Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 164
The bombardment and battle cries that had set the hearts of Gregor’s people racing gradually ceased as dawn began to break.
How could it end so quickly?
This thought instantly surfaced in the minds of all Gregor’s people.
They waited with eyes wide open until they heard faint rustling sounds from neighboring houses, then timidly poked their heads out of windows.
Compared to the deep darkness of the previous night, where only vague silhouettes could be seen by the sparse, hazy fires in the distance—so blurred that one couldn’t even distinguish which side the soldiers belonged to—the visibility after daybreak was much clearer.
“God,” they murmured, their eyes filled with terror.
Everyone could see it: aside from the siege engines temporarily remaining outside the city walls and the neatly placed drawbridge over the moat, there was now a strikingly large hole in the magnificent, towering wall!
The gap, tall enough for two men, was so deep that even from their distant vantage point, they could clearly see the interior chambers beyond the wall.
What was most chilling wasn’t its size.
Many knew that given enough time and proper equipment, a battering ram could inflict even greater damage to the wall.
The truly unbelievable aspect was the shape of the gap’s edges.
It was a perfectly complete, smooth, and regular circle—impossible to have been created by the brutal impact of any siege equipment.
—That was, of course, Oliver’s handiwork.
He had been teasing the Cat God, who rarely showed obvious embarrassment, when he received the signal that everything was ready. Reluctantly letting the deity off for now, he took the remaining set of bombs and headed toward the city wall.
Last time, he had been frugal, choosing to break through the wall using just a pickaxe.
This time, to thoroughly intimidate those still resisting inside the castle, he didn’t hesitate to choose the method of “throwing bomb eggs”—similar in effect but more efficient and visually impactful.
The consequence of five mid-grade bombs being deployed almost simultaneously…
Was a cloud of smoke that blotted out the sky and a deafening roar that nearly shook the soul out of one’s body.
When the choking thick fog cleared, there appeared that terrifyingly large gap, shocking to all who saw it.
The remaining Gregor soldiers stared in stunned silence, immediately laid down their weapons, opened the city gates, and declared their surrender.
This was only natural—with both the lord and his heir unable to reverse their defeat, and no timely reinforcements arriving from outside to rescue the besieged citizens, the garrison troops loyal to the lord had no obligation to hold out to the last moment.
However, forced surrender after the city’s fall was vastly different from negotiated surrender after a prolonged siege for the defending troops. Had he not witnessed the terrifying power of those strange bombs with his own eyes, Scaep Gote[mfn]斯盖普·苟特(sī gài pǔ · gǒu tè) – scape goat[/mfn], temporarily appointed as commander by Spire, would have insisted on holding out as long as possible to enter proper negotiations and secure better terms for himself and his soldiers.
But now the choice wasn’t his to make.
Scaep believed he had a clear conscience—whether toward Lord McKenna, whose fate remained unknown, or toward Butler Spire, who had disappeared midway. He had remained at his post on the city walls until the end, albeit in a different role.
When it became clear that continuing to resist using the castle’s defenses was impossible, he was fully permitted—even expected—to surrender in a timely manner.
No one dared imagine what fate would befall them if they stubbornly held their ground and thoroughly enraged an opponent possessing such terrifying, god-like powers.
—But everyone knew that if they allowed the enemy to continue bombing until the castle was reduced to rubble, the besieging forces who ultimately claimed victory would be in no pleasant mood.
When that time came, they would be the ones to suffer for indirectly causing such an outcome.
Count McKenna, who had hidden inside a carriage compartment during the previous explosion, was witnessing the simultaneous detonation of multiple bombs for the first time.
“…… God!!!”
Though at the exact moment of detonation, he could discern no specific details beyond the towering flames and the blistering heatwave strong enough to force people backward several steps……
The sheer scale of the spectacle—far beyond anyone’s imagination—still made him gape foolishly from behind the wooden shield.
Even as he appeared idiotic and ridiculous, unconsciously inhaling clouds of floating dust and debris, his jaw remained slack for a long time.
When he realized that everyone in the Albury army—except for prisoners like himself—treated these divine miracles with casual familiarity, even pride, a cold sweat instantly drenched him.
Damn Spire!
This was already the umpteenth time he’d cursed the instigator in his heart: How could someone who could wield such terrifying power so effortlessly ever be matched by a mere “human” like him?!
Thankfully, he had surrendered early and decisively.
His bones were certainly no harder than the massive stones used to build the castle walls.
McKenna refused to dwell on the thought any further.
He resolutely abandoned his original plan to escape during the chaos and, like a lost quail, obediently lowered his head. Following the soldier who finally had time to attend to him, he trudged despondently through the castle gates alongside others shaken by the spectacle.
He didn’t even bother wiping the cold sweat from his brow.
With his hands still bound and only his legs free to move, it would have been impossible to clean himself up properly anyway.
His gaze unconsciously trailed the figure with beautiful, slightly curly blond hair moving through the crowd, his heart filled with dread for what fate held next.
“McKenna is still alive?”
After fully occupying the castle—far more luxurious than those of Laina and Albury combined—Oliver received this unexpected news.
“Yes, Your Highness.” Fosse bowed slightly. “The ropes on his feet were untied, allowing him to hide behind a shield during the chaos.”
Oliver felt conflicted.
To kill or not to kill?
