Chapter 183
Chapter 183
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 183
Chapter Title: Yeti of White Fangs Mountain
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Galpredic. You stay here with the Beowulfs.”
“Got it.”
Galpredic accepted without even asking why. The ones who jumped in surprise were actually the Beowulf warriors.
“Dark Lord, why? Ain’t we done here?”
“You want us to bunk with these pig bastards? No way.”
Eugene shrugged at the warriors, who weren’t outright angry but clearly displeased.
“You’ll get to fight orcs to your heart’s content if you stay. Plus, orcs are carnivores, so you could eat meat three meals a day. If that’s still not enough for you...”
“Huh? For real?”
Eugene nodded inwardly pleased at how quickly the Beowulf warriors’ attitudes flipped.
“Of course. Didn’t you hear earlier? There are still six clans left. The real elite warriors probably took ships and sailed off toward where we came from, but they’d have left behind some guards like here.”
“Khmm.”
They were holding back only because they were under Eugene, but the Beowulfs were a fiercely aggressive race that would make orcs look tame.
For them, chances to come all the way north and battle orcs weren’t all that common.
In the first place, the Beowulf warriors had followed Eugene less to resolve misunderstandings with the Krollmarin clan and more because he’d promised them endless fights.
“Stay here with Galpredic and help this guy out. If it looks like he’s up to no good, feel free to smash him.”
“Th-there won’t be any need for that, sir.”
Maxen, who had been anxiously watching Eugene’s face, frantically waved his hands.
Truth be told, Maxen would have been happy if even one or two from the group stayed behind—Eugene or anyone else.
Even as interim chieftain, he was still just a rootless half-orc from a branch family. It would’ve been weirder if he wasn’t uneasy.
“I’ll feed you meat every day. If you’re willing, I’d love to have you as my guards...”
“You mean it? Meat every day?”
“He’s bluffing. What money does an orc have anyway?”
“It’s true. We might be short on coin, but we’ve got plenty of meat. It’s been ages since we gave up nomadic life.”
“Oh. Well then...”
Seeing them grin, it looked like the Beowulf warriors were convinced.
They were tough to win over, but once you did, they were easy to handle.
“It’ll take about two months. Wrap it all up by then and move on, right, Master?”
“The sooner the better, but don’t push too hard. If there are no orcs left who can stand up to this guy, come find me.”
“Heh heh heh. Turning a penniless half-orc into a chieftain? Sounds fun in its own way. That’d be a hell of a achievement.”
“Kiek! What if they build a statue of Gal like that? I’m against it. Gotta make our lord’s statue first. One with me perched right on his shoulder! Folks passing by bowing to me and tossing gold coins in front. Cheapskates chucking coppers? Their wishes don’t get granted. Kihehehe!”
“You’re not even dead yet, and you’re planning your afterlife? And what good are gold and jewels once you’re gone? You can’t even use them.”
“Kkkk~ Gal doesn’t get it. You don’t collect gold and jewels to use them. They’re just for looking at. Why do you think dragons hoard stuff they can’t spend? Kehehehe!”
Everyone had long since tuned out the deranged spirit who was now comparing himself to dragons.
“Then I’ll leave it to you.”
“Heh. You got it.”
As Eugene shouldered his pack and walked off, Romari scurried after him close on his heels.
Eugene glanced back.
“Why are you following?”
“Huh?”
“You stay here too.”
“Me? Why?”
“Other clans might have shamans. You need to help out.”
That had been the whole reason for bringing her along in the first place, so Eugene said it like it was obvious.
“Oh...”
Galpredic snickered at Romari, whose face turned ashen.
“Let’s do our best, Lady Romari. We got pretty hot and heavy back then, didn’t we?”
“...Could you stop using phrases that invite misunderstandings?”
“It’s camaraderie, camaraderie.”
“Sigh. Should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
Romari let out a long sigh and slumped her shoulders in despair.
“Once this is done, I’ll give you a nice long vacation. I’ll set you up somewhere decent like Mungard or Brighton, supply whatever materials you want. Make chimeras, do research—whatever you like.”
“Really? You mean it?”
“Of course. Once we wrap this up, my seed will become king of Brantia.”
“Aah!”
Romari’s face lit up in an instant.
Indeed, once the northern Baiman orc issue was settled, no force in Brantia would threaten Eugene.
Plus, Luke—the future king of Brantia—was a mage under Eugene and had always shown her great respect.
“I’ll do my utmost—no, I’ll absolutely make this half-orc lord the leader of the Baiman orcs.”
“Good. I’ll count on you.”
Satisfied, Eugene flashed a smile, then switched expressions and turned to Maxen.
“You heard that? My knight and my mage will help you. If you still fail after this, I’ll be really disappointed.”
“I’ll succeed no matter what. Leave it to me.”
Feeling a hot surge of emotion in his chest, Maxen bowed deeply.
* * *
The next day, at the crack of dawn, Eugene slipped out of the Tollo clan village with only the hunter in tow, heading for Balmont.
The White Fangs Mountain he revisited felt as serene and sacred as ever, making the slaughter from days ago seem like a joke.
