Chapter 408
Chapter 408
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 408
>Chapter Title: What Lurks in the Pupil
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The roar of battle faded.
Silence descended.
In the silence that settled as quietly as dawn dew, the warriors stood motionless, like statues.
They grasped the situation only after the off-balance Oukan collapsed with a thud.
“Geyar…… Driman.”
“The great leader—”
A hollow voice shattered the silence from somewhere unknown, and the warriors let out empty sighs in unison.
It was hard to accept reality.
Geyar Driman…… had been defeated.
It was a situation that could be summed up in a single sentence, yet not a single warrior could fully comprehend it.
That was how special ‘Geyar Driman’ was to the warriors of the Great Plains.
Why?
From the moment of his birth, Geyar Driman drew in the blood of warriors. The wars waged to unify the Great Plains were a sacred ritual, and the blood spilled in that ritual was the greatest honor.
Why—
Did they yearn for Geyar Driman?
Why—
Was Geyar Driman so great?
The reason was simple.
This barren land, where not even a handful of grain grew, where they competed for survival not just with beasts but with monsters—this hellish Great Plains.
A homeland of the soul that they couldn’t help but love, yet a natural curse that they couldn’t help but hate—
The savior who would liberate them from this damned Great Plains.
That was Geyar Driman.
And yet.
“Geyar Driman…….”
He had fallen.
He had been defeated.
Then, who…….
- Who will save us!
Countless warriors had left the Great Plains. Leading their families, they had turned toward the continent in search of life.
Abandoning their soul’s homeland, bearing the stigma of traitors. They had done it to pass on lives free of wandering and hunger to their descendants.
But what awaited them?
Discrimination as immigrants? No, that was fine. What they couldn’t endure was only the harsh nature. The stares and cold shoulders from mere humans were laughable.
With two legs to stand on the earth and two hands to grip a sword, what was there to fear!
That’s what they thought.
But.
……What awaited them was yet another wandering.
From continent to continent, then continent to continent again.
The bravest warrior couldn’t last even five years on the continent before returning to the Great Plains. The warriors who had pointed fingers at him as a traitor couldn’t bring themselves to condemn him.
How……
Could they point fingers at a comrade who returned wounded?
And so—
Warriors who dreamed of the continent returned having lost much, and just as those stories began to fade, new warriors set off for the continent once more.
Failures repeated.
Defeats piled up.
The repeated and accumulated failures and defeats were passed down through generations, and at some point, the tribes of Maharpart realized.
……The continent was an unattainable paradise.
There was only one being who could lead them there.
Geyar Driman.
Only the absolute ruler who unified the tribes with overwhelming power and wisdom could lead the tribes of Maharpart to paradise.
Geyar Driman……
Was salvation and hope to the warriors, the shamans, no, to all who were born and raised on this land.
And yet, such a Geyar Driman……
“A, ahh—!”
“Geyar Driiiiiimaaaaaan!”
The warriors wailed. It wasn’t just those who dreamed of the continent. Even those who didn’t dream of it cried out in grief at the death of the great ruler who had appeared once every few hundred years.
Yurbuke narrowed his eyes at the sight.
‘In the end…… it comes to this.’
Though they had stood as enemies glaring at each other, Maharpart blood flowed in Yurbuke’s veins too. How could his heart not ache?
“Could you…… set me down?”
Yurbuke asked Aster. To lower him to the ground.
His eyes no longer held the panic of someone who had just been dragged through the air by Aster’s magic.
Aster gazed at him quietly before nodding.
Tap.
Yurbuke, now on the ground, slowly moved forward. Not far away lay Geyar Driman with eyes closed.
That was when voices rang out.
“Yuruuuuubuuuuuke—! Is this what you wanted!”
“You filthy traitor! You’re a mongrel who sold even your soul!”
Yurbuke halted at the voices and closed his eyes. His heart trembled at the warriors’ anguished cries.
Some pointed at Yurbuke, calling him the continent’s lackey, while others swallowed their rage toward him in silence.
Amid all that resentment, there was nothing Yurbuke could do.
Even if it was for the survival of Pushk……
‘……These are the ones I led here.’
Even if Oukan’s atrocities were the trigger for all this……
‘……Even that stemmed from me.’
Swaaaaak, kwaduk!
A great sword flew from somewhere and embedded itself at Yurbuke’s feet.
Yurbuke looked up, taking in the direction from which the great sword had come.
“Driman Yurbuke! If you’re a warrior, pay for your sins with that blade yourself.”
A young warrior, eyes bloodshot with youthful fury, screamed. The sense of loss from Geyar Driman’s death. His rough voice seemed to say that only rage could fill that void.
The usual Yurbuke would have rebuked him, saying that a true warrior’s way was not to hand over the blade but to demand atonement directly.
