Chapter 122
Chapter 122
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 122
Chapter Title: Black Tree Tribe
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In a room filled with an exotic atmosphere that hardly felt like a respawn point, Judah sat face-to-face with Isabel. The table, crafted in the Baekje style, was laden with foods utterly mismatched to the setting: from thick, roasted beast legs straight out of a comic, to boiled meats like braised pork, and fruits artfully arranged on enormous leaves. Even the glasses filled with some unclear liquid—water or alcohol?—had been crammed into every available gap.
"Well, they might not be as tasty as the food you brought, but I prepared them with care. Eat up."
They looked plenty delicious. He'd subtly dismissed the local fare at first, but one whiff changed his mind.
"I'll dig in. But, um—do we eat this with our hands?"
Seeing Judah's confusion, Isabel demonstrated. He grabbed a leg—whose beast it came from, he couldn't tell—and tore into it roughly with one hand. Judah followed suit. Grease smeared his lips, but the real surprise was the chunks of meat flooding his mouth. The chew was outstanding.
*Jeanne and Arhil would've loved this.*
As he chewed, Isabel leaned in, peering at his face curiously.
"What's wrong? Not good?"
"No. Well, surprisingly, it's incredibly tasty, but it just made me think of Jeanne and Arhil."
"Ah, those ladies? You really love your wives, huh."
It wasn't quite love, but letting her think so didn't seem bad. They'd all suffered through plenty, so he'd only mentioned it imagining how much they'd enjoy this feast.
"Don't worry—I sent food over so they wouldn't feel left out. They're probably stuffed by now. So eat without fretting."
"Then, gratefully..."
He had no idea why she was treating him like this all of a sudden, but Judah didn't refuse the food. They ate in silence, accompanied only by the sounds of smacking lips. She refilled his glass whenever it emptied. The aroma was sweet, but the burn hitting his tongue was fierce. After accepting a few rounds and filling his belly, his pace naturally slowed.
"You hold your liquor well. More?"
Judah cautiously declined. He'd barely finished one bottle—and not even fully. Here, it seemed everyone poured their own; each had a bottle in front. While she'd drained hers, his still had some left. Feeling his face heat up from the rare drink, he nodded again at her insistent "Really, no?"
"Then I suppose that's that. Shame."
Judah felt the regret too. The greasy food paired perfectly with the booze—no fatigue from nonstop eating. It even aided digestion, leaving no bloat. He wanted to cut loose, but he needed to hear why she was doing this, so he held back.
"Don't you have something to say?"
"Hm. Yeah. We've had some drinks, bellies are full... so, shall we talk?"
"Heavy stuff?"
"Well, not that heavy."
She shrugged with a smirk, popping a fruit into her mouth and chuckling.
"First off, thanks. Alec told me. You protected him from that berserker swinging a greatsword as big as himself, slaughtering orcs?"
She meant Cain.
"You did well. Without you, Alec wouldn't have come back. And if it'd been any other outsider? Dead on the spot."
Right. Judah listened quietly, but he knew it was because he was Judah that he'd survived. A fragment-wielding berserker of that caliber? Any average adventuring party would've been wiped out. And if Quake had shown up then truly intent on killing him, he might've respawned back to that moment he'd claimed Altemia, starting over.
"And that..."
Isabel stared into her glass, lips pursed. She had more to say but it stuck. Patiently waiting, he watched her down the glass in one gulp and squeeze her eyes shut.
"I'm sorry."
The words finally came after a long pause—an apology.
"Pardon?"
What for? Judah, hands greasy from the food, looked at her puzzled. The tough, unhesitating woman blushed, staring at the floor as if apologizing was awkward and embarrassing. Hard to tell if it was the alcohol, but she was clearly shy.
"You nearly died because of me."
"...Ha. Haha!"
Hearing her out, Judah burst laughing despite knowing it rude. Not even that funny, but the booze loosened him up, his body shaking.
"Why laugh?"
She puffed her cheeks, glaring with a sulky frown. Still chuckling, Judah glanced her way.
"Well, if that's worth an apology, what's not? The world's full of dangers. Coming to Regen means steeling yourself for death. I prepared countermeasures too. No need to apologize for that. Just say 'Good work. Thanks for coming back alive'—that's plenty."
This wasn't some modern world far from death. One day, climbing a mountain, a starving mercenary could rob and kill you. Or a wild beast could tear you apart. Enter a castle with a corrupt lord, or slight a local noble—dead. That's how it was here. No skill or bad luck, you die. And crucially.
"Apologizing doesn't suit you."
"Quiet!"
*I know,* she muttered, voice softening. Eyeing her empty glass, she seemed tempted to drink.
"Here."
Judah offered his bottle. She reached out, hesitated, then held out her glass.
*Glug-glug-glug.*
It filled with a clear sound. But past halfway, it stopped. At just over half, she smirked.
"What? You didn't finish yours?"
"Emptied the glass, but yeah, a bit left."
He flipped his glass to show—only a drop fell; otherwise empty. She gulped down her half.
"You drink well—why stop? Food's left, and we can chat more."
No choice. Before he could reply, she yelled for more booze. Someone outside soon brought two bottles. New ones set before each. They filled one another's glasses, clinked lightly, and downed them. The burn down his throat drew a satisfied *ahh*.
"Know something?"
"What?"
"Fragments."
The buzz in his veins vanished like *poof*. Like hiding a bad test score, only for parents to ask if results were out. Staying silent, she glanced at him and poured into his glass.
"Legend says they fell from the sky one day. Shockingly, only twenty-four total—and one crashed into Regen's wild mountains. Then, a god appeared from the heavens."
God? Sounded like Perlnirn, but calling the demon realm's lord that?
"The god said whoever gathered all his dropped fragments would get everything. Back then, Regen wasn't a great tribe alliance; smaller tribes warred constantly. Many hunted the god-sent fragment. The current Red Bear Tribe's chief picked it up. Slaughtered most tribes there. Survivors swore loyalty. That's how they rose from small fry to great tribe."
"......"
"The fragment they called by that name? A massive greatsword glowing red."
She continued.
"The Red Bear chief passed it to his heirs generation after generation. Each handover brought great wars or massacres. Inheritors faced trials—lost reason, went berserk. Killed family, tribesmen, troublesome monsters. Days, weeks, up to a month of rampage. Survive the trial, and you could wield it."
Isabel paused, poured, and drank.
"But this chief, Quake—no heirs. Died young from illness. Means no one to inherit the fragment. To the tribe, it's a powerful item... but cursed. Non-owners who touch it go uncontrollably mad. Who'd want that? Plus, no one's endured its trial."
She smirked at silently listening Judah.
"Wondering why I'm telling you this?"
"...Yes."
Face flushed with a tipsy gaze, loosened eyes, she leaned over the table. Startled by her sudden closeness—noses nearly touching.
"Trust me and let's do a job together?"
"A job?"
"Remember that knight you fought? The greatsword he carried?"
Alec must've described it in detail: the knight's look, style, sword's shape, skills. Or pieced from prior info—Alec had been holding off orcs with Jeanne and Arhil. She sat straight, pointing with a pinky off her glass-holding hand.
"That greatsword? The Red Bear Tribe's fragment. Those armored knights aren't Regen natives. He's an outsider like you, and Quake probably plans to hand it over. Let's steal that fragment. You and me."
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