Chapter 31
Chapter 31
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: Savage Bloodlust
-----------------------------------------------------------------
'Savage bloodlust?'
I couldn't understand what it meant at all.
*Ting!*
Another notification window popped up.
[Bloodlust Detection]
Grimungandr detects the surrounding bloodlust and warns its master.
As the master's stats increase, the targets and range of Bloodlust Detection will expand.
'What a broken item.'
It went without saying that being able to detect nearby bloodlust would drastically reduce the chances of being ambushed by enemies.
They said it was a Succession Sword containing the will of the Chaos King, and it seemed even its latent abilities were extraordinary.
'This means there are barbarian warriors nearby.'
Suddenly, I remembered my conversation with Russell.
"Do you ever run into barbarians?"
"Sure~ sometimes~ if you're damn unlucky."
It seemed today was one of those unlucky days, and I was thankful that Grimungandr had warned me in advance.
Otherwise, I would have been ambushed or forced into a fight unprepared.
"I have something to report."
"Hm?"
Begman frowned.
"Do you have a question?"
"No, it's not that."
"Then what is it?"
"I think enemies are approaching."
"What are you talking about all of a sudden?"
"I can feel it."
"You can feel it???"
"Yes."
"And you expect me to believe such nonsense?"
"I'm not asking you to believe me. I'm asking you to believe this."
Carlyle said, holding out Grimungandr.
"This is a Succession Sword of the Sigmund family. Shouldn't it be more trustworthy than I am?"
"That piece of scrap metal... a Succession Sword?"
Begman said, dumbfounded.
A sword with nicks all over its blade.
It was so poorly maintained that rust clung to it in clumps.
"This bastard must have a death wish."
A curse finally escaped Begman's lips.
To a warrior, a weapon was like their own life.
Who would have thought that a man who called himself a knight of the Sigmund family would bring a rusted sword?
"Wow. What an idiot."
"Crazy bastard."
"Tsk, tsk."
The reconnaissance soldiers also clicked their tongues at the sight of Grimungandr.
"I believe I told you this sword is a Succession Sword."
"And you expect me to believe that now?"
"You may not be aware, but Succession Swords come in all shapes and sizes. There are even some in the form of whips or scythes, not swords."
"I-I see."
"You can insult me, that's fine. But surely you aren't disrespecting Ancestor Rompen, who created this Wanderer."
"Disrespect! I would never! Absolutely not!"
Begman shook his head frantically.
While it didn't matter if he treated Carlyle, a mere grunt, a little roughly, disrespecting the Sigmund family was an unforgivable act.
Besides, every northerner held the Sigmund family in the highest esteem.
"In that case, you won't ignore the warning from my Succession Sword—from the Wanderer, will you?"
*Ching, chiiing!*
A soft ring echoed from Grimungandr.
"Hmm."
After some thought, Begman made his decision.
"Fine. I'll trust that piece of scrap... no, your Succession Sword. But if you're wrong..."
"I'll gladly accept any punishment."
"Good."
Begman nodded and gave an order to the reconnaissance team.
"Everyone, take your positions. Ambush formation."
"To your positions."
As soon as Begman's order was given, the team members scattered in perfect formation and hid themselves.
"This way."
"Yes."
Carlyle followed Begman and hid behind a large boulder.
"That sword... can we really trust it?"
"This is the first time, so I'm not sure."
"..."
"Still, it is a Succession Sword. I doubt it would play games with its master."
"True."
Begman nodded as if he understood.
While Carlyle van Sigmund, the North's greatest degenerate, was suspicious, a Succession Sword of the Sigmund family was trustworthy.
The problem was that even Carlyle's Succession Sword seemed unreliable.
'I just can't bring myself to trust it.'
Begman narrowed his eyes and glared at Grimungandr, in its form as the Wanderer.
To a third party, it seemed Carlyle and Grimungandr were a perfect match for each other.
The North's degenerate and a chipped, rusty Succession Sword—weren't they two peas in a pod?
'You'd better not be wrong.'
Just as Begman was silently clenching his fist, ready to deal with Carlyle...
*Rustle, rustle.*
Barbarian warriors with massive builds emerged, parting the tall grass.
Carlyle's warning—or more accurately, the warning from the jet-black sword, Grimungandr—had been correct.
***
A total of six barbarian warriors appeared.
The reconnaissance team had ten members, including Carlyle, giving them the numerical advantage.
Moreover, thanks to Carlyle, they had set up an ambush in advance, putting them in a tactically superior position.
"You were right."
Begman whispered, looking back at Carlyle.
"It seems so."
Carlyle replied nonchalantly.
He could have been triumphant, but...
"We're going to attack them. It won't be easy, but we have the advantage. By the way, this is your first real battle, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Then don't get ahead of yourself. Just stick by my side and provide support. If you're a Sigmund, you can at least do that much, right?"
"Well, I suppose so."
"For now, wait."
Begman didn't immediately give the order to attack, instead observing the barbarian warriors for a while.
Like the seasoned veteran he was, he knew to watch the enemy's movements and wait for the right moment to strike rather than attacking rashly.
The barbarian warriors, unaware of the ambush, were busy digging into the ground with hoes and planting fist-sized, stone-like objects.
'Cunning for a bunch of barbarians.'
