Chapter 131
Chapter 131
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 131
Chapter Title: The Lycanthrope King's Roar
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Patos was a manor-style village protected by towering five-meter-high walls.
A deep river tributary, thirty meters wide, flowed in front of the walls, making invasion nearly impossible as long as the two bridges leading to the farmlands and pastures were blocked.
Moreover, with all key facilities—the residents' homes, livestock pens, and mill—located inside the walls, it should be possible to hold out for over a year with solid defenses.
“Master!”
When Eugene returned not just with the Beowulf warriors but also a horde of mercenaries and the Juboh Merchant Group, Luke rushed out to the bridge in surprise and delight.
“How did this happen? Are you hurt anywhere?”
“I’m fine. Anyway, say hello.”
“Pardon?”
As the bewildered Luke stood there, Pitamoras stepped forward with a grin.
“You must be the new Earl of Crollmarin? Greetings. I am Pitamoras, mana’s servant from the Robtimo Mountains.”
“Gasp!?”
Luke gulped in astonishment, while the Crollmarin nobles widened their eyes.
“A druid!”
“How is a druid lord here!?”
The man who had gone to scout Baron Liward’s army had returned not only with merchants and mercenaries but a druid as well?
“It’s an honor to meet you. I am Luke, inheritor of Crollmarin’s blue blood and your master’s servant.”
Pitamoras’s expression softened with satisfaction at Luke’s courteous greeting.
“Hmm. Sharp eyes and a proud stance—truly a kingly heir. Pleased to meet you, Lord Crollmarin.”
“Yes. Please, come inside. Master, this way.”
“Lead on.”
Even after becoming an earl, Luke unhesitatingly took Silion’s reins.
The Crollmarin nobles and soldiers shrugged it off as expected, but the Juboh merchants and mercenaries were stunned.
They were largely ignorant of the Crollmarin earl family’s status or history, but seeing a count personally hold a horse’s reins was shocking nonetheless.
“See? Our judgment was spot on.”
“With the earl treating him so deferentially, it’s obvious. And look at those troops. We got lucky.”
The two mercenary captains whispered gleefully, patting themselves on the back.
‘The troops look solid, and in a siege defense, Crollmarin wins hands down.’
‘With their supplies cut off, the momentum’s on our side. We just need to hold.’
They couldn’t help pitying those still siding with Baron Liward.
However, after entering the castle, the two captains doubted their ears at Eugene’s orders.
* * *
“We’re resting just one day and heading out?”
“L-Lord Eugene, please reconsider. Your exploits have blunted their edge, but they still outnumber us two or three to one.”
Not only the mercenary captains but the Crollmarin nobles urged him to think again.
But Eugene was resolute.
“It took three days from Vailin Forest here. Baron Liward’s army will take far longer.”
“But...”
“My warriors and Perseos’s Beowulfs escaped the forest in half a day. Yet Lord Liward and his men, even rushing, will take a full day. Know why?”
“Ah! Infantry has its limits on speed!”
Luke clapped his hands and stepped forward.
The mercenary captains and nobles flinched in unison, as if on cue.
“Moreover, Liward’s forces are only carrying food for the march to Patos. If they caught wind of your plan and went hunting for the Juboh caravan, their supplies are likely exhausted by now. Am I right, Master?”
“Exactly.”
“And with the orders I sent to nearby villages and hamlets, scavenging will be tough for them.”
“Ooh!”
“Indeed!”
The faces of those who had opposed lit up one by one.
“Now do you see why we march tomorrow?”
“Yes, my lord!”
They roared their response.
Eugene turned to the Beowulf warriors, who yawned boredly.
“Ulfgan.”
“Command me, Dark Lord.”
“The warriors who guarded Earl Crollmarin—take scouting duty.”
“Understood.”
“Pair up, two per team. Find Baron Liward’s army. Before dawn tomorrow—possible?”
“Grrr! You call that a challenge? We leaped peaks chasing trolls in the mountains. Shall we go now?”
“Go.”
“Grk! You’ll see.”
Ulfgan and a few warriors dashed off like beasts, their eyes brimming with confidence.
The watching mercenary captains and nobles marveled once more at Eugene’s strategy.
In the last war, the Crollmarin family had used the Perseos Beowulfs purely as shock troops.
Their overwhelming might left no one thinking to deploy them otherwise.
Yet Beowulfs were renowned for their toughness, tenacity, and keen senses.
Tracking and slaying invading roamer monsters for days was routine for them.
They excelled not just in pitched battles but in pursuit and messenger roles too.
“The rest, rest. No alcohol—eat your fill and sleep deep.”
Uoooooh!
Krooooh!
Kieeeek!
Odd noises mixed in as always, but cheers erupted all the same.
* * *
“My lord, more mercenaries have deserted.”
“What? How many this time?”
“Over thirty.”
“Grr...”
Baron Liward, gaunt after days of hardship, ground his teeth.
They had raided three villages and hamlets already, but found no food—not even a rat.
Initially assuming residents hadn’t fled far, they’d sent out search parties to no avail.
The scraps they scrounged fed barely dozens, against over three hundred troops.
Even as gruel, it wouldn’t sate a hundred.
Worse, after repeated failures, raiding mercenaries stopped returning—deserters.
No more raids; they huddled together. Yet night after night, deserters fled. By now, nearly a hundred had abandoned the baron’s army.
Compared to departing his domain, Liward’s forces had halved.
“Godless cur mercenary scum! When this war ends, I’ll hunt every last one and slaughter them!”
