Chapter 399
Chapter 399
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 399
>Chapter Title: Soul-Infused
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Oukan and the young warrior.
A chill wind swept between them.
Yurbuke, watching the scene, swallowed hard. He steadied his heart to keep his pulse from racing.
That was when Oukan finally spoke.
“This warrior?”
“Hraman’s third son, Cain.”
“Cain…… Cain, is it. A name I’ve never heard before.”
“That’s hardly surprising. Even in the tribe, few know of him. He’s been wandering the steppes since his first hunt.”
Yurbuke finished speaking and gauged Oukan’s reaction. The way Oukan looked at the Mage Tower Lord…… it was like staring at an incomprehensible creature, his eyes rippling with all sorts of thoughts.
‘Please…….’
If only he’d let it slide.
The worst thing that could happen here was the Mage Tower Lord’s true identity being revealed.
The moment it came out that he was a mage from the continent, Pushyk would be branded a traitor to the Great Steppe. Then not just the warriors, but even the common tribesfolk wouldn’t escape Oukan’s blade.
Bracing for the worst, Yurbuke steeled himself.
‘If it comes to it…….’
……He’d strike.
Yurbuke knew better than anyone that his blade couldn’t fell Oukan, but it was the only action left to him.
Yet, for some reason.
“Hraman’s third son, Cain…… Cain, Cain…….”
Oukan repeated the name like a shaman chanting a spell.
After a moment, Oukan stepped toward the warrior Cain. When he was right in front of him, he looked down and asked,
“Young Cain, I want to hear what your owl is.”
Yurbuke’s eyes twitched at the question.
The Mage Tower Lord didn’t know what an “owl” was.
They’d coordinated what to say about his identity on the way here, but they hadn’t discussed owls. He hadn’t expected Oukan to ask about it.
‘Please…….’
Yurbuke desperately hoped they could get through this unscathed.
A brief silence followed.
The Mage Tower Lord spoke only after what felt like an eternity to Yurbuke.
“I don’t know.”
“……You don’t?”
“Yes. Do I really need to know what an owl is?”
His innocent eyes, yet boldly meeting Geyar Driman’s gaze head-on—that brash attitude was no different from a cocky young warrior’s.
As Oukan let out a baffled chuckle, it was his attendants who reacted first.
“This insolent whelp!”
“Bloodsucker!”
They stomped forward, looking ready to tear the rude young warrior apart on the spot.
But then.
“Enough.”
A low voice.
Boom—!
An oppressive pressure crushed the space.
“……Gah!”
“Urk—!”
The attendants collapsed to their knees, vomiting blood under the sudden assault. A piercing ring echoed in their ears.
The attendants writhed as if on the verge of death, but Oukan didn’t spare them a glance. He kept his eyes fixed on the young warrior who’d introduced himself as “Cain.”
“You truly don’t know what an owl is?”
“…….”
The young warrior…… no, Aster, gave no reply.
‘What the…….’
It was insane.
The pressure rattled his insides, blood surging up his throat. His legs trembled against the ground. Even accounting for the vulnerability of maintaining his hair and skin color, Oukan’s aura was brutal beyond savage.
But what was even more insane……
“I’m asking you. Do you really not know what an owl is?”
The intensifying pressure. The condescending glare. It was the look of someone who owned the world beneath his feet.
If Decullan Patriarch Pahren von Decullan treated all things as beneath contempt, Geyar Driman Oukan was arrogant as if everything lay trampled under his heel.
Aster swallowed a curse under that gaze.
Damn it……
‘……He has to give me a chance to answer first.’
From how he was tormenting an innocent young warrior, Oukan was clearly a petty small-minded bastard.
How the heavens had granted such a wretch that level of power and authority…… utterly baffling.
That moment of blaming the skies didn’t last.
Urk—!
Aster buckled at the knees, bowing his head as he spat up red blood. It wasn’t from being overwhelmed—any young warrior would act this way naturally. Vomiting blood was to weaken his internal injuries.
Anyway, that wasn’t the point right now.
‘What do I do?’
Honestly, he had no idea.
‘Did he notice something?’
He hadn’t done anything suspicious…… He’d perfectly masked his presence.
So why……
On the other hand, a question arose.
‘……What the hell even is an owl?’
As various doubts swirled in his mind, Aster sensed the moment of decision approaching.
Speak, or stay silent.
That was when.
“Geyar Driman…….”
Yurbuke spoke up, taking a step forward. Oukan’s gaze, which had been on Aster, shifted to him.
Oukan’s eyes seemed faintly angry for some reason, but Yurbuke met them squarely and continued.
“I clearly…… told you, didn’t I? This young warrior has been wandering the steppes since his first hunt. He hasn’t received an owl from the Great Shaman.”
“He hasn’t received one?”
“That’s…… right.”
Yurbuke caught his breath amid the mounting pressure. But only for a moment. He took another step toward Oukan.
“That’s why I chose him as my companion. He needs to receive his owl now. Our Great Shaman is here.”