“…….”
Instead, Yurbuke stared at the great sword deeply embedded in the ground, then silently stepped forward.
With each step, blame poured down like rain.
After a moment, Yurbuke stopped and looked up at the sky. Was it because the battle had ended? The night that had encroached during the day had long vanished.
With the night gone, a starkly bright sky stretched out.
Gazing at that sky, Yurbuke quietly spoke.
“What is the problem?”
His voice spread across the silent plain.
“Did you not see? This was a fair duel. A clash between warriors, with no dirty tricks involved. So why are you all losing your minds like this?”
Did Geyar Driman have to be invincible? No, he didn’t.
Any qualified warrior could challenge Geyar Driman at any time, and the moment he lost that challenge, he was no longer Geyar Driman.
Geyar Driman was utterly sacred, but at the same time, not inviolable.
And yet, why…….
Yurbuke swept his piercing gaze over the warriors. Hostile glares stabbed at him like knives, but he paid them no mind. After scanning them once, Yurbuke posed the question.
“Because they’re continentals?”
That made no sense. If so, they wouldn’t have accepted Amar’s challenge in the first place.
Surely not……
“……You believe they’re the emperor’s dogs?”
Yes, that would explain the warriors’ reaction. If they were the emperor’s dogs, then even Amar’s challenge was a lie.
In a way, a blind faith.
“You’ve all gone blind. Blind…….”
Yurbuke gave a bitter smile. But he said no more. He had no right to.
As they said, he had joined hands with the continentals, hadn’t he?
Yurbuke calmly endured the arrows of blame and approached Shain. Oukan lay collapsed at his feet.
‘……In the end, you were human too.’
Gazing at his closed eyes stirred complex emotions.
In a way……
‘……Arapurkin, was it?’
Thanks to Oukan, he had achieved the dream of going to the continent in his youth.
And not as a wandering vagrant, but proudly under the protection of the Magic Tower and its master.
It was something that had never happened in the history of the Great Plains. An entire tribe leaving for the continent…… And a powerholder on the continent willingly extending a hand to welcome them.
Yet, no matter what, gratitude would not come.
His reverence for Geyar Driman remained, but as a tribesman of Pushk, the knot in his heart was unavoidable.
‘Geyar Driman, rest in peace.’
Yurbuke placed his clenched right fist over his chest and hid his other hand behind his back, paying respects.
That lasted only a moment.
Yurbuke raised his head and took in the warriors.
Murderous intent soared.
Unlike before, the warriors gripped their weapons and formed ranks. No one had ordered it, yet it felt as natural as if commanded.
“All of you…….”
Yurbuke infused his voice with Tra and continued calmly.
“……Sheathe your killing intent. As I said, it was a fair duel. It is not the law of the plains to demand blood price from a fair duel. Moreover…….”
Yurbuke trailed off there. He had wanted to explain the entanglements before the duel, but it felt wrong, as it would tarnish the honor of the now-deceased Geyar Driman.
……But.
‘The living must live.’
If they charged now, many warriors would die. Meaningless sacrifice, and unthinkable when considering the future of the Great Plains.
With resolve hardened, Yurbuke continued.
A story that might shock the warriors……
“It was Geyar Driman who started it. He poisoned Amar’s challenger and cast a spell on him. Cowardly tricks that even the empire folk you curse so much shrink from. Therefore…… this was both a fair duel and vengeance. Who can interfere in this karma?”
Of course, no one believed him.
They weren’t the type to have lived soft lives that would let them trust the words of a branded traitor.
Instead of answering, they kindled their battle spirit. They steeled themselves to meet death here.
Thus, tension mounted.
‘In the end…… it can’t be helped.’
Yurbuke felt despair.
Though the tower lord had held back until now, that wouldn’t continue. In the end, many plains warriors would scatter like wind.
As Yurbuke couldn’t hide his dismay at the impending tragedy—
“……Those words are true.”
An elder stepped forward from among the warriors. Yurbuke snapped his head up at the voice. When he confirmed the face, he couldn’t hide his trembling eyes.
“This one, under Geyar Driman’s orders, worked tricks on Amar’s challenger alongside the poison shamans. I swear on my spirit that these words are truth.”
The elder’s identity was none other than…… Dran, the great shaman of the Shurk tribe.
Oukan’s shamanic master and leader of all shamans gathered under Oukan’s name.
Yurbuke was taken aback by the unexpected aid, but when their eyes met, he understood his heart.
What lurked in those pupils…… was a thread of guilt.
Great Shaman Dran, bearing guilt for failing to lead his shamanic disciple Oukan on the right path, quietly addressed the Great Plains warriors once more.
“All this…… was brought upon himself by Geyar Driman.”
A single phrase that saved thousands…… no, perhaps tens of thousands of warriors.