Chapter 157
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 161
Chapter Title: Unexpected Appearance
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'Glorious Hoof' tribe warriors burst out of their village, roaring ferociously with bloodshot eyes as if nothing else existed. Every time their bodies trembled with battle spirit, red sparks seemed to fly up.
"They're already in Berserk state."
The trademark skill of barbarian warriors, Berserk.
It grants resistance to all sorts of status effects, makes them unstoppable, and massively inflates their stats—the ace in the hole for any barbarian warrior.
However, it drains life force over time and leaves brutal aftereffects, so it couldn't be used indiscriminately.
"What... is that?"
Charhela, watching the 'Glorious Hoof' barbarian warriors from beside me, gaped in stunned disbelief.
Cold sweat streamed down her face, her eyes blazing with fury that laid bare her utter disbelief and confusion at the scene unfolding before us.
"Yeah... what the hell is it."
Like her, I scowled deeply at the incomprehensible sight.
It was one thing for barbarian warriors to charge out in a berserk frenzy.
Shaman tattoos let them draw on the powers of beasts and monsters—that was par for the course.
But their bodies transcending humanity? That changed everything.
"Werewolves...?"
Up close, their forms were unmistakably inhuman.
Black, thick hides covered head to toe, with protruding snouts, razor-sharp fangs and claws, and reverse-jointed legs built for speed.
Werewolves through and through.
Now reeking of demonic energy to boot.
"...Grr! How dare they... insult a warrior's pride and honor...!?"
Charhela didn't wail in grief. Instead, rage boiled up so fiercely it seemed her hair would stand on end.
Well, that made sense.
A honed physique and techniques drilled in through endless repetition were a warrior's ultimate boast.
To warp that into that form? For Charhela, proud to call herself a barbarian warrior no matter the power gained, it must feel like her entire existence was being denied.
Pazzzzt!Kurururung—!!
Thunder crashed across the wasteland amid blinding lightning, and Charhela appeared before the dazed warriors in an instant.
"Warriors!! Behold those who dare mock us!!"
Before all their eyes, she thrust up her fist, baring her teeth in a savage growl.
"Look at that body! That bloated mass stuffed recklessly with demonic energy! Where's the glory of a warrior in it? Where are the scars of hardship and trial overcome!!"
I couldn't quite share her outrage, but the barbarian warriors? Different story.
They snapped alert, gripped their weapons tight, and fixed killing intent on the werewolves, one after another.
"Look at that demonic energy and those claws! See the wretched fools who toss aside blood-, sweat-, and tear-stained weapons to charge bare-handed!!"
Pazzzzt!Kwarururung—!!
"Where's the honor in that? The pride!! If that's not spitting on warriors, what is? If that's not mocking us, then what!!"
"That's right!! This is an outrage!"
"Battle is a warrior's everything! Wounds are the purpose of a warrior's life!!"
Pounding weapons and shields, stomping the earth to fire up their morale, the barbarian warriors' shaman tattoos blazed in a riot of colors, trailing brilliant afterimages.
"Trample them! Ravish them! Crush with raw power and declare it! Prove it! Power! Overwhelming might! Our way of life!!"
"Kraaaaa!!"
"Kyaaaaaaa!!"
And right on cue, Berserk kicked in.
Hundreds of eyes glowing crimson, bulging overheated muscles, they bellowed with primal fury.
Hot breath billowing, no tactics or formations—just kicking off the ground and charging. Something about it stirred the blood of any man watching.
...Whatever else, their romantic flair was killer.
"Hmm... Murel. You stay put. Everyone else, go back them up. Can't have them wiped out with no cleanup crew."
"Yes, understood."
"Alzen-nim. Should we take point?"
"No. Unknowns behind this—we conserve strength and stamina. Warriors wanna rampage? Let 'em. We just provide light support."
"Understood."
Rebecca nodded, twin blades in hand, and dashed ahead. Nemes, Wendy, Lira, and Kachiora followed swiftly across the wasteland.
Latifi clearly hated leaving my side, peeking glances while sniping from afar.
Uncannily, every arrow nailed a werewolf brow—nothing but admiration.
"...Arpe. Sisili's status?"
"Holy power drained fast, total exhaustion. But body's fine. She'll wake with time."
Arpe, tending Sisili with song and potions, sighed relief and wiped her brow.
True to her word, Sisili looked pale but otherwise okay.
"Good. Still..."
Unease crept in.
That mystery divinity sucking dry Sisili's holy power lurked in 'Glorious Hoof' village. Fighting without a healer now... Our side's strong, but casualties loomed possible.
"Tsk..."
I'd just sworn off the Absolute Ring Set, yet circumstances might force it soon.
Ideally, I'd leisurely pick shaman-tattoo absorption targets... No helping it.
"...?"
Mid-brooding, a blatant stare hit me. Turning, Vivian startled and whipped her head away.
"Uuuh..."
She fidgeted, groaning like she had words dying on her tongue. Uncomfortable to watch.
