Chapter 51
Chapter 51
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: Prairie Wolf (3)
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In the scorching afternoon sun beating down on a square devoid of even a single patch of shade, an elderly man hung upside down.
His lips were as parched as a desert, and the deep wrinkles etched by years twisted like sand dunes.
“Ugh…….”
The old man’s faint groan scattered into the emptiness. Everyone knew of his pain, yet no one could help him.
It was then that the sound of dainty footsteps echoed across the silent square.
Tap-tap-tap.
A girl with her hair tied in twin braids came running, clutching a white porcelain bowl to her chest.
Most of the sloshing water spilled onto her clothes and the ground, but fortunately, enough remained for him to drink.
“Phew.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, the child held the bowl out to the old man.
“Grandpa! Water!”
The old man, who had been hanging upside down and half out of his mind, frantically moistened his lips at the touch of water. Though most had spilled away, it was enough to ease his thirst just a little.
Suddenly regaining his senses, the old man opened his eyes. And there he saw his granddaughter, desperately trying to hold the bowl steady.
“Arin!”
Startled by his sudden cry, Arin flashed a big smile.
“Are you okay now?”
“Go! Hurry!”
The old man writhed and urgently shooed her away. Shocked, Arin spun around in a panic, but she couldn’t take a single step.
Someone had grabbed the back of her collar and lifted her up.
Dangling in the air, Arin looked back in bewilderment.
A knight stood there, hoisting her effortlessly with one hand, his eyes blazing with fury.
Tears quickly welled up in the girl’s eyes.
“Arin!”
A desperate shout rang out across the square.
A woman who appeared to be the child’s mother came rushing in, pale as a ghost. The knight glanced indifferently at her and flung the child to the ground.
The girl tumbled across the pavement, too stunned to even cry, staring up at the knight in terror.
“No! Please spare her!”
The mother wailed, clutching her child to her bosom.
Shing.
With a chilling scrape, a razor-sharp blade was drawn from the knight’s waist.
The knight gripped his sword and stared silently at the child, his expression hardening.
He glanced around briefly before sheathing his sword and speaking.
“Take her and go. Now.”
A flicker of pity showed in the knight’s eyes.
The mother, holding her child, bowed her head in gratitude to the knight.
And in that instant, the knight’s head exploded.
Crunch!
“Aaah!”
The mother screamed, hugging her child tight. Chunks of flesh rained down on them.
“Pathetic bastard.”
A man appeared out of nowhere, landing in the square as if he’d flown in.
A man with a long scar crossing his brow.
The Prairie Wolf, Horkin.
He spat on the dead knight’s corpse and continued.
“A knight, and that weak?”
Grinning widely, he turned to the mother holding her child.
“Child or adult, if you’ve sinned, you pay the price. Right?”
“Please, please spare us!”
In his hand was a massive weapon resembling a scythe, a sythe gripped tight.
“I can’t spare you, but I’ll kill you together. How’s that? Satisfied—”
Mid-sentence, Horkin swung the sythe through the air.
Boom!
Something collided with it and shattered. A heavy impact reverberated through his grip. It was a flying stone.
“Which crazy bastard?!”
His gaze followed the stone’s trajectory. There, a sword-wielding man charged toward him.
“You arrogant shit!”
KABOOM!
Their weapons clashed with a thunderous roar. Horkin couldn’t withstand the shock transmitted through his sythe and was hurled back, crashing into a building.
“Hurry and take them.”
The man sliced the rope binding the old man, caught him as he fell, and handed him to another man who had hurriedly followed behind.
“Ah, yes.”
The man slung the old man over his shoulder and fled with his wife and child.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Horkin emerged, brushing dust off his clothes. Just one clash had revealed the man’s considerable skill. No ordinary foe.
His brow furrowed fiercely.
The middle-aged man blocking him readjusted his grip on his sword with a relaxed demeanor.
“When asking someone’s identity, it’s polite to introduce yourself first. Looks like you need to relearn manners from the basics. I could teach you cheap—want to give it a try?”
At the man’s words, Horkin sneered, wrinkling his nose.
“Fuck off.”
“Well then, you need to start with speech too. Sorry, but I’ll have to charge extra.”
The middle-aged man, Nederman, taunted Horkin with a sly grin.
“Talk too damn much!”
Horkin kicked off the ground and charged.
His swift movement drew the sythe horizontally.
Screeech!
A eerie whistle as the air split.
Nederman didn’t dodge; instead, he stepped in close and struck the long shaft with his sword.
Boom!
The sythe flew back from the powerful impact. But it was quickly pulled back, sweeping low at his legs.
A sythe excelled at slashing and hooking, so closing the distance was key against a sword.
Nederman knew this well.
Crunch-crunch-crunch!
The two trajectories collided, sparks flying amid the grinding of metal. The sythe’s path veered off, slicing only empty air.
“You rat bastard!”
Enraged, Horkin spun viciously and swung the sythe.
Swoosh-slice!
A bone-chilling cutting sound followed.
Rumble.
A building behind Nederman tilted and collapsed, sliced at an angle.
“Hoh, that blade’s sharp.”
Nederman evaded effortlessly and admired with leisure. But contrary to his demeanor, his sword sliced through space like a gale.
KABOOM!
The brief intertwining of their paths unleashed an explosion that shook the square.
“Damn it!”
Horkin gritted his teeth, sensing the crisis.
A green-tinged aura exploited the opening, racing fiercely to split his skull.
Then, a serpentine shadow interposed itself.
KABOOM!
Nederman’s sword was blocked, forced to withdraw. His troubled gaze turned forward.
