The Steppe's Hero (3) — Chapter 2 Side Story
Asmur had asked me to spar with her.
“You want my help?”
Asmur tilted her head, checking with surprise. She must have been puzzled why she’d sought out not Aruk but me, the spearman.
“I’m actually quite skilled with the blade…”
“Ah, that’s not it.”
I explained the situation. I had asked Asmur specifically because of Orthros.
“To sharpen my ability to face the spear this time.”
“I see.”
There was no one better suited to the task than her.
She was, after all, the spear master whom Ashtien herself had recognized as the finest in the tribe.
“Understood. Since you asked, Vesta-nim.”
Asmur accepted my request without hesitation.
—It was a request from the one who saved me.
There was no way she could refuse. She owed me a debt of gratitude.
Rahan, who was as close to her as one with a shared body and heart, carried an even greater burden.
I hoped to repay it in some small way.
If that incident had never happened, Asmur would have turned down my request.
It had nothing to do with her being difficult. It was simply who she was.
She was closer to a hunter than a warrior, and hunters did not casually display their weapons.
“I will assist you thoroughly.”
Asmur’s eyes sparkled with determination.
*
“His skill is considerable, it seems.”
“The Empire has recognized him as well.”
Asmur nodded, then asked about Orthros.
“What length of spear does he use? What is the shape of the spearhead? How much does it curve?”
“The length is about this…”
Asmur spoke in her usual serious tone, without a trace of humor, beginning to dissect Orthros.
It was almost her occupational disease.
To hunt, you had to understand the prey’s habits first, had you not?
Vesta himself was an excellent analyst, but Asmur’s dissection was more thorough.
“What about his spear technique?”
“It’s unique. First, his body is quite unusual.”
I described Orthros’s impossible physical features. Asmur, ever the hunter, was startled by the rarity of both the physique and the spear art.
“Beyond imagination.”
A spear master who could move at full power for tens of minutes. A true rival.
Vesta moved his own body to explain Orthros’s style. Asmur watched with sharp, narrowed eyes.
“Now, shall we try matching?”
“Yes. I’ll prepare.”
Vesta and Asmur stood facing each other. Since Asmur held the spear, the distance felt different from usual.
‘This isn’t familiar territory for me.’
Facing a spearman was familiar. But Asmur wasn’t a typical spear master.
‘It’s farther.’
Thanks to her long arms. The longer the arms, the greater the reach.
‘This way, distance judgment will be difficult.’
Considering her trained body, the spear’s speed was close to that of an arrow.
The moment distance was misjudged, it would mean losing my life to Asmur’s spear.
Vesta felt, for a split second, the same instinct as a prey animal facing a hunter.
It was not quite the same as the terror of standing before a bear or wolf.
This was a more complete death.
‘I feel like I’m in the arena.’
—Rather, it’s thrilling.
Vesta’s mind sharpened instantly.
Asmur changed her stance and distance as if tuning a bow, just like she was preparing to copy Orthros’s spear.
“Is this stance acceptable?”
The posture had completely changed.
“It’s good.”
“I understand.”
The sparring match began. Asmur had the initiative. She controlled the distance. She thrust her spear forward.
“…!”
Shick—
Vesta reacted.
‘The preparation is smaller. Hard to notice, that spear.’
Vesta did not twist his body. He only tilted his neck slightly.
The blunt tip of the reversed spear pierced straight in front of Vesta’s brow.
A spark of admiration flashed in Asmur’s eyes.
—That level of talent. Good eyes.
“Your distance sense is excellent.”
Asmur immediately withdrew her spear. It recoiled as if sucked back.
‘Here it comes.’
Bang!
A fierce flurry. Asmur’s interpretation of Orthros’s spear. Vesta swung his blade.
Clang. Somehow he stowed the spear. At the same moment, he drove inward.
To beat the spear, the blade wielder had to disarm it. If successful, even the spear master would have a chance.
It was a race between the spear master’s speed of recovery and the blade master’s penetration speed.
Asmur withdrew the spear without changing expression.
