Chapter 78
Chapter 78
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: Fire Ox Formation (1)
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“Ugh... ughhh...”
Viscount Serubret, the patriarch of the Furosange House.
Ever since fleeing to this Bibuak Citadel, he hadn't spent a single night sleeping peacefully.
The moment he closed his eyes, his eldest son Pin-in appeared.
His child's upper body, half-devoured by the Frozen Horror, melted almost entirely.
'Dad... It's too cold here... Cover me with a blanket... No... It's too hot... Pour water on me... No... Too cold... Dad...'
Serubret shed bloody tears as he embraced his son.
But the son only spat venomous words.
'Dad... What kind of father outlives his son... Why did you send me to Federback... You should have gone... What parent lives longer than their child... I wish I hadn't been born your son... Being your child only brought me misery... You killed me!'
Pin-in transformed into a demonic figure and tore into Serubret's throat.
“Gaaahhh!?”
Serubret let out a guttural scream as he bolted upright.
He had collapsed on the floor of the cramped office.
He must have passed out after getting drunk and causing a ruckus.
“Damn it... Useless bastards. The patriarch's lying here collapsed, and where the hell are they all...”
Serubret hauled himself to his feet.
The flames in the fireplace roared fiercely.
A thick shadow draped over the mounted head of a mountain goat.
Looking around, he saw swords and arrows embedded in the walls and ceiling.
Traces of his drunken rampage, swinging blades and arrows at his subordinates—but Serubret remembered none of it.
“Is no one out there!?”
At Serubret's bellow, a single soldier entered the room.
Terror was etched on his face.
Serubret recognized him as a low-ranking grunt originally stationed at Bibuak, not one of his elite imports.
“Judging by your armor, you're Bibuak garrison. Where are the men I brought?”
“Per your orders, lord, they've gone to search the interior of the citadel. They're pursuing Federback, who must be hiding somewhere inside.”
“He's really inside? Not sneaking in and out from outside?”
“We've inspected the walls multiple times—no breaches.”
“How did you inspect them?”
“We checked thoroughly for any holes in the walls.”
“Did you check the buried sections underground too?”
“Yes. We prodded them hard with spear tips, but no holes at all.”
“Goddamn it. Then he must be inside...”
Serubret cooled his boiling gut with a swig of cold vodka.
Yet for some reason, the fire in his chest only burned fiercer.
“Go tell them this: You have one day. If you don't bring me Federback's head by then, yours are next. I have no use for incompetent subordinates—I'll execute them as an example.”
“L-Lord... If you do that... The rangers are already working so hard...”
“It's not about working hard. It's about getting results. Or...”
Serubret fixed the soldier with bloodshot eyes.
“Shall I cut your head off instead?”
“Eek!?”
The soldier crumpled to the floor, cowed by Serubret's murderous glare.
“Hoo...”
Seeing the man trembling on the ground, Serubret suddenly wondered what he was doing and let out a deep sigh.
One of the five fingers of the North, reduced to terrorizing some backwater citadel's grunt. His situation was utterly pathetic.
“Get out.”
Serubret waved the soldier away dismissively.
The man scurried out like a fish escaping a net.
Serubret slumped into the chair by the fireplace.
“Damn it...”
Nothing was going right.
He'd lost his son, his castle, his subordinates, and now his reputation.
He couldn't fathom how it had come to this.
“No. I know one thing.”
The encounter with Federback at the forest's edge.
That's when everything went wrong.
He never should have met that white demon.
Never should have stared into its blood-red eyes with his own.
From that moment, Serubret had been marked as the monster's prey.
“...I never should have treated him as an enemy.”
But it was too late—he'd come too far.
Surrendering now wouldn't recover what he'd lost, and that was far beyond repair.
Besides, whether the enemy would even accept his submission was another matter entirely.
Serubret recalled Federback's expressionless face.
A chill ran down his spine.
That monster showing mercy and forgiving him? Absurd.
And could he even share the same sky with the killer of his son?
“No choice now. I'll kill him, no matter what it takes. Anything... Even if I have to sacrifice everything...”
Madness thickened in Serubret's voice.
At that moment.
“Nice pose.”
The mounted mountain goat's head spoke.
Serubret whipped his head around in shock, only for a thick shadow to drape from the tip of its horn.
The shadow stretched stickily, then morphed into a woman's form.
