Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Shaman of the Wilderness (3)
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It was impossible not to let a vulgar curse slip out.
"Prove your strength if you're Atala's warrior?" Couldn't they just recognize it and step aside? If he said it right to his face like that, they'd probably spout nonsense about trials, hardships, and fruits again.
Still, those words had clarified a lot.
The ones who built this ruin were definitely the Shamans of the Wilderness. The purpose was to test him. That's why he and the archaeologist had been allowed entry...
And he had to smash every last one of those clay warriors.
Dong, dong, dong, dong, dong!
As the drumbeat changed, one warrior's eyes snapped wide open, and it charged straight at him.
- Atalaaaaaaa!!!
Its spirit was worlds apart from the gloomy muttering earlier. Kadim blocked the downward sword stroke with Mosquito, twisted the blade to deflect it, then plunged it deep into the enemy's gut. Yet the warrior counterattacked with its sword as if utterly unscathed.
- Not a chance! With Atala at my side...
Bam!
Kadim dodged the blade and slammed a fist like a flash of lightning into its jaw. Its face shattered with a crunch, as if he'd struck hardened clay. As the warrior dropped to its knees, Kadim wrenched its arm behind its back, seized the high ground, and smashed the pommel into the back of its skull. Only then did its pulverized head spill back onto the floor as dirt.
- Atalaaaaaaa!!
- Atalaaaaaaa!!
Dong, dong, dong, dong-dong!
Two more warriors rushed in. Slashes and thrusts didn't seem to do much damage. Kadim sheathed Mosquito, twisted his upper body, and hurled Salmon.
Whirrrrr, kaboomb!
The spinning gray-blue axe blade crushed one head, pierced through, and pulverized several more behind it. Drawing on invisible force, he accelerated its spin again, destroying more clay warriors before it returned to his hand.
Whirrrrr, kwang!
- Atalaaaaaaa!!!
But the warrior beside it took the returning axe blade straight through the chest and charged undeterred. Its perforated torso wobbling grotesquely, it closed in fast.
A massive flail swung at Kadim. He gripped the axe head backward like a club and blocked the flail's head.
Clang!
A clear, resonant metallic ring echoed off the walls.
The all-steel throwing axe was naturally fine, but the clay flail didn't seem badly damaged either. And the warrior's strength was no joke—Kadim felt a sharp jolt himself.
'...They must use damn good clay.'
He quickly dropped low and tripped it. As the stumbling warrior toppled, Kadim swung the axe blade upward in a surging arc. Shards flew as its head exploded, and it dropped the flail. Kadim spat out the dirt in his mouth and thought: Smashing the head is the way, huh.
Clang, crack! Whirrrrr, crunch-crunch!
He parried a sword and counterattacked, shattering one skull, then hurled its body to knock down three more at once. He spun Salmon in a wide arc at the fallen foes, bursting their heads one after another. Broken clay dolls piled up on the floor, losing their form.
Yet even as their numbers visibly dwindled, the clay warriors' momentum didn't wane. No—even those with half their bodies blown apart charged heedlessly, roaring.
- Atalaaaaaaa!!!
- Glory to the Lord of Eternal War!!
A wave of suicidal charges that ignored their own safety. Even Kadim couldn't block every attack. His cheek got grazed, his arms and legs sliced—minor wounds accumulated. In these one-against-many brawls, he always healed with 'Bloodsuck,' but these bloodless bastards made that impossible this time.
In the end, should he drink Hydra's blood and sweep them away? He was seriously pondering it when...
Dong, dong, dong, dong!
Suddenly, Kadim realized how grating that drumming was.
'...Is that drum buffing them or something?'
No harm in checking. He drew the hellfire dagger from his belt and flung it like a bolt.
Swish—thunk!
Then, whirr—the warriors' eyes all snapped toward it...
- Atalaaaaaaa!!
Crack! Whoosh!
...One leaped nimbly to block the dagger.
Engulfed in flames, the warrior charred and hardened. The others swiftly formed a formation to protect the drum. He didn't know if it was buffing them or what, but that drum was clearly important.
