Chapter 352
Chapter 352
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 352
Chapter Title: Side Story 36. Beasts (8)
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“Phew... That was close. Made it just in time.”
Secret, who had encountered Zaifa, let out a sigh of relief.
He had been worried today because it took so much longer than usual, but fortunately, he had arrived right on schedule.
The stunned Baren stammered.
“P-Professor Secret? What in the world is...”
“I sent a rescue signal on the way while they were dragging me off. Seeing that even you didn’t notice, it looks like the archmage’s spell turned out pretty well.”
Secret nodded nonchalantly.
While being kidnapped by the North Wind Group, he had launched a rescue request spell into the sky.
It was a spell Asel had personally crafted for Secret, who roamed all sorts of dangerous places collecting curses.
“The nearest security force agreed to come. In that sense, these friends here are really unlucky. Who would’ve thought Zaifa himself would show up.”
“Th-that... I heard you call him a drinking buddy just now...”
“Ah. Literally speaking. We’re around the same age, and we kept running into each other often, so we grew close. We meet up now and then for a drink.”
“With the former Sword Saint... That’s incredible.”
Baren was genuinely impressed.
He knew Secret had built up connections all over the North during his long travels, but to think he had even made Zaifa a drinking buddy.
As far as he knew, the only people Zaifa called friends were Ronan and Naviroje.
“Right, are you doing okay?”
“After getting beaten like that? No way. Looks like I’ll have to lie in bed for at least three months.”
“No way...! Let’s get out of here quick...”
“No need. You’ve already done plenty. Let’s leave the rest to that tiger.”
Secret gestured with his chin toward Zaifa.
The black weretiger was still perched atop the severed spire.
Secret glanced back and forth between him and Baren before muttering softly.
“...Both of them must have a lot on their minds. Don’t you think?”
“Shit... We’re really fucked.”
Blanta clenched his fists.
His beautiful leopard fur bristled like needles.
The weretiger standing atop the spire was unmistakably Zaifa Tergeun.
The space sliced by his aura was wriggling as it slowly regenerated.
Lete spoke up.
“...Stay calm, Blanta. We have a plan for exactly this situation.”
“I know... I get it. But it’s still not easy.”
Blanta replied without taking his eyes off Zaifa.
The crescent blade thrusting toward the sky radiated a fierce glow.
“How the hell is that old man even more ferocious now?”
It was impossible to believe he was nearly a century old.
Even compared to other weretigers, his build was overwhelmingly massive.
Lete wiped away cold sweat.
“I’ll head out first. Those two are on you.”
“Got it. Leave ’em to me.”
“Wish me luck. If I fail, we’re all dead.”
With those words, Lete walked toward the fortress.
His resolute footsteps suggested he had something solid to rely on.
“Zaifa-nim, danger—Gurk!”
“Don’t do anything stupid. The second you show any sign of running, you’re done for.”
Baren tried to give a warning, but Blanta shut it down.
He gripped the chains linking the two men as if venting his frustration, radiating killing intent.
Baren and Secret choked and coughed, their throats constricted.
Blanta, still staring fixedly at Zaifa, licked his lips.
“...Yeah. If we fail, we’re all dead.”
Zaifa silently surveyed his surroundings.
His red eyes gleamed with the same fierce intensity as in his youth.
It didn’t take long to figure out what was happening here.
“Get up, you trash?! You think you can just collapse here?!”
“S-sorry... I haven’t eaten anything for days...”
Far off in the salt fields, the abuse was still ongoing.
Due to the distance, they hadn’t yet noticed Zaifa’s arrival.
A human in a red coat was lashing beastkin hauling salt with a barbed whip.
“That’s on your incompetence. If you don’t want to end up as salted meat, get moving!”
“Sorry, please show mercy...!”
Shifting his gaze revealed beastkin trudging to and from the mines.
Caked in dust from head to toe, they had long lost their original fur colors.
Even as they hacked up bloody phlegm over and over, all they got in return was cold dismissal and prodding.
“Why are you all so damn weak? Didn’t you eat the dried cod earlier?”
“Cough, cough! Half a piece per person...”
“No whining! Look at me—I get beaten every day and still hold onto hope. If you lot, who don’t have to take responsibility, act this fragile, what am I supposed to do?”
The overseers were beastkin themselves.
The werebear who had been smoking cigars in Blanta’s room moments ago was now shamelessly playing foreman.
All while prattling on endlessly about beatings he’d never taken.
“This...”
The scenes stirred memories of the past for Zaifa.
His burning hometown. The Empire’s expansion policies. His kin dying helplessly one after another.
His wife and son, hunted like beasts and slaughtered.
As he relived the nightmare he could never forget...
“Everyone, form ranks! No mistakes!”
“The Sword Saint is ancient history—he’s just an old monster now. Subdue and kill him on the spot!”
Voices rose from below the spire.
Before long, North Wind Group members had swarmed onto the rooftop, encircling Zaifa.
It was a substantial number—with those positioned outside the fortress, they had to number in the hundreds.
Every one of them was armed with bizarre gear unlike standard weapons, all custom-made to counter beastkin, it seemed.
Of course, none of that mattered in the current situation.
Watching the frenzied scene, Baren muttered to himself.
“A-are they all insane...?”
It had to be mass hypnosis.
Or else they didn’t know who Zaifa Tergeun was.
Otherwise, such behavior was utterly incomprehensible.
