Chapter 394
Chapter 394
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 394
>Chapter Title: Young Warrior, Contracts Are Fair
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Yurubuke gazed at Aster with sunken eyes.
Did the land they settled on have to be in the North?
The intent behind the question was unclear. But whatever it was, Yurubuke's answer was already set.
“Anywhere, as long as it's a place where the tribe can settle.”
“It must be pretty urgent, huh?”
“It's just some petty political mess.”
“……Politics?”
Aster voiced his doubt. And rightly so—the word 'politics' didn't quite mesh with the image of the northern barbarians.
Catching that odd nuance, Yurubuke stroked his glass with thick fingers and gave a wry smile.
“Anywhere people live is the same. Looks like I need to explain…… Care to listen?”
“If you're offering.”
“……Very well.”
Yurubuke drained his glass once more and continued calmly.
The dire situation the Pushk Tribe currently faced. Why he was thinking of leaving the Great Plateau.
It was a circumstance known only to him and a few great warriors—not even the tribesfolk or regular warriors knew.
Hearing it all, Aster grasped the situation in an instant.
So, to sum it up……
“……You've fallen out of favor with Oukan?”
“You could put it that way.”
“And that's why you've been shoved to the front lines?”
“Exactly.”
Yurubuke stared at his empty glass and spoke plainly.
“Oukan must feel the Great Plateau is too cramped. But venturing beyond it is absurd. It could endanger every tribe on the Plateau.”
That's why Yurubuke opposed Oukan's view. Out of forty-two tribes great and small, and their forty-two Drimans, he was the only one to voice dissent.
It pleased Oukan, who had long preached innovation with talk of 'stagnant water turning foul,' but it also earned his ire.
That's when it began.
- I entrust the forefront of the Great Plateau to the valiant warriors of the Pushk Tribe.
The Pushk warriors cheered at Geyar Driman Oukan's recognition, but Yurubuke couldn't smile.
- Your kin will feast on rich meat and grain in the warmest, safest lands.
True to his promise, Oukan placed the tribe's families in the safest spot and treated them lavishly—but in truth, it was no different from taking them hostage to leash the Pushk Tribe.
After that, Oukan made Yurubuke an offer.
- I need someone like you at my side. Bend your will and stand with me now, and I'll grant you the most honored seat.
A sweet temptation.
Accept it, and he could save the warriors dying daily on the battlefield.
He could save those warriors who went to their deaths crying Oukan's name, oblivious to how he'd thrown them into the meat grinder.
But.
“Under Oukan's shadow, the Pushk have no future.”
Either march out with Oukan to die on the continent, or wither slowly under his pressure.
That was why Yurubuke decided to abandon their ancestral lands of Maharpart.
Finishing his tale, Yurubuke looked at Aster. In his clear, lake-like eyes, the plain mask stood out sharply.
“You whose face and name I do not know. Can you give it? Land for our warriors to settle, a future for the Pushk warriors to live.”
Truth be told, he hadn't expected much.
The man hid his face and name. He'd shared their plight due to the vast gulf in power he couldn't resist, but it was for survival, not trust.
But.
“As much as you need.”
The nameless one answered casually and removed his mask. His face fully revealed in the campfire's glow, an evil smile played on his lips.
“The Pushk Tribe will greet a brilliant future in the land of Arapurkin, where milk and honey flow.”
Seeing that face, Yurubuke knew instinctively. He'd crossed a river of no return.
A tale from the tribe's grand shaman echoed in his ears from childhood.
- Young warrior, the devil's contract is fair. So think twice, thrice. That sweet honey he offers, its fruit……
‘……Whether it's a fortune I can handle.’
But Yurubuke had already clasped the devil's hand, and the devil showed no sign of letting go.
And Yurubuke himself……
“……What shall I offer in return?”
For the tribe, he'd give even his soul.
* * *
The heart of the Maharpart Great Plateau.
Oukan's camp.
Countless torches lit the darkness as warriors gathered outside a deep pit, peering down.
At the pit's center stood two figures.
Amater, great warrior of the Haruna Tribe.
And……
Shine.
Thus, as the two faced off, the warriors parted like the sea, and a man strode through.
Flanked by great warriors, the man ascended a high chair and reclined. With a casual flick of his hand, a great warrior who watched his every move blew hard on a horn pipe.
Bwooooooo—!
The resounding echo swept the plains, excitement spreading across the warriors' faces. Their eyes gleamed with faint madness as movement stirred below.
Amater, steadying his breath, raised his languid greatsword. Or rather, by the time it seemed raised, a sharp whoosh already rent the air.
A連斬 too fast for the eye to follow.
