Chapter 25
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: The Nomads' Grand Debut (2)
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One month later, on the northern plains.
A bonfire blazed at the Kuman Tribe's outpost camp.
"The Imperial Army has a new commander."
A scout knelt as he reported.
"Lately, he's been personally patrolling the supply routes and wiping out our raiding parties."
"And?"
The hands sharpening the axe blade didn't stop. Kuulruk, the great warrior of the Kuman Tribe. The man didn't even glance at the scout as he honed his edge.
"But that commander... he's the son of the southern great chieftain. Ten years old."
Only then did his hands pause.
"What? Ten?"
"Yes. They say he's a little silver-haired kid."
Kuulruk snickered.
"A ten-year-old as legion commander. The southerners must be in their end times."
"He's the son of the southern great chieftain's favorite concubine."
"So they handed a legion to a whelp who hasn't even been weaned? Heh. I thought the southern great chieftain might be different, but he's the same after all. Doesn't know the value of his own child."
The scout tilted his head.
"What do you mean?"
"If he cherished the boy, he'd keep him close. Why send him to the battlefield? It's practically begging us to kidnap him."
Kuulruk's lips slowly curled up.
"Wonder how much ransom we could get. Ten thousand gold? No, as the son of his favorite concubine... we might squeeze out even more."
"Will you capture him?"
"Of course. If he's the son that southern great chieftain treasures—"
"Then you'll ascend to Swordmaster realm too?"
"Exactly. Then all of you can rise in rank as well."
Great warrior.
In southern terms, an 'Expert.'
Kuulruk had reached that realm at twenty. His origins were humble, but his talent was real.
Over the next twenty years.
Through grueling training soaked in blood, he'd climbed to the upper ranks among great warriors.
But he couldn't breach the next wall.
He needed an elixir. Something a man of lowly birth couldn't afford without amassing a fortune.
That was why the silver-haired boy was his golden opportunity.
"Capture the southern great chieftain's son. Buy an elixir with the ransom. Ascend to Swordmaster. Then I could even aim for the great chieftain's seat among the Kuman, don't you think?"
He too would gain fine medicine that way.
"Just like the southern great chieftain. Quite the tale."
"Indeed."
Kuulruk laughed.
That great chieftain in the south hadn't started as one either.
His origins were humble too.
He'd risen solely through his own martial prowess and battlefield merits.
What was there to hide?
The southern great chieftain Walter was precisely the role model Kuulruk aspired to.
Kidnap the role model's son, claim ransom, break through to the next realm.
A twinge of unease stirred in one corner of his heart, but in this situation, it was clearly the best plan.
"Still, be careful. That kid has a terrible reputation. Rumors say he led knights to annihilate over a thousand orcs without a single casualty."
He flicked the forehead of the subordinate who'd spoken.
"Ow, you idiot. You believe that? Why give a post to a boy with no merits unless it's a fabricated tale?"
"My apologies."
"So where's this little general operating?"
"Around the Remun Plateau."
"Remun Plateau?"
Kuulruk's eyes narrowed.
"Is something wrong?"
"...Nothing."
"The southerners are fools. Their last legion commander died like that, and now they do it again?"
"You got that right."
His men laughed.
But Kuulruk didn't.
Remun Plateau.
He knew its terrain like the back of his hand.
Three canyons branching out. Five ridges. Boulders everywhere.
More than a few spots perfect for ambushes.
It could be a trap.
Odds about fifty-fifty.
But he saw no need to voice it to his men.
Kuulruk stared into the bonfire.
The flames flickered.
If not now, the chance might never come.
Above all.
'He's just a ten-year-old brat.'
Kuulruk thought.
If the new commander had been around twenty, he'd have proceeded more cautiously.
As the son of that southern great chieftain, he might have something extraordinary about him.
But just ten years old.
What could a ten-year-old do?
A whelp not even weaned.
And he knew the caliber of the southern forces around here all too well.
The late Gerhardt.
A man who'd reached the upper tiers of great warrior, like Kuulruk.
But a wild boar who only knew how to charge.
Dangle bait, and he'd rush in without a second thought.
When fifteen warriors ambushed from all sides, his face finally registered the trap in panicked realization.
It had been laughably easy prey.
