Chapter 120
Chapter: 120
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>Translator: penny
>Chapter: 120
>Chapter Title: Butterfly (2)
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>Crunch! Thud thud thud!
Splattering thick blood across the plains, the last Nurmachi collapsed to the ground. Boom!
Woooooo! Letting out a long wail as it thrashed about for a moment, the massive beast soon shuddered violently and fell still, silent.
Owen watched the scene, gasping for breath. Moments later, a flickering light blinked before his eyes, and a notification window appeared.
[Daily Quest – Nurmachi Hunt (Completed)]
[Quest Rank: D]
[Overall Evaluation: You complete the quest with just one Nurmachi, hunting exactly one each day without fail. Don't you feel like you've been wasting time and energy trudging back and forth to the hunting grounds? How about being a bit more proactive from now on, not just chasing rewards but improving the surrounding environment?]
[Completion Rank: D]
[Reward: 320(-40P) Cash]
[*This item can be used in the Pangea Chronicle shop window.]
Owen swallowed his rising anger and closed the window.
Damn this worthless status screen. If it said 360 cash at the start, it should give 360!
Who cuts the daily quest reward like that?
'I already used up almost all my cash sending that gift...'
He desperately wanted to vent, but this arbitrary status screen could dock even more rewards whenever it felt like it.
Once, thinking the imperial common tongue might not work, he cursed in Varsha—and it understood that devilishly well, slashing his reward anyway. Unable to even express his regret, Owen kicked the innocent Nurmachi.
It had been three years since he left the imperial palace, guided by the status screen.
Back then, still shedding his naive country boy image, Owen had now become a sturdy young warrior with a proper fighter's bearing.
Tanned and hardened under the southern sun for years, his build could intimidate even seasoned Varsha warriors. Who would believe he was just past seventeen?
As he roughly gathered his disheveled hair from chasing the Nurmachi and tied it back, someone called his name from afar and came running.
"...Owen! Owen!"
A Varsha warrior with long braided hair adorned extravagantly with cormorant feathers.
Chikudanka of the Bolanta tribe.
Son of chieftain Chikutarku, he was a friend Owen had recently made. Considering the number of feathers in his hair signified battle honors, he was undoubtedly a formidable warrior himself.
Drawing near, Chikudanka spotted the massive beast lying with its neck stretched out on the ground and his eyes widened.
"You hunted a Nurmachi alone again today! I hurried to lend a hand, but you're truly amazing!"
"Haha. This marks the end with this one, Chikudanka. There are no more Nurmachi left on these plains now."
Nurmachi were ferocious beasts that ravaged the plains and wiped out game. The Bolanta tribe, which had suffered countless damages from them since childhood, gazed at this final Nurmachi with profound emotion.
"Owen, you said it before. That you'd ride alongside Bolanta warriors and one day reclaim our ancestors' glorious hunting grounds."
"Yeah, I did. We'll drive out the beasts of this land and expand Bolanta's horizons."
"That's why our tribe resolved to stand with you. Hunting down every Nurmachi on the plains alone like this—now even the skeptical elders have no choice but to believe your words."
"I guarantee it, Chikudanka. You'll see even more astonishing things ahead."
At those words, a new notification window blinked before Owen's eyes.
[A new daily quest has been added to your selections.]
[new! Daily Quest - Koratla Hunt (Repeatable)]
Well, following the quests like this, it seemed he'd have to exterminate every beast in the land whether he liked it or not.
Soon, Owen and Chikudanka began dismantling the beast together. With skilled hands, they cut off the Nurmachi's horns, skinned it, and extracted the tendons and marrow.
As he moved his hands repetitively, Owen fell into a daze, lost in thought.
With the front lines stabilizing somewhat, he'd thought he could visit Delcross once this year...
'I wonder if the gift I sent has arrived by now?'
He missed the Holy Emperor and his siblings he'd left in Delcross, and Sisley too.
Ah, except for that jerk Mores.
But the small window floating in his right field of vision still displayed its pitiful progress rate starkly.
[Main Stream 2 – Progress 13%]
The day he could return to the palace was still far off.
Owen let out a small sigh.
That's when Chikudanka, peeling the leg tendons from the Nurmachi, spoke up.
"I've always thought this, Owen, but for an imperial, you seem awfully skilled at hunting. I've seen plenty of imperials before, but never a Delcross warrior as proficient at processing game as you."
"The warriors you're talking about were probably mostly knights dispatched from the capital."
"So you're different?"
"My parents were a capable pair of hunters. Even though I was young, I must've picked up a lot just watching them."
Chikudanka then asked curiously.
"But Owen, aren't you the chieftain's eldest son? I heard Delcross's current chieftain isn't a hunter, but the tribe's mightiest shaman."
"Haha, yeah. Delcross's chieftain is another father to me."
Owen paused his hands for a moment and lifted his head to gaze at the distant horizon.
"My parents passed away when I was little. My father now, Delcross's chieftain, is my revered godfather."
* * *
Tap, thwack.
Dodging the sword strike and leaping back swiftly, Seongjin belatedly stopped with an "Oh no." Masain, who had been pressing him hard, also halted and stared blankly.
"You're opening the distance too much again, Your Highness."