An irregular trajectory defying physics—the technique that elevated Amater to great warrior. Even Geyar Driman Oukan acknowledged it, and Amater took deep pride in his skill.
But.
‘……Not enough.’
Amater prided himself that no foe could withstand his連斬, yet he couldn't claim victory over the one before him.
Why not?
His opponent was a monster who had already slain thirty warriors and twenty-one great warriors.
The warriors had let their guard down against that small, frail frame and returned to the earth's embrace. The great warriors, vigilant, still met their end.
Yes, a monster.
The foe before him fit that word perfectly.
Thus—
‘Slash.’
Amater cleared his mind and focused on the act. He set aside the will to kill, concentrating solely on the ceaseless motion: slash, slash, slash again.
Twelve連斬 in one breath.
Then twenty-two in the next.
No stray thoughts allowed.
In ever-accelerating speed, Amater reached his limit and willed himself beyond.
His spirit merged with him, responding, and gale winds howled around.
No, not gales.
Snick! Snick! Snick-snick!
Consecutive slashes.
The warriors roared in awe at the impossible sight as Amater pushed himself harder.
‘I can…… reach.’
It felt within grasp.
The horizon of enlightenment. A step beyond the limit.
Amater became one with the act, forgetting himself—and victory or defeat.
Plip, plop.
The wall crumbled. Piece by piece, its components fell, revealing what lay beyond.
As Amater took in that horizon, ecstasy flooded him.
At last……
‘……I've surpassed it.’
He'd broken through the wall that blocked him.
Crunch.
As the last remnants crumbled to dust, change came to Amater's連斬.
No longer a gale—it was more like a gentle breeze.
But.
Scraaaape, crunch, cruuunch!
The ground gouged deep, air rent asunder. Those sword strikes were far from gentle—vicious, even.
This was……
‘My ultimate.’
The ideal he could reach.
In that ecstasy, he danced. The warriors cheered his display. They all knew what wall he'd shattered, what realm he'd attained.
Thus, as Amater's mind and the warriors' cheers peaked.
“Not bad…… but……”
A voice in his ear. Amater flinched.
“……You're just dancing alone.”
Like shattering glass, a sharp ring pierced Amater's mind. Ecstasy melted like ice in cold water.
Regaining his senses, Amater saw his foe standing stock-still amid the breeze, watching him.
And in that instant.
“Let's end it.”
A crude sword rose slowly, aimed at Amater's throat. Amater fixed on the blade tip. And knew intuitively.
‘……Over.’
Yes, this was the end.
And that……
‘……The ultimate I can't reach.’
A single perfection.
As Amater thought that far, the end came.
Pop!
It began with a small burst.
Then.
SplaAaash……!
His chest split, a fountain of blood erupting. Crimson sprayed into the air, then fell with gravity.
“…….”
“…….”
The cheers cut off abruptly. Hushed silence descended.
Shine sheathed his sword in the quiet and gently closed his eyes. His hand trembled faintly on the hilt.
His heart pounded fit to burst. Breath came short.
‘Still…… not yet.’
A victory by raw flesh alone—Amater's barrage had pushed Shine to his limit, but fell just short of that final union.
As expected……
‘……Only you, it seems.’
Shine looked up to the pit's edge, the high throne where the man sat.
Around thirty years old, perhaps.
The young man's identity: Oukan.
The Geyar Driman appeared after centuries.
Geyar Driman Oukan gazed down at Shine impassively, a faint smile on his lips.
“Intriguing.”
To Oukan, this outsider who suddenly appeared demanding 'Amar' was quite the curiosity.
Especially that peak physical form and incomprehensible mastery of martial arts……
“……What will you do? Losing more great warriors will hinder the greater cause ahead.”
“Hmm.”
Oukan reclined, stroking his chin.
“True enough.”
In peaceful times, he'd welcome such an outsider.
He could ignite the dulled hearts of warriors and unite their wills through the sacred 'Amar' rite.
But now, with blades drawn against the Empire.
The outsider's arrival—and the great warriors falling at his feet—could hardly be cause for joy.
So, what to do?
“We'll settle it soon.”
“Forcing Amar to end would tank the warriors' morale. I'll prepare a fitting excuse.”
“Good.”
Oukan smiled faintly.
He yearned to leap into the pit and clash with the outsider right then, but for the greater cause, he suppressed his bloodlust.
And so, the night passed.
……Oukan was no longer a warrior.
And that night.
“Right, let's go.”
Finishing a brief strategy session with Yurubuke, Aster rendezvoused with the waiting little Yong and took to the skies.
A Geyar Driman who was no warrior.
A magic tower lord who was no mage.
And……
‘Not far off now.’
Even a vampire lord who was no knight.
Three rarities of an age, now entangled.