Chapter 5
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Territory War (1)
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"Begin."
At my command, Aila let out a sigh so deep it seemed like the ground itself might cave in.
"You sure you won't regret this?"
"Cut the chatter. We don't have time."
Grumbling under her breath, she dipped a bone needle generously into ink as dark as the abyss.
"You do know this isn't just some drawing, right? It's the Grom Kel tribe's secret rite, 'Scars of the Wolf'."
"Fancy name. Scars of the Wolf?"
"That's right. It's a ritual that forcibly etches the power of the earth into the body. It consists of seven stages."
Aila held the dripping needle tip right in front of my eyes.
"Stage one is your dominant arm. Stage two, the other arm. Then legs, back, chest... and the final seventh stage is the heart."
Her amber eyes grew deadly serious.
"The higher the stage, the stronger the body and the mental fortitude needed to endure the pain. If someone unqualified gets greedy, their body can't handle the power and bursts apart, killing them."
The words "bursts apart" made me flinch.
"...Bursts apart?"
"Yes. Even the previous Kel Bark nearly died screaming for three days and nights when he got the scars on his chest at stage six."
I swallowed hard.
This carried more risk than I'd thought.
But Aila's next words piqued my interest.
"The payoff was worth it, though. With just six stages, he led the tribe to its greatest prosperity. There's even a legend that he overwhelmed the Imperial Knight Commander, who was called the empire's strongest, in a one-on-one duel."
"Hooh..."
An Imperial Knight Commander was a swordmaster-level monster.
And he overwhelmed one.
Then what kind of power would the final seventh stage, etched into the heart, grant?
My chest swelled with excitement.
But.
'That's for later.'
I decided to think realistically.
I wasn't attempting stage six right now—just stage one.
If the previous king barely survived stage six, stage one should just be a sharp sting at worst.
"Alright. Thanks for the explanation. Etch stage one on my right arm."
"...You're fearless. You could actually die, you know?"
"Why would I die? You think I'm doing stage six? Just get on with it."
I rolled up my shirt sleeve and added,
"Oh, and."
"What now?!"
"Did you sterilize the needle? Heat it over fire. If I get tetanus, it's on you."
"Teta-what? What are you even talking about?"
"Doesn't matter if you don't know. Just heat it over fire."
Aila grumbled as she gathered her tools, then began drawing geometric patterns on the ground. They looked just like a magic circle.
"Here we go. Don't move or yell no matter how much it hurts."
"Can I talk?"
"That's fine."
"Got it. Proceed."
Stab!
Without warning, the needle plunged into my shoulder.
"Ugh!"
It burned like flesh searing away. But it wasn't unbearable.
Yeah, someone like me—who survived rolling in the back alleys like a dog—could handle this much.
"You're holding up better than I expected. It hurts pretty bad."
Scritch, scritch.
The chilling friction of the needle digging into flesh filled the tent.
The pain was one thing, but something else was really grating on my nerves.
"Hold on, stop. That line's crooked."
"......"
"The wolf's tooth angle is off. Adjust it 0.5mm to the right."
Aila's hand trembled with rage.
"Tattoos are done by feel! With inspiration!"
"Feel, my ass. If it's asymmetrical, the power leaks out, right?"
"It doesn't leak!"
"My vibe leaks! Draw it straight. I can't stand crooked lines."
After that little commotion...
"It's done..."
Aila set down the needle with hollow eyes.
I checked my shoulder in the reflection from a water jug instead of a mirror.
"Oh..."
Perfect.
Symmetrical to within 0.1mm error.
A lifelike, intricately detailed wolf pattern.
Among all the kings of Grom Kel's history, I was probably the first to have such a clean, flawless tattoo.
"You've got talent."
"Haa... It's not fully done yet. Stand straight in the center there."
I did as Aila instructed.
She began chanting an incantation in an unknown tongue.
"[Unknown incantation]"
Then,
Vrrr—
the magic circle on the floor glowed, resonating with the tattoo on my shoulder as it blazed red.
'Amazing.'
Once the chant ended, the vivid wolf pattern on my right arm sank into my skin as if it had never been there and vanished.
"It activates during battle. Remember that. The tattoo isn't omnipotent. When you're exhausted or out of stamina, it fades and the power disappears."
I'd expected as much.
Karack must have had tattoos too, but they weren't visible normally.
I clenched and unclenched my fist.
It definitely felt different.
Like an extra engine had been installed in my body—heavy power surged up from deep in my muscles.
So this was the power of stage one.
'This is plenty.'
I stood and approached the 'Kel Kar' in the corner of the tent.
The tense moment.
I swallowed dryly and gripped the sword's hilt.
'Please...!'
"Hah!!"
With a shout, I poured strength into my arm.
Grrrind—!
Amid the screech of metal scraping the floor, the massive greatsword rose into the air.
"...It worked."
It still felt heavy, but I could wield it now, no problem.
Swinging it freely was a pipe dream, but I could make do somehow.
Preparations complete.
I grinned and turned to Aila.
"Gather everyone. Time for a strategy meeting."
A short while later, in the king's tent.
The tribe's key figures had gathered.
Shaman Magra, great warrior Karack, and Aila.
One more.
"Gree...tings. Hunt... captain... Batu."
A man draped in wolf pelt, twin daggers of bone at his waist.
Unlike his sinister gaze, he spoke with excruciating slowness.
But I couldn't ignore him.
The stench of blood wafting from him was thicker than Karack's.
'Assassin type. Rare fighting style among barbarians.'
