The Extra Wants To Live

Even though Carl couldn't see anything, he could roughly guess the situation from the sounds he heard. Garten laughed along with the sound of something moving, and the sound of pages being turned could also be heard.

Since there was no time, instead of whipping him, Garten intended to quickly finish him off and turn him into a slave.

"If it's a book, it must be something called Dureniodon. It turns you into a slave. So, instead of persuading the knights or the intelligence agents with words, he brainwashed them with it?" Carl thought.

It was not just some simple heretical scripture.

Carl realized that the unidentified entity that had taken control of Garten's body was the one who had orchestrated Hilfin's work.

When he thought of the figurines that emerged from the pool of Hilfin's blood, it wasn't surprising that Dureniodon possessed some suspicious powers.

"In the end, all you do is act like a brat, relying on the power you gained from currying favor with your master without having accomplished anything on your own," Carl sneered, his voice full of contempt.

Of course, Carl did not truly despise it.

Borrowed power is power, stolen power is power, and inherited power is power. Use everything you can—that's Carl's motto.

He secretly thought it would be very useful if he could handle it.

Really, truly, Carl was confident that he could use it a thousand times more efficiently than someone like Garten. If used well, he could rule the world in a year. But it was too dangerous to keep, so it would have to be destroyed.

"That incessant, arrogant snort is truly worthy of royalty," Garten said, now completely relaxed and not falling for the provocation.

But seeing as how he fell for Carl's intention to stall for time, it was extremely clumsy.

"What can you do now? Yes? Carl Feldhardt Hardion. The Archduke's laurel has been broken," Garten slowly circled around Carl and whispered.

Carl, who had thrown away his sword, leaving only the handle, was now completely bare-handed, and his armor was in shambles.

"It looks like you're trying to get in from outside. Yes, the Master is quite a threat. But I can easily subdue you before they get in."

All of Garten's eyes were now within the castle, and since all of his eyes were under his control, he could use as many of his eyes as he wanted to see anything.

"I see them falling apart, one by one. Back to back, aiming their swords at an invisible enemy, running away in fear. I wish you could see it too."

"They don't run away. Your words are full of lies and deception," Carl said calmly.

Garten wiggled his eyebrows at Carl's words. In fact, all of those who followed Carl continued to fight desperately without retreating a single step.

They struggled to somehow squeeze through the gap and save Carl. Even if they couldn't see ahead, even if they were injured, even if they were dying, not a single one of them ran away.

What on earth makes this young Archduke fight like that?

'No, in the end, they are just slaves who have been brainwashed into obeying the royal family. I am different. I am no longer a slave but my own master,' Garten thought, shaking off his thoughts as he lifted the Dureniodon in his hand.

'And then, I wil become the master of the emperor, and the master of the world,' Garten thought, laughing leisurely.

At that moment, Carl's laughter echoed cheerfully through the blood-fogged basement. Garten paused and glared at Carl.

"What's so funny? Are you crazy because you're afraid of losing yourself?" Garten growled.

Carl was expected to break down, frustrated, screaming and begging miserably for mercy. It wasn't like him to laugh so cheerfully.

"You are right. I have no weapon, no strength to fight, and no one to help me. I am alone and cannot even fight you," Carl said with a smile on his face.

Clank.

Carl entered the battle and raised his visor for the first time, revealing his face. In the pitch-black darkness, that original face would never be visible.

But since Garten could see through the darkness, he could see Carl's face clearly.

His face was a mess, with blood and pus pouring out of his eyes, but he was still beautiful.

That face, smiling in the face of a loss of self that is more miserable than death, and even the filth flowing down that face appeared resolute, as if expressing tragedy.

Carl opened his tired eyes.

Those eyes, now unable to see anything, were a mess, but they were pointing at him with precision, as if clearly glaring at Garten.

Green eyes, blackened by blood, pierced Garten straight in.

"… Is that funny? That you lost?"

"No," Carl firmly and eagerly denied in Garten's subdued voice.

The voice that had been ringing out loud even through the visor became like thunder as soon as the visor was raised, and it struck the basement with all its might.

"Foolish and pitiful."

Carl looked straight at the invisible Garten and said.

For a moment, Garten couldn't understand what those words meant.

Who to whom?

"Are you really crazy?"

"You must have thought you won."

Carl laughed leisurely and moved his hands.

He pulled a dagger from his waistband with his right hand and another from his chest with his left. Carl, holding two short daggers, raised his chin and grinned, his hands hanging down.

"What can you do with that dagger? Even if you become a master here, you can't defeat me."

"Yeah, I guess so," Carl admitted coolly. But it was not a declaration of defeat.

"But, I don't think I'll lose."

"… "

"It's my victory, Garten."

Carl knew Garten's name and called him 'Garten' for the first time.

And instead of declaring defeat, he confidently declared victory. Carl smiled broadly. That was an expression that was created on purpose, and was nothing more than an act.

Carl was a monster of rationality who moved with cool reason and logic.

But at the same time, he was also a savage beast that moved according to intuition that bordered on foresight.

Carl, who had been pushing himself hard by adjusting the gap well, now entrusted everything to only one thing.

Reason told him that he lost, that jumping into the trap itself was a failure.

But his gut told him that he was doing great, that now that everything's over, all he had to do was get the win.

"Haha."

And now, Carl burst into a genuine laugh, not an act. It wasn't hearty, proud, or cheerful.

Just short and dull, a little empty and powerless.

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