Chapter 129
Chapter 129
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 129
Chapter Title: Pitamoras's Challenge
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“The more I look at it, the stranger it gets. Or should I say audacious?”
Druid Pitamoras bobbed his head repeatedly as he examined the Beowulf warrior-exclusive armor, which was two or three times bulkier than standard plate coats.
The outer leather was quite high-quality, and the iron plates fixed inside were refined to an impressive standard.
Moreover, the plates were about twice as thick as those on regular armor, making them seem impervious to destruction by ordinary weapons.
If Beowulf warriors charged while wearing this, it was clear that even an equal number of heavy cavalry would struggle.
“So, the high noble of the Dark Clan who gifted you this is incredibly wealthy?”
“That’s what we heard. Apparently, he has estates on the continent across the sea, silver mines, and those port cities just shower him with goods.”
“The armor’s amazing, and we heard the markets there offered it up to the Dark Lord.”
“But, Druid sir, could you loosen this a bit? It hurts.”
“We won’t run, so please loosen it. I swear on the honor of a great-fanged warrior.”
The Beowulf warriors, walking alongside the horse Pitamoras rode, glanced at him pleadingly.
In their human forms, they each had thin silver wires wrapped around their necks and both wrists.
In human shape, they only delivered a stinging pain, but upon transforming into lycanthrope form, the wires burned the flesh at the bound areas and severed it cleanly—a terrifying enchantment.
“I trust you all, but the mercenaries get uneasy. Plus, over ten of them died because you attacked. You should be grateful we’re even letting you live.”
Behind the Beowulf warriors, mercenaries watched with fire in their eyes. Given who they were facing, the mercenaries were poised to draw weapons and decapitate them at the slightest provocation.
“We wouldn’t have done it if we’d known a druid was here. Ah, but the Dark Lord’s gonna curse us out big time.”
“Lucky if it’s just curses. We might get beaten like last time. Damn! They always hit where it hurts the most.”
“The one who hired you fights that well?”
“Oh man, yeah. He wrecks everything.”
The Beowulf warriors excitedly recounted what Eugene had done, and Pitamoras listened with keen interest.
It was an odd sight for captors and prisoners, but it stemmed from the esteemed position druids held in Brantia.
They were devout priests, scholars versed in various fields of knowledge, and respected physicians who healed without regard to race.
Thus, not even nobles—nay, not even kings—dared treat druids lightly.
“Ha! Impressive. From what you say, it’s like the Knight King has returned.”
Pitamoras was genuinely awed by Eugene’s tales as relayed by the Beowulf warriors.
“I don’t know about the Knight King, but he’s insanely strong anyway. But Pitamoras sir, you’re really going to fight the Dark Lord?”
“I was asked by Lord Riward. Hmm. Still, it’d be a shame to dissect such a remarkable fellow alive. Ah, but he’s rich and strong, so he could bring me other vampires instead.”
“Uh, probably? Come to think of it, the dark knight mentioned a continental mage hired by the Dark Lord. Said he’s been around for quite a while.”
“Oh? Really? I heard the mages there are proud and prefer wandering alone, rarely maintaining long ties with lords.”
At the mention of mages, curiosity sparked in Pitamoras’s dull eyes.
“Heard the Dark Lord supplies that mage with monster byproducts like nobody’s business. Griffons, wyverns... and just recently, the Dark Lord slew a sea dragon too......”
“What? Wyverns and a sea dragon!?”
Pitamoras was shocked.
He too was a Brantian mage with a thirst for rare monster byproducts.
But the monsters just mentioned by the Beowulf warrior were exceedingly difficult to hunt—even roamers shunned them, let alone those from the demon realms.
And though druids possessed vast knowledge and magical prowess, their physical abilities were no different from an ordinary person’s, making it impossible for one to fell mid-to-large monsters alone.
“Ha! Now I want him even more.”
Brantia had its share of knights skilled in demon realm subjugations and monster hunts, but the truly exceptional ones were almost always lords themselves or in service to great lords.
Moreover, such elite knights prioritized wars over demon realm purges and rarely joined monster hunts.
Hiring masses of ordinary knights or mercenaries was an option, but a druid who communed with nature lacked the funds for that.
