Who are Vogt, Luca, and Jeffrey?
Naturally, these were the other three centurions who were trembling with fear just a second ago, but whose minds were now completely blank.
A few months ago, the young viscount, who wanted to prove himself in the war so that he could get more benefits when the family divided the property later, practically begged and pleaded with his father to pry off a thousand-man unit.
However, even landlords don't have surplus grain, and it's impossible for medieval armies, which hadn't fought large-scale wars for decades, not to have instances of soldiers receiving salaries without working.
So even though his father was the commander of this vanguard, Alfonso only managed to get four full-strength 100-man squads, and each centurion was a seasoned veteran like Atli who usually ignored his orders.
Before tonight, Alfonso had intended to kill only Atli to establish his authority and intimidate the remaining three centurions.
But as fate would have it, the appearance of the bandits made things so complicated that he couldn't even properly explain to his father why he had almost lost an entire elite hundred-man squad without any formal battle.
Since that's the case, then we can only do the opposite.
Alfonso has no intention of hiding anything anymore; on the contrary, he plans to make this matter as big as possible.
What's the big deal about killing a centurion?
If you're going to kill, kill all four of them!
Who told them to disobey orders and fail to strengthen defenses? Tonight's losses should all be blamed on those guys!
He wanted to report this matter, not only to his father but also to Marshal Luokenuosuos i, and ideally, to His Majesty the Emperor.
Look, look, this is your imperial elite force. I, a centurion, can't even command the centurions under my command.
Yes, I am guilty in this matter, but putting aside the facts, aren't these centurions completely without fault?
Therefore, the bigger the commotion, the safer one becomes, and the more meritless one's handling of the matter will be.
So, Vogt, Luca, and Jeffrey, since you like to sing a different tune, go to hell and keep singing your own tune.
The young viscount had just killed a centurion to establish his authority, so the soldiers would not actively arrest the centurions, nor would they obey his orders.
So the moment they heard the Viscount's order, hundreds of people quickly retreated to the surroundings, revealing three "reefs" that hadn't yet reacted, like the receding tide.
Having just received the instruction to " Practice More If You're Bad," the Soul Returner scattered among the soldiers immediately began to act, rushing straight towards the three centurions.
Soon there will be only one centurion left out of the five, and I will be the sharpest blade under the Viscount's command!
No, you can't!
"You bastard, you donkey's offspring, do you even deserve to be called an aristocrat?"
Before they could even let out a wail or a curse, the two centurions were pinned to the ground by four or five of the Soul Returner, and then routinely bound hand and foot.
The last guy named Jeffrey tried to push through the crowd to escape, but just as he knocked aside two of his soldiers, a flying knee struck him squarely in the chest.
[ Howling Pothos ] held a triangular spike in each hand, pressed his knee against Jeffrey's chest, and thrust downwards with both hands, piercing through the centurion's shoulder blades and pinning him to the ground.
The imperial soldiers who witnessed this scene were all horrified—did it really require such high command abilities to lead a hundred men?
Of course, it's not necessary.
Therefore, the reason a centurion could become a centurion is at least to say that he is the most capable fighter among those hundred men; otherwise, why would he be their leader?
By the same token, the strength of the imperial army should be divided as follows. "Auxiliary soldiers are less than combat soldiers, less than 10-man commanders, less than 1000-man commanders, less than generals, less than marshals."
So in their eyes, a decimation officer beating a centurion is something that shatters one's worldview, isn't it?
What these natives of the empire didn't know was that, according to the power hierarchy of the World of Disorder, a centurion was only Low Tier High Grade (corresponding to player levels 21-30), while [ Howling Pothos ], as one of the top solo players, had already transcended the Low Tier- level and become part of the Middle Tier.
Although his current level is only level thirty-two, the difference between Middle Tier Low Grade and Low Tier High Grade is indeed significant.
The difference between the two is like that between a cultivator who has successfully established their foundation and a mortal, or like that between a student who has successfully transferred from a junior college to a university and a former classmate; in short, there is now a thick barrier between them.
After the big boobs were put on display, [ Howling Pothos ]'s expression didn't change much. He simply tied Jeffrey up tightly with the help of his companions, and then escorted him, along with Vogt and Luca, to Alfonso.
Of the three, Jeffrey had already been severely injured by [ Howling Pothos ], Vogt cursed the Viscount's mother while fighting back, so he was physically silenced by the player.
Now, only Centurion Luca was able to speak and had the strength to do so, and he asked in an almost tearful voice:
"We are the Marquis's soldiers! What right do you have to kill us?"
"I refuse to accept this! I have rendered service to the empire, I have shed blood for the marquis! I demand to see the marquis! I demand to see the general!"
Alfonso spared no effort in this final struggle.
With so many soldiers watching, how could he not have prepared a reason to kill someone?
"Recently, the Alliance forces have been conducting very frequent scouting activities, indicating a strong indication that they are preparing for a counterattack."
The viscount said in a cold tone:
"Just in case, I issued an order to increase security as soon as night fell, instructing you to be vigilant and aware of your surroundings to prevent any unexpected incidents."
He looked at the three centurions and asked in an icy tone:
But which of you complied?
"When we were receiving military supplies before, each of your hundred-man squads took far too much, leaving my newly recruited soldiers without even the thinnest leather armor to wear. Did anyone return the supplies out of respect for my father?"
"I wanted Saili to investigate how many people were actually in each hundred-man squad, but you repeatedly dissuaded me. Do you really think I can't see that each of you is receiving salaries for at least ten people without actually working?"
Alfonso's gaze swept over the three men, then over the remaining at least three hundred people present, and finally returned to the three men:
"For each of the above three reasons, I can cut off your head once."
"It's just a pity that you only have one head to cut off."
So, is there anything else you'd like to say?
Luca, who had been shouting the loudest, was now speechless. He looked to Jeffrey and Vogt for help, but the former opened his mouth and only made a series of "hoarse" sounds, which were mixed with splattered blood.
The latter had already fallen into a coma due to excessive blood loss, thanks to the players' favorite Directed Alienation weapon—the Iron Birch Triangular Dagger.