Target confirmed—nothing they did mattered now. Kadim gripped Salmon in one hand and the hellfire dagger in the other. He'd throw the axe to collapse their wall, then the dagger.
No need.
A divine form appeared from nowhere and shredded the drum first.
Riiip!
"I've got it handled, mercenary! Don't worry about this!"
Ilenia waved the torn drum around.
Kadim narrowed his eyes slightly. He'd clearly seen it—a hazy mist from her hand, then gone. Some hidden artifact?
Questions aside, dealing with the rest came first. If it was a buff, sure enough, the moment the drum tore, the warriors lost their vigor, staggering like invalids.
- Atala...
- Atalaaa...
Crunch-crunch!
The clay warriors of Atala were no longer worthy foes spilling blood and sweat. Kadim swept through them relentlessly, like smashing a row of jars. It took less than a minute for all to return to dirt.
Battle over. He took deep breaths, wiped sweat from his brow. Ilenia approached stealthily. She alternated glances between the mountain of warrior debris, the dust-covered barbarian, and clicked her tongue in awe.
"Incredible. Clay-forged valiant warriors... and their mighty host, crushed single-handedly by Atala's mercenary. It feels like peeking into myth or legend."
"..."
"Oh, sorry, I said something pointless again. You okay? No serious injuries?"
"Fine. But how'd you tear that drum?"
"Heh, to survive harsh lands, you need a weapon foes don't expect. Let's say I used a 'pebble' I had hidden to chuck at their faces."
"..."
Ilenia grinned.
Kadim scowled fiercely. How'd she eavesdrop on what he told Duncan? He glanced back. Near the entrance where Ilenia had first stood, there were three or four clay warrior remains he hadn't taken down.
'Hiding that much power and calmly requesting an escort...'
That was it—he wouldn't let it slide anymore.
Ally or enemy didn't matter. He couldn't keep someone spying on him, hiding their true motives and abilities, at his side. Kadim gripped his sword hilt tight. He'd interrogate her intentions and identity; if no answers, force would follow.
He failed to act by a hair's breadth.
Not a voice, but a will rippling outward. Like before, the surroundings peeled away like wallpaper.
Crrrrrrrack...
"Wait, no, mercenary...!"
This time, even Ilenia was included in the scenery, folding like a paper doll and vanishing without a trace.
"..."
Now he alone had moved elsewhere.
The vast circular chamber vanished, revealing a cramped space. Intricate engravings glowed faintly like fireflies; iron vines climbed the walls and ceiling. Following the irregular ritual circle etched on the flagstones...
An old woman sat leaning against the wall.
Sensing his presence, she cracked her eyes open. A voice parched and cracked like drought-stricken earth rasped from her withered throat.
"You've crossed the river of eons and returned, Great Warrior. Life in the torrent of time is worth less than a drop of water—what cruel winds of fate have tossed you, and what have you gained? Is the unbroken chain now stained with false blood, or does it still shine with the glory of struggle?"
"..."
Kadim stared at the Shaman of the Wilderness for a moment, then rolled his shoulders and neck with audible cracks.
Then hurled his throwing axe.
Whirrrrr, kwang!!!
...Rumble!
The axe embedded right beside the shaman's head. The wall cracked wide; the whole space shuddered heavily. The shaman gasped, eyes widening in their wrinkles. It wasn't mere threat—it carried thick killing intent.
Hiding intentions, testing him, spouting riddles—Kadim was sick of all this shady crap. Reaching out to retrieve the axe, he declared coldly.
"Proof's done. I set the rules now. From here, only I ask questions. No empty bullshit. If you don't know, say so clearly."
"..."
"Or next time, this blade crushes not the wall, but that shriveled skull and brains."
The air flowed with savage texture. Composing her shock, the shaman gave a bitter smile.
"My apologies. I failed to fully account for how my long journey wearied your body and mind... I promise no more needless rhetoric."
"..."
As the old shaman humbled herself, Kadim calmed somewhat. He retrieved the axe, took a deep breath, and sat cross-legged facing her.
