I Became a Crazy Swordsmanship Instructor in the Game

Chapter 52:

Chapter 52:

Philip found himself in attendance at the funeral of Count Eloy, the primary motive behind his presence being the confirmation of the count’s demise.

‘What could possibly have occurred here…?’

Felicia, too, graced the gathering, owing to her status as Countess Eloy’s kin.

Caught amidst a bout of migraine while Philip had been challenging the Eloy Family, Felicia was taken aback upon learning of Count Eloy’s sudden passing.

“I may not fully comprehend the circumstances,” Philip replied to Felicia’s query. His response, at least, held a kernel of truth. He was privy to the identity of Count Eloy’s assailant, yet the details of the Count’s demise remained elusive.

“Well, regardless, it’s all for the best, right? Is it not peculiar to label it as such when a life has been lost?” Felicia grappled with an ethical dilemma.

Philip empathetically rested his hand on Felicia’s shoulder, divulging his sentiments. “… I think he’s better off dead.”

In response, Felicia nibbled her lip, struggling to suppress a chuckle.

The somber occasion had drawn numerous aristocrats due to its significance as Count Eloy’s funeral. Those nobles who pledged allegiance to the Eloy Family were present, while emissaries from the royal court appeared to have also extended their condolences.

Draped in mourning attire, Countess Eloy, Altaire Eloy, stood in attendance, while her eldest son, Philos Eloy, donned similar garb. Philos’s countenance bore a stern expression as he gazed upon the casket containing his father’s earthly remains.

Approaching him from the royal retinue, a representative conveyed their sympathies. “Our heartfelt condolences on the loss of your father.”

“… I appreciate your visit, Your Highness.”

Observing this exchange, Philip discerned the identity of the royal emissary—none other than the sixth prince, Alessios.

Beside Alessios stood a diminutive figure, a young girl who could only be identified as the youngest princess, Camilla. The presence of these two figures alone offered insight into the royal court’s stance regarding the Eloy Family, now bereft of their count.

‘It appears that the Eloy lineage’s has fallen.’ 

The current atmosphere, however, defied the expected somberness.

Unless Count Eloy had been afflicted by a long-standing ailment, the possibility of assassination loomed. In such a scenario, the prevailing ambiance seemed incongruous. Stringent controls over ingress and egress were requisite for all of the forces, and a private, discreet funeral was the anticipated norm for an occasion of this nature.

In this manner, it was essentially a proclamation that both the eldest son with the hereditary right and the Eloy Family’s vassals would not deem Count Eloy’s demise a matter of concern.

‘It appears that he’s vexed with a desire to become an count.’

“… Nuna.”

Prince Alessios gazed at Altaire Eloy with an expression tinged with sympathy, as if his emotions were stirring. He was in his mid-twenties and seemed to be quite friendly with Altaire Eloy despite their age gap of more than 10 years.

“Alessios, it’s been quite some time. Given my current preoccupation with bidding farewell to my husband, let’s convene our conversation after the funeral.”

‘She doesn’t project any semblance of sorrow.’

Phillip mused, a faint grin adorning his face.

Altaire Eloy exuded a radiance that belied the recent loss of her spouse.

Her complexion even appeared more resplendent than during their previous encounter at the tea emporium.

Before long, the funeral proceedings commenced. An officiant dispatched by the church presided over the ceremony. With a partially bared head, he conducted himself solemnly, surveying his surroundings before raising his hands.

“In the name of the light, we bestow our blessings upon the return of a church member to the lord’s side.”

He endeavored to enshroud Count Eloy’s bygone life with an array of artful phrases, yet it remained an audacious endeavor.

“While Count Eloy may not have epitomized unwavering devotion as a parishioner, he embodied the essence of a diligent existence. Every individual harbors a virtuous facet. No matter how wicked a person may be, a fervent aspiration resides deep within their hearts, beckoning them towards the light. It’s like how Count Eloy erected windmills to enrich the lives of farmers and constructed dikes along surging rivers to ensure their safety.”

Phillip struggled to stifle his chuckles while absorbing the officiant’s oration.

‘No, it’s an overreach to depict the windmills and dikes as paragons of virtue, particularly when such actions are routine for any lord possessing a modicum of sagacity.’

Observing the officiant’s mouth quiver ever so slightly, Phillip marveled at the notion that a funeral could be so amusing.

“… And thus, as the mortal vessel of Count Eloy is born from the earth and returns thence, may the Almighty grace us with His vigilance over his immortal soul.”

Officiant gracefully yielded his seat without uttering a word.

In due time, the adorned casket of Count Eloy found its resting place within the confines of the family cemetery.

Then, it was Prince Alessios who assumed his position.

“Noble attendees, on behalf of His Majesty, I stand before you to address the intricate matter of resolving the successorship dilemma left by the untimely passing of Count Eloy, who regrettably left no testament.”

In response, Philos exclamation of surprise resonated in the air.

“Why is the royal family trying to interfere with the succession of the Count family?”

Unperturbed, Prince Alessios maintained his composure while responding to the objection.

“It is not an act of interference, but rather an endeavor to strengthen your rightful claim to the succession. With the royal seal of approval, you shall undoubtedly secure your position as the next Count Eloy, would you not?”

While the words bore a reassuring note, Philip knew all too well that matters were far from uncomplicated.

His second son, Bleuhan, incapacitated by a fractured leg, was incapable of even participating in the funeral proceedings.

The path for Philos, the firstborn, to ascend as the next Count Eloy was as clear as daylight. The royal family’s involvement seemed redundant, signifying that the Eloy Family would remain bound by the influence of the monarchy.

This reality was just as evident to Philos Eloy.

