Chapter 257: A Berserker at the Gate

CH257 A Berserker at the Gate

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"Kellerman, meet me this instant!"

Earl Drake’s words boomed across Warlton City.

Everyone felt the aggression and hostility laced within his voice. Alongside it came the oppressive momentum of [Tyrant’s Descent], pressing down on all who heard.

The stronger the individual, the heavier the pressure on their shoulders. Ordinary civilians, as a result, were spared the brunt of it—intentionally ignored—so that Earl Drake wouldn’t have to waste strength suppressing thousands of helpless people.

In response, the Kellerman Palace’s defensive Array Formations activated at once, bluish barriers rising to envelop the entire compound. Defensive weapons appeared along the walls, all pointed at the lone man standing proudly in the skies above.

Earl Drake’s expression turned to ice. To him, the rise of those defences was more a precaution. It was a declaration of the Kellerman family head’s intent to resist.

’In that case... don’t blame me.’

His eyes glowed a deep blue, intermittent sparks of lightning flashing across them.

’If you think those paper-thin defences can stop me... then think again.’

For the first time, he drew the longsword that had hung on his waist like nothing more than a decoration.

The blade itself was nothing remarkable—an ordinary Fury Army-issue longsword he had kept at his waist as part of his adjutant disguise. Yet in Earl Drake’s hands, it looked no less than Death’s scythe itself.

His Legendary Domain flared, wrapping around the weapon like an armament attachment. Copious amounts of Legendary power were compressed into the steel until it trembled under the burden.

Loose sparks of lightning danced from the sword’s edge, so potent they left tiny burn-marks in the very air.

Earl Drake swung down.

[Mad Fury]!

The blade flashed, unleashing sword energy moving at light speed—so fast the naked eye could not follow.

Surprisingly, the Kellerman barrier appeared unharmed. Instead, it was the longsword in Earl Drake’s hands that shattered into dust.

’The sword couldn’t bear the power.’

The palace guards sighed in relief.

Or so they thought.

Crack!

The defensive barrier split apart.

Shatter!

The bluish formation exploded into nihility.

The ground itself tore open in the aftermath, a hundred-metre long gully carved across the palace grounds. It ripped through the outer wall, the gardens, the terrace, and stopped only at the very entrance of the main building.

The strike had been so fast that reality itself seemed to have taken a moment to catch up and acknowledge the damage.

Earl Drake ignored the defensive ballistae and enchanted weapons aimed at him. His gaze fixed instead upon the palace entrance.

That strike should have carved through the entire building. Yet it had been stopped short at the door.

Not by chance.

By something... or someone.

And sure enough, when the dust settled, a lone figure stood at the palace’s threshold.

It was an old man, appearing no older than seventy. But the weight in his wrinkled eyes told another story. His gaze carried history. His presence whispered of so many decades more.

"What is the meaning of this, Mad Earl?" the old man asked, voice calm and resonant.

Legendary vigor surged from the old man, rising to counter Earl Drake’s oppressive aura.

This was Count Justin Kellerman—the Kellerman Family’s sole Legend.

In his youth, his name had been known across the continent of Arun as the Unfettered Tempest Legend.

He was a man whose mastery over the Freedom truths of the Wind Law had allowed him to move unhindered, to come and go as he pleased, free as the wind itself.

That was... until he offended a behemoth. A blessed beast of Wind.

The battle left him grievously injured—wounds so severe they would have ended the life of any other Legend. Somehow, Justin survived, though at the cost of his future cultivation.

The once-promising youth, who had dreamed of soaring beyond the Legendary rank, was struck down by fate itself.

Even so, though robbed of his potential, Count Justin Kellerman was still a Legend.

More importantly, he had built a vast network of friendships across the continent. Elves, dwarves—even the races humanity shared tense rivalries with—counted him among those they respected.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that the Count’s reputation alone had kept the Kellerman Family afloat in its most recent times.

Even someone as abrasive and unyielding as Earl Drake had to give the old man some face.

The Mad Earl withdrew the effects of [Tyrant’s Descent], lifting the crushing pressure from the professionals within Warlton City’s inner districts surrounding the Kellerman Palace.

"You should ask your nephew, Unfettered," Earl Drake said coldly.

And as if summoned, the man in question arrived.

A middle-aged nobleman appeared, his features resembling Josiah Kellerman—the current patriarch of the Kellerman Family, Earl Jorg Kellerman.

"You have no right to do this, Earl Drake Fury!" Jorg shouted, voice brimming with indignation. "By Imperial Law, you—as a Guardian of the Empire—are forbidden from interfering in territorial conflicts. You dare defile the Will of Ludevicus?"

Earl Drake’s gaze locked onto him.

A spark lit in the Mad Earl’s eyes, and killing intent surged forth, latching onto the Kellerman family head like chains of death.

A shiver ran through Jorg’s body. Despite his cultivation as a Late-stage Saint, his instincts screamed at him. The man before him was not only a Berserker but a Legendary-ranked one at that.

One wrong word... and he would die.

"Silence!" Count Justin barked, though still stepping forward to shield his nephew from the killing intent and pressure.