And the 'advisors' he kept around were even worse. Hired just to give spots to the local Ho Clan.
Chosen by bloodline, not skill.
No way he'd fall to such rabble.
Even if it was a trap, he could just smash through.
Remun Plateau.
Kuulruk lay prone atop a ridge, peering down.
Three wagons, escorted by fewer than fifty troops. A small number, but their presence wasn't ordinary. Most were great warrior class. Experts, in southern terms.
'Not bad.'
But that was it.
He'd brought over a hundred men. Thirty great warriors among them. An overwhelming force disparity.
Above all.
'There he is.'
Silver hair gleamed through the central wagon's window. Sparkling in the sunlight. No doubt about it. The southern great chieftain's son.
"Attack."
At his low command, a hundred warriors surged over the ridge in unison. Hoofbeats shook the earth, and war cries erupted.
"Raaargh!"
The escorts reacted. Drew swords, formed ranks, and... fled?
Kuulruk couldn't believe his eyes. The guards, mostly great warriors, didn't fight—they abandoned the wagons and ran.
"...What?"
It was absurd. He knew southern knights were cowards, but this? Abandoning their lord. Even with numerical disadvantage.
'All that knightly honor talk, and this is what it comes to.'
Kuulruk snickered. Too easy. Laughably so.
The three wagons sat abandoned. The knights had fled with the horses, leaving them immobile.
"Surround them."
Warriors encircled the wagons.
Kuulruk dismounted and strode slowly to the central one.
Standing before the door, he sensed faint trembling inside. Terrified breaths. His lips curled.
He opened the door.
A silver-haired youth was there.
No, a girl? The features were too delicate.
Southerners had fine faces, but for a ten-year-old boy, it was excessive.
She cradled a black cat in her arms. Stroking its back with trembling hands, while the cat remained calm. Golden eyes looked up at Kuulruk.
'Cute little thing.'
Kuulruk thought. Both the kid and the cat.
Capture this one, and ten thousand gold was his. Maybe more. If he negotiated well as the cherished concubine's child, even twenty thousand. Enough to buy an elixir and have change left.
Swordmaster realm. Within reach.
"Don't be scared, little one. I won't kill you."
He stopped.
Something was off. The youth's face. An eyepatch over one eye.
'Eyepatch?'
New information. If the southern great chieftain's son were one-eyed, rumors would have spread. But none ever had.
In that instant, the girl smirked.
"Gotcha."
Pssshhh.
Pink powder burst from all directions. Pink mist filled the air. Sweet scent—like flowers or fruit.
In that moment, mana throughout his body froze.
He tried to move. Couldn't. Not even a finger.
'What... is this...?'
Mana blocker.
A deadly poison that temporarily paralyzes human mana circuits.
It lasted mere seconds at most, but in superhuman battles, seconds were eternity. In a world where swords clashed twenty times in 0.1 seconds, five seconds meant dozens dead.
To resist without side effects required Swordmaster in the Empire, or what the plains called Swordmaster realm.
Kuulruk hadn't reached it.
Thirty great warriors froze in unison. Surrounding the wagons. On horseback or dismounted. Like statues.
'Damn it...!'
He gritted his teeth. But this was a small mercy. Within the powder's range, enemies couldn't move either. Poison treated friend and foe equally.
So right now, stalemate. Once it wore off, fight again. Numbers still favored them overwhelmingly.
The problem was those who'd bolted.
'Fifty escort knights who fled. If they're still in range and use ranged weapons... But...'
Kuulruk glanced at the silver-haired girl in the wagon.
If she truly was the chieftain's blood, they wouldn't shoot arrows with her there.
...Wait.
Was she even real?
Eyepatch. Unmentioned in rumors.
'What if she's a fake? A body double? A trap from the start? Shit.'
He could barely move his eyes. He scanned the wagon again. Silver-haired girl. Eyepatch on left eye. Smirking lips. And the black cat in her arms.
The cat was growing. No, transforming. Fur vanishing, limbs elongating, face turning human.
'...Catfolk?'
Shapeshifting required mana. To transform in this poison, and so fluidly.
'No way...'
Realization dawned.
This poison paralyzed human mana circuits.
Humans only.
Before the thought finished, a black shadow blotted his vision.
A heavy blow crashed into his head.
And with that, he blacked out.