Chapter 199
Chapter 199
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 199
Chapter Title: To the North (5)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Ronan gripped the hilt and yanked. The light flowing along the blade intensified for a moment, and a werewolf materialized in the air right in front of him. Having practiced handling his aura, he could now distinguish between simply emitting light and using it to pull an enemy toward him.
“Kihehek?!”
The werewolf’s eyes widened at the sudden closing of distance. It was one with its chin fur tied up like a beard. Ronan thought maybe he could end the fight with just this one. Though it had blabbered about feeding on blood, wrapping things up peacefully would be better for the Karabel Merchant Group.
“You’re the example.”
In an instant, Ronan’s hand gripping the sword blurred. Slash! Dozens of red lines slashed chaotically across the body hovering in the air.
The moment the blurred sword reappeared. Boom! With a soft explosion, chunks of flesh and entrails rained down onto the ground. The werewolves charging in with the momentum to devour the world halted all at once.
“Kyaaak!”
“Keurheung!”
The response was as fiery as expected. Ronan swung his sword around to shake off the bits of entrails clinging to the blade. Pointing the tip at the bandits, he growled a warning.
“Only the dogmeat wannabes keep coming.”
“Euwoop…!”
It was intimidation to force them to flee. Unless they were complete idiots, they’d realize from that single strike that they were outmatched. Marya, standing nearby, dry-heaved at the sudden carnage. No trace of the werewolf’s original form could be found in the scattered chunks under the wagon.
“Kraaaah!”
But sadly, they were exactly that—complete idiots. The beastkin let out even fiercer, more thunderous roars and charged again. Ronan sighed at the half-beast fools who had chosen a tragic end. Just as he was about to leap down, a crossbow bolt fired from inside the cargo wagon.
“Kruk?”
Thuk! The bolt flew straight, piercing the brow of the lead werewolf before it could even register its death. The magic engraved on the arrowhead activated, triggering a flame explosion. Kwaaaang! With a deafening boom, the charred black corpse shot into the air.
“Whoa, shit.”
Before the shattered flesh could even hit the ground, another bolt fired in succession, striking the beastkin charging from the edge of the pack. Boom! Boom! Boom! Pillars of fire erupted one after another, encircling the bandits. Ronan whistled in admiration at the sight of the beastkin trapped in flames in an instant.
“Not bad.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Any more besides those?”
“Seven to the south and five to the east, using the central bonfire as reference. Ah, four now since one just died.”
Ronan let out a hollow laugh at Adeshan’s explanation. Her analytical skills were always jaw-dropping. Even Schlieffen would have to yield in that one area. She continued.
“But the other mercenaries are already engaging them, so no need to worry. Given their skills, they should handle it fine.”
“If you say so, Senior.”
Ronan nodded. Well, that level of ability was why she’d become Grand General at such a young age. He turned to the stunned Marya and said,
“Marya. We’ll hold here, so go check on Uncle Duon.”
“What? There’s so many of them?”
Marya furrowed her brow. Even if the two were exceptional, the numbers were overwhelming. Having faithfully attended Baren’s classes, she knew beastkin became extremely dangerous foes when harboring malice. Their innate physical prowess and combat instincts were elements no amount of training could ignore in a warrior.
Adeshan’s voice came from inside the wagon.
“It’s fine. You can go.”
“If even you say so, Sis…”
Adeshan’s tone was confident. Even amid the chaos, she was firing her crossbow to herd the scattering beastkin into one spot. Marya, who had hesitated, nodded. Paang! Reinforcing her legs with mana, she leaped straight toward Duon. Ronan shook his head in dismay at her sky-soaring leap.
“She’s not secretly a beastkin herself, is she? Like a were-ogre or something.”
“Haha, where’s there a beastkin that pretty?”
“You’re prettier, Senior.”
“...Huh?”
Adeshan’s hands paused while reloading the crossbow. It felt like she’d just heard something incredibly shocking. Swallowing once, she looked up at the ceiling where Ronan was and said,
“Hey, what did you just…”
But Adeshan didn’t get her answer. Boom! The roof suddenly caved in, and the wagon nearly toppled. Caught off-guard by the impact, she fell on her butt.
“Kyaa!”
“Be right back.”
It was the recoil from Ronan’s leap. He soared through the night sky, landing in front of the panicked beastkin. They hadn’t escaped Adeshan’s flame barrier out of fear of the crossbow bolts.
“Guess the ones who don’t listen need to be tied up and raised properly.”
“Kyaraararak! Human!”
Ronan approached them slowly. A few brave warriors charged, but they became headless corpses the instant they brushed past him, collapsing to the ground. Splash! Blood sprayed like a fountain, staining the snowfield. Not even the beastkin’s keen dynamic vision could track Ronan’s sword path. Terror finally began to spread across their faces.
“Gr, grrulk. Strong.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t it have been nice to end it peacefully?”
Opportunities don’t come twice. Just as Ronan raised his sword to teach that lesson, a werewolf unlike the others caught his eye.
“...What the hell is that thing?”
Ronan narrowed his eyes. The bright glow of the fire pillars illuminated its grotesque form clearly. Its face was twisted, and its right arm was abnormally developed. With its bifurcated tongue extended down to its chest, drooling, it looked less like a werewolf and more like an entirely different monster.
‘Sick or something?’
Scanning the pack, he spotted a few more like it. An indescribable unease emanated from the hideously deformed beastkin in various directions. Come to think of it, he recalled seeing such things in his previous life too, but back then, too apathetic about everything, he’d slaughtered them without question.
‘Guess I should ask.’
Curiosity piqued about why they were like that. But the desire to finish quickly and sleep won out. He’d just interrogate one survivor.
