The Archery Festival: Arrows That Defy the Hunter
The archers of the grasslands, the strongest warriors in the entire steppe, were gathered here.
“Is the Khan of the Wilderness really the archer we heard about?”
One centaur warrior, who had entered the archery contest, was chatting while stringing his bow.
He was a young centaur, and his personality seemed rather cocky.
“*Hmm.*”
The one who answered was also a young centaur warrior. His expression was the opposite—calm and composed.
Given the nature of his bow, someone calm was likely an outstanding archer.
“I honestly think the rumors are exaggerated.”
“Are all those many rumors fake?”
“I’m not saying they’re completely fake. Maybe in the past he was really as great as the rumors said. But he’s been Khan for a while now, right? What reason would the Khan have to fight with a bow? His skill must have slipped.”
The centaur warriors laughed dryly, doubting the Khan’s abilities. The composed man did not agree with their words.
“I hope you’re wrong.”
“What? Weren’t you participating because you wanted to beat the Khan?”
“Yes.”
“If the opponent is weak, it’s easy to win, isn’t it?”
The centaur’s voice came back harshly. The man frowned.
*Is he really just this weak?*
Killing a weak opponent—does it mean anything at all? It’s like a sick chicken pecking at a chicken’s neck.
The man replied coldly.
“I want to defeat the legendary archer, not some mediocre has-been.”
His eyes shone like the tips of arrows, sharp and piercing. He stared straight at Ashtien.
“Really? So we’re different. As long as I’m the one getting attention, whether it’s the Khan of the Wilderness or anyone else, it doesn’t matter.”
The dry man chuckled with a sinister smile.
*
The archery festival was not just about hitting a distant target.
For centaurs who valued practical archery, a stationary target received no better evaluation than a mere practice tool.
The opponents were not standing still. They were never just observers. They were always desperate and alert.
While watching the centaurs, Vesta asked,
“What’s the format?”
“One person steps forward at a time and displays their archery skills freely.”
*Freely.* There seemed to be no fixed targets.
“Hitting a flying bird, or bringing in any other target you prepared. It doesn’t matter. As long as you show skills that others can’t imitate.”
“Preparation will be important.”
He had explained it, but without seeing it himself, it was hard to understand.
The participants stepped forward one by one, showing off their archery.
Since there were no fixed rules, all kinds of archers appeared.
Some brought huge bows and shot arrows beyond the distant hill.
Others released deer and closed the distance in one shot.
There was even one who hit a flying bird, as Ah or had described.
He had his subordinate release a pre-caught bird into the sky, and he himself captured the exact moment the bird took flight to shoot.
The bird exploded in mid-air. The scattered feathers created a spectacular sight.
To Vesta, it was a magnificent display. Ah or nodded in approval. Among the grasslands, that was considerable skill.
“Not bad.”
Ah or was watching intently. Seeing her, Vesta teased,
“Can you do something like that too, Ah or?”
Ah or chuckled.
“I was planning to participate as well.”
If Ah or said that, it meant she had a lot of confidence.
“You’re wrong to suspect me.”
“*Aigoo.* I wasn’t doubting you that much.”
While chit-chatting with her, the order flowed quickly.
“What are they going to show next?”
“Haha, just watch straight.”
A rather dry laugh, but he looked supremely confident.
Glancing at Ashtien, who was last in line, seemed like he was one of the many who wanted to beat her.
“Empty dreams.”
“Arrogant.”
Both Vesta and Ah or growled at the same time.
“Tsk. You should have seen Ashtien shoot once before making that comment. Overstepping.”
“That’s right.”
“Let’s see how much skill matches that confidence.”
Vesta watched the man with a slightly sideways gaze.
“Bring him!”
“…What?”
From somewhere, servants led an orc. The sudden appearance of the orc caused the crowd to stir.
The man seemed to enjoy the reaction.
“How long are you going to catch birds and hunt deer? Bringing things you can’t even kill to people’s faces.”
“Isn’t that…?”
The man explained with a booming voice.
“Don’t misunderstand. Anyway, that orc was already going to be beheaded, so it’s fine.”
Even after his words, the atmosphere did not settle.
“Just watch. I’m giving this guy one chance. Here—take this.”
The man handed the orc a knife, bow, and quiver.
“*What’s he doing?*”
Whether people were surprised or not, the man steadily continued.
“I’ll use only my bow and one arrow. That should make it fair.”
“A stubborn bastard.”
Ah or, who had never seen this kind of situation, frowned.
The orc warrior, whether he was accepting death or not, looked unusually calm. It felt that way.
Surrounded by hundreds of centaur warriors, showing such composure required no ordinary mental strength.
*The face is hidden by the wrap.*
But to the man, that composure seemed more like hesitation born from not being able to endure fear. He mocked the orc.
“Even calling yourself a blue wolf and looking terrified—there’s nothing to it. Listen. If you succeed in killing me, you’ll become a free man. That’s what my family and I promise.”
Finally the orc equipped himself. The centaur laughed and stepped back.
“Haha! No one else will show this kind of spectacle at the festival.”
*This guy’s hopeless.*
The centaur warrior seemed to have almost certain victory in his mind.
*Maybe not.*
One of his servants announced the start of the duel with a loud voice.
The centaur drew his arrow. The orc still hadn’t moved.
“Why? Do you want to die like this?”
“*Hmph.*”
The orc moved. His footwork was good—actually, outstanding.
Of course, not as good as a centaur with four legs and hooves.
“What? Why are you standing still?”
Is it because of pride? Even as the orc approached, the centaur focused only on aiming, not retreating.
*This guy is so confident. Is there really something?*
The distance was now close enough. Time to release. Vesta clenched his fist.
*Now!*
“Die—!”
Ping—
The arrow flew straight toward the orc’s forehead. With patient waiting, a perfectly straight trajectory, no deviation.
The arrow would pierce the orc’s skull and end it cleanly.
*Thud—*
“Ah.”
The orc extended his arm and blocked the forehead. His wrist was cleanly pierced.
Because the wrist was pierced first, the forehead was safe. More precisely, it avoided a fatal penetration.
In other words, the orc survived.
The centaur had wasted his only chance.
Startled, he reached for his waist. Unlike before, his retreating stance looked desperate.
Unable to contain himself, Vesta shouted.
“Pull it out! What are you doing?!”
Whick—
The orc picked up the knife he had been holding and threw it. It flew like an axe and embedded deep into the man’s wrist.
He could no longer pull the knife out.
“Ah…”
Finally the orc grabbed his bow. His arrow-drawing speed was extraordinary.
Phew-yung.
“*Ugh!*”
The arrow stabbed into his neck with a thud. The centaur staggered and collapsed to the ground.
“…?”
*What? Is he dead?*
*Is it real?*
Vesta’s mouth fell open. The crowd’s reaction was no different.
“I’ll kill you—!”
A centaur warrior with flashy armor stepped out from the crowd. His appearance was like a raging storm. Ah or sighed.
“Oh dear. It’s the son of the Kairan clan head. The deceased must be the clan head’s son.”
In other words, the son and heir had been killed.
*Is he the successor…?*
Ah or nodded silently.
*What an absurd thing.*
“…That’s right.”
The grief of the Kairan clan head, who had lost his son and heir, was beyond imagination. He looked as if he would trample and kill everything in his path.
*I should have stopped him earlier.*
He swallowed the words without saying them aloud.
The orc’s bow was aimed at the Kairan clan head. This archer had good composure.
But the eyes were bloodshot. He was charging like a warhorse. Arrows or whatever, he rushed forward desperately.
Even if hit, he would not stop. *Kung.* The sound of the clan head kicking the ground made the earth tremble.