Chapter 4
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Battle, Honor, or Death
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The banquet hall was a cauldron of utter madness.
"Charge in right now!!"
"Peel the hides off those Yagur bastards and make flags out of them!!"
The noise of burly giants sharpening their axes on rocks, combined with beastly roars that threatened to burst eardrums.
I pressed my throbbing temples firmly.
'This is driving me insane, for real.'
How did a simple suggestion to borrow some water turn into "let's skin them alive"?
This wasn't just a communication breakdown. Their brains were wired completely differently.
At that moment, Magra slammed her staff into the ground.
Boom—!
"Calm yourselves! Warriors of Kel Bark!"
At Magra's single shout, the rampaging beasts fell silent as if doused with cold water.
I was quietly impressed.
'Whoa...'
Experience really was something you couldn't ignore.
I let out a sigh of relief.
Right, at least that old lady seemed like someone who could be reasoned with.
If she was sane, she'd calm the excitement and stop this reckless war.
That was my chance to suggest bartering...
But Magra's next cry shattered my hopes.
"A sacred war demands preparation!"
"Those with final words, write your last wills! Those who would bathe in enemy blood, sharpen your weapons!"
"The decisive battle is in two days! On the night the red moon rises, we launch the all-out assault!"
"Woooooo!! Magra! Magra!"
"Rooooaaar!!"
My jaw dropped.
This senile old hag wasn't stopping them—she was pouring oil on the fire?
And only two days to prepare?
No strategy, no tactics, no supply plans—just writing wills and charging in. What a madhouse party.
I scrubbed my face with both hands.
"Haa... Warriors or shamans... they're all the same."
And then Magra dropped the final blow.
"Kel Bark will lead you at the forefront!"
"!!!"
For a split second, I felt a fierce urge to spin her jaw around.
"Kel Bark!! Tahu!!"
"Kel Bark!! Tahu!!"
The chant that had made my heart race just yesterday now felt like the maw of a serpent tightening around my lifeline.
The mad banquet finally ended, and I barely made it back to my tent.
"Hoo..."
I slumped onto the bed and dry-washed my face.
'...I want to go home.'
In two days, war.
And I, the "Wolf King," had to stand at the vanguard as a sword—and axe—magnet.
Should I run?
But outside the tent, Karack stood guard with his piercing blue eyes wide open.
In this barren southern wilderness I didn't know, venturing out alone would mean getting caught by the Yagur tribe and turned into a human drum—or becoming a monster's meal. Obvious as day.
'There has to be a way.'
I racked my brain desperately.
Suddenly, memories from back then surfaced.
The Lovensia Ducal House.
The ironclad family guarding the empire's southern gateway.
How much blood and sweat had I poured in to become a regular servant there?
Cleaning and laundry alone wouldn't make you head butler.
Southern geography, ecology, monster types—everything useful to the ducal house. I'd studied so hard I might as well have eaten the books.
'There is a way. Think.'
My one advantage.
Instead of regretting what was done, I struggled to fix it somehow.
Tens of thousands of ideas flashed through my mind.
The south had lots of toxic plants—use poison?
Ambush using terrain?
Or lure monsters and pull a "let's all die together"?
Haa... So this was the weight of a crown without the pleasures.
I preferred the opposite.
As I groaned, wrestling with the insanely tangled survival equation...
Ssshh—
The tent flap lifted, and someone entered.
"I'm busy, Karack. Get out."
I issued the eviction notice in a sharp tone.
If that guy was here to spout nonsense like "Kel Bark, can I sleep with you!?", I was really going to lose it.
But it wasn't the hulking barbarian warrior who entered.
"......"
I was at a loss for words.
Beneath the soft moonlight, a face emerged.
A beauty who didn't fit this blood-and-sweat-stinking den of savagery at all.
Braided reddish-brown hair. Mystical amber eyes like embedded jewels.
If not for the crude bone necklace around her neck and the revealing leather outfit, she could pass for a lady of the imperial high society.
I swallowed dryly without realizing.
'What? There's a beauty like this in the tribe?'
She stood with arms crossed, looking down at me with pitiful disdain.
"Are you insane?"
"...What?"
Half-familiar from the start, with insults no less.
"Even if you can't grasp the situation, how do you just declare war like that? The Yagur have three times our numbers. It's not a fight—it's marching to slaughter."
I let out a hollow laugh.
First "normal" thinking I'd heard since dropping into this tribe.
"Who are you to badmouth a stranger?"
"Aila. Next shaman of the tribe, and Magra Auntie's niece."
Niece? Not grandniece? Was that granny younger than she looked?
Or maybe she was a stunning beauty in her youth—some backstory like that.
Aila strode over and plopped down on the table in front of me.
"So. Did you have a plan when you stirred this up?"
Her eyes were sharp, like she was testing me.
"You know you can talk to me like that? I'm Kel Bark."
Aila snorted.
"Ha! Noble wolf blood we haven't seen in 20 years? You might not know, but the tribe's shaman clan has the right to give the Kel Bark proper advice. Even if it's an insult."
Hmm.