New figures descended into the square.
Seven in total, including Horkin.
Their overwhelming presence swallowed the entire square in an instant.
“Hmm.”
Nederman swallowed a groan, feeling the pressure prickling his entire body.
“Crows weren’t your only force? This is unexpected.”
Before entering the village, he’d spotted the crow scouts on watch.
Judging by numbers, he’d estimated one platoon.
He’d thought it manageable.
Who knew elites like these would gather……
A bad feeling crept in.
Hoping he was wrong, Nederman asked.
“You’re not the Special Task Force, by any chance? No reason for them to come to this backwater—”
“Are you the White Lion?”
……They were. Damn it.
For once, words failed him.
Cursing his stupidity for walking into the enemy’s trap, Nederman forced nonchalance.
“Haha. Must be a misunderstanding. As you see, I’m no White Lion. Look closely—no one would think we’re the same person.”
“Fair enough.”
“So, mind if I go on my way? Sudden urgent business came up. Happens once in a lifetime, right? Some forgotten emergency pops into your head. That’s me now. Haha.”
Nederman laughed heartily, trying to build rapport, but his words fell on deaf ears.
Isolluni bared her fangs and spoke.
“No need to worry about urgent matters. That’s for the living.”
“What, you think I’m dead already?”
As Nederman patted himself down, Horkin spoke.
“Impressive skill.”
“Bored anyway—want me to take him?”
Parfe stepped forward, gripping his jet-black spear, and Nederman brightened at him.
“One-on-one? Didn’t peg you for the fair type. Quite righteous.”
Nederman remained outwardly relaxed.
But inside, his mind raced.
Cold sweat trickled down his spine.
One wrong move, and this square would be his grave.
Nederman subtly scanned the terrain.
Escaping was his best bet right now.
It was then that dark shapes appeared around the square’s perimeter.
The crow perimeter guards had encircled the area widely and descended.
‘This is insane.’
Salt in the wound.
His mouth went dry.
“Is this the White Lion?”
Erka stared coldly at her subordinate’s corpse on the square floor, her face hardening.
“Ah, misunderstanding. That was him doing it.”
Nederman quickly pointed at Horkin.
“Killing his own? First time I’ve seen such a breach. I was just about to discipline him for it.”
Erka remained silent.
Sowing discord wouldn’t work.
‘Might actually die here.’
Nederman awkwardly withdrew his pointing finger. Then he looked back at the Prairie Wolf.
“Got a fun game from my hometown—want to play? You righteous types would love it. One-on-one duels—”
“Long tongue. You’re dying today, no matter what.”
Isolluni smirked, and Parfe advanced, aiming his spear.
“Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Hah, joyless bunch. Bad luck lately—why only run into tough guys? Bitter.”
Unlike his chatter, Nederman gripped his sword firmly and lowered his stance.
Ready for their assault.
Parfe narrowed the gap slowly, gauging distance, spear at the ready.
The air grew frigid as a frozen plain.
Boom!
In an instant, they charged simultaneously as if by signal.
The spear’s supple sweep enveloped the area, clashing savagely with the sword’s piercing thrust.
KABOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
Consecutive explosions shattered the pavement, flipping it over.
The shockwave from their clash swept the surroundings like a gale.
Kaboom!
Nederman deflected the spear thrust and closed in.
Worthy of the Prairie Wolf’s fame—a formidable opponent.
Crunch!
The spear whipped in a circle, scraping the ground as it charged. Nederman parried the heavy blow again, using the recoil to thrust his sword.
Simultaneously, green aura blazed from his blade.
A razor-sharp sword momentum that cleaved everything in its path.
KABOOOM!
The trajectories collided once more, shaking the earth.
Chebwin, watching their fight, spoke to Isolluni.
“Not ordinary. Looks like the deputy will lose.”
“Indeed.”
Isolluni observed their clash with half-lidded eyes.
They seemed evenly matched, but reality differed.
He was overwhelming Parfe.
Without spectators, he’d have taken his head in one stroke.
Personally, his skill likely surpassed even hers.
And he hadn’t shown his full power yet—he was that strong.
……To think such a powerhouse lurked in this frontier, beyond the White Lion.
Chebwin added.
“With green aura that strong, only one in Francia.”
Then a man flashed in Isolluni’s mind. Her lips curled into a smirk. The trap for the lion had snared an unexpected big fish.
“Sword of the West, Dragon Hunter.”
If he truly was the Dragon Hunter, it all made sense.
The strongest among the Independence Army.
Who’d have thought he’d walk right into her lap? Unexpected luck.
“Parfe, fall back.”
“A bit longer!”
“That’s the Dragon Hunter.”
“Tch. Figures.”
Parfe disengaged and retreated to his position, admitting he couldn’t handle it alone.
“Dragon Hunter? I’m not that guy. Another misunderstanding.”
Nederman shrugged regretfully.
“No need. You’ll die regardless.”
“Damn it. Can’t you live a little generously? Letting go of a caught fish is a knight’s way.”
“Shut up.”
Cutting him off, Isolluni addressed her comrades.
“Capture him alive.”
The Dragon Hunter’s value to Francia far outweighed the White Lion’s. He was the Independence Army’s signature blade. Capturing and publicly executing him would crush their morale.
“At least no worries about dying.”
Nederman gripped his sword with a wry smile.
“Now, let’s see if you live up to the hype.”
The Prairie Wolves all advanced.
Nederman faced their crushing presence, sensing his defeat.
A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek and dripped from his chin.
……Yeah.
This is really fucked.