Chapter 597: Scent

"I think we should replace our leader."

After glancing at the empty main seat, a middle-aged man with a plump build looked around the table and smiled warmly:

"Though this organization was founded by Lord Nathan, and we all came under his wing, everything changes."

"In my view, Lord Nathan is no longer fit to lead us. What do you all think?"

"What do I think? I think nothing!"

After the plump man finished speaking, the bald woman, who had been playing with a slingshot, snorted, her eyes filled with displeasure:

"The leader is always the leader. He saved my life and helped me gain my ability. I don't care what others think—I only recognize him!"

"Understandable. Very understandable."

Unsurprised by the bald woman's attitude, the plump man nodded at her and smiled warmly:

"Don't misunderstand—I'm not denying Lord Nathan's achievements. All of us have benefited from him, even me, who wants a new leader."

"But whether you admit it or not, Lord Nathan has grown old. Over the past two years, he no longer makes flawless plans or is always right—he's started making one blunder after another."

As he spoke, the plump man's smile faded slightly, replaced by a sorrowful expression, his voice sinking:

"A few years ago, we were all fine. But since the failed assassination of the prince, Samantha was captured, and the Bandage Anomaly was seized by the Cleanup Bureau."

"Then Barton, our mole inside the Secret Investigation Bureau, was trapped there while covering Samantha's retreat—and never came back."

"Later, Lord Nathan led a retaliatory strike, sending David to infiltrate the succession ceremony to ambush Leon Ryan with 【Moment of Heartbeat】—but he too was caught by the Cleanup Bureau and won't return either."

"Compared to those past years, after losing three comrades, this once-crowded table now has an empty corner."

"…"

Unlike before, after the plump man finished speaking, the rebels around the table fell silent as they stared at the three vacant chairs—even the bald woman, a loyalist to the leader, said nothing in opposition.

"Everyone, I admit Lord Nathan has given much in the past—but have we given less?"

After waiting a moment and sensing the group's attitude had softened, the plump man's expression shifted again. He pointed at the old woman and little girl across from him and slammed the table in fury:

"Forget others—how much have Lucy and Phoebe sacrificed for us over the years?"

"When they joined, they were both young and beautiful. But because of frequent use of their abilities, one has regressed in age—her intellect is no better than a five- or six-year-old's; she can't even form a coherent sentence."

"Lucy, though better off, has now become an old woman. She's under thirty, yet her physical condition is worse than that of a seventy- or eighty-year-old. If we're talking sacrifice, have they given less than Lord Nathan?"

"Enough with the roundabout talk!"

As the rebels sat in silence, a man covered in burns snorted impatiently:

"Oliver, just cut to the chase—say outright you want to oust Nathan and take his place!"

"I do have that idea."

Hearing the burned man's words, the plump man's anger vanished, replaced by unmistakable delight. His voice rose with excitement:

"Do you remember why we joined? To seek revenge against everything that drove us to the brink! To destroy this diseased kingdom! To stop our tragedies from repeating!"

"Not to mindlessly cause chaos and fight head-on with the military, the parliament, the nobility, and the merchants! And certainly not to provoke the infuriating Cleanup Bureau!"

"So now, it's time for change," he said. After cycling through expressions of joy, sorrow, anger, and delight, he returned to his initial cheerful smile, stood up, and proposed:

"I believe Lord Nathan over these past two years is no longer the man he once was—he's no longer fit to lead us."

"We must act now, while there's still time! If we let Lord Nathan continue unchecked, it'll be too late!"

"I agree!"

No sooner had the plump man finished than the burned man—who had just moments ago snapped at him—raised his hand without hesitation, the first to support him.

"I don't support Oliver as leader, but I support replacing whoever sits in that chair."

Meeting the rebels' astonished stares, the burned man licked his lips and squinted:

"I don't care about change or timing. I think Nathan isn't fit to lead because compared to when I first met him, he no longer smells."

"What nonsense are you spouting now?"

The bald woman stood up, glaring at the burned man, who was even more dim-witted than she was, and scolded:

"What smell? What are you talking about?"

"Of course there is!"

The burned man sneered at the bald woman and snorted:

"You can't smell it? That's normal—it's the scent of the strong. Only those of us who are powerful can detect it!"

"It's the scent of those who believe that as long as they're still alive, even if their bones are shattered, they'll rise again and bite their enemies to death with their teeth!"

"That's why I joined—I was drawn to the scent on Nathan. I knew he'd do what he said, so I followed him!"

"But over the past two years, after every major operation, he'd isolate himself. When he returned, that scent grew fainter—more hesitant, more broken."

"After the succession ceremony, his scent changed again. Now, he smells like a fawn abandoned before it was weaned—weak. Stinking."

"…"

After hearing the burned man's incoherent words and barely grasping his meaning, the rebels exchanged glances. Even the bald woman stopped her anger, bit her lip, and sat back down.

The "scent of the strong" the burned man described—put less savagely—was probably just confidence.

Compared to the former leader, brimming with confidence, Lord Nathan now truly carried an air of quiet decay.

Like the giant in the myth who endlessly pushes a boulder up a mountain, only to watch it roll back down each time, the current leader had truly lost the conviction that could change everything…

Should we… really replace him?

…

"Hssss…"

As the rebels fell silent, a loud inhale suddenly echoed through the room.

The burned man widened his nostrils like two black holes, greedily sniffing the unchanged air, then kicked back his chair and stood, squinting toward the door.

"Tiger! A predator has entered—hunting! The scent is so sweet!"

(End of Chapter)