Chapter 351
Chapter 351
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 351
Chapter Title: Side Story 35. Beasts (7)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Hey, you're really a waste of talent. If you'd had just a smidge more luck, you could've made it big. How the hell did you snag that prickly Vesper bitch anyway?"
Blanta asked, but Baren didn't answer.
He wasn't in the mood, and there was no reason to anyway.
Lete spoke up.
"He probably used the pretty boy ploy. Vesper's a sucker for a handsome face."
"Whoa, even you think that guy's hot, Lete? I just don't get it."
Blanta let out a hollow laugh.
Human standards of beauty were a mystery even when you thought you understood them.
Baren gritted his teeth as he listened to their chatter.
"Urgh...!"
No matter how hard he strained, it wasn't enough.
The foot pressing down on the back of his neck felt as heavy as a boulder.
He lay crushed beneath Blanta's foot, bound head to toe in chains.
Even in human form, he stood nearly two meters tall, but without using aura, he couldn't win a contest of raw strength against a beastman.
And this wasn't a situation he could resolve just by shaking off the leopard.
"I heard a commotion outside and wondered what it was. Looks like we got ourselves a fly."
"But this is the first one to make it this far, right?"
There were two more beastmen in the room besides Blanta.
A werewolf and a werebear sat on the guest sofa, puffing away at their cigarettes.
Like Blanta, they were dressed impeccably.
The robes draped over their bodies were made of the finest silk.
The werebear exhaled a plume of smoke and spoke.
"Whew... Well, I should head out. I've used the 'dragged off and beaten for being insolent' excuse too many times. Any ideas for a decent cover story?"
"Handing out some carrots after a long time might work. I'll give you a bundle of dried pollock to share with the laborers. Say it's a special treat to commend their hard work."
"Fish stinks, so I hate it... but yeah, that'll do for saving face."
The werebear stood up.
He shed his robe and changed into shabby work clothes.
Judging by the soot caked all over them, they were mining gear.
Sure enough, he grabbed a pickaxe larger than most humans and headed out.
"See you later, Boss Lete."
"Yeah. Come by anytime you need a break."
"I'll head out too. I've rested long enough. I'll make sure to meet my quota, so don't worry."
"Thanks. I always count on you."
The werewolf followed him out.
The scent of the sea wafting from his fur suggested he worked on a fishing boat or salt farm.
He exited through a different door than the werebear. With five visible entrances right there, this place seemed to function like some kind of plaza.
Baren was left dumbfounded by their excessively cooperative attitudes.
'Why?'
He couldn't make sense of any of it.
Not only the Jai-fa Royal Guard, but the beastmen he'd been captured by were in on it too?
Lete chuckled.
"Surprised? You look totally lost. For your information, those guys report radical elements and issues to me without being asked. If unrest brews in the group, they handle it themselves."
"Why would they do that...?"
"No need to overthink it. I treat them well, so they cooperate. Once you let those rolling in hell taste paradise, they never forget it. They do whatever it takes to keep getting that treatment."
In short, he'd selected overseers to manage the slaves efficiently.
Lete glanced at the door the beastmen had used and continued.
"It's a bit disgusting, sure, but it works. You use carrots and sticks to train beasts, right? Having our guys among the slaves makes running the organization a breeze."
"Beastmen... aren't beasts."
"I know. But treating them like beasts is better all around. It eases the men's guilt. If you don't see them as beasts, how could you do those things to people?"
Lete stroked his goatee and smiled.
Amusingly, his refined, gentlemanly appearance suited a bank manager or diplomat far more than a criminal boss.
Baren felt the fur on his nape—where his mane should be—bristle instinctively.
'Depraved. How can a human be this evil?'
A visceral disgust surged up from his instincts.
It reminded him of facing Caribolo's poachers. If he'd met this man in his true form, he'd have ripped his head off before introductions.
'I need to gather more strength. I'm not ready yet.'
Baren suppressed his killing intent with superhuman patience.
He could use aura, but it wouldn't turn the tables here.
Killing Lete wouldn't help if he couldn't rescue Secret and escape safely.
"Cough, cough!"
"Professor...!"
Secret's condition was far worse than Baren had feared.
Bruises everywhere, several teeth missing—he'd clearly been beaten badly.
Lete, watching, snorted derisively.
"Quit whining, curse shaman. You beast scum don't die from that much."
"Urgh... ugh..."
"Curse scholar, you'll remake the stakes. Stronger than what Varka Turgan used. Consider this a warning: cooperate quietly."
Lete's arrogant tone dripped with confidence that no matter how beastmen schemed, they couldn't escape his palm.
He stood, having stroked Secret's head.
"Come along for now. I have something to show you."
****
The sky was ashen.
Clouds like a vast carpet spewed thick snowflakes.
Baren and Secret were being marched side by side, bound in chains, to somewhere.
Thirty minutes out from the fortress, and it was anyone's guess how much farther.
Blanta, leading them, snapped irritably.
"Damn, hurry it up. This is fuckin' slow."
"Blanta. Why are you doing this? You were the glorious Royal Guard...!"
Baren whispered.
They were quite a distance from Lete, and the fierce wind made it possible.