Carlyle let out a dry laugh.
Mana stone traps.
They were crude explosives created by barbarian shamans, a very threatening and tricky weapon for soldiers as they detonated the moment they were stepped on.
They were clearly being set to blow off the legs of the reconnaissance soldiers patrolling around the fortress.
'Phew.'
Carlyle watched the barbarian warriors plant the mana stone traps and composed himself.
I didn't think I'd be in a real battle so soon...
I wasn't even mentally prepared yet.
But the situation wouldn't wait for him.
*Nudge, nudge.* Begman jabbed Carlyle's side with his elbow.
'Get ready.'
Begman gave a hand signal to Marder, who was positioned on high ground far away.
'Three, two, one.'
*Shwaaaa!*
*Thwack!*
Marder's arrow flew at a terrifying speed and pierced the head of the barbarian warrior who appeared to be the leader.
"…!"
In the very instant the barbarians planting the traps flinched in shock...
*Pweeeet!*
"Waaaaaaah!"
At the sound of Begman's whistle, the ambushing reconnaissance soldiers charged out in unison, rushing toward the barbarian warriors.
"Let's go, rookie."
"Yes."
Carlyle also followed Begman, leaping into the battlefield.
"Hyaaaah!"
Begman roared and swung his halberd at the nearest barbarian warrior.
*Thunk!*
The halberd sliced through the barbarian's shoulder, sending blood spraying as red muscle and white bone were exposed.
"Die, you bastard!"
The barbarian's body and head were separated, and crimson blood gushed out like a fountain.
*Thud, roll, roll, roll...*
*Thump!*
'...He's dead.'
Carlyle flinched in surprise as he watched Begman lop off the barbarian warrior's head.
For Carlyle, the sight of a man's head being cut off with an axe was truly surreal.
But that was all.
The death of that barbarian warrior stirred no further emotion in Carlyle.
He was surprised only because it was a gruesome sight he had never witnessed in either his past or present life. That was all.
Besides, there was no time to leisurely contemplate the enemy's death.
"Uwoooooooh!"
A barbarian warrior charged toward Carlyle with the reckless abandon of an enraged boar.
"Move!"
Just as Begman shouted urgently and tried to push Carlyle out of the way...
'Now.'
Carlyle spotted an opening in the barbarian charging at him and swung Grimungandr without a second thought.
Creation.
The sword of a hero who had defended Decaron from the barbarian invasion some 200 years ago.
The black arc drawn by Grimungandr bisected the barbarian warrior's chest.
*Fwoooosh!*
A sudden spray of blood rained down on Carlyle.
"…!"
Despite being in the middle of a battle, the eyes of the reconnaissance team members focused on Carlyle.
Who could have predicted that Carlyle would slice a barbarian warrior in two with a single strike?
"R-Rookie?"
Begman, too, stared at Carlyle with eyes full of astonishment, as if he couldn't believe it.
But Carlyle himself paid no mind to the reactions around him.
He simply stood there blankly, drenched in the blood of the barbarian he had killed.
'It was nothing special.'
Carlyle felt no particular guilt.
*Thump, thump!*
Other than his heart beating a little faster than usual, nothing had changed.
'Is it because he was an enemy?'
Perhaps that was it.
This was a battlefield.
A place where you die if you don't kill the enemy.
Besides, nowhere in the world would a soldier who fought for their country be called a murderer.
"Hey! Rookie!"
Begman hurried over to Carlyle and spoke.
"Rookie, rookie!"
*Woosh, woosh.* Begman waved a hand in front of Carlyle's face.
"He's completely out of it."
To a veteran like Begman, it was nothing new to see a soldier or knight go into a daze after their first kill.
Nine out of ten reacted this way, and Begman knew the best remedy for them.
"Snap out of it, you bast—"
Deciding he had to do something, Begman raised his hand.
He knew from experience that the best way to snap someone out of a daze was to give them a sharp shock.
For example, a slap across the face.
"Why are you trying to hit me? I haven't done anything wrong."
"Huh?"
"It would be a problem if you hit me for no reason."
"W-Well."
Begman was flustered.
Carlyle was staring right at him with a frown.
***
Contrary to what Begman had thought, Carlyle hadn't been dazed by the shock of his first kill.
He had just been a little surprised and lost in thought for a moment.
"Are you back to your senses now?"
"I never lost them..."
"You didn't...?"
Begman eyed Carlyle suspiciously.
'He's perfectly fine.'
Begman could tell Carlyle was in his right mind just by looking at his eyes.
Carlyle's eyes.
Those mysterious, light purple eyes were as clear as ever.
After going mad in battle or overcoming an extreme situation, a person's eyes would usually become dazed and empty, but there was no trace of that in Carlyle.
"I-I see. I thought you were in a daze. But wasn't that your first kill?"
"It was."
"How can you be so unfazed?"
"Am I supposed to lose my mind?"
"Well, no, but..."
"Then that's that. Anyway, I'm fine. Though this is a bit unpleasant."
Carlyle grumbled, wiping the blood from his face.
The problem was that blood couldn't be wiped away just by smearing it with a hand.
In no time, Carlyle's face was stained and covered in the barbarian's blood.
'Is he unfazed because he was already stark-raving mad to begin with?'
Begman thought that might just be the case.