I nodded in greeting.
"Good to meet you, Batu. Magra, status report."
Magra pointed her staff at the map drawn on the floor.
"Our Grom Kel warriors number 127 in total."
"And the enemy?"
"The Yagur tribe's warriors... we estimate 388."
"Ha."
I let out a hollow laugh.
127 against 388.
Over three times as many.
And they were well-fed around oases, battle-hardened. We were starving refugees.
This was egg meeting rock.
I crossed my arms and asked,
"One thing I'm curious about. How exactly does this territory war proceed? In what order?"
"Order, you say?"
"Yeah. They don't just charge in and brawl like dogs the moment they meet. There must be some rules."
Magra nodded at my question.
"Of course. The sacred territory war has three procedures passed down from ancient times."
Magra spread three bony fingers.
"First. The warring tribes must declare to the opponent that they intend to wage a territory war."
Hm, so they do proper declarations of war.
"Second?"
"It's the arena to prove the chieftain's bravery. If both leaders step forward to fight, the territory war is settled by a one-on-one duel."
"And if the chieftain wins?"
"The war ends there. The loser's tribe can choose to leave the territory or stay and be absorbed into the victor's tribe."
A rational way to minimize casualties and expand forces.
That might be why they valued bloodlines so much.
With frequent territory wars, mixing of tribe members was inevitable.
"The last is when they skip the one-on-one, right."
"Yes. If either side refuses the trial of honor, both sides immediately commence total war."
"Doesn't refusing the duel tarnish your honor?"
Magra shook her head.
"No. It's seen as noble, letting the warriors earn honor instead of hogging it all for the chieftain."
I stroked my chin after hearing the explanation.
'Tch, fits wherever you hang it.'
A simple all-out brawl, and we'd never overcome three-to-one odds.
But with an 'order' in place, things changed.
The second stage: one-on-one duel.
If I could beat their chieftain there?
No matter how I sliced it, that was the only way.
But.
'Variables always exist.'
The enemy might break the rules, or our guys could get hot-headed and act on their own.
In the back alleys, you always assumed the opponent would cheat to survive.
'I need insurance.'
I tapped the map with a finger.
"Batu."
"Listening..."
"Can you take some guys and set up an ambush?"
"Ambush... what?"
They didn't even know basic tactics.
"Can you hide together? Like when you lie in wait hunting beasts."
Batu's eyes lit up.
"Ah... hunt. That... yes... possible."
"Good. Pick 20 of your nimblest and hide up here, on the cliff above. Treat the Yagur as prey."
I pointed to the cliff top on the map.
Then Magra cried out in horror.
"Ke, Kel Bark? An ambush in the sacred territory war? That's cowardly, against warriors' rules! The ancestors will be enraged!"
"Magra."
I cut her off with an icy glare.
"Cowardly? Rules? Do they feed the tribe?"
"But as proud wolf warriors..."
"Proud?"
I stood and loomed over Magra.
The air in the tent grew heavy.
"Magra. What do you think pride is? Dying honorably and becoming desert fertilizer?"
"Th-that's..."
"I think differently."
I pointed outside the tent, to the tribesfolk sleeping in hunger.
"True pride is feeding and protecting your own, by any means. Is letting children die thirsty without a sip of clean water your idea of honor?"
"......"
Magra shut her mouth. I'd hit the mark.
The other warriors hung their heads, fists clenched.
I drove the nail home.
"How do you think the Empire became the continent's strongest? By polite greetings and fair fights? Hell no. They knew how to win. History is written by victors. And you're on the verge of becoming losers erased from it."
I scanned the room and declared,
"From now on, all Grom Kel wars follow my way. If you want to die honorably, leave now and die alone. But if you want to live and drink water tomorrow morning, follow me. If not, send me back to the Imperial capital right now."
Silence fell.
But it was the silence of the overwhelmed, not rebellion.
'As expected, not sending me back.'
No way it'd be that easy.
I turned back to Batu.
"Batu. Wait there, and if total war breaks out and I signal, rain fire arrows from above."
"...Understood."
Slow speaker, but Batu got it.
"And Karack."
"Speak! Kel Bark!"
"Tell the rest to carry one bottle of Busenrak each."
"Busenrak?"
"Yes. If they break the rules, douse them with it."
Karack's eyes went wide.
"Why waste that on them?! We don't have enough to drink!"
"Not drink, you idiot—fire attack..."
"Fire attack?"
"Yeah. Set it on fire. Just do as I say..."
Orders given, the tent outside buzzed with activity.
Warriors sharpened axes on whetstones; Batu vanished like a shadow.
Alone in the tent, I traced the map with a finger.
The Red Canyon.
A single path.
Perfect spot for a showdown.
Great for archery from above too.
Not flawless, but best we had.
I pulled a cloth from my bosom to polish Kel Kar.
My hands trembled faintly.
Scared? Of course. I wasn't a fighter or hero.
But.
'In the back alleys, you had to go all-in to survive.'
Childhood rolling in the slums.
Fighting big guys for a scrap of bread, selling pride for a warm bed.
Nothing changed now.
Just the stakes were bigger.
'Surviving means betting everything, always.'
I clenched my fist to still the shaking.
This shitty situation? I'd break through my way.
Two days later, the night of the promised territory war.
Swish—
I rose from my seat.
Beyond the tent flap, a blood-red moon hung in the sky.
The time of reckoning.
"Let's go."
I gripped Kel Kar's hilt.
"To claim our water."