Chapter 37 : The Iron-Blooded Emperor (3)

The Bahamut Imperial Family was undeniably arrogant and greedy, but they were not so foolish as to be blind to potential threats. 

They were fully aware of the danger posed by the Vendetta Legion.

Wolfgang Leonhart, the architect of the monstrous forces assembled to secure victory in the Winter War, was both an awe-inspiring and deeply suspicious figure. 

The question lingered: what would Leonhart do with such monstrous power? Would these creatures truly stand down after the war? 

Or would they turn on the Empire and seize its power instead?

History had shown time and again that war heroes often used turbulent times to stage coups and usurp thrones. 

Why would Leonhart be any different?

Thus, the Imperial Family began preparing to purge the Vendetta Legion in secret. 

The first sacrifice chosen for this plan was Raipen. 

Being of the same imperial blood, they assumed he could be swayed. 

Even if he refused, the Imperial Guard could easily subdue him—or so they thought.

At first, everything went according to plan. A simple letter from his mother was enough to lure him to the palace. 

Raipen even relinquished his weapons upon arrival. 

In their eyes, he was defenseless.

But no one could have predicted what followed. 

The elite Imperial Guard, sworn to protect the throne, were cut down like dry leaves by an unarmed imperial scion.

It wasn’t until the last of the Guard fell, his head severed, that the truth dawned on them. 

The purge plan they believed to be flawless had been nothing but hubris.

An unarmed young lord had annihilated the Empire’s most elite knights. 

The horrifying outcome left everyone frozen in shock—except for one.

“Lower your blade, Raipen,” the Emperor commanded. “I understand your anger, but if you hear me out, everything will…”

The Emperor was not speaking out of bravery. He was calculating. 

As Emperor of the Bahamut Empire, regicide was a grave crime, one that even the most enraged individual might hesitate to commit. 

That hesitation could buy enough time for reinforcements to arrive.

It was a calculated move—a sound one, even.

The only flaw was the opponent.

Raipen’s bloodstained hand cut clean through the Emperor’s neck without hesitation. 

The once-mighty ruler collapsed like a brittle leaf, lifeless.

Who would believe that the broken body now sprawled across the floor had once been the master of the Empire? Perhaps only those who had witnessed the scene firsthand.

The Emperor was dead.

In the capital, far removed from the harsh realities of the northern territories, the nobles, accustomed to safety and luxury, were now confronted with an unimaginable atrocity.

But Raipen didn’t stop there. He had already made up his mind. 

The only way to protect her was to eliminate all the trash gathered in this room.

With his decision made, Raipen’s strikes carried no hesitation. 

He killed those who begged for mercy, those who cursed him, and those who had lost their minds in despair.

Not only the nobles who had supported the purge but also his own siblings, those who shared his bloodline. Ironically, the last person standing was none other than his own mother, the woman who had given birth to him.

She stood before him, her long, flowing black hair a perfect match for his. 

Yet, she did not face her only son. Instead, she confronted a monster soaked in blood.

“…You intend to kill even me, don’t you?”

“Yes. That way, there will be no loose ends.”

“Efficient, aren’t you? But that’s not a decision a human could make.”

“Are you calling me a monster?”

“Look around you. Don’t you see the carnage you’ve wrought?”

Perhaps because she was his mother, Raipen hesitated. 

Unlike with the Emperor, he took a moment to glance around at the blood and gore-streaked room.

“And now, you even plan to kill the woman who gave birth to you. 

If you’re not a monster, what else could you be?”

“…Ha! Mother, anyone who didn’t know better might think you were innocent.”

Raipen scoffed at his mother’s shamelessness. Yes, killing one’s own parents was an unforgivable act, a betrayal of the natural order.

But could she even call herself his mother?

From before the Winter War, Raipen had done everything he could to save Baikal. 

He informed the capital of the dire situation in the north and sought help from the nobles.

Among those he turned to was his own mother. 

Though she was merely a concubine, she was favored by the Emperor. 

Surely she could offer at least a small amount of aid—or so he had believed.

In truth, it wouldn’t have mattered if she couldn’t help.

The real tragedy was that she had actively hindered him.

Raipen’s only solace during his struggles in Baikal was writing letters to his mother. 

He cherished the sparse replies he received, believing they were the sole thread connecting him to her.

But the truth was far crueler.

The letters he thought were from his mother were written by his childhood tutor, who pitied him. 

His mother had long since severed her interest in him, focusing instead on maintaining the Emperor’s favor.

When Raipen discovered this truth as a child, it broke him. 

Yet he forced himself to understand. 

She wasn’t the Emperor’s wife—she was a concubine. Losing favor would mean losing everything.

So he accepted it, swallowing the pain. 

But her latest transgression had gone too far.

[“His Majesty wishes to see you. It would be good for the family to gather and share a meal. Come alone—there’s an important matter for the royal family to discuss.”]

Anyone could see it was a trap. Yet Raipen still went. 

Perhaps, just perhaps, his mother truly cared for him this time.

But of course, it was a lie. 

The “conversation” was nothing more than a thinly veiled threat: cooperate or die. 

In that moment, Raipen made his decision.

“I will no longer beg for your love, Mother.”

With those final words, Raipen drove his hand through her heart. 

The overwhelming force obliterated her life in an instant.

She had called him a monster.
And she was right.

He made no effort to deny it.

Raipen cast a contemptuous glance at the bloodstained crown on the floor. 

After a brief pause, he picked it up and placed it on his head.

Thus began the Day of the Great Purge.
On that day, Raipen slew the Emperor and all his kin, seizing the throne for himself.

The Iron-Blooded Emperor.

The title carried both fear and ridicule, symbolizing a ruler devoid of mercy or humanity.

But Raipen didn’t care. 

He had taken the throne for one reason only: to protect her.

The nobles and royals cared only for their power, willing to stab a hero in the back if it meant preserving their own authority. 

They feared losing power more than they feared the unending Winter.

To shield her from these monsters, Raipen became Emperor.

For that reason, Raipen knew better than anyone that he could not defeat Wolfgang. 

He spent a sleepless night deliberating, but the conclusion was always the same.

Sending her to the Kingdom was too dangerous. 

He couldn’t allow it. Yet, no matter how much he resolved himself to refuse, whenever he saw Wolfgang come to plead her case…

A smile inevitably crept across his face.

In the end, Raipen couldn’t deny the truth.

“…I just can’t harden my heart against her.”

He could never win against Wolfgang.