Wanna talk to her... but is it okay?
"Hey. Alzen."
Weller prodded my shoulder, pouty-faced and chin high in haughty poise.
"What do I do?"
"Sis, standby here. Might need big magic on deck—prep up."
"Hmm. Gotcha."
"Alzen-nim. Me too?"
"Huh? Oh, Pashtra. Yeah. Guard me."
"Yes, sir!"
Pashtra snorted excitedly at the warriors, axe haft slamming ground like she ached to charge—but obeyed with a boom.
Her heaving bosom snagged my gaze a beat... pity, wrong timing.
"—Awooooooo!!"
"Kwaaaaaang!!"
"Kyaaaaak!!"
Kwaduduk!Kragagagak!
Werewolves and warriors, charging headlong without regard for direction, finally collided.
Frenzied roars, horrific rending, flesh and gore spraying wild.
Brutal power, but grimacing was inevitable.
"...No Master-class, and it'd be over."
Shaman tattoos plus Berserk made warriors plenty tough, but werewolves topped that.
Without Charhela and Masters aiding, first clash rout and annihilation.
"Kahahahaha! Power from ditching warrior pride? This all you got!!"
Kwarururung—!!
Having a blast.
Grinning ear-to-ear while butchering werewolves, Charhela thrashed. I scanned the battlefield.
"Hmm..."
Werewolves doubled our numbers easy... but Masters flipped the script.
Warrior losses incoming, sure—but steady fight meant clean win.
Paaaaat!
Then, black beam lanced from 'Glorious Hoof' village skyward.
Eerie chill, like holy power flipped sinister.
"...There we go. Couldn't stand watching anymore, huh."
Unseen watcher in the village hated werewolves losing ground.
Telepathic orders prepped for the crew, eyes locked on the beam.
"...Cough!?"
Instantly, blood welled deep from my gut, spraying fountain-like.
"...Damn. Can't even look."
Level gap's insane.
Worse than Demon King Otilib's avatar... Thing inside beyond him?
—Awoooooooo~!!
Wolf howl quaked the wasteland.
"Kuh...!?"
Hearing alone sloshed my guts, power flex screaming rank disparity.
Barely stayed upright.
"Kyaaak!?"
"Kyauk...!"
"Cough!?"
Vivian, Arpe, Weller, Pashtra spewed blood, reeling—but endured.
"Huu...!"
Teeth clenched, eyes wide.
Duty: ID whatever popped from village, relay intel pronto.
—Kuhahaha! Amusing! Utterly amusing! Starnassila Alzen! Pathetic sight!
"...Hm?"
But the reveal? Total unknown.
No game appearance, no lore—brand new.
Scale, majesty, pressure, malice: off charts, Demon King vibes...
...Wait.
"Why're you here?"
Familiar face slipped the question out.
Familiar? Knew him.
"What? Face rings a bell."
"That guy... no way?"
Charhela, Weller clocked it too.
—His plan followed, power to wipe humanity solo at last! Haha! All races tremble, bow before me!
"...Starnassila Beric."
Yup. Grinning entrant: Duke's second son, Starnassila Beric.
Face jutting from mountain-sized wolf's forehead, pitiful-grotesque mashup. But he beamed slit-to-slit, thrilled.
—Starnassila Alzen! As you said! New line seized! Bigger than Third Princess! Thanks here! Your fault I recommitted, got chosen!
"...Hah."
So, demon sidekick now?
Head tilt. Didn't click.
"...Beric. Quite the glow-up."
—Mocking sans self-awareness? Classic! Kuhuhu... Good mood, so spared! Your thanks let me wield Demon King's full grace!
"...Demon King."
Again.
Makes sense—who else crafts that?
...Mysteries lingered.
Giant wolf with Beric lodged? How's he wrangling that tier? Sisili's holy suck-up? Why demonic stink post-holy? Riddles galore.
"Demon King's grace? That look? Hmm..."
Watched. Eyes slitted.
"Life Demon King Otilib... Nah. Can't birth superior life. Left: Death Demon King Annus."
Her hand? Dots connect.
Annus: corpse hoarder supreme.
Wolf? Her collection.
Divine aura? No mere mutt... Ancient earth beast god, Kubel corpse.
Avatar, sure... Anyway, Kubel husk + Annus plot = holy drain method guessed.
Her authority vacuums holy power—Demon Kings' saddest sob story.
Kubel shell brimmed with power, lured holy to revive.
Horde undead? Holy bait supreme.
But Beric puppeting high-tier husk? Big ?
—.....
Beric halted. Scowl soured.
—Know-it-all arrogance intact. Revolting.
"...Beric. New form? Congrats. Revenge for old words? For real?"
—...Bug-stomp you endlessly. Max agony death.
"Ha! Petty much. Unbelievable..."
Gulp gulp!
"Puhuu..."
Boose chugged, I smirked.
"But... can you?"
Twitch!
Brow quivered rage.
Oddly, forehead-housed wolf's brow matched twitch-for-twitch.