Yurbuke’s voice trembled as he spoke. But the tremor wasn’t from fear or pain…… or anything like that. Rather……
Rage.
“Surely that answers your question. Now it’s my turn to ask.”
Yurbuke pushed through the pressure and closed in on Oukan, looking down at him. Oukan, who’d been watching Aster, turned his head to look up.
Their eyes locked in midair.
A chill wind brushed the space. Yurbuke’s mouth opened soon after.
“Geyar Driman.”
“Speak.”
“Do you find Pushyk laughable?”
“…….”
Oukan’s eye twitched. The emotion in Yurbuke’s gaze infected his own. That emotion was rage.
But though the feelings matched, their scale didn’t. Oukan’s rage was a spark just beginning to ignite, while Yurbuke’s was……
Yes, a vast prairie fire.
Embracing that wildfire, the warrior glared at Geyar Driman—who was no true warrior—and posed the question again.
“Do you think that because you’ve placed the steppes beneath your feet, you’ve claimed the warriors’ souls as well?”
“…….”
“Geyar Driman, do not take offense. What you lead are not sheep obedient to a shepherd’s guidance, but warriors. Warriors who will even bite wolves. Just as eagles eat rotten meat and rabbits graze on grass, it is natural for warriors to fight.”
Pushyk’s young warrior had been unjustly mistreated. To Yurbuke, Pushyk’s driman, this was an unforgivable insult. Even if the offender was Geyar Driman, unifier of the Great Steppe.
Therefore.
“I’ll ask once more. Do you find Pushyk laughable?”
If he said yes, Yurbuke would draw his blade and fight.
Win or lose didn’t matter.
To a warrior, struggle held meaning in itself, beyond life and death, victory and defeat.
In this moment, Yurbuke—as warrior and driman—was protecting the young warrior, Hraman’s third son “Cain.”
And Aster, now “Cain,” looked up at Yurbuke with trembling eyes.
Yurbuke’s gaze. A resolute will, prepared to burn his own soul despite knowing defeat.
The pride to stand firm against force and uphold his convictions…… truly impressive.
But. Will, pride……
That wasn’t what stirred Aster’s heart.
Then what was it?
‘Soul…….’
……Sold bluff.
Yes, that was it.
‘A bluff infused with soul.’
Yurbuke knew better than anyone that he wasn’t truly Hraman’s third son, that he wasn’t Cain.
What? Do you find Pushyk laughable?
What? Claiming warriors’ souls?
‘……He’s lost it.’
But.
No matter how soul-infused the bluff, what mattered was the result. Even a soul-deep resonance means nothing if it fails to sway the opponent—it’s just empty noise.
Aster watched Oukan with tense eyes. Oukan stared back at Yurbuke with a hardened expression, and soon his mouth opened.
……And when it did.
Aster couldn’t help tilting his head.
“Hah, ha!”
Oukan withdrew the pressure and burst into laughter.
The laughter grew, spreading widely around them. Aster and even Yurbuke stared at him in bewilderment.
After a while.
“Ha, haha…… Indeed, yes. Driman Yurbuke, you’re right. Truly, you’re not wrong.”
Oukan, grinning with evident delight, wiped at his eyes and continued.
“This time, I was the rude one. I admit it. I acknowledge that my actions insulted the young warrior and Pushyk, and I apologize. How about that…… Does that ease your mind a little?”
Yurbuke realized it. Oukan had conceded a step.
……No, he’d had no choice but to.
Not knowing one’s owl wasn’t a crime worthy of torment. In fact, some young warriors had refused theirs, rejecting the notion.
Yet Oukan had harassed Pushyk’s young warrior Cain solely for that reason, and Yurbuke had stood against such a Geyar Driman.
……More warrior-like than anyone.
Thus, Oukan had no choice but to yield a step.
If he’d had ironclad justification, maybe not—but in this situation, the warriors would sympathize with Pushyk.
So, what now?
‘……If he pushes to the end, he becomes the Geyar Driman who torments warriors…….’
But if he stops here.
‘……Oukan becomes the wise Geyar Driman who listens to a warrior’s words.’
His authority remained intact.
A warrior’s authority stemmed from strength, after all, and Oukan had already proven his untouchable might.
……Yurbuke hadn’t seen that far.
It was just rage-fueled defiance.
Still, Yurbuke feigned composure and answered Oukan’s question.
“……No, Geyar Driman. Rather, I wish to apologize for my own rudeness.”
The opponent had yielded a step, so propriety demanded the same in return.
Oukan narrowed his eyes at Yurbuke’s demeanor.
“Good…… I’m grateful you say that. Driman Yurbuke, only you can dispel my doubts.”
“……I’m at a loss for words at such regard.”
Oukan and Yurbuke regarded each other as they spoke. Complex emotions tangled between their locked gazes.
Watching them, Aster narrowed his eyes in thought.
The crisis was past. But……
‘……Oukan definitely saw something.’
He didn’t know what an owl was, but that much was certain.
The moon hadn’t risen yet. They’d escaped this only thanks to Yurbuke’s soul-infused bluff.
Aster mustn’t forget that.