Masain tilted his head in confusion.
"I've hardly sparred before, so I can't imagine how you picked up that habit."
"Um..."
Seongjin scratched his head sheepishly. It seemed impossible to fully shake off decades of habits fighting giant monsters in a short time.
Lately, Masain had started giving him not just sword lessons but occasional sparring sessions as well.
And through sparring with him, Seongjin realized that in interpersonal combat, bare-knuckle fighting still felt far more natural. When clashing swords up close, his fist would instinctively tense, disrupting the flow.
Moreover, wielding a sword somehow brought back habits from swinging his pincer legs at giant monsters.
He probably wasn't a sword genius like the Holy Emperor or Logan. Sword training was enjoyable, but compared to his aura cultivation progress, it advanced slowly.
'And come to think of it, even my aura cultivation feels like I'm cheating somehow...'
Logan had said as much. Seongjin's way of handling aura seemed fundamentally different from Delcross natives.
The unusually rapid layering of aura might stem from treating it as easily as a monster's essence.
'Well, only one solution then.'
Repetitive practice.
Steel ing himself, Seongjin readjusted his grip on the training sword and charged at Masain.
"...The more I watch, the less sense it makes."
Watching the prince and Masain spar, Kurt muttered. A standing knight beside him—Vincent, recently dispatched from the 1st Knight Division—turned to him curiously.
"Is something wrong? He seemed a bit lost at first, but now he looks fairly accustomed to sparring."
Kurt crossed his arms, deep in thought at Vincent's question.
"Well, I'm not sure I'd call it 'lost' exactly..."
Kurt often found Mores's training oddly peculiar. His swordsmanship was clearly that of a clumsy novice, yet occasionally an inexplicable veteran air peeked through.
As if he were accustomed to situations requiring weapon swings—to combat itself.
Maybe he got into some scraps during his old delinquent days. At first, Kurt dismissed it lightly.
He started seriously sensing something off once the prince began sparring with Sir Masain. Specifically, after grasping the prince's sense of distance.
Prince Mores had a habit of closing in deeply and instantly from what felt like a slightly far timing for attacks. Separate from his clumsy strikes, that instantaneous burst was impressive.
And when Sir Masain attacked, instead of parrying, he'd reflexively hurl his body backward, widening the gap enormously.
It felt less like interpersonal range and more like fighting something massive beyond human scale.
Yes—like the movements of beast hunters traversing near the northern demon realm.
Thus, proper sparring didn't flow at first. The prince kept reflexively creating distance before blades could clash.
Once, twice, three times... Through repeated bouts, the prince gradually adapted to the new range. Before long, he could properly exchange blows with upper knight Sir Masain for a decent stretch.
What Sir Vincent called 'lost' was actually the prince ceaselessly adjusting his spacing.
"...And Your Highness hasn't even shown his bottom line yet."
Despite the absolute gap between an upper knight pre-Decaron Knights and a lower knight, the prince oddly held a margin against Sir Masain.
Even when relentlessly pushed into defense. Sir Masain couldn't strip away that final sliver of composure from the young prince.
But Kurt had witnessed firsthand how Prince Mores's aura shifted when he truly meant to cut something.
In Digory mansion's basement. Thrusting his sword like lightning into a vital spot of that unidentified monster.
If the young prince turned that clear killing intent at a person...
After the intense morning training ended, Seongjin entered the dining hall for lunch and couldn't help chuckling wryly. Logan had already taken a seat beside Amelia as if it were the most natural thing.
At this rate, Sisley might become a fixed lunch member soon too.
And Logan's eyes shook with shock upon first seeing Seongjin's flamboyant tiger-butterfly silk robe.
"Wh-what the hell is that monstrosity...!"
Ah, that horrified face made him want to tease.
Seongjin smirked mischievously as he approached Logan, spreading both arms wide to showcase the tiger-butterfly pattern.
"How about it? Pretty cool, right?"
"You're serious?"
"Of course. Can't you sense this trendsetting fashion genius? Just watch—by next year, the whole capital will be covered in tiger-butterfly prints!"
"...My god."
Logan muttered, face paling.
A guy with barely any faith calling on the Lord God. Wonder what his reaction will be when Brittany-style polka dots hit Delcross soon—kinda looking forward to it.
Seongjin giggled and turned.
But he had to stop short—Logan suddenly yanked his robe hem.
"Gah!"
Caught off-guard, Seongjin clutched his throat where the collar jerked tight.
"You little punk! What the hell was that for?"
Whirling angrily, he saw Logan's face had frozen stiff at whatever he spotted.
"Where'd you get this robe?"
"Huh?"
"Why's there a Dilelia butterfly here?"
"...What?"
Seongjin blinked, then realized the implication and gaped in shock. Flipping the hem frantically to inspect, he soon let out an incredulous laugh.
"...No way?"
It blended so seamlessly with the tiger-butterfly wings that he'd overlooked it at a glance.
But amid the myriad wings, those distinctive eye-like patterns— they unmistakably resembled the Dilelia butterfly wings from the otherworldly apocalypse records.
"...Salon de Mersy."
Meeting Logan's grave gaze, Seongjin said firmly.
"We need to track down the pattern designer there."