Bloody Primal (1)
“My god… I never imagined such a paradise existed……”
A tranquil scene where small birds of many colors sang. The pristine land, carpeted in brilliant greenery, cradled countless lives. A snow-white rabbit nibbled at the grass, its black eyes gleaming. A striped squirrel sat perched on a branch, clutching a tiny nut with both paws. A pair of vibrant birds with long tails chased each other playfully through the undergrowth. A small green frog rested quietly in the shade beneath a broad leaf. Scarlet butterflies flitted among brilliantly blooming flowers, sipping nectar. It was nature in perfect peace, indifferent to the affairs of the world—a cradle of life known as the Taego Forest.
Crack.
“Hah, with this much we could make a killing, don’t you think?”
“Shut it. We’re on a mission.”
One Humian soldier plucked a flower the size of his palm and hummed in delight. The man who appeared to be their captain spoke in a low, firm voice, reining him in. They were currently conducting a covert military operation, and their leader had no intention of allowing anything that might jeopardize it. Yet the soldier with the flower paid no heed to the reprimand, his cheerful mood unabated.
“Look at this! How am I supposed to stay quiet? There are flowers everywhere! Even in Esteronan they’re considered precious, but here they’re growing like weeds—and they’re varieties that don’t even exist back home! If we dig up a few roots we could be rich in no time!”
“I know that. But we’re on a mission, and the commander said that if the enemy resists, we burn the entire forest. Don’t mix personal greed with duty. What matters most is the slaves. If you get distracted by some weeds and let a slave escape, we’ll be in trouble.”
“Well, slaves do fetch the highest price, after all.”
They were light infantry from the Humian army—the fifty light infantrymen who had been part of the main force that fought Beatrice. Beatrice had suspected their numbers were too low for a proper light infantry unit and had sensed they were hiding something. She had been right. The Humian army had approached slave-hunting with casual confidence, underestimating how much of a threat the other races could pose even if they resisted. Following the commander’s orders, they had even brought along a full twenty magic-powered siege engines, so the commander saw no need for heavy infantry to hold the line and considered even light infantry a nuisance. To ensure not a single slave could escape during the hunt, he had split his forces, believing it the smarter, more efficient approach.
If Kerdihak attacked the Demon Lord’s castle, the other races would pour everything they had into defending it. That would leave the Caboni Forest as nothing more than a cracked walnut—ripe for the taking with almost no effort. Even if some forces remained in the Caboni Forest, unable to reach the castle due to lack of transport or communication, they would be no match for the main army. While the main force leisurely dealt with the races in the Caboni Forest, the commander predicted that the weak—those unable to fight—would flee to the nearby Taego Forest. If his prediction proved correct and refugees were indeed present, the majority would be women. That was why he had decided to make use of the relatively expendable light infantry: to infiltrate the Taego Forest in secret and sweep up every last refugee without exception.
Female slaves were far more valuable than male ones, so capturing the refugees was the true priority. The light infantry’s mission was to seal off every possible escape route and take all the refugees alive. If the commander’s guess was right, they had to approach without being detected, surround the refugees, and capture them. Their captain was therefore focused on carrying out the operation with absolute stealth and precision. If they were discovered before they could encircle their targets and a chase broke out, it would become a serious headache.
“By the way, I heard this forest used to be where the elves lived. A ruined land that suddenly came back to life overnight—does that mean we can expect some elf slaves?”
“…Probably. The odds are high that the elves have returned. After all, elves possess strong magic and live in harmony with nature. They can’t survive in polluted environments, so if they’ve come back here, they’ve likely worked desperately to create an environment where they can breathe again.”
“Whoa! I heard elf bitches smell like flowers and fresh grass—is that true!? Ah… just imagining it gets me going…!!!”
“I told you to be quiet!”
The moment the possibility of elves was mentioned, one Humian soldier’s eyes gleamed with lust as he grabbed his crotch. Humian soldiers were accustomed to having sex slaves available wherever they were stationed. In Humian common sense, providing a means to relieve sexual urges while on duty was simply part of logistics. Since they regarded other races as little more than talking livestock, sex slaves were essentially self-aware supplies to them. Every base and headquarters was required to have sex slaves assigned, and soldiers could have them whenever they wished—except during active missions. However, because slave-hunting had yielded poor results lately, their headquarters had received no new sex slaves from Esteronan. Even when they did capture slaves, they rarely found female members of other races, leaving their base without any. The last sex slave had died of illness three years ago. For soldiers who had once enjoyed them daily, three years of forced abstinence was excruciating. When the topic of elves—fairies, not ordinary other races—came up, it was only natural that the Humian soldier’s eyes rolled back in his head.
Among all the races of Terraris, elves were renowned for their exceptional beauty. The pure fairies who lived beneath the fresh, vibrant natural world. Elves were considered the highest-grade treasure among other-race slaves. The thought of finally sating three years of pent-up lust on an elf made his desire boil over, nearly unbearable. It wasn’t only the soldier speaking with the captain; the others who had been eavesdropping on the conversation also flushed crimson, their faces burning as their groins swelled.
“You all know the commander is sensitive about virgins, right? Virgin sex slaves fetch especially high prices. The commander wants to earn favor with Esteronan’s upper ranks by supplying quality slaves, so he can’t tolerate any drop in quality. That’s why he forbids touching slaves during hunts… but he’ll turn a blind eye to the non-virgins. Just don’t damage them.”
“R-really!? Kheh!! As expected of the captain!! Khaha!!!”
“So keep quiet. If you fail the mission and lose the slaves, don’t expect anything good!”
“Understood! We’ll capture every last one of—”
Thud!!
The captain was strict about missions, yet he was also generous enough to grant his subordinates occasional favors. The problem was that his “favors” involved stripping others of their freedom and violating their dignity—but to his men, he was simply a benevolent leader who knew how to show kindness. Once the captain gave his tacit approval, the Humian soldier’s morale soared, his fighting spirit blazing. That dark, filthy joy was the last expression he would ever wear.
“Ke…! Kerk…!!!”
“E-enemy attack!!!”
The soldier who had been beaming at the prospect of claiming slaves suddenly had his throat pierced. He thrashed, spewing bloody foam from his windpipe, then went still. The projectile that had pierced his neck was a short bolt, only half the length of a forearm. The infantry captain made no attempt to save his subordinate. He simply exercised his command to prepare for the assault. The dead man had been one of his favored soldiers, which was why he had tolerated the man’s earlier insolence. But with his throat pierced in the middle of enemy territory, there was no way to save him. Dealing with the immediate crisis took precedence over what had already happened; swift action was the only way to minimize further losses, and the captain’s decisiveness was already bearing fruit.
At the cry of “enemy attack,” the light infantry moved as one to form a defensive circle, each man facing outward to watch the surroundings. It should have allowed them to respond immediately, but their equipment was the problem. As light infantry, they lacked full-body shields, and worse still, they had no armor capable of stopping enemy attacks. Normally, even units that prioritized mobility would at least carry basic defensive gear—round shields of light wood or half-armor, at minimum. But because they were conducting a stealth infiltration, they had discarded every piece of metal equipment that might make noise. All they wore was leather armor, enough to blunt light slashes and offer slight protection against burns. Such armor could not stop even the short bolts, leaving them with only one option: locate the enemy through reconnaissance and close the distance for melee combat.
At that moment, a quiet female voice reached them.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you with my own eyes, but you’re every bit as filthy and repulsive as I was told.”