Thus, Pitamoras couldn’t help but be drawn to Eugene, a high-status figure who still hunted monsters frequently.
‘Hmm. Neutralize him with magic and make a request? Lord Riward did entrust the Dark Clan to me anyway.’
As that thought crossed his mind, another curiosity arose.
“But what school is the mage he hired from? Heard anything?”
“Uh~ what was it? Ah, definitely the Pilgrim Shadow school.”
“Oho!”
Pitamoras’s eyes widened.
As a druid with broad knowledge across fields, he was deeply versed in the continent’s schools of magic.
Pilgrim Shadow specialized in monster research and aimed at chimera creation.
They undoubtedly held vast knowledge unknown to him.
“Perfect, perfect! I must subdue him and bring him to Robtimo Mountain with that mage. Haha!”
Pitamoras resolved himself.
Just 2-3 years of employing this vampire high noble named Yan Eugene to obtain what he needed.
By then, Baron Riward’s request had already vanished from his mind.
* * *
After riding relentlessly until Silion the bloodmare was exhausted, Eugene spotted what seemed to be the large merchant company hired by Baron Riward, two hours later.
The main caravan had formed a camp, encircling numerous wagons as barricades, with torches lit here and there and mercenaries standing double watch.
“The stench of our brothers and sisters! Dark Lord, let’s charge now!”
Though worn from the long ride, the Beowulf warriors burned with zeal.
“There’s a druid, remember? Can you take him?”
“Ah, right.”
“Druids are......”
The Beowulf warriors scratched their heads sheepishly.
It wasn’t fear of the druid’s power that held them back.
Sure, the potent spells and curses were unnerving, but above all, no Brantian wanted to cross a druid everyone revered.
“Druids won’t fight if you meet their demands?”
“That’s right. We need to find out what the half-orc baron offered first. Since he hired them already, we can’t just match it—we have to sweeten the pot to even get them to listen.”
“Complicated.”
“No choice. If the Dark Lord wants a place in Brantia, he can’t afford to feud with druids. Every race and status would turn their backs.”
“Hmm.”
“Master. Our elders say druids can see spirits too. Makes me a bit scared. Kee.”
Even Mirian chattered nervously with a frightened look.
‘Should I talk first? Or...... forget the druid and caravan—kill them all?’
For a moment, murderous intent surged in Eugene, but he shook his head.
Doing so would likely alienate the Perseos Beowulf warriors’ loyalty.
With countless uses ahead, he couldn’t afford to lose such strong, versatile troops.
“Hm?”
As Eugene pondered briefly, he snapped his head up.
An unfamiliar yet powerful presence emanated from the caravan camp.
“Master, master! Mana! Mana’s surging! Keeek!”
Startled, Mirian swiftly ducked into the leather pouch.
Realizing the druid had sensed them, Eugene clicked his tongue inwardly and drew Wolfslaughter and Madarajika.
He respected what the Beowulf warriors revered, but he still needed to prepare to face the druid.
Soon, the camp grew rowdy, and dozens of torch-bearing soldiers charged precisely toward where Eugene and the warriors hid.
“Kuhul? Brothers and sisters too!”
“Damn! Let’s get ready!”
Smelling their captured kin, the Beowulf warriors lowered their torsos into combat stance.
The mercenaries soon swarmed near the group and raised their weapons.
“You damned mongrels! Here to get beaten and captured again!”
“We’ll seize you all like your comrades... Huh?”
The mercenaries, emboldened by faith in the druid, faltered mid-shout.
Eugene’s pitch-black plate armor and the unmistakably extraordinary shortsword and spear gave them pause.
“Oh! As expected, you’ve come! Everyone, make way!”
An elderly gray-haired man in a worn, frayed brown leather robe pushed through the mercenaries.
His sturdy build rivaled the mercenaries’, and with an antler horn coronet and a long, twisting wooden staff, Eugene recognized him as the druid.
“You’re the vampire high noble with estates and silver mines in Keiler Kingdom, backed strongly by two port cities?”
Eugene nodded inwardly surprised by the druid’s fluent Keiler tongue.
“That’s me. You know a lot about me. Where’d you hear?”