Buoyed by his orc royal blood, Liward still brimmed with vigor as he seethed.
But his misfortune wasn’t over.
Hiiihiiin!
“What’s that? Enemy attack!?”
The whinnying jolted the baron and knights from their tent.
“Ow!”
“Damn it! Hold it proper! Don’t wanna get kicked to the afterlife!”
As squires tumbled, a band of mercenaries stripped horse barding and slit throats.
“Youuu wretches!!!”
The baron’s roar, laced with aura, thundered.
“Eek!”
Frightened mercenaries fell on their asses.
Striding forward wreathed in menace, Liward drew his longsword.
“Daring to slaughter knights’ mounts? You must crave death!”
“Uwaa!”
Terror-stricken mercenaries bolted. But some gripped weapons and shouted bravely.
“Then feed us! We’ve had nothing but water-soaked bread for three days. What do you expect?”
“Right! We gotta eat the horses! You barons and knights got at least one meal a day!”
“Yeah! All mouth on that side?”
“We’re starving too! Give us food!”
Wooooo~~~
The mercenaries jeered. Their gaunt, feral eyes and desperation made even knights recoil.
“These bastards?”
Flustered knights and Liward retainers drew arms, clustering around the baron.
But outnumbered two-to-one, they hesitated.
The baron stepped up.
“Listen!”
His booming voice stilled them.
Suppressing his aura, he bellowed at the mercenaries.
“Fine! Permission to slaughter horses! But after victory, you’ll pay full price—understand!?”
“Y-Yes!”
“Deduct from our share!”
The captains answered hastily. They were as starved as their men.
“M-my lord, without horses, what of us?”
“Please reconsider!”
“Crollmarin hired Beowulfs! Without mounts...”
The pleading knights drew Liward’s ire.
“Argh! Who doesn’t know that! But what can we do in this state? Block them now? Will they obey in battle!?”
The knights fell silent at his tirade. Rash and brutal he might be, but even now, the baron prioritized the war—a true knight.
“We must placate them. Do the same with your mounts. I’ll butcher mine.”
Liward approached his warhorse of over a decade, face grim.
As knights bit their lips watching—
“Enemies! Incoming!”
“Crollmarin’s army!”
Scouts raced back from the perimeter.
“Son of a bitch!”
“You fucks! Fire just lit!”
“Uwaaa!”
Chaos erupted among the mercenaries.
Most scrambled for discarded weapons, but many wolfed down half-cooked horseflesh, blood dripping.
“You idiots! Battle prep! Win here, eat everything!”
“Crazy beggar bastards!”
Knights dashed about shouting and whipping, but horse-mad men ignored them.
Meanwhile, Crollmarin’s forces closed in formation. Liward’s troops faced them in disarray, no proper ranks.
* * *
Over three hundred meters away, Eugene’s vampire sight pierced the enemy camp. He was dumbfounded.
“What a mess.”
As Galpredic and Lanslo described, a supply-starved army was pathetic.
Troops gnawing meat despite foes near, fleeing with ragged bones, staggering into line from weakness.
Pity stirred, but they were the enemy.
“Ulfgan.”
“Command!”
“You with me—smash their formation. And Luke.”
“Yes, Master!”
“When their lines break, lead Crollmarin’s forces to envelop the left flank and annihilate.”
“As you will!”
“Mercenaries. Right flank’s yours. No running—you’ll tire fast.”
“Yes, my lord!”
All entered battle readiness under Eugene’s orders.
Unlike weary, starved Liward troops, they were rested and high-spirited.
Yet underestimate not a ‘swordmaster’-led army.
“Pitamoras, a question.”
“Ask.”
“Here, leaders exchange greetings first, fuss over knightly honor—must we?”
“Not with Liward. Other nobles, maybe.”
“Good. Then a non-human knight using special powers mid-battle? Dishonorable?”
“Ah. Worried about backlash?”
“Yes.”
“No issue. Against Liward, no one complains.”
“Hm? Ah.”
Liward, orc royal-blooded knight. Foes faced his fierce orc aura.
Such a swordmaster undefeated—Eugene could shine too.
If he won.
“Brantia’s growing on me.”
Muttering, Eugene dismounted Silion and swiftly shed his plate armor.
“Hmm? What now?”
“Master?”
“Dark Lord! Madness?”
All panicked at armor removal before decisive battle.
But Eugene stripped all but gauntlet-form magic shield, then told Pitamoras.
“One favor.”
“Anything but magic or spells on them.”
Pitamoras’s code: no magic against Liward’s army. Eugene respected it. Not his request anyway.
“You’re not fighting, so hold these.”
“Hah! Porter duty? Fine. If you die, can I keep ’em? Valuable stuff.”
“Sure.”
Smirking, Eugene whispered to Silion.
“When called later, come with Mirian. Fast.”
Pruuung!
Silion neighed, understanding.
Bewildered Beowulfs approached.
“Dark Lord, what’s this? No armor, no mount—how fight?”
“How? Like this.”
Fwoooosh!
Translucent aura blazed like flame across Eugene’s body. It turned fiery, and in crimson-black inferno, his form swelled.
“Gasp!?”
“T-That’s...!”
All gaped, species no bar.
Paaah...
A Lycanthrope King with blood-red mane roared like thunder.
“The enemy—starved mongrels! Lose, no mercy as kin!”
Krooooaaargh!!!
The Origin Vampire’s champion monster howl heralded battle.
(To be continued)