Logically, he knew that given McKenna’s numerous past atrocities, under modern legal standards, the man deserved execution dozens of times over.
But in this era, the noble inherently possessed a natural immunity to death penalties—and he was far from being the worst of them.
At most, his eccentric penchant for “enjoying the torment of young boys” made him appear utterly lacking in style among the great nobles.
Most importantly, even as a duke whose territory was nearly violated, he actually did not possess sufficient authority to execute a deeply entrenched great noble.
The most common practice was to imprison the other party—not necessarily providing lavish treatment, but at least ensuring they lived with dignity until someone was willing to pay the substantial ransom.
Although the McKenna family lacked closely connected in-laws, since his heir had escaped, there was always hope of encountering a great noble willing to invest in the young aristocrat who might inherit his father’s title.
Of course, this also meant Oliver actually had another potential choice—using “insufficient amount” as a pretext to reject every ransom offered, imprisoning the other party until death. He could even secretly employ torture in the prison, quietly putting the other to death.
Regardless.
Oliver frowned and said, “Since he’s so lucky, just lock him up—”
Before he could finish, Noel’s voice came from afar.
The knight captain strode swiftly, knelt neatly on one knee before him, and reported joyfully, “Your Highness! We’ve captured Spire!”
“Spire?”
McKenna, who had been hunched over, immediately straightened his back.
His eyes red, he searched around frantically, while Oliver was taken aback, feeling even more astonished: “He actually didn’t leave?”
This was truly strange—from ignoring the captured McKenna to likely instigating Calward’s hasty escape, Spire hardly seemed like a loyal old servant.
According to Oliver and Fosse’s speculation, Spire should have fled far away after using Calward as bait.
How could he possibly remain in the castle until they caught him?
Oliver’s confusion was instantly resolved when he saw Spire in a deep coma.
“My dear Cat God.”
For some reason, he immediately noticed a faint yet all-too-familiar trace… on this unconscious person.
He now understood—it must be a mark left by the Cat God beside him after using divine power.
After dismissing Noel and Fosse, leaving only two knights guarding at a distance, Oliver said with a mix of amusement and exasperation, “So he was the reason you were distracted earlier?”
The golden-haired deity was startled.
Why?
Thinking he had acted flawlessly, he nervously averted his gaze, unable to meet Oliver’s eyes for a moment.
Had Oliver found out…?
After a flustered silence, under Oliver’s smiling gaze, he quietly admitted: “…Yes”
Oliver asked amusedly, “Why did you do that? Letting him escape wouldn’t have caused any harm.”
Regardless of Spire’s original intentions, his indirect manipulation of McKenna had ultimately benefited Oliver.
With a legitimate pretext to seize Gregor City, he now had the capital to continuously develop his influence in the south.
After his escape, Spire was thoroughly branded a traitor: to avoid being hunted by the nobility, he would inevitably be forced to abandon his name and identity. With him fleeing alone, he would be unable to cause any further trouble for Oliver in the future.
After careful analysis, Oliver actually believed… that the malice Spire harbored seemed directed at him, but in reality, it was more aimed at McKenna.
To be precise, Gride McKenna.
“Because Oliver is interested in him,” He obediently replied, “He mentioned wanting to meet him, so we must capture him and not let him escape.”
He had finally seized an opportunity to make Oliver happy.
Havest had said that even if a beloved believer didn’t explicitly voice their wish, fulfilling it could bring even greater joy as a “surprise.”
The golden-haired deity remembered this well.
Oliver was speechless.
He had… only mentioned it in passing.
“Did I do something wrong?” Not seeing Oliver’s happy smile, His unease quietly intensified, and He whispered, “Oliver?”
“No, I’m very happy.”
Oliver gazed at Him and softly reassured, “It’s just that these are all trivial matters, completely unimportant… To me, what matters most is not to bring any potential trouble upon you for the sake of irrelevant people or things. Can you tell me, after doing this, will any deities feel displeased?”
He thought seriously for a moment.
Deyth is always angry.
No need to mind Him.
As for Havest?
Soon, He answered decisively, “No.”
“That’s good.”
Though Oliver was skeptical, with the Cat God being so certain, he had no other way to verify it and could only pretend to fully trust Him.
After their whispered conversation, Oliver ignored McKenna, who was tied up again and could do nothing but curse Spire uselessly. Instead, he turned his gaze back to Spire, who was still unconscious on the ground. “Now, could you please wake him up?”
Of course.
The golden-haired deity casually used a wisp of divine sense to disperse the golden mist enveloping Spire’s head. Spire, who had been lying with his eyes closed, shook his head dazedly and slowly opened his eyes.
What met his gaze was a face so beautiful it seemed otherworldly, as if glowing.
Sapphire-blue eyes, like rare gems drawn from the deep sea, clearly reflected his pale, vacant expression.
His soul seemed to waver as well, as if the azure blue belonging to the sky was irresistibly drawn into the dark abyss of the sea.
…Had he been killed and summoned to the Divine Kingdom to serve as a servant?
Caught off guard and deeply stunned by such unearthly beauty at such close range, Spire stared blankly at ‘Him,’ his mind going numb, and could only think of this possibility.
The ‘Angel’ with beautiful golden hair looked down calmly at him, who had lost his voice.
Noticing Spire’s dazed state, the ‘Angel’ suddenly curled the corners of His lips into what He thought was an utterly wicked smile: “You’re awake?”