Yet the mountain’s chill wind, drying out his every breath, carried the malice of monsters.
Thanks to that, Eugene could use his senses to trace the wind’s flow and pinpoint the path the beasts had fled.
“They split off in several directions from here.”
Eugene scanned the surroundings as he arrived at a wide basin formed along cliffs so steep even mountain goats would balk.
The smaller ones had mostly bolted into deep ravines and down the cliffs, while the bigger ones seemed to have returned to their original haunts atop the peaks.
The hunter, who had been eyeing Eugene with wonder—clearly knowing less about monsters than he did—bobbed his head obsequiously as Eugene looked his way.
“That’s right, milord. Little pests like goblins or kobolds prefer tight, dark spots without sunlight. Mid-to-large monsters stick to high ground where they can spot prey easily.”
“What about the snow ogre?”
At the mention of the yeti, the hunter’s face hardened as he replied.
“That one doesn’t bother with that. It thinks the whole mountain’s its turf. That’s why it attacked the Tollo warriors.”
“The whole mountain? You mean the entire range?”
“No, milord. Even the biggest, strongest monsters top out at two or three peaks. Anything more, and they can’t patrol it in a day, so they mostly respect each other’s territories and don’t clash much.”
“So there are other big monsters like that one?”
“I haven’t gone that far myself, so I can’t say for sure, but odds are nine out of ten, yeah.”
“I see. Then why keep living here? With dangers like yetis around, wouldn’t somewhere else be better?”
“Actually safer with a king around, milord. Keeps other nasty monsters away. Just learn the locals and steer clear, and you’re fine.”
“Hoo.”
Makes sense. Nations and territories were more stable under a firm ruler, with fewer external threats.
In other words, this hunter could live relatively safely thanks to the local monster king: the yeti.
“Uh, milord, by any chance... are you planning to take that thing down?”
“Hmm.”
When the hunter asked cautiously, Eugene stared silently in the direction he figured the yeti had gone.
Like spears challenging the heavens, or a giant’s palm rejecting human intruders, the vast white range stretched to the horizon, majestic.
But even there were gaps, and the group had crossed north through one such crevice.
And in what might have been the mountain’s concession—a gap tolerable perhaps—dwelled a snow ogre yeti, a monster with few rivals among roamers.
‘Coincidence?’
It could be, but Eugene doubted it.
“You said you’ve lived here about ten years?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Then have you ever heard tales of a demon palace in the snowy mountains?”
The hunter’s eyes went wide at Eugene’s question.
“How did you know that, milord?”
Just as I thought.
Eugene nodded for him to go on.
“I heard it from my late pa, milord. They say there’s a dungeon in White Fangs Mountain. Trouble is, no one knows where.”
“That figures. If orc warriors knew the spot, the mountain wouldn’t be crawling with monsters. They’d have cleared the demon palace first.”
“Ah! Now that you mention it, yeah. Incredible, milord!”
Turning from the awestruck hunter, Eugene surveyed the snowy peaks gleaming with solemn mystery and continued.
“It’s around here. That dungeon.”
“Y-Yes?”
“The snow ogre settling here proves it. It came from the dungeon, so it knows the area inside out. With plenty of monsters like itself kicked out in the turf wars, it stayed put to hunt them easily instead of moving on.”
“Aah...!”
“And it was probably cleared out long ago.”
“Wh-why do you say that, milord?”
“This range you call White Fangs—it’s huge, right? In a massive place like this, there’s only one known pass humans or orcs can use. And it just happens to be here. Think that’s all coincidence?”
“...!!!’”
The hunter gaped at Eugene’s reasoning, which went beyond plausible to near certain.
Brantia had been in chaos for decades.
In such harsh wilds where few humans or orcs even bothered, it was no wonder the snowy mountains’ demon palace had been forgotten, leaving its escaped yeti to rule the area.
“Milord, milord! So we’re purging the demon palace here?”
“Hmm.”
As Mirian whispered, Eugene crossed his arms and stared at the snowy range.
The old path, forgotten due to his own actions, had resurfaced.
Sooner or later, northern orcs would find it too and come south over the mountains. They’d at least come hunting the deadly yeti, exposing the sole pass.
‘Better to leave the demon palace be.’
With that thought, Eugene told the hunter.
“I’m going after the yeti.”
“Eek! J-just the two of us, milord? I-I...”
Even piles of gold wouldn’t sway him this time, but the hunter froze, intimidated by the eerie glint in Eugene’s red eyes.
“No. I’ll go alone.”
“Ah! Th-then can this lowly one head back to the hut?”
“No. Follow me.”
“Y-Yes.”
Fine, if the guy with the sword and gold says follow, you follow. He’s the king.
But at least explain why!
Of course, the hunter couldn’t voice that on pain of death, so he slumped his shoulders and trudged after Eugene.
Eugene’s low voice wormed into the hunter’s ear.
“From now on, you’ll be the snow ogre’s warden.”
“...!!!”
He’d thought he had no strength left for surprises, but the hunter froze solid like an ancient snowman.
(To be continued)