Chapter 40
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: Show of Madness
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A few days passed like that.
We roamed around, scouting the terrain and setting up hideouts here and there.
In the middle of it, Lancelot suggested we set traps along the expected paths, but I shot it down. Any sign of human activity would ruin the operation we had planned.
In the meantime, I learned something about Owen. He had a bit of a madman streak in him somewhere.
Here's what happened...
Lancelot spotted Owen training outside the cave and challenged him to a light spar.
"Owen! Don't train alone—how about a quick round?"
"Lancelot... you've come to rescue us... Let's wrap this up quick and make our escape."
Lancelot blinked at the out-of-nowhere comment, totally confused.
"Huh? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Ah, so you can't see it... Close your eyes, Lancelot."
"Uh...? Uh... okay."
Lancelot fell for the mysterious tone and shut his eyes.
Owen, still with his eyes closed, murmured to him gravely.
"There, do you see it now? In the middle of the operation, we're surrounded by the enemy due to unavoidable circumstances."
"I... I think I see it!"
"The enemy has tough warriors roaming the plains freely, cavalry on purebred horses—damn, even shamans..."
"Shit! What happens to us?"
Like a rookie whispering vivid scenarios into a veteran's ear, Owen stoked Lancelot's imagination.
"We break through! We're getting out alive and back to our families! Lancelot! Watch my back..."
"Don't worry about it, Owen!"
And just like that, the two stood back-to-back, swinging their swords at thin air.
"Damn! Shaman magic from the left!"
"I'll block it—you handle the champion warrior, Owen!"
"Thanks, Lancelot!"
We watched their passionate role-play in stunned silence, like they were shadowboxing in perfect sync.
"Urgh... I can't hold out much longer!"
"Just hang on, Owen! They're... they've all come to save us!"
The madman and the irreverent fool even dragged us into their fantasy.
"Veronica! Heal Owen's wounds first, not mine...!"
"Ngh! Thanks for covering me, Liam!"
"Dark magic incoming! Jenia!"
'These crazy bastards.'
The lunatics were perfectly in sync... Why do these types always end up around me?
After front-row seats to the live show, Jenia plopped down next to me.
"Your Highness... he wasn't that kind of character..."
"Then what the hell is this madness unfolding right in front of us?"
Jenia glanced at me, then at the two striking shonen manga poses—'Heh, not bad, huh?' and 'Ah... you're one of us too'—before squeezing her eyes shut.
"He was supposed to be... stoic but a bit naive, with some hidden pain..."
I could picture the character she meant, but the Owen in front of me was dancing a frenzied sword dance with Lancelot.
"Good is good, right..."
"Good is good, yeah..."
I had no idea anymore.
Over the next few days, their bond grew tighter amid increasingly detailed settings and world-building.
To escape their live show, I extended my senses forward, searching for the enemy forces.
That's when I heard footsteps marching across the snowfield.
The vast plain ahead seemed like nothing to them; their pace was impressively quick.
I opened my eyes and announced their approach.
"Everyone, stop! The enemy is closing in. Follow the plan—no one gets caught leaving traces."
Everyone's eyes sharpened as they nodded.
'Not sure how long we can hold out like this...'
I steeled myself and took off with the group.
In the dark of night, the barbarians' supply camp sprawled across the snow-covered field with massive leather tents pitched irregularly. Carts and horses were tethered between them.
Instead of grain sacks, dried meat and cheese filled leather pouches stacked high. Bundles of arrows and spears wrapped in rough hides were piled like firewood.
Campfires belched smoke nonstop, and the air reeked of booze and blood.
The guards weren't elite knights—just scarred elders, young hunters fresh from the chase, and women covered in tattoos.
Even so, their eyes burned fierce.
In the largest central tent, heretics in red robes gathered with the shamans.
We hovered above, our presence masked from their senses and sight by magic, observing it all.
Time to start. I turned to the group.
"Operation begins. Jenia and Owen, you're up first. Ready?"
"Yes!"
I conjured a massive black wolf with magic.
The beast exuded sticky, dark aura from its body, drool dripping from its jaws. Its red eyes glowed with feral menace as it growled low.
"Wh-what the hell is that?!"
"Battle stations, everyone!"
"Alert the vanguard!"
The enemies scrambled for their weapons in chaos.
-Awooooooo!
As the wolf howled, our two operatives appeared as if summoned.
Owen and Jenia, clad in black armor and helmets, swords drawn, stood before the wolf.
The same ominous wolf aura seeped from them.
-Grrr... woof woof!
The wolf rampaged through the camp, tearing into people and ripping them apart.
The pair chased it, slashing throats and torching carts.
"Black armor... so damn cool..."
I ignored the pointless chatter and drove the wolf into a frenzy.
-Awooooooo!