What Baren truly couldn't understand wasn't Lete—it was Blanta.
He couldn't fathom why this Jai-fa warrior, respected for his skill, had joined a band of thugs.
"Hah, glory... Yeah, I used to think that way. It was a bitch to train, but damn, it had style back then."
"It's not too late. Even now..."
"Nah. I'm good like this."
Blanta cut him off sharply.
His tail, etched with ornate floral patterns, swayed casually as always.
Meaning he wasn't lying.
"Why?"
"Figured it out here. True happiness is living by your instincts. I eat when I'm hungry, sleep when I'm tired. Fight when I want. No holding back. That's happiness, ain't it?"
"But that's the life of a beast, not a person!"
Baren lamented.
It was unbelievably selfish.
But Blanta just bared his fangs in a grin.
"So what if it's beastly? It's a blast. Better than crawling under that mad tiger again. Hell, offing three suckers a week in style... But why the hell you slitherin' up sneaky-like?"
Blanta suddenly yanked the chains.
They tumbled helplessly to the ground.
Beastman strength wasn't something you could just endure.
"Gah!"
"Keep yappin' out of turn, and you're dead by my hand."
"Pro... Professor. Are you okay?"
"Ba... ren."
Baren, recovering first, helped Secret up.
Lete had said no whining, but the frail werefox's body trembled like it might give out any second.
Baren blinked wide-eyed at his name.
"W-Why, Professor?!"
"You've... lost a lot of weight since then."
"...Pardon?"
"Cough. I told you... it'd melt right off in human form..."
Secret smiled contentedly.
Baren was utterly stupefied.
He'd have been less shocked if a meteor hit him mid-stroll.
"Good lord, do you have to talk about that now?"
"Heh... hahaha..."
Secret answered with mad laughter.
Seemed he'd taken more headshots than expected.
As Baren opened his mouth to speak, Lete halted up ahead.
"We're here."
It was a cliffside overlook.
The view was unobstructed, taking in the surroundings at a glance.
A sizable village hugged the dark blue coastline.
"This is...?"
"The Northwind Corps' hometown. Proof that all your efforts are pointless. Look down there."
Lete pointed at the seaside village.
He continued in a mocking tone.
"Heard you and Secret were pushing northern reconstruction. Dissolving racial hatred, lifting curses, that sorta thing."
"...!"
"All futile. Nothing changes."
Baren was speechless.
More like, the shock was so great he hadn't even registered Lete's words.
On the beach before the village, human children stabbed straw dummies with spears in neat rows.
"Everyone, recite! Beastmen are?"
"Beasts!"
"The North is?"
"Humanity's!!"
It looked like ordinary training at first glance, but the content was the problem.
The meticulously crafted dummies were skinned with different pelts.
Werewolf, werebear, even petite werefox.
The sizes tailored to each race's build reeked of malice.
"You think the North can change. That beastmen and humans can reconcile someday, so you do all that."
"Ah... aaaah..."
"But those snot-nosed brats mostly hate beastmen. Never even properly seen one, much less been harmed, yet they treat 'em like blood enemies. Even if our generation fails to conquer the North, those kids'll finish it."
"How can humans do this!"
Baren roared, unable to contain his rage.
The crimes so far were horrific, but this was on another level.
Lete laughed delightedly at the reaction.
"Whew... Take a good look, Baren. This is the curse."
"...Professor?"
"This chain of hatred is the true curse. Ancestors' blood stains descendants, who call forth more blood from their foes. Compared to this curse where hatred passes down without reason, Varka's stakes are nothing."
The dying Secret suddenly spoke clearly.
No slurring— he sounded like a different person.
Gazing at the village, he continued.
"It's our problem to solve. The Northwind may freeze hearts, but we can't let it. Before blizzard-born children grow, teach them fur's warmth."
"...Suddenly so chatty, curse scholar. Playing possum after all?"
"Not entirely. It hurt when I got hit."
"That's what playing possum means. Wouldn't pity votes have been smarter than all that groaning? What's your scheme now?"
"No schemes left now. But I set some up beforehand. It's about time."
"Time?"
Lete tilted his head.
Had the fox lost it from the beating?
Suddenly, Blanta, sniffing the air, flinched.
"Sniiff... Lete. Think we're fucked."
"Why?"
"Boss's scent."
"What?"
Lete jolted.
Blanta's "boss" was one person.
A chilling indescribable dread gripped him as he tried to speak.
-KABOOOM!!
A thunderous roar like a thousand lightning bolts crashed down.
Everyone whipped their heads toward the sound.
One of the Northwind fortress's spires was collapsing, sliced diagonally.
"What...!"
Lete's eyes widened.
Cracks marred his smug face for the first time.
A pitch-black rift like space itself scarred the spire's cut surface.
He'd seen such space-slicing traces many times wandering the North as a youth.
"Kyaaah! W-What?!"
"Ambush! It's an ambush!"
The fortress descended into chaos.
Screams and wails erupted sporadically.
Suddenly, a massive shadow landed atop the spire.
Gripping his crescent blade, the shadow looked at Secret and said,
"Drinking buddy, you still alive?"