"Why build this ruin? The guide said they're scattered across the continent."
"We needed spaces to greet you across endless ages. The Shamans of the Wilderness... were losing our power. Before it faded completely, we sealed ourselves away with what remained."
"...Losing power? Why? Did Atala revoke it?"
"Who knows—no one does for sure. Some say we earned the god's wrath; others, it's Atala's trial; still others, because the 'Great Warrior' linking us to Atala vanished. Only the Lord of ceaseless war and revelry knows the truth... Seen any powered Shamans outside?"
"No."
"...Then aside from us ghosts trapped in this closet, the Shamans of the Wilderness are gone from the world forever."
A faint gleam flickered in eyes buried in sagging lids. The gaze of a priest realizing abandonment by her god, lineage severed eternally.
Too hasty. Kadim showed her 'Mosquito' and 'Salmon'.
"But Atala hasn't fully abandoned us. Weak as it is, as you see, I can still wield that blessing."
"That's... welcome news. If true, our wait wasn't entirely in vain."
"Why go this far? Did the Shamans of the Wilderness really stake centuries of sealing on the slim chance a 'Great Warrior of Atala' returns and restores your power? Who devised this insane plan?"
The shaman craned her neck like a sick turtle, slowly shaking her head. The title he half-expected from her dry lips—but desperately hoped not—slipped out.
"Do you remember the 'Blind-Eyed Shaman'?"
Dead silence, like his heart stopped.
Kadim closed his eyes, bit his lower lip hard. A knot he'd tightly bound loosened, and an unforgettable name leaked out on an exhale.
"Cyril."
"...Yes, that was her name. So much time passed, I'd forgotten."
"Cyril devised this?"
"Yes. She laid the plan's core and executed most of it. By then, we'd lost nearly all our power—could barely help. Without her spells on this ruin, this husk would've crumbled to dust long ago."
"Tell me the full story. Start to finish, every detail."
Kadim clenched his fist unwittingly. The shaman lifted her forlorn gaze. Staring endlessly into distant past from this place, she finally parted her parched lips.
"After slaying the archdemon and your disappearance, she endured the pain and longing of loss, wandering endless lightless days and nights in search of you. Warriors and shamans offered to be her staff, but she roamed continent's end to end, soles worn raw, drenched in blood. Yet nowhere a single footprint of yours."
"..."
"But she never gave up. Though she couldn't find you now, she believed you'd one day leap time's chasm back to us. So she prepared what you'd need for that day."
"..."
"She toiled endlessly crafting it. No food, no drink, no sleep—praying a hundred days, gathering pure offerings across wilds and wastes a thousand days, plunging her soul into trance and exhausting her power in rituals ten thousand days... By the end, body ragged as rags, mind unstable as sandcastle. Decades gnawing the greatest shaman's essence birthed those 'sacred relics.'"
"..."
"Even then, no rest. Finished, she built ruins like this across the continent, appointing shamans like me as heralds. So wherever, whenever you returned, you'd receive this tale and items."
"..."
"We volunteered as heralds because we believed without doubt her words: the 'Great Warrior' returns, our lost power follows. Thus began centuries of endless wait."
"..."
"That's... the full tale of this ruin's making and my greeting you."
The story ended, thick as dust from eons, leaving a heavy aftertaste.
Kadim stared at his fist. Gripped too hard—nails dug into palm, blood trickling. Yet he felt no pain. Bodily ache was trivial against this bottomless mire of heaviness.
The shaman exhaled softly, drawing something from her bosom. A meteor-streak flashed brilliantly across her palm under the night sky.
"The 'Needle of Branding.' Fruit of a shaman's pain and devotion, lost in endless dark wandering. Never to be made again—nor should be. A tragic relic."
Kadim wiped the blood, suppressed emotion, and asked.
"...And its effect?"
Behind drooping lids, her murky pupils sharpened. As if enduring ages for this moment, she pressed each syllable deliberately.
"Tattoo with demon blood using this, and wield its power without drinking."