They should’ve been fleeing for their lives without a backward glance.
“The North belongs to humans!”
“Old meow, stay in your back room—why the hell are you crawling around here?!”
Zaifa remained lost in thought.
He paid no mind to the barrage of crude insults.
By the time the rooftop crowd swelled to triple digits...
The fully prepared North Wind Group finally issued the attack order.
“Now! Fire!”
“Fire!”
The command echoed.
Crossbows and all manner of projectiles launched at Zaifa in unison.
Among them were the very devices used earlier to abduct Baren and Secret.
At point-blank range, the crossbow bolts split open, nets bursting forth.
Zaifa finally spoke.
“Good. I’ve made up my mind.”
At the same instant, the crescent blade’s form grew hazy.
Blades whipped through the air in every direction, but no one caught sight of their paths.
The barrage of projectiles was on the verge of swallowing Zaifa whole.
Boom!!
A torrent of slashing winds erupted, detonating every projectile mid-air.
Nets shredded to bits. Arrows and spears cleaved in two.
Unidentified mechanisms shattered into fragments and scattered.
“Wh-what, what?!”
The North Wind Group froze solid.
Debris rained down over their heads like a storm.
Zaifa’s body bore not a single scratch.
“Monster...!”
“No way...”
The first to snap out of it was a man playing company commander.
As he turned to bark orders at his stunned subordinates...
Zaifa leaped from the spire, landing squarely atop the man’s head.
Crunch!
A human skull caved in with a gruesome crunch, blood spraying everywhere.
Zaifa righted the polearm and spun, swinging the crescent blade.
As the razor edge traced a perfect circle, red lines appeared across necks and faces.
“What.”
The slashes landed, but once again, no one perceived them.
Only as they belatedly noticed their commander’s corpse did they react.
Splurt!
The red lines split open all at once, sending a hundred heads soaring into the sky.
Eerie sounds of rending flesh.
A hundred geysers of blood jetted upward.
The crimson stood out starkly against the pale clouds.
Only seven survivors—those who had been standing just outside the radius.
The few who barely clung to life hurled down their weapons and bolted.
“A-aaaahhh!!”
“Fuck, run!”
But Zaifa had already resolved himself.
The crescent blade swung once more, bisecting all seven bodies at the waist simultaneously.
Corpses sprawled limply.
A fresh deluge of blood poured down.
Zaifa lowered his gaze to the fortress below and growled low.
“You’re all marked for annihilation. Not a single one gets away.”
****
“Hm? Why are you...”
“H-heuk, Boss!”
The unit members who bumped into Lete jumped in shock and halted.
They had just been fleeing the fortress.
Lete narrowed his eyes as he assessed the situation.
“What are you doing here? Get back to the battlefield.”
“I-impossible. We can’t win—no weapon works on him!”
The middle-aged man in the lead pointed behind him.
The fortress where Zaifa rampaged was rapidly turning into hell.
Every time a black slash burst through the outer walls, agonized screams echoed out.
“Buy time, even if it costs your lives. I’ll take care of it.”
“Take care of it in this mess...? Half our guys are already dead! Just let us retreat...”
The middle-aged man continued, voice breaking into sobs.
Lete raised his right hand and mimed pulling a trigger.
Thuk!
A poison needle fired from his wrist embedded in the man’s neck.
“Guk.”
The staggering middle-aged man collapsed.
The faces of the other deserters drained of color.
The struck spot was turning black.
Instant death—no need to look closer.
“B-Boss...”
“Extreme venom that drops beastkin in one hit. A human just needs to graze it. My wrist has exactly twenty rounds loaded.”
Lete slowly swung his hand.
Every time his finger pointed at someone, the members gasped in terror.
Lete glared and bellowed.
“Go back. I won’t say it twice.”
“Kuuk...!”
“Run, and don’t dawdle. Stop or slow down, and I shoot.”
There was no room for negotiation.
The members turned around, holding back tears.
Liberated beastkin were pouring out through doors and windows.
“Wooaaar!! We’re free!”
“Long live Zaifa! Wipe out the humans!”
The newly freed ones charged at every North Wind Group member they saw.
Most were subdued, but some overpowered foes through sheer bulk and won.
One werewolf that finally closed the gap tore into a female member who had been firing a crossbow.
“Kyaaah!”
“Kahaha, even the blood’s sweet!”
Blood and entrails splattered.
Once the distance closed, humans without mana had no way to defeat beastkin.
She was torn apart by the wolf’s claws without mounting any real resistance.
The blood-maddened werewolf ripped apart the woman and two more members before finally collapsing as a pincushion.
“Zaifa...”
Lete bit his lower lip as he watched the slaughter.
He quickened his pace and arrived at a watchtower far from the fortress.
A merely tall structure, now abandoned and shunned by all.
Something covered in a tarp sat on its rooftop.
“The Night of Fangs isn’t over yet, Zaifa.”
Lifting the tarp revealed a massive ballista suited for siege warfare.
A useless hunk of junk under normal circumstances, built solely while awaiting this very moment.
Its components were engraved with all manner of spells and inscriptions.
Lete removed his glove and caressed the oldest inscription.
[May you become a great engineer]
Crude yet meticulous handwriting.
The one who carved it was no longer of this world.
Lete took a deep breath and settled into the controls.
Aiming at the fortress, he murmured as if swallowing bitterness.
“Blood... must be washed away with blood.”