Chapter 305
Chapter: 305
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>Translator: penny
>Chapter: 305
>Chapter Title: Demon King No. 2 (3)
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>Owen froze in front of the man. It was probably the instinctive fear that any creature feels when facing an absolute predator.
This strange man with the half-mask reminded Owen of the massive sea beast he had once encountered in the mountains.
-Owen. Lower your stance and hold your breath still. So it doesn't notice us.
His father's hand pressing down hard on Owen's head, while they warily watched the saber-toothed bear that growled with menacing low frequencies every time it exhaled.
Even his father, whom he thought was the world's greatest hunter, could only bow his head and wait quietly to pass by that terrifying predator.
The man's words above all else. To Owen, they held a different, familiar meaning. His parents would habitually repeat something like this whenever Owen seemed to forget.
-If it hadn't been for Bart that day, Mother wouldn't have been able to give birth to you safely. All of this is thanks to divine providence, isn't it? So Owen, never forget to live with a grateful heart.
What is this guy? How does he know about me? And why can't this trembling in my whole body stop?
Owen paled and took a step back. The man grinned, tearing the corner of his mouth under the mask.
[You have good instincts, kid. But no need to be so tense.]
Fortunately, the man didn't seem intent on harming Owen right away.
[I like the little sparks that young kids like you carry. Even if they're faint and unlikely to ignite, that sliver of possibility they hold shines oh so brilliantly.]
Tap, tap.
[Of course, that's only for now.]
The man patted Owen's shoulder perfunctorily, left those cryptic words, and vanished into the distance.
But Owen, who had broken out in chills even from that brief touch, stared blankly in the direction the man had disappeared for a while afterward.
After passing the man and entering the church, Owen met the priest, but he couldn't remember exactly what they talked about.
The next scene that came clearly to mind was the town engulfed in massive flames.
Yellow and red infernos devoured the entire village, raging fiercely. With the long drought making it impossible to even fetch water, the people could only stare at the sight in dazed despair.
-…Mother….
The sea of fire blazing like the hells in the scriptures, and the thick smoke spreading everywhere—it all felt utterly unreal.
Owen walked toward the flames as if entranced.
-Ah, Father! Mother!
Hey, what's that kid doing?
Wait, he's going in? Grab him quick! Stop him!
As Owen rushed haphazardly toward the blaze, some burly man grabbed him and slammed him hard onto the ground.
Thud!
It was right then. A flint tumbled out of Owen's pocket. Owen himself had no idea why it was there.
…What's that?
And at the same time, a strange voice echoed in everyone's minds.
[Is that massive fire really just an accident? And conveniently, a kid with a flint shows up at the scene. Highly suspicious.]
In an instant, the villagers' eyes changed.
-That's no ordinary flint! It's a precious stone from parts of Ortona!
-Why would a kid have something that expensive? Is he the arsonist?
-Don't know, but grab him first!
Caught in the grip of the suddenly rough villagers, Owen thrashed with all his might.
-Let go! My parents are in there…!
But the agitated people's restraint soon turned into merciless violence directed at the boy.
It was while Owen was helplessly reaching toward the flames.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, a scene slightly different from his original memory unfolded before Owen's eyes.
The fierce flames consuming the village and the people beating him were gone, replaced by the bizarre sight of the entire world covered in infernal fire.
-…What is this!
The sky, the earth—everything was blood-red black.
Owen gasped for breath and looked around.
He was no longer that young boy from back then. He was Owen of Delcross, the invincible warrior at the vanguard of the southern front, slaughtering enemies.
Yet even here in this complete hellscape, Owen was utterly powerless, just as he had been then. The frustration and despair were overwhelming.
-…!
But at some point, a boy stood before Owen.
A back that felt both unfamiliar and strangely familiar. Crimson-black aura rose from the sword in the boy's hand, and his pale golden hair reflected the flames, glowing with an ominous blood-red hue.
Step.
As the boy took a step forward, Owen desperately shouted at him.
-Don't go in! Do you even know where you are…!
His body suddenly free, Owen found himself running after the boy without thinking.
-Hey! Stop right there! Newbie…!
“…bie.”
“Your Highness.”
“Newbie.”
“Your Highness!”
Flash.
He opened his eyes to urgent calls, and Alicia, who had been shaking him, asked in a worried voice.
“Your Highness, are you all right?”
“…Alicia?”
“Yes, Your Highness. It's me.”
“…….”
The desperate emotions faded like the tide the moment he realized it was reality.
As Owen sat up, regaining his composure, Alicia quickly lifted a cloth to wipe the cold sweat drenching his forehead.
The bodyguard knight who had served at his side for years knew well about the nightmares that sometimes plagued him.
“Your Highness, if I may be so bold, you should go out for a bit.”