Another howl amplified the bursting mana, drawing shamans and heretics.
"Damn it, shamans! What kind of monster is that?!"
"Ka... Karamor! Drop your weapons, all of you!"
The model was 'Karamor (black wolf)'—a death and disaster beast from the nomads' legends.
Its howl heralded war and bloodshed.
Not even shamans could control it; only offerings could appease the vicious thing.
Revered as an ancestral god of the Karg tribe, myths said it appeared when war broke out.
The shamans trembled, thrusting staffs forward and bowing before the wolf.
"O divine beast of death! The bloodshed we wrought is our rightful claim! Spare your wrath!"
I halted the wolf's control and positioned our two in front of it like sacrifices.
"De... Death Knights!"
As the shamans quaked, Owen bellowed.
"Araktoo! Spasesta Itara Mus Agen! Hwa Min Turegara!"
'Oh... ancient nomadic tongue? More capable than I thought?'
Impressed by Owen's skill, I watched as the shamans shivered.
"Wh-what the hell does that mean?! Anyone understand it?"
"N-no idea... Never heard that language before..."
Looks like he just spouted gibberish.
'Crazy bastard...'
Owen glanced at the hesitant shamans, then yelled at Jenia.
"Raksansen! Iparam Huwak Sensoo!"
"Uh...?"
Owen shot her a 'hurry up with your WWE cue' look, and Jenia's mouth opened.
"G-ga-na-da-ra! Ma-ba-sa! A-ja-cha-ka! Ta-pa-ha!"
"Roolakssen!"
As Jenia's flustered babble spilled out like King Sejong's gift to language, Owen nodded and halved the shamans' numbers.
-Awooooooo!
"Rootra Zihee Moho!"
I faded Owen and Jenia away with a dramatic flourish as they signaled back, then we vanished.
In the panicked supply camp, one shaman shouted.
"The death beast is enraged! Report to Ulu Shaman!"
Amid flames, blood, and mangled corpses, the survivors moved fast.
We watched, then slipped back into the mountains.
"Damn it, Owen! What was that language?!"
Lancelot's excited voice echoed through the cave at Owen's inspired acting.
"Ah, nothing much... Just felt like yelling it."
"Damn it, Owen! I like you!"
"Ga-na-da-ra... ma-ba-sa..."
Ignoring Jenia's blank stare, Lancelot and Owen dove into their own world.
'Madmen... now it's a whole crew of them...'
Still, it worked like a charm.
Gotta give credit where it's due.
I called out to Owen.
"Owen..."
"What is it?"
"You're our go-to from now on... Live your dream."
"Just what I wanted!"
We sowed chaos this way, dodging elite shamans and warriors.
"Araksen Mus Toohero Kakkoonsoo Hoofoo! Maratea Nu Rate Koons Kohukap Hissan Tseehee! Musan Kruhr Kata Pinuk Tongjeha Moocha..."
Owen spat gibberish with flying saliva now, and Veronica and I clapped as we watched.
"It... it somehow feels emotional..."
"A knight from that imagination..."
I lamented how the grand ducal education had wasted Owen's talent on swords instead of magic.
Mid-mana control, a sinister, immense presence hit my senses.
'It's here! Everyone, retreat!'
I signaled, gathered the group, and hid.
The arrival led hordes of soldiers: a beautiful woman with white hair and white eyes, eerie somehow.
She must be Serimuk, the Karg alliance's linchpin claiming the title of 'Ulu Shaman,' great sorceress.
She stared long at the wolf's spot, then smirked.
Her mouth opened.
"Is there an honorable warrior to offer as a great sacrifice to appease the divine beast's soul?!"
At her call, an old nomad stepped forward.
"Your name?"
"Dramuk, of the broad earth steps!"
"Dramuk! Your courage will ride the winds to the gods!"
With Serimuk's declaration, the nomad stabbed his gut and tore it open.
"!!!!"
Serimuk began chanting as the nomad bulged his eyes but screamed not.
I analyzed the scene.
'Unsettling mana flow... chaotic and free-form... Is that shamanism?'
If magic felt structured and straight, her ritual was erratic. As it activated, vein-like mana from her staff enveloped the corpse.
She finished swiftly, eyes opening. The mana veins stretched toward us.
"Damn it! Everyone, group up!"
Urgency hit; I maxed my circles, teleported before contact, and fled into the mountains.
Seemed like a pursuit spell.
No expert on shamanism, so details escape me.
But I gleaned her mana method—worth it.
Panting, I ordered.
"Abandon this spot. Clear all traces and relocate."
"Yes!"
Scrap this op for now.
"Hide out till they reorder advance. They've caught on some. If we're tailed too close, flee to the spots we fed them false deployments."
"Yes!"
Just buy a little more time... just a bit more...