Chapter 16
Chapter 16
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Moonlit Sacrifice
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"Ouo? Vy!"
Whish!
"Gah, kuhk!"
A lasso thrown by a barbarian dropped into the pitch-black pit prison, devoid of even a speck of light.
And that lasso snagged the neck of a man who had been sleeping peacefully, hoisting him upward.
Just like catching a pig for slaughter, the barbarian dragged the person out of the pit prison.
The man whose neck was caught thrashed his entire body in agony, his face twisted in pain.
"No, don't!"
"Here! Help me here!"
But before the man could be dragged away, others who had been resting nearby swarmed like ants, pulling at him.
It was obvious what fate awaited if he was hauled up.
Even if it meant dislocating their arms, they had to help keep him from reaching the surface.
"Pow! Pow a!"
A fierce tug-of-war ensued.
People gathered one by one, trying to loosen the rope connected to the lasso.
But the barbarians, experienced from throwing lassos dozens, hundreds of times, bellowed in irritation as if this was a routine hassle in their labor.
Then they hurled heavy stones and filth into the pit to scatter the crowd.
Stones that posed a deadly threat—enough to smash skulls from that height.
The people who held out until the end had no choice but to let go of the man amid sobs.
"Guh, guh......!"
Clang!
The man was dragged away as the door slammed shut.
With it, even the faint glimmer of light vanished, swallowed by the returning silence.
Utter darkness like ink.
The stench of filthy waste and the desperate sobs people tried to stifle.
The people, having sent out the 102nd piece of "livestock," sank into despair, tears streaming down their faces.
But those watching the scene weren't just the savage barbarians.
Piiik!
Rustle, rustle.
A faint whistle echoed from the cliff overlooking the barbarian village.
As if waiting, the bushes shook, and three figures with faces blackened by charcoal camouflage appeared in an instant.
The leader, Broken Sword, spoke.
"......You found it well, Elder."
"I had some skill back in my youth, heh heh."
Though his aged body could no longer wield spear or shield, the instincts and expertise honed by a lifetime as a hunter remained sharp.
And as if to prove it, Arrow Feather and Low Grass—old hunting companions—had tracked the barbarians' trail.
The result was, naturally, a success.
We'd left the village and, before even a full day passed, marked the massive barbarian settlement on our map where they were all gathered.
A considerable number of torches and huts.
I sat quietly on the cliff overlooking the barbarian village and murmured.
"......Disgustingly numerous."
It proved an exceptional leader had emerged among the barbarians to unite the tribes.
Otherwise, a tribe of such immense scale could never have formed.
But rather than despair at the overwhelming numbers, I busied myself observing every detail of their count and daily life.
With their positions confirmed, the routes and distances were clear enough.
I scanned the base of the cliff with cold eyes, straining to seize the strategic inspirations and experiences flashing through my mind.
But at that moment, a guttural roar shattered my focus, booming from the village center.
Uo! Uo! Uo!
Cahw! Cahw!
The barbarians rampaged like monkeys.
And chanting some unintelligible name, they foamed at the mouth in frenzy.
What on earth?
We furrowed our brows at this unexpected outburst late at night.
After their abject failure to seize the village, were they starting some festival now?
But the commotion was brief; soon, its cause revealed itself.
Gulp.
From an especially massive hut emerged a barbarian adorned with bone ornaments.
And as he raised his hand, the barbarians clamped their mouths shut and froze, as if they'd never been rowdy.
Immense authority.
But what drew my attention more was the sharp prickling of my senses from his presence.
An unrefined energy, yet bearing down with intangible force.
I could tell at a glance he was an Aura user of considerable skill.
"- - - - - - -."
Kraaaagh - - - -!
He raised his hand.
Then the barbarians, as if on cue, tore into the human man they'd dragged from the prