Chapter 40
Chapter 40
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: An Eye for an Eye
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Tracking an enemy commander whose fate—dead or alive—was unknown was certainly a reckless mission.
Leaving the fortress when a second enemy attack or an ambush was possible was an incredibly dangerous move.
But Bjornsen was worth the risk.
At least, that's what Carlyle thought.
The reconnaissance team members were half-mad with vengeance.
“But on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“This is a dangerous mission, so don't be reckless. I don't want to see another member of the reconnaissance team die while avenging Derek.”
“We'll keep that in mind.”
Begman replied firmly to Helen's warning, as if to tell her not to worry.
“Private Carlyle.”
“Yes, Sir Helen.”
“Use that Succession Sword to maintain a thorough watch of your surroundings. The Succession Sword you possess…”
Helen trailed off, then corrected herself.
“No, I'll trust you. Protect your comrades from unseen threats with that ability of yours.”
“...!”
Carlyle was slightly surprised to hear words of acknowledgment from Helen.
For Helen, who had despised him so, to say such a thing...
“Go on. I hate to admit it, but your abilities are what your comrades in the reconnaissance team need right now.”
“Understood.”
Carlyle walked toward the reconnaissance team members.
*Heh.*
A thought suddenly crossed Carlyle's mind, and he let out a dry laugh.
*To think I'd be going off to kill someone.*
This side of himself felt unfamiliar to Carlyle.
Until now, he had only ever fought enemies who attacked him first, just to survive. But now, wasn't he hunting Bjornsen down with the intent to kill?
*Is this the kind of person I have to become to survive in this world?*
With that thought, Carlyle left the fortress with the reconnaissance team.
* * *
The reconnaissance team went to the area where they presumed Bjornsen had fallen and scanned their surroundings.
“Rookie?”
“It's safe.”
Carlyle answered Begman's question.
Grimungandr was silent, which meant there were likely no barbarians lying in ambush.
Thanks to this, Carlyle and the team could proceed with their search without worry.
“Over here.”
Kudo discovered a large crater and called over the scattered team members.
The crater was clearly made by Bjornsen's fall, and bloodstains were vivid.
“The rookie was right. No body means he didn't croak.”
Begman frowned.
“Here, footprints.”
Marder, skilled in tracking and reconnaissance from his days as a hunter, found what appeared to be Bjornsen's tracks.
“There are no other footprints around. He must have fled alone, without help from his allies.”
“Makes sense. This place is a fair distance from the barbarian camp.”
Begman nodded in agreement with Marder.
“Since he's alive, he'll be trying to rejoin his allies. We'll catch him before he does and avenge Derek.”
“Yes, sir.”
The reconnaissance team members answered in unison.
“This way.”
Marder led the team from the front.
Like a true hunter who had tracked prey as a matter of course since childhood, he skillfully found Bjornsen's trail.
But even Marder hit a dead end...
“Damn.”
Marder's expression turned troubled.
“What is it? Something wrong?”
“The blood trail is gone.”
“What about the footprints?”
“None.”
In response to Begman's question, Marder pointed to a footprint indented at least ten centimeters into the ground.
“...Son of a bitch isn't a grasshopper.”
Begman's face crumpled in frustration.
The footprint was clearly the mark of a [Thunder Leap].
“Judging by the direction of the print, he went that way, but the forest is so dense, I don't know if we'll find any more tracks. With the blood trail gone and no moonlight, further pursuit will be impossible.”
“Dammit.”
Begman gritted his teeth.
After all the trouble to get permission for this mission, to think they'd lose Bjornsen here...
“Goddammit! Can't we just keep going? If we let him get away, that bastard Derek won't be able to rest in peace.”
Wilson flared up.
“I want to, but we've already lost the trail. We can't take the risk.”
“Captain!”
“There'll be another chance.”
Just then.
“What if there was a way to keep tracking him?”
Carlyle stepped forward.
“A way?”
“The earth will tell us where he went.”
Carlyle held up the [Whisper of the Earth] on his left hand.
“Are you serious?”
“You saw how the fortress entrance turned to mud.”
“Ah!”
“With this bracelet, we can keep tracking him. My sword will warn us of any potential threats, so let's go a little further.”
“Hmm.”
Begman considered Carlyle's words for a moment, then nodded.
“What the hell, I'll trust you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Carlyle immediately channeled mana into the [Whisper of the Earth].
Soon, a figure of Bjornsen formed from the earth, then kicked off the ground and leaped powerfully into the air.
Memory of the Earth.
It was the same magic Evangeline had used during Carlyle's trial.
“Let's go.”
Carlyle started walking in the direction the earthen figure of Bjornsen had leaped.
“Rookie, you take the lead. Can you handle it?”
“I'll try.”
Normally, Marder would have led the team as the vanguard and scout, but in this situation, it was only natural for Carlyle, who could use [Memory of the Earth], to take the lead.
“This way.”
Carlyle led the reconnaissance team.
*He can't have gotten far. He can't use Thunder Leap indefinitely.*
[Thunder Leap] was a skill that consumed a great deal of mana.
Bjornsen had used [Thunder Leap] three times tonight, so his mana must be depleted by now.
A 4-star barbarian warrior could use [Thunder Leap] a maximum of three times in a short period.
Of course, it would be a different story if he had mana recovery potions, but while barbarians knew how to process mana stones into dyes, they lacked the knowledge to make potions.