She raised the rhythm. Exactly like Orthros.
Clang!
Vesta hurried to block. Asmur was clearly a specialist. While recovering the spear, she used her forelegs to create distance.
As Vesta approached, Asmur retreated and hurled the spear endlessly.
‘It really is like Orthros.’
Vesta moved not to break the spear but to receive and analyze. His eyes darted, yet his hand and blade never stopped.
—like raindrops being cut one by one.
“Hoow—”
It was not a match to decide a winner, so Vesta and Asmur paused even when they weren’t touching, offering advice freely.
For higher completion.
“Pierce a little harder.”
“Understood. Please watch the lower half, Vesta-nim.”
“Ah, the lower part is empty. I’ll pay closer attention.”
Surprisingly, they matched well.
Vesta, who wanted to remember every small habit of a giant-slaying warrior no matter how small, and Asmur, who wanted to understand every detail of a hunted animal.
The two had lived in remarkably similar ways.
‘Asmur is also adjusting well.’
Asmur was an excellent instructor. She was closer to a good coach than a good teacher.
As long as time and stamina allowed, she wanted to keep going without stopping.
Hoow—
Her breath was hot. Her head began to spin.
Vesta took out salt and chewed it.
Sparring with a small body meant using more stamina.
“…That’s enough for now.”
Asmur withdrew her spear.
“Yes. Hoow. I hope I haven’t taken too much of your time.”
“Not at all. If you ever need help, come anytime.”
Asmur smiled as she said she would spar with him in the future.
“I have to take care of Rahan. I’ll be going.”
“Yes. Thank you for sparring with me.”
Asmur left. With no one to notice, Vesta collapsed onto the ground.
“Hoow. I wish I had another heart.”
Thinking of the gladiators who once ruled the arena, most had possessed good physical conditions.
Tall frames, long arms. Very rarely, people with two hearts.
None of those traits had belonged to Vesta.
[That’s why you’re special, kid.]
“Special, huh.”
Vesta expressed his dissatisfaction and closed his eyes.
Just for a little rest.
*
Haljjak—
“…What?”
Vesta blinked sleepily and looked around.
Huff huff—
A puppy, no, a baby werewolf, stuck out its tongue and panted.
“You’re awake.”
“Ahor?”
“You slept on the muddy ground. That’s dangerous.”
Ahor scolded me for wanting to be bitten by a werewolf.
“A werewolf…”
Vesta lifted the nearby baby werewolf and spoke.
“So it was a werewolf that came.”
Kyuwoong—
—He’s heavy. He’s grown a lot.
It wasn’t exactly praiseworthy.
As Ushun had said, before winter came he would show his wild side.
Huff huff—
This small creature was going to betray Ahor’s devotion. Was it truly about to eat a human?
—He’s so cute.
“Fluffy.”
The baby werewolf wriggled, fluffy and adorable.
“Vesta-nim isn’t so harmless either.”
Ahor took the puppy’s side. Vesta, feeling embarrassed, half-rose.
‘Right, I do look ridiculous.’
I had immediately collapsed after intense exercise.
“Ahor.”
Ahor handed over a leather pouch. It seemed prepared just for me.
“It’s not the kind the pups used, right?”
“Ha. Return it.”
“Just kidding, just kidding.”
While apologizing to Ahor, I tilted the leather pouch.
“Eh? This is milk?”
It had a salty taste unlike ordinary milk.
“Camel’s milk.”
“Ah, so this is camel milk.”
Because camels give birth only once every two years, their milk was precious.
‘The time the calf is in arms is nearly a year, and it drinks the milk for nearly a year.’
Camel milk was a rare drink available only in summer when the calf was old enough.
“Wow. So it tastes like this.”
The salty, soft flavor was perfect.
Vesta’s eyes widened. Ahor chuckled at the sight.
“It’s because it’s summer.”
Ahor extended her hand. It wasn’t to return the pouch.
“They say it’s going to rain. The elves told me.”
—Better get back before getting drenched.
“Baatar-nim.”
Vesta grabbed her hand and stood.