“Haha! The Perseos Beowulf bloodkin told me.”
“......”
He’d suspected as much, but Eugene felt deflated.
To spill everything about him to a druid—who was at least nominally an enemy.
Sensing Eugene’s sentiment, Pitamoras grinned.
“They were worried you’d take it out on them after they spoke. But don’t blame them too much. In Brantia, no race can lie before a druid.”
Less boast than fact, so Eugene nodded readily.
“Fair enough. Anyway, coming out like this suggests you have business with me, right?”
Uncertain but sensing no hostility from the druid, Eugene probed.
“As expected of the Dark Clan—discerning. Oh, right. I am Pitamoras of Robtimo Mountain. And you, noble of the Dark Clan?”
“Eugene. Yan Eugene.”
“Hmm. Sounds like an alias, but you’re no Brantian, so I’ll let it pass.”
Nodding, Pitamoras continued in Brantian.
“Kin blessed by the night, Yan Eugene. My business is simple. Duel me one-on-one. If I win, come to Robtimo Mountain and aid me for three years.”
“And if I win?”
“I’ll grant what you desire.”
“Then it’s a deal.”
Eugene accepted without hesitation, like manna from heaven.
The flustered ones were the mercenaries who came with Pitamoras and the Beowulf warriors.
“Pi-Pitamoras sir!?”
“What about us? If those bastards attack......”
“Pitamorras sir? L-Lord Riward will be furious!”
The mercenaries pleaded in fear.
“That’s not my concern. Handle the Dark Clan high noble, and Lord Riward will secure victory somehow. If not, he should relinquish his swordmaster title.”
“B-But still......”
In contrast, the Beowulf warriors crowded Eugene, spittle flying.
“Dark Lord. Do you not know the sacred custom when fighting druids in Brantia?”
“Custom? What’s that?”
“Oh no! Knew it!”
“This is insane. We’re done for.”
The Beowulf warriors beat their chests and sighed.
As Eugene frowned in confusion, one warrior exhaled heavily.
“When dueling druids, you must yield first strike out of respect. But how do druids attack? Always with magic or curses!”
“What?”
“Never strike first. Violate the custom by attacking before the druid, and all Brantian folk will turn from the Dark Lord. Us too.”
“Turn him into a rat? Toad?”
“Dark Lord, so cute bat?”
“Snake? Sly and cunning.”
“Cunning maybe, but what’s sly? Still, for Dark Lord, say ‘nobly vile.’”
“Eeey~ What business does a dog-head have?”
Eugene was dumbfounded listening to the Beowulf warriors babble.
The conversation on the way here was one thing, but what kind of unreasonable custom was this?
But then.
‘Hm? Wait.’
A sudden thought lit up Eugene’s eyes.
At that moment, Pitamoras raised his wooden staff.
“Well then, here I go.”
Fwaaaaa!
His gaze intensified, and hazy light coiled around the staff and antler coronet.
“Eek!”
As the Beowulf warriors startled back, Eugene boldly faced Pitamoras.
“Spirits of mana who survey skies and seas, mountains and plains, rivers and lakes. Words are the manifestation of will......”
His language decryption auto-activated, imprinting Pitamoras’s incantation in Eugene’s mind.
‘Without that damn custom, one slash. I could sever his neck ten times while he chants.’
Though all around quaked in fear, Eugene waited bored for the lengthy incantation to end.
After some ten seconds, the druid’s chant finally concluded.
“I command thee: transform into that nearest to thy essence!”
Shoooo!
The mana coiling the staff surged like a wave.
Eugene concentrated his peer into his left arm, raising it to his chest.
Clank! Shraaak!
Responding to his will, the Bartla ducal magic shield instantly expanded into a massive barrier—1 meter wide, 2 meters long.
Kwaaaaa! Craaaack!
The mana wave clashed against the shield, shattering like thick glass.
Simultaneously, the mana dissolved into multicolored lights, scattering and fading around the shield.
The magic shield that blocked an Origin Vampire’s peer was no more fazed by druid magic and spells.
“No!?”
Unaware of this, Pitamoras gaped, as Eugene charged with crimson peer trailing like afterimages.
(To be continued in the next installment)