City of Sin
Book 1, 85

Sacrifice

“This kid has a pretty bad temper, to dare to be obstinate even at this stage!” Faulk smiled with his foot on Richard’s head, speaking to the group of young nobles.

However, this time he did not get a warm response. All of the young nobles turned pale and looked at him, at a loss. They were more aware of what was going on than regular bystanders. Not only did they recognise the colour of Richard’s clothing that showed he was a noble, but also with the quality and style, Richard perhaps was even of greater status than Warren!

They just could not understand how a trivial little fight that would at most result in just some bruises and slight cuts could develop to this extent. Seeing the huge pool of blood from the nameless young noble’s head under Faulk’s foot, as well as the area on his shoulder and back where he’d been seriously injured, and the clothing had completely split open, they knew that the situation had gotten very serious, and it was impossible to save it now. With their tiny backgrounds, it was impossible for them to take on the fury of the Archerons. At the thought of Gaton’s bloody methods when entering Faust, these young nobles who had never entered the battlefield and seen little could not hide the chill that rose in their hearts.

Meanwhile, in the small forest, Senma produced an astounding vigour. She stopped midway her turn, halting at a position that was at an acute angle of 30 degrees from meeting Poison Snake’s gaze head-on. Like a cheetah, her body was crouched down low, her alluring body suddenly accumulating an explosive strength.

Poison Snake was now obviously nervous, and Senma must have sensed something, which was why she had begun moving despite the risk. In front of a powerful and terrifying aura like this, he was now completely certain that he couldn’t stop her with just the crossbow.

If this arrow could not delay her ability to move and allowed her to charge to the scene at the corner of the street, even at the brink of death the Blood Paladin could kill all of the Josephs there in seconds!

Just as Poison Snake was planning on throwing caution to the wind and pressing the trigger of the crossbow, Senma suddenly stopped moving and slowly stood up straight, and then gazed at Poison Snake with the gaze of one looking at a dead person. With mockery in her tone, she said, “You all did well with this, even I’m impressed! It’s a pity that the only thing you lack is luck. Next time, before scheming anything, it’s best to pray at the Church of the Eternal Dragon! For now, you need to consider how you’re going to escape.”

Practically at the same time, Poison Snake sensed two powerful auras ascending from the distance, and his expression instantly changed!

At this very moment, Faulk had a twisted smile on his face, and all the energy in his body blazed with explosive might as he viciously stepped down on Richard’s head. This amount of energy could easily shatter Richard’s skull under his foot!

This was Faulk’s true motive!

Faulk believed that with all the pretence beforehand, this sudden attack could easily make it difficult for the hidden experts hidden in the crowd to react in time. By the time they charged to the front, Richard would have received a fatal blow!

There was no doubt that Richard had experts around to protect him. However, because of the rules of the nobles, fights and duels between the younger generation were not to be interfered with by the family’s experts. Conflicts between those of similar strength had to be resolved amongst themselves. This was a hypocritical principle of fairness, but also training for the younger generation. This was respect towards individual strength, while also preventing large families from being called in for such trivial matters.

However, there were always bottom lines in all matters, and that was life.

As one of those in line for the Joseph Family’s inheritance in the future, nobody would have thought Faulk could be so crazy.

Only Faulk himself knew that, being a true son of Duke Joseph as well as a talented warrior, he was fated to be the family’s sacrifice. If it didn’t happen this time, it would in the future. His fate was determined by his mother’s low status, and his own gifts weren’t great enough to turn the tides. Instead, the talent that he seemed to have only served to fix his fate all the more.

Before one entered the core ranks of their families, the value of a noble’s child was determined by their blood relations. Thus, Warren and Faulk were essentially equivalent in status, while Richard was the same as well. After killing Richard, Faulk would not be spared.

At worst, Faulk would be killed at the spot by the Archerons there, but the best case scenario was that he successfully returned to the family and then died with honour. This would make it up to the Archeron Family, as well as to the imperial family of the Sacred Alliance and the aristocrats of Faust.

Marquess Gaton would lose a son, but so would Duke Joseph. This was quite a fair result, at least on the outside.

However, from another perspective, the Joseph Family had merely lost a warrior who might not even enter the ranks of sainthood, while the Archerons had lost a future runemaster. The loss could not be equated at all. To be blunt, even a hundred Faulks could not match up to a single finger of Richard’s.

The reason the Joseph Family had chosen to do this now was that of these considerations. Richard had yet to establish himself in the family, and no matter how great his potential and talent was, for now he was only a son of Marquess Gaton. If he was given more time, becoming the official family runemaster or given a title, the life of even a small nameless knight could not be exchanged with that of a duke’s son. When that happened, what they needed to hand over was, at the very least, a child of the family. This was political fairness.

However, the limited loss to the Joseph Family was everything in his life to Faulk! That was why, when he stomped down with all his strength, he was chuckling almost maniacally!

However, at this moment, Faulk suddenly found things going dark before his eyes, to the point that he could practically see nothing. A large, dark sword suddenly appeared in the air, taking up his entire field of vision. An invisible pressure covered Faulk’s body, leaving him suffocated.

‘Am I dying?’ The thought flashed through his mind like lightning, and he closed his eyes in despair while stomping with his right foot down more forcefully. If he could bring along a future runemaster with him in death, then it would be worth it.

Just as the large sword was about to pierce into his chest, another ordinary longsword came flying over and knocked it aside! Just as Faulk heaved a sigh of relief, he suddenly found his body stiffening, and he was rendered immobile with his right foot unable to move at all. He shouted from the depths of his heart, burning all the energy he could in an attempt to struggle free, but this force was far too powerful, to the point that he could not fight back at all. Just a little more, and he would be able to destroy Richard’s head. However, this little distance was as far as a large moat.

Faulk despaired at the knowledge that his body was rising constantly, but he still did his best to kick with his right leg, attempting to deal Richard the fatal blow. Just a little more, and he would gain the sufficient price for his life.

A well-built, burly man appeared in front of Faulk, unbeknownst to even the onlookers. The middle-aged man had a spiny beard, and his short hair made him appear exceptionally sinister and formidable. His boorish and uncouth aura gave the surrounding young nobles the misconception that the being in front of them was not a person, but an ancient beast.

The burly man had one hand gripping Faulk’s neck, and the other holding an ordinary longsword. The corners of his mouth were drawn back, and he let loose a laugh that seemed to come from hell itself. A young, beautiful woman appeared behind him, with short crimson hair and an obvious scar on the right side of her face. It matched with the chilling, sombre aura she gave off, as well as the large, dark sword with hints of bloody light on it that automatically stopped any impractical fantasies any men had of her.