Confirming Owen's breathing had steadied, Alicia reported urgently.
“Since morning, some Varshans have been looking for you.”
* * *
“I am Bartosa, warrior of the Purma Tribe! I have come to demand the blood price for our chieftain from Owen of Delcross!”
Outside the stockade, a group of Varshan warriors had gathered. A towering brute and the many warriors escorting him.
The bearded giant clutching an axe, Bartosa, bellowed so loudly it echoed through the Delcross camp.
“So come out! Face me and cross weapons! Surely you're not some pathetic coward hiding behind a woman and dodging a rightful duel for blood price, are you, Owen!”
As Owen approached the stockade, a middle-aged knight bowed politely. Sir Abigail, captain of the 4th Guard Knights and commander of the southern front.
“That ignorant heathen bastard's been spouting that nonsense since earlier, Your Highness. Even after warnings to leave, he won't listen. Utterly shameless.”
“Hmm.”
Owen nodded and stood beside her, looking out over the stockade. Spotting him, the giant outside grew even more arrogant.
“Come down here right now! Owen of Delcross!”
Alicia, indignant, shouted back in fairly fluent Varshan.
“Do not utter His Highness's noble name so casually! Your chieftain fell in battle. Is it just to demand blood price now? Don't cause needless trouble—go home!”
But it didn't faze the giant in the slightest.
“Shut your mouth, Owen's dog! You've been his limb out there, and now you speak for his mouth too? Voluntarily turning into a dog—aren't you ashamed as a proper warrior?”
Puhahaha!
The other Varshans behind him doubled over laughing. They were impossible to reason with.
“They're not from the Purma Tribe. It's Karazan.”
Owen spoke then, after scrutinizing them.
“Are you certain, Your Highness?”
“Yes. Except for the one yelling with the axe, all the ones behind are Karazan Tribe warriors. They're disguised convincingly on the surface, but the way they grip their axes is distinctly different. Making a mistake like that means they're still greenhorns.”
Varshan tribes were mostly similar, but each had unique traditions that created subtle differences.
Having tangled with the Bolanta Tribe for years, Owen could clearly discern those fine distinctions that imperial folk might overlook.
“Karazan, is it….”
Lady Abigail's face grew a bit grave.
“If Your Highness is right, we need to be cautious. It means that old fox Wakana Tusai is scheming something again.”
Beyond occasional skirmishes, the southern front had been in a lull lately.
Regular exchanges of goods even occurred with some milder tribes. The Bolanta Tribe, which Owen visited often, was one such moderate group.
Karazan was different, however.
The most powerful and belligerent great tribe among the Varshans. Their chieftain, Wakana Tusai, steadfastly held a hardline stance against Delcross, quietly biding time for war to reignite.
“How disappointing, Owen! Is the firstborn son of the Delcross chieftain just a coward trembling behind a woman!”
Watching the bellowing giant, Owen gripped the axe at his waist. Lady Abigail tried to dissuade him.
“Your Highness, no need to respond to their childish provocations one by one. If they only sent young warriors, it means Wakana Tusai is prepared for their annihilation.”
But Owen shook his head.
“The Varshans' harvest thanksgiving is approaching, Lady Abigail. Soon, all the chieftains will gather for the great council.”
From years on the battlefield, he knew Wakana Tusai was as cunning as she was aggressive.
Just thinking about how many disruptions she'd caused before he could properly engage with the Bolanta Tribe still made his blood boil.
“Karazan's stance is always firm. Ignore them, and they'll claim we're cowards; wipe them out, and they'll use it as pretext. Either way, they'll push for war again under the guise of rightful blood price.”
“That's a forced argument.”
“But it'll sway the other elders hostile to the Empire effectively. Ignoring them now just plays into Wakana Tusai's hands.”
“…….”
Lady Abigail's eyes briefly flicked to the axe hilt the prince was stroking. But she didn't oppose his will further.
Who was Owen?
In the chaotic battlefield, wasn't he the prince who single-handedly cut through Varshan elite warriors with ease and took their chieftain's head?
No need to get hasty over such small-fry warriors.
“…Hm?”
Just then, Owen's eyes narrowed as he noticed something.
“What's this sudden noise? Collect what now?”
Invisible to others, a new quest window sparkled before Owen's eyes.
[Surprise Quest - Curious Poison Needle Collection]
[Quest Rank: A]
[A Karazan craftsman recently developed a new weapon. An innovative tool hidden in a shield for covert assassinations. All Varshan warriors would be ashamed to see it, but who knows? It might prove quite useful to Karazan's old fox. Collect a sample of the poison needle.]
[Reward: 60 P-Cash]
[*This item can be used in the Pangea Chronicle shop window. If you manage to survive from here on out, that is.]