Made sense. Letting idiots like Karack run wild would bankrupt the tribe in days.
So, king's advisor position?
That changed things.
I came clean.
"I was just trying to go barter."
"Barter?"
"Yeah. Trade meat for some water. Peacefully. But the tribe jumped straight to 'war!' and hit the accelerator."
Aila pressed her forehead in disbelief at my words.
"Haa... Barter. Are you really Kel Bark? More like some herbivore mentality."
"What?"
"In the south, you talk with blades. Show weakness, and they'll chew you to the bone."
'These ignorant bastards.'
My insides burned. Frustration dried my throat.
"...Got any booze?"
"Booze now?"
"Can't endure sober. If you have some, give it here. Not that swamp water from the banquet."
Aila glared, then pulled a leather pouch from her bosom.
She rummaged in her waist pouch and grabbed a few leaves.
Layering the leaves into a funnel, she poured booze through.
Glug—
The thick, murky mare's milk booze filtered clear and transparent into the cup.
Finally, she took out a small vial and dropped a purple droplet in.
Whoosh—
The nauseating stench vanished, filling the tent with a fragrant aroma.
"Drink. Better than gulping it raw."
I lifted the cup to my lips like enchanted.
"...!!"
My eyes flew wide.
Smooth down the throat. Sweet yet spicy aroma coating the mouth.
High proof, but that only enhanced it now.
This was top-shelf.
I hadn't drunk much expensive stuff, but I knew instantly.
"Tastes good."
"Hmph, obviously. I refined it."
Aila sniffed proudly.
I set the cup down and stared piercingly.
This wasn't shaman nonsense.
Tech to remove foul odors and neutralize toxins.
This was knowledge.
"How'd you make this booze?"
"Obviously. Base is that tasteless Busenrak..."
She added casually.
"First filter with Ashubark leaves. Then mix in venom essence from desert fire ants."
"Filter with leaves, drop in bug juice..."
Wait. Ashubark leaves...?
"That's poison ivy, right? Planning to assassinate me?"
"Poison's use matters. Desert fire ants are venomous too. Mix 'em, totally different result."
"Then couldn't we grind those Ashubark leaves and dump 'em in the Yagur oasis?"
The poison tactic I'd pondered earlier.
With an advisor, I probed lightly.
But Aila shot it down flat.
"Absolutely not. Get caught doing that in a sacred tribal territory war, even Kel Bark can't escape punishment."
"Don't get caught?"
"I heard you?"
"...You won't tell?"
Aila sighed.
"It's about tribal pride and honor. All those Yagur poisoned? Obvious sabotage. Who else? Worst case, tribesfolk might commit ritual suicide over sullied honor. Karack especially."
"No evidence?"
"Think these people need evidence?"
Ah, right. I hadn't thought that far.
Savages who tear people apart on suspicion alone—what was I expecting?
Man, strict.
Win and done—poison gets you punished.
"So only dumb full-frontal assault?"
"Unless you can beat the Yagur chieftain in single combat, yeah."
She's crazy...
Word was he was Karack's level. Me versus that monster one-on-one?
That instant.
A lightning insight flashed in my mind.
'Wait... one-on-one?'
I urgently asked Aila.
"When I came here, Quest Master said something weird?"
Definitely during the standoff with Karack and Quest Master.
Something about "think a couple tattoos will stop me?"
"So?"
"Tattoos make you stronger?"
Aila nodded plainly.
"If the earth's blood flows in you."
I cut her off, shouting eagerly.
"You're a shaman. Can you tattoo me?"
Aila replied hesitantly.
"I could, but without earth's blood, shock might kill you. And you think a mere level 1 'Scars' will beat the Yagur chieftain?"
Her latter words already fell on deaf ears.
"It makes me stronger anyway, right?"
I'd read about it studying the south.
Southern barbarians unlocked potential by etching tattoos one by one.
Central continent folk couldn't, of course.
But me?
Magra and Kal Kar certified noble royal direct descendant, "Kel Bark."
"Y-yeah, somewhat... But to beat the Yagur chieftain, need level 3 or higher. Honestly, if your pathetic body can even handle level 3 Scars..."
My lips curled into a sly grin.
Overwhelming troop disparity.
Only two days left.
The answer was single combat.
The unsolvable equation began unraveling with one variable.
I downed the remaining booze in one gulp and looked at Aila.
"Aila."
"W-why stare like that? Creepy."
She flinched back at my ominous smile.
I set the empty cup down with a clink and declared.
"Tattoo me. Right now."
"Right now?"
"Yeah."
"No, what'd you hear? I said you could die!"
"Don't need much. Level 1's enough. I can definitely handle level 1, right?"
"Well, yes, but..."
"Kel Bark's command. Start now."
"Ugh..."
Aila couldn't outright defy Kel Bark's order, it seemed.
"Fine. I'll do it. But don't blame me if you die."
I grinned and stripped off my upper shirt.
"Don't worry. I won't blame you."
I knew it too.
A mere level 1 tattoo wouldn't let me crush the Yagur chieftain by force.
Even so, I was certain.
This would be my sole lifeline to survive in this savage land.