The Distinguished Mr. Rose Chapter 116: Chapter 115: The One Who Terrorized the World

Read chapter 116 of The Distinguished Mr. Rose by QuiteTheSlacker on NovelPedia.

Chapter 115: The One Who Terrorized the World The former emperor reacted dully to Ganelon’s high threats. He merely stood there with his arms outstretched, and he taunted his once-meek servant - goading him to truly commit to his words. “This is the folly of raising hounds,” he croaked. “Witless, self-destructive creatures, always so keen on biting the hand that feeds them. But Ganelon, my little Ganelon, what a surprise you’ve given me. Do you enjoy that false mask of courage? Good, savor it. Let it fill you with faith. Only when thy longing is at its greatest will the inevitable cry of despair taste so sweet.” Ganelon clutched tight his holy sword and surged ahead with the tempest propping his steps. He would allow this putrid corpse to intimidate him no longer; let it blabber on as it wished. The emperor of yesteryear might have been the most powerful in the land, but the times had changed, and the blessing of the Lord which granted him power had been replaced by the demons’ evil parasite. He was the son of God no longer. Now, he was just another monster, one on the same level as man. “Die, you filthy whoreson!” Ganelon roared and brought his blade swathed in shrieking wind down upon his mortal foe. Even the Joyeuse agreed with him - it glowed an incandescent, golden light as its edge drew near its former master’s flesh. “Joyeuse, a relic wielded only by the weak.” And yet, for all the sword’s infamy, Pepin needed only flick it with his finger to send both the weapon and the wielder flailing to the side. “In all my years of reign, Ganelon, I have never once touched this wretched thing’s handle. Do you know why?” he asked, slowly stomping over as the High Tribunal picked himself up off the ground. “It is because I never needed to. One’s strength is decided from birth. You, who were born a pathetic lout, will always cower beneath my boot regardless of what your thieving hands steal. There can be no changing nature, Ganelon. I am fated to be the master, and you the tool.” Ganelon yelled out in frustration and summoned a needle-like squall to raze Pepin’s flesh. The man made no attempt to avoid it. He took one crooked step after the other, facing the storm directly and deflecting it with dull waves of his hand; and Ganelon could only remain there watching as his mightiest gusts flung away without a care. When it was clear attacks from afar would yield little way, Ganelon summoned a blade of wind into his other hand and leapt forth, striking the still-languid corpse with slashes that increased in speed over time. He summoned even more blades from beyond the stratum, whirling around them, joining, combining, until not a surface of Pepin’s body was left spared from the razing maelstrom. But still the former emperor did not move. The wind crashed into him, only to dissipate harmlessly as if dispersed by even greater force. Nothing could harm him save for the holy blade; yet even the Joyeuse failed in penetrating Pepin’s hide of dripping sludge. Was it the demon’s influence that protected him? Did remnants of the Lord’s power still remain, still protecting Their child? No, not at all. The source of Pepin’s unnatural might… was solely himself. If anything, he was weaker than the tyrant of the past. “Lamentable, truly lamentable,” the former emperor grunted during Ganelon’s assault. “To think these puny winds would now brush against me, when before I needed not feel their breeze.” Pepin raised his hand and reached out, breaking through Ganelon’s wailing armor effortlessly, before crushing the man’s jaw and smashing chin with knee. The light in Ganelon’s eyes momentarily dimmed; he fell forward and nearly smashed his skull on the cold stone, only for Pepin to catch him at the last second. He waited for Ganelon to regain his consciousness: slowly, patiently, until the High Tribunal returned to life with a sharp gasp. His rest was cut short, for before he could recover Pepin crumpled his ear with a cruelly delivered blow from his wrist.