Shedioldis.
Her violet eyes gleamed as she gazed at Serubret.
“Damn it, why do you always show up like that? There's a door, you know.”
“Sorry. It was too far, so I used teleportation magic.”
“Too far in this cramped citadel?”
“I went outside. To fetch the secret plan.”
“Secret plan?”
Serubret twitched an eyebrow.
Shedioldis sidled right up beside him.
“A surefire way to catch and kill Federback.”
“What? Something like that exists? In this situation?”
“Precisely because of this situation.”
She flashed a seductive smile, cupping his cheeks.
“Viscount. To kill Federback, to destroy House Meursault—will you stake everything?”
“Of course!”
“The old you never would have agreed. But now... You've resolved yourself.”
An even deeper violet light poured from Shedioldis's eyes.
“To kill Federback, we need a sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice? What do I offer?”
“Flesh. A massive amount of it.”
“Perfect. This citadel's overflowing with meat. Bibuak was built for ranching, after all.”
Serubret nodded.
The Bibuak Citadel sat in the center of a sunken basin, making its climate relatively mild amid the northern chill.
Fierce winds passed overhead, sinking warmer air below that cycled back up.
Hardy grasses grew even in winter, feeding cattle bred to endure the cold.
Furosange originated from a warrior's squire who followed the hero—a shepherd boy at heart—so they had deep ties to ranching.
Serubret continued.
“Bibuak has over a thousand head of cattle. All bred for northern extremes: thick, tough hides impervious to wind, sharp horns that can rip open a frost wolf's belly. And docile, obedient to humans...”
“Viscount. Enough about the cows.”
Shedioldis pressed a finger to his lips.
She whispered sweetly into his ear, voice like honey.
“The flesh I mean isn't beef.”
“Then?”
“Human flesh.”
“!”
Serubret's eyes widened.
Shedioldis finally revealed her true intent.
“From people well-trained in body and mind. Say... Furosange rangers?”
“Wh-What do you plan to do with them?”
“Sacrifice them, I said. To kill Federback. And to go further: destroy Meursault, make Furosange the North's foremost house.”
“...”
Serubret fell silent.
Shedioldis sat demurely with a smile, awaiting his decision.
Finally, he spoke.
“We'll offer them.”
“Wise choice.”
“But how? What happens next? What do I—”
“Shh. No worries for you, patriarch. Just sleep deeply once. When you wake, it'll all be over.”
“Y-You're leaving me?”
“Just for a moment. Need a different spot to prepare the ritual. I'll be back soon.”
“Don't go. Without you, I...”
Serubret reached out.
Shedioldis gently embraced him.
“Such a good boy, our patriarch?”
“I... I...”
“Wait just a little. Like a good child—do nothing, just wait for me. I'll finish preparations and return soon.”
With that, Shedioldis's body began melting into black.
She dissolved into shadow, sucked back into the mounted goat head as before.
“Do nothing until I return. Absolutely nothing.”
Her final words echoed in Serubret's ear.
Federback gathered the last ten, including Haundid.
Haundid reported.
“Bibuak Citadel has an oddly high number of fodder storehouses. Investigating inward, we found numerous cattle barns.”
“Yes. Not for warhorses—hay. Probably harvested last summer.”
“The cattle are specially bred stock. For ranching in the cold.”
The other knights chimed in agreement.
Despite ten days without proper food or rest, they were still full of vigor.
In such conditions, each had slain dozens of enemies solo and gathered intel—truly the elite of elites.
Federback nodded.
“From now, each of you takes one barn.”
“The barns?”
The knights, Haundid included, tilted their heads.
Federback continued.
“Go to the barns. Sharpen the cattle horns to points. If time's short, whittle them sharp with knives.”
“Simple enough. But with nearly a thousand head, it'll take time.”
“More to do. Smear their bodies with ash to blacken them, tie oil-soaked straw bundles to their tails.”
“...?”
The knights cocked their heads.
Federback usually issued precise orders without explanation, but now he shared the plan—an exception.
“This is the final battle. When I give the signal, light the tails and smash the barn doors.”
“!”
Understanding dawned.
Federback's face remained impassive as ever, his voice flat, yet it instilled absolute trust and certainty in those around him.
“We'll use the Fire Ox Formation. Furosange falls today.”
Incidentally, a chance to test the sorceress Shedioldis's mettle.