“Even without the notarization of the royal family, it remains an undeniable truth that I, Philos Eloy, embody the rightful heir to this legacy. The devoted servants of our family will not waver in their allegiance, and the unwavering loyalty we have demonstrated thus far shall persist.”

Philos scarcely concealed his displeasure, even though met with Prince Alessios’ somewhat impudent grin.

“Ah, but it is hardly as straightforward as it seems.”

“What do you mean?”

Philos Eloy openly contorted his features in a display of evident annoyance. Regardless of his princely status, it was inconceivable for him to be met with such a brazen confrontation within the precincts of his family estate.

Yet, it was not the prince who furnished a response to the query. Several representatives from the attending loyal families stepped forth, raising their voices in unison.

“The Baron Lakard family hereby rescinds its oath of loyalty.”

“Similarly, the Viscount Siloven’s family. We find ourselves no longer capable of pledging fealty to the Eloy Family. But if endorsed by the crown, the situation might alter.”

The accumulation of grievances had become palpably apparent. From his vantage point in the exclusive section, Philip watched this medieval theatrical tableau unfold, nodding with a semblance of contentment.

“This… What in the world… is transpiring amidst my lord’s funeral?”

The uproar caused by the clamoring of five distinct families, each asserting the nullification of their allegiance, was a scenario scarcely conceivable if Count Eloy were yet among the living. However, in the absence of a well-prepared successor, the situation presented an opportunity ripe for exploitation.

“As you’re aware, your father Adrian Eloy wasn’t exactly an exemplary lord, was he? Perhaps it was to be expected. The Baron Lakerd family and the Viscount Siloven family, both of which remained loyal to the royal family long before your Eloy Family became the Count, hold a significant historical…”

Prince Alessios unmistakably held a deep-seated resentment towards the Eloy Family.

However, Prince Alessios, who had been speaking with a calm demeanor, suddenly turned to look behind him.

“Pardon?”

In an instant, every individual present at the funeral shifted their attention in the same direction as Prince Alessios.

In an almost surreal turn of events, the tomb containing the Count’s insignia began to tremble as if it were shaken by an earthquake.

Soon after, the earth around the tomb erupted in a fashion akin to an explosion, shattering the very insignia that had been interred just moments before. In the midst of this upheaval, a substantial cloud of dusty soil billowed forth, prompting those in attendance to shield their faces instinctively.

Fortunately, those who stood farther away visibly paled in response.

“… The Count! Adrian Eloy has been brought back to life!”

Philip and Felicia, who exhibited swift reactions, promptly regained their senses, allowing them to discern the scenario unfolding before them. It was precisely as someone had vociferated.

“Philip?!”

Count Eloy’s countenance was now contorted much like a malevolent spirit. He emerged from the disrupted tomb and hovered in mid-air.

His skin tone bore no resemblance to that of a human. Instead, he bore the ashen hue indicative of a demon, accompanied by membranous wings that extended from his upper back.

“… A rather unsightly assembly of faces gathered here. If your trivial exchanges had been even remotely more satisfying, I might have chosen to remain peacefully interred.”

The resurrected Count Eloy revealed elongated fangs while issuing a disdainful sneer.

“Ah, father?”

Philos Eloy exclaimed in sheer astonishment, his demeanor resembling that of someone who had been drained of all vitality. Even his eyes widened as be called out to the Eloy. The Count gradually ascended toward his son.

“…  You foolish child. Instead of seeking retribution for my assassination and honoring my memory, you were consumed by ambition and sought to bury me to further your own desires.”

With a swift, lightning-like motion, he thrust his palm into Philos Eloy’s chest.

“Cheuk! Oh, father… why?”

“You aren’t worthy to follow in my footsteps. Philos.”

With an unsettling grin, the Count slipped his hand into his son’s chest and promptly extracted Philos’s heart.

As Philos’s heart continued its rhythmic beat outside his ribcage, a pallor washed over his face. Gripped by an overwhelming terror, he found himself incapable of coherent thought.

“… So, this is what a heart taste like. Had I known, I might have sampled some heart delicacies.”

The Count contorted Philos’s heart, clenched it in his fist, and took a bite.

At that moment, Philip was certain.

Though he couldn’t fathom the how, Count Eloy had undeniably succeeded in his reincarnation as a demon.

“Next, it’s your lot’s turn. You wretched nobles.”

The Count’s gaze shifted towards the nobles who had rescinded their sacred oaths. However, before the Count could take action, Prince Alessios unsheathed his sword and stood resolutely in his path.

“… I’m baffled by this joint. How are you still alive, Earl?”

The Count cocked his head, a gesture dripping with annoyance.

“Ah, but that’s not the question you should be asking, scion of the royal bloodline.”

In an instant, the Countms demeanor underwent a transformation. To those gifted with superior nocturnal sight, such as Philip and a selected few others, it was visibly evident. Prince Alessios attempted to thwart the Count’s advance, yet he couldn’t prevent the youngest princess—positioned behind him—from falling prey to the attack.

“Camilla…”

A maelstrom of terror and shock engulfed the prince, seizing his very core.

Simultaneously, Philip and Felicia sprang into action. From a short distance away, Philip lunged with his blade, deftly targeting the Count, while Felicia’s hurled sword found its mark in the Count’s shoulder.

“Aaargh!”

Princess Camilla’s piercing shriek filled the air as she crumbled to the ground.

“… Rarely does anything come easily to resolution. Now, even the dearly departed won’t rest peacefully in their graves?”

Philip grumbled under his breath, forging ahead.

‘Even Neria has never seen a person as eventful as Master.’

Absorbing Neria’s subtle jab, Philip heaved a deep sigh.

“Well, endeavoring seems our only course. Wouldn’t you concur, Noona?”

——-

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