Lord of Caldera - Chapter 307

Chapter 307: Chapter 307 Ruthless
As Sylas began advancing with the knife in hand, the soldiers realized a grim truth. From the moment these monsters decided to act, their survival was never an option.

The hall erupted once more into a bloody spectacle.

The hall where Sylas’s group had been led felt cramped. To be precise, it felt that way because it was almost entirely filled with soldiers and knights. Now, it felt just as small—but for a different reason. The living had mostly been replaced by corpses.

“Did we kill too many? It’s hard to even walk with all these bodies in the way.”

“Sir Toby, don’t kick the corpses. The blood splatters,” Ray commented.

“If it’s bothersome, should I clear them away instead of you seniors?” Isaac offered.

“No need. Clearing them would take even more time,” Ray replied.

The perpetrators of the massacre casually strolled among the bodies, chatting as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. To them, it wasn’t. It was as routine as eating breakfast—simple, efficient, and straightforward. The only reason they hadn’t done it often was because they rarely encountered enemies worth such an effort.

Today, however, a clear enemy stood before them.

“Ugh… ughhhh…!”

The baron whimpered, tears and snot streaming down his face, his breathing ragged with terror. He knew his name was already on the list of those marked for death.

Ervin, on the other hand, made no sound. Though his name wasn’t on that list yet, he understood it could be added at any moment.

“My lord, it’s done,” Ray reported.

“Good work. Isaac, you carried out your first command well, too,” Sylas said.

“I still have a long way to go compared to my seniors,” Isaac replied.

“That’s true. Stick close to them and learn as much as you can.”

“Yes, I will do my best.”

After exchanging lighthearted words amidst the carnage, Sylas turned to Toby.

“Toby.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“If there’s anything you want to ask the baron, now’s the time. You won’t get another chance.”

“I’ll do that. I’ve been meaning to ask him something.”

Toby’s gaze locked onto the baron, who screamed and scrambled backward. But his retreat was stopped short by the wall.

Toby approached and stood before him.

“Hey, Anton.”

“Wh-what…!”

The baron, despite being addressed with casual familiarity by a mere knight, didn’t dare protest. He barely managed to choke back his sobs.

“I’ve got one question. Why did you burn my family’s estate?”

“B-burn? Estate?”

“The Black Spear, Kurt Baston, was my father.”

At Toby’s words, the baron’s entire body began to tremble violently. It was as if his death sentence had just been declared.

Before the baron could scream, Toby’s brows furrowed in irritation.

“Don’t want to answer? Then I’ll just—”

“Because it was expensive! It was too expensive, that’s why!”

As Toby raised his spear, Anton flailed his arms and blurted out his confession.

“They took too much money! That’s why I didn’t get enough! My father—he didn’t get enough money! So I burned it down out of anger! I’m sorry! Please, forgive me!”

His words tumbled out in a frantic, incoherent mess. Toby tilted his head, struggling to make sense of the panicked explanation.

“What is he even saying?” Toby asked.

“I think he’s blaming your father’s fees for cutting into his childhood allowance. Apparently, he harbored a grudge over that and burned the estate down in revenge,” Sylas interpreted dryly.

“Unbelievable.”

Toby shook his head in disbelief. Just when he thought he’d seen the lowest depths of human nature, someone like this showed him there was still further to sink.

“Forget it. I was foolish to expect a proper answer from trash like you.”

“P-please! Spare me! I’ll give you everything—my entire fortune! Take it all, but please spare my life!”

Slash.

Toby’s spear swung through the air, silencing the baron’s desperate sobs. His head hit the floor with a dull thud, and the noisy hall fell into an eerie silence.

In the stillness, Sylas’s voice rang out.

“Well, now that the nuisance has been dealt with…”

Sylas turned his gaze to Ervin, who flinched as though struck.

“It’s time to decide what to do with the rest of them.”

Ervin, who had thought himself safe, felt his face drain of color.

Sylas studied the frozen Ervin and chuckled quietly, tapping the table with his fingers.

“Come over here and sit,” he said.

“…What?”

The unexpected invitation left Ervin momentarily stunned. Did Sylas mean to sit and have a meal in this blood-soaked hall?

When Ervin didn’t respond, Sylas tilted his head to the side.

“Don’t want to?”

“No, not at all. I’ll come immediately,” Ervin stammered, standing up hastily.

Sylas’s words carried no overt threat, nor even a hint of displeasure. Yet they terrified Ervin more than anything.

Carefully stepping over blood and corpses, Ervin made his way to the chair Sylas had indicated and sat down.

“Good. Now we can have a proper conversation,” Sylas said.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Ervin replied, keeping his tone as steady as he could manage.

“Let me start with one question. Is the former lord dead? I heard he was imprisoned,” Sylas asked bluntly.

Ervin hesitated, unable to find the words to respond. There was only one reason Sylas would ask about the former lord’s status.

He intends to reinstate him as lord.

For Ervin, this was the worst possible outcome. The former lord had been a thorn in his master’s side. Restoring him to power would be a disaster for Ervin’s faction.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure,” Ervin lied.

“Really? But weren’t you the one who led the siege on his castle?”

“There were conflicts, but they were resolved. Once the rightful lord was installed, it would have been improper to interfere further in the internal affairs of another domain,” Ervin replied smoothly.

Sylas laughed dryly. “That’s quite the polished excuse. You nobles really know how to grease the wheels with pretty words.”

If the conversation had started this way, Sylas might have played along. But it was too late for that now.