At least, that's what Carlyle's knowledge suggested.
* * *
*Thump!*
Bjornsen slumped against a large, thick tree, leaning his back on it.
“Hah, hah!”
Bjornsen gasped, letting out a series of ragged breaths.
He had been running for nearly two hours with all his might, and he was completely out of breath.
“I really almost died. Hah, hah.”
Bjornsen muttered to himself, as if immensely relieved.
In spite of this, Bjornsen's outward appearance was fine.
Thanks to [Primeval Vitality], his wounds had all healed.
The problem was his stamina.
He had expended too much energy on regeneration, and his stamina had reached its limit.
No matter that he was a 4-star barbarian warrior engraved with [Primeval Vitality], there was still a clear limit.
To be honest, Bjornsen didn't even have the strength to lift a finger right now.
If he were to encounter any continentals—that is, his enemies—he would be completely helpless.
“Still, I made it out alive. Hah, hah.”
Despite his depleted stamina, Bjornsen was confident of his survival.
Why?
Because the chances of his enemies pursuing him were slim.
Besides, hadn't he used every last ounce of his strength for that final [Thunder Leap] to throw off any trackers?
Even if his enemies were in pursuit, it was no exaggeration to say there was zero chance they would follow him this deep into a dense forest in the dead of night.
*I'll rest for a bit, then head back to the tribe.*
Just as Bjornsen decided this and took out some jerky from a pouch at his waist to chew on...
*Swoooosh!*
“...!”
An arrow, flying from an unknown direction, embedded itself where Bjornsen's head had just been.
If he hadn't reacted in time, it would have surely pierced his skull.
“Damn it!”
Just as Bjornsen, who had shown lightning-fast reflexes, shot up to flee...
*Thwack!*
An arrow from a completely different direction struck Bjornsen's right thigh.
“Kugh!”
Bjornsen groaned and collapsed.
*Swoosh!*
*Thwack!*
A third arrow now pierced his left knee joint.
“Son of a bitch...!”
Even then, Bjornsen tried to limp away, but even the toughest barbarian warrior has his limits.
*Thud!*
Bjornsen fell in an unsightly heap.
Even his thick thighs and calves could no longer support his body.
And with that, a relentless volley of arrows followed.
*Swoosh, swooosh!*
*Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack... thwack!*
In an instant, Bjornsen was turned into a pincushion.
In just a few seconds, dozens of arrows had flown and embedded themselves all over his body.
Bjornsen never got up again.
His stamina and mana, needed to activate [Primeval Vitality], were completely depleted.
“Stop... isn't this... enough...?”
Bjornsen, now resembling a porcupine, called out in the direction the arrows had come from.
*Rustle, rustle.*
His enemies, the reconnaissance team members from Bowden Fortress, appeared one by one.
Before long, they had surrounded Bjornsen.
“You bastard!”
An enraged Wilson drew his dagger and approached Bjornsen.
As always, he was clearly intending to scalp Bjornsen.
“Wait.”
Carlyle stepped in front of the agitated Wilson.
“Hey, move it.”
“We can't just let him go like that.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“We have to do the same to him.”
Carlyle said, pointing at something with his finger.
There stood a large boulder that looked to weigh at least several hundred kilograms.
“A rock...?”
“Yes.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You haven't already forgotten Private Derek's last moments, have you?”
“Derek's last moments... Ah.”
Wilson understood Carlyle's meaning and nodded.
How had Derek died?
Hadn't he been crushed to death by Bjornsen when he used [Thunder Leap]?
“If we're going to kill him, shouldn't we kill him the same way? I think Private Derek would be satisfied with that.”
“Hmm.”
Wilson stroked his beard, deeply contemplating Carlyle's words.
“The rookie's right.”
Begman voiced his agreement with Carlyle's suggestion.
“What does everyone else think?”
*Nod, nod.*
The other team members also nodded in agreement.
“Bring the rock.”
“Yes, Captain.”
The reconnaissance team members worked together to lift the large boulder.
“You... Are you a Sigmund?”
Bjornsen asked, staring straight at Carlyle.
He judged that the young soldier who had fought him on equal terms, though still inexperienced, was highly likely to be a Sigmund.
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“What does that mean?”
“You wouldn't understand even if I told you.”
Bjornsen frowned at Carlyle's ambiguous answer.
But he didn't give up.
“Young soldier... your name... *Cough!* What is it...? My name... is Bjornsen... son of Draktar... I wish to know... the name of the warrior who killed me. Only then, in the halls of warriors... Valhalla...”
Barbarians had a culture of placing great importance on knowing the name of their killer.
They believed that the stronger and more renowned their killer, the higher their status would be in the afterlife.
Absurdly, this belief was even retroactive; if a mere soldier killed them, and that soldier later gained great fame, that too would be acknowledged.
“Tell me... your name.”
“I don't have a name to give to the likes of you.”
“...!”
“You seem to be gravely mistaken. You're not going to Valhalla. You didn't die in battle; you died running away like a grasshopper.”
“Th-that's...”
“You'll be mocked even in death. As a coward who died fleeing. Forget Valhalla, you won't even be treated as a warrior in the realm of the dead.”
“...Cruel.”
“What did you expect from an enemy? Did you think I'd let you die peacefully?”
“That's...”
“Just die.”
*CRUNCH!*
The rock crushed Bjornsen.