leaders,’ hiding in nice places, while you guys are the only ones getting caught and suffering.”
“…”
“What? Not angry? Aren’t they just using you as meat shields—!”
Zendo grabbed the man by his hair and lifted his head. The blood-stained face gasped for air in front of him.
“...Looks like you don't understand your situation. You’re not leaving until you confess.”
Zendo’s expression grew terrifyingly cold.
“Confess who did it. Even if you have to make it up.”
Yan endured the investigators’ torture. He was hung from the ceiling and beaten in the stomach with a baton; his face was shoved into a toilet until he lost consciousness; and when they threatened to bring in his younger siblings, his insides churned, but still, he endured.
—You must hide it. Until you become strong enough.
It was because of those words from the nameless knight who had saved him.
The bourgeoisie of Genen and the Empire are most wary of talent that blossoms from the gutter. If he were to reveal his abilities now, he would surely be killed.
“Wow. This one’s a tough bastard.”
Someone muttered with a dry laugh. With a bag over his head, Yan couldn’t see a thing.
“Let’s see this bastard’s face.”
The bag was ripped off. The sudden light was blinding. Yan panted and lowered his head.
“You foolish bastard. Don’t you know it’s always the ones who hold out to the end who get screwed over in places like this?”
The person crouched down on one knee. Yan raised one eye to look at him.
It was Zendo. A devil of a man to the independence faction. He held out a piece of paper in front of Yan’s eyes.
[The mastermind of the terror attack is Yan Novak…]
It was a written confession, in the handwriting of his comrades, naming him as the culprit.
“…You took the fall for them, and every single one of them betrayed you. You know why?”
Suddenly, Yan’s mind went blank.
“Because you’re the poorest one. Because you’re the youngest one. Because you’re the… weakest one.”
A scorching heat surged through him. He grit his teeth against the sense of betrayal. A rage that reached his very bones made his whole body tremble as he let out a ragged breath.
It felt as if his veins were boiling, and a pale yellow particle flickered at his fingertips, but—
—You must hide it.
The knight’s voice echoed through his entire being. The cold echo calmed his boiling innards.
Yan shut down his mana circuit.
“...Hk, heuk.”
He suppressed himself with sobs.
He hid himself.
Zendo smirked.
“Useless bastard. Hey. Lock him up. He might try to kill himself, and that’d be a loss for us, so give him something to eat.”
As Zendo walked away, the other investigators called out from behind him.
“Yes, sir!”
36 hours after the terror incident.
“...Ah, yes, Chief. That’s right. We got the confession.”
Zendo stood before a large telephone, speaking to the chief with a slick smile.
“Yes, yes. Send a formal notice to that knight fellow, too. Tell him we caught the culprit.”
It had taken less than two days to identify and extract a confession from the perpetrator.
It had been exhausting, but rewarding.
“Yes, Chief! Thank you! Loyalty!”
Clack.
Zendo put down the receiver and let out a hollow laugh at the jet-black telephone.
“Wow, technological progress is a wonderful thing. It’s like I’ve become some kind of sorcerer.”
A crystal ball was a communication device permitted only to sorcerers and knights. One needed to be able to handle mana to use it.
But this telephone? All you needed were fingers, ears, and a mouth. Anyone could use it.
“How convenient.”
Tap— He rapped on it, then shouted to his subordinates behind him.
“Let’s go for a company dinner!”
After two days of hard work, he had to treat his boys to some meat.
Clap, clap, clap, clap. Clap, clap, clap, clap.
The sound of applause rings out, mixed with aristocratic laughter and the clicking of camera shutters.
I am standing on a platform, being awarded a medal. For the merit of capturing one of the suspected masterminds of the bombing, a young leader of the Revolutionary Corps named Seiji, the Imperial Military Command itself is pinning a medal on my chest.
The Order of the Golden Lion, 3rd Class. The Empire’s system of honors is quite strict, so receiving a 3rd class medal at my age is a remarkable achievement.
“Sir Maximillian, please look this way!”
Click! The reporters snap photos of me shaking hands with the General of the Army.
“Your father will be very proud.”
I smile at General Walther’s words. I used to hate it when nobles brought up my father. It wasn't hate so much as I found it laughable.
But now, I need to know how to play the game. I am still just a small whale, and the House of Ebenholz is not the Imperial Family.
“Thank you, sir.”
“So, was your time at Empire Point a bit of a rebellious phase?”
“…Yes. I was contemplating what I ought to do, but honestly, I still don’t know. This time, I was just lucky to catch him.”
Above all, I must not appear to be a dangerous blade. For now, it’s better for them to see me as a reasonably naive and useful 20-year-old.
“Indeed, the saying ‘a tiger father has a tiger son’ fits you perfectly.”
“Thank you, sir. I will pass on your kind words to my father.”
“Hahahaha.”
“Hahahaha.”
We look at each other and laugh.
“Hahahaha.”
“Hahahahaha.”
“Hahahahahaha.”
“Hahahahahahaha.”
How long do I have to keep fucking smiling?
…
“Ah, my jaw hurts.”
The moment the award ceremony ended, I returned to my office. I took off my jacket and sat down in a chair. Today’s newspaper was lying on the desk.
[Suspects in Genen Bridge Terror Attack Arrested]
The investigative authorities announced they had swiftly apprehended the criminal organization. As the knight on the scene who had arrested one of the suspects, they had sent me a separate letter.
[To my dearest Sir Maximillian,
First, on behalf of the Genen Police Department, I extend my deepest gratitude. If you had not been there, sir, countless lives would have been lost…
The masterminds of the bombing are a total of seven zealous separatists, including ‘Yan Novak,’ ‘Jason Cole,’ and ‘Tom Lane’…]
“Yan?”
My brow furrowed at the name.
A lightning-fast investigation is always suspicious, but the name ‘Yan’ made it even more so. A young man who desperately tried to save a child is not the kind of person to commit terrorism.
No, even if by some one-in-a-million chance Yan was the true culprit and the investigators who caught him were diligent and honest men, the value of a single Yeken tribesman like Yan is far greater than that of a dozen, or even hundreds, of policemen.
At least, that is the calculation from Maximillian’s perspective.
…Tsk.
Another troublesome matter has arisen.
I put back on the uniform jacket I had just taken off and walked outside.