He met Drake’s gaze with unflinching calm.

"Mad Earl, I know you are not here about some trivial attack on your lands," the old man said. "Matters like those are beneath us. And if your forces truly required you to intervene in a mere territorial war, it would only cast doubt on their worth as an Imperial Guardian Force."

His sharp eyes narrowed. "So, indulge this old man’s curiosity. Tell me—why are you here?"

Earl Drake’s answer was ice-cold.

"Your nephew... your family’s patriarch... sanctioned the assassination of my heir."

Count Justin frowned.

Not because of the accusation itself, but because he couldn’t understand why it would drive the Mad Earl to storm their gates. Assassinations were an unspoken reality on the continent of Arun. Which powerhouse hadn’t endured assassination attempts? Even when successful, such things were rarely worth mentioning—much less worth flouting Imperial law over.

Earl Jorg Kellerman opened his mouth to retort, but a sharp glance from Count Justin silenced him at once.

"I don’t understand, Mad Earl," Count Justin said slowly. "Whether or not our family head sanctioned such an action, it doesn’t justify your assault on our lands. If you feel wronged, bring it before the Ears of Ludevicus—or let your army contest us, if they can."

"It does," Earl Drake interrupted coldly.

His next words rang like a hammer on steel.

"If the assassin your darling nephew sent was a Legend."

The atmosphere shifted at once.

Drake’s voice was calm, eerily so. "To send a Legend into my lands—and worse, to sanction an attack upon my heir—that is nothing less than disdain against my person and my honour. And if you choose to disdain my honour... then you must be ready to bear my wrath."

Silence fell.

The gathered professionals felt the weight of his words, for they knew what it meant.

Guardian Families carried both unparalleled prestige and ironclad restrictions. Their duty was to stand as the Empire’s strongest fighting forces, to withstand all external and internal threats without leaning on Legendary interference.

Thus, it was considered fair game to attack a Guardian Family’s territory—so long as the attackers refrained from fielding a Legend. In return, Guardian Family’s Legends were bound not to retaliate, even in cases of assassination.

This was the burden every Guardian Family, including the Fury Family, had accepted in exchange for their wealth and glory under the Empire’s banner.

But there was one exception.

One absolute justification that nullified all restrictions: Legendary hostility.

The moment an enemy deployed a Legend against a Guardian Family, every restriction was shattered. The Guardian could unleash the full weight of their power without restraint.

It was a balance of scales... and one the Kellermans had just tipped against themselves.

Unbeknownst to Alex, Earl Drake had been so relaxed about the Kellerman invasion because he never once expected Legendary involvement. Without a Legend on the field, he trusted that the Fury Army would crush any hostile force before it reached deep into their lands.

This was why he had joined Exercitus Alexi’s expedition so freely—he assumed this battle against the Wildkin would be the only battlefield where the hidden enemy would dare deploy a Legend.

But he had been proven wrong. The hidden power behind them, and by extension the Kellermans themselves, had crossed the line.

Whether by negligence or by arrogance, they had sanctioned a Legendary strike during a mere territorial war. And that was an affront Earl Drake Fury would never let slide.

Count Justin wanted nothing more than to slap Earl Jorg senseless. The old man didn’t yet know where this Legend had come from, but he had lived long enough to tell that the Mad Earl spoke the truth. Likewise, Jorg’s reaction was proof enough that he knew more than he dared admit.

"I am the only Legend in the Kellerman Family," Count Justin finally said, pivoting. "And I have not set foot beyond this city in over a decade. What proof do you have that my family is behind the Legend who attacked your heir?"

"Hahahaha!!"

Earl Drake’s laugh was unnervingly cheerful, yet his smile was ice-cold.

"Proof? Why would I need proof?" His voice rolled with absolute dominion.

"You are the only ones with anything to gain from attacking my heir. That alone is reason enough. Even if you were innocent—if some other hand used your war to mask their move—you still bear the blame. It was your conflict that opened the opportunity."

"Worry not. I’ll kill that nephew of yours first. If he proves blameless, I’ll hunt down the true culprit and butcher them as well." Drake said domineeringly.

His eyes’ crimson deepened even more, gleaming with that dreaded hue.

Calm Madness!

Every experienced old-timer like Count Justin recognised this change all too well—the Furor Bloodline’s... unique trait. Once awakened, it meant the Mad Earl had set his will in stone. Very little would, or even could, dissuade him from taking Earl Jorg’s life.

Count Justin’s shoulders slumped as he sighed. "Then, I suppose this old man must accompany you for a while... until your fury runs its course."

His Domain spread wide, winds howling with the unshackled freedom of the Tempest.

"Think wisely, Unfettered," Earl Drake warned, his voice a deadly whisper. "I speak to you with respect because of your prestige. But if you stand between me and your nephew... I will cut your neck without hesitation."

The Mad Earl’s own Domain unfurled in response—a storm of violence and madness. Not yet clashing, but pressing forward as a final warning.

The air grew taut, the clash of Legends imminent.

And then—

A new voice resounded, cutting across the battlefield.

"We can’t have you do that, Mad Earl."

***