Ronan gripped the hilt, and the crimson blade took on a deep scarlet reminiscent of blood. With crossbow bolts continuously pinning their feet, he didn’t even need aura. Charging forward, he swung horizontally. Splash! A red sword qi sprayed toward the milling beastkin.
“Phew… Good thing there were so many of us. We’d have all died otherwise.”
“Bad luck at the tail end… Hey, bring a stretcher!”
The situation fully settled about fifteen minutes later. The mercenaries Duon had carefully selected had completely annihilated the werewolf bandits. Fortunately, no deaths, but quite a few injuries. Werewolves grew more feral the more wounded they were—never easy opponents.
But with no critical injuries, the journey could continue smoothly. The drivers, horses, and goods were all intact. The merchants, checking damage reports, scanned for the caravan leader. A delicious smell wafted from somewhere.
“What’s that smell? Grilling meat?”
“Smells like blood too… Ah, there they are.”
They finally spotted Duon to the west of the camp. Marya and her two friends, who’d tagged along as guards, stood beside him. The mustached merchant was about to report when the scene over their shoulders silenced him.
“What…!”
It was a hellscape. Dismembered beastkin corpses carpeted the ground. Blood had soaked into the flat earth, retaining the shapes from when it spilled. Charred marks dotted the snowfield.
“Ooh, this is just…”
“Impossible.”
The Karabel father-daughter duo, arriving two minutes earlier, also stared in awe at the devastation. It looked like the aftermath of a storm of fire and blades.
“You two did all this… alone?”
“Well, yeah. Senior rounded them up, made it easy.”
“Ronan did it all. I just shot my crossbow from afar.”
The two pushed credit to each other, but that wasn’t the point. Taking down what looked like over forty werewolves with just two people defied common sense. Marya, glancing between them, let out an incredulous chuckle.
“Monsters.”
And they hadn’t just killed them all—they’d even captured a prisoner. A burly werewolf knelt bound before Ronan. Adeshan’s whip served as rope. It glared murderously at Ronan and snarled.
“Grrr… Human, untie this now!”
“Yeah, yeah. You look smart enough to talk, huh.”
Ronan nodded in satisfaction. It was the one he’d carefully selected after some screening. Compared to its comrades, it had finer fur, alert eyes, and a flashy breastplate from who-knows-where that caught his attention.
Out of the forty-three, only this one wore armor. Ronan nudged it with his foot and asked,
“Nice armor. Where’d you get it? Doesn’t look like beastkin craftsmanship.”
“Kraaak! Don’t touch me!”
The werewolf roared. Baring its maw, it lunged to bite Ronan’s leg. Ronan easily withdrew his leg and smashed the hilt into its nose. Crack! With the sound of breaking bone, its head drooped. Grabbing one of its ears, Ronan growled low.
“Can’t read the room, huh? Answer properly.”
“Kr, kruuk…”
“Bandit scum who kill and rob, but pride’s gotta be a thing. Answer right, and I’ll let you live.”
Two thick streams of nosebleed dripped down. Ronan toyed with its ear and continued.
“Fine, if the armor won’t talk, something else. What happened to those freakish ones?”
“Kuh… Kuuh…”
Ronan pointed at one of the corpses—the one with the deformed right arm he’d faced earlier. The werewolf’s face twisted savagely upon seeing it.
“Krahk! You call that a question?! After you humans came, the tribe went wrong!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Since humans came, everyone dies young! Newborn pups come out deformed! Grrruk, we’ll kill them all! Slaughter them!”
The werewolf thrashed wildly, incomparable to before. Blood flowed from where the iron-linked whip tightened, but it ignored it. Glaring at the four before it, it bellowed.
“Remember, humans. Your families, your friends—we’ll tear them all to shreds. Kraaak! The Night of Fangs is near!!”
“What?”
Ronan’s eyes widened at “Night of Fangs.” The werewolf finally rose and lunged at Duon, maw agape. Faster than expected. As Ronan urgently tried to activate his aura,
“Gruk.”
“H-Huh?!”
The charging werewolf froze mid-stride. Its fangs were half a step from Duon’s nape. Ronan raised a brow seeing its pupils fade to ash-gray. Adeshan, right beside him, sighed in relief.
“Phew… Close one.”
“Senior?”
Adeshan’s eyes glowed faintly. Shadow mana mental domination. So she’d reached that level now. Ronan muttered admiration under his breath and swung his sword. Slash! With a short arc, the werewolf’s head hit the ground.
“You can control people now too?”
Ronan sheathed his blade and asked. Adeshan shook her head, looking as surprised as anyone.
“Dunno, didn’t expect it to work. Maybe its state was unstable. Anyway, just now…”
“Night of Fangs, right? I heard.”
Ronan nodded. Adeshan’s face hardened. The Night of Fangs—the beastkin northern rebellion orchestrated by Zaifa that had shattered her happy childhood as a girl. Calming her ragged breath, she spoke.
“‘Not far off’—what does that mean? No way…”
“Dunno. Gotta report this.”
Ronan pinned the rolling head with his foot. Why mention the Night of Fangs, ended over a decade ago?
But it didn’t feel like empty threats. The freakish ones. Tribe went wrong after humans came. Something ominous was brewing in the north.
“…Gotta clean up anyway. Let’s head back. Good work.”
“Yeah. You too. But Ronan, earlier in the wagon…”
Adeshan trailed off. She’d definitely heard something delightful, but wasn’t sure. Didn’t he say I was pretty? Unable to voice it, she shook her head.
“N-Never mind.”
“What, no fun.”
Ronan smirked. They turned back to camp. Clouds had cleared, moon and stars shining in the night sky. Gentle moonlight embraced the plateau covered in blood and bodies.
Cleanup didn’t take long. As expected, the Karabel Merchant Group arrived in Rundalian by noon the next day. A small city mostly populated by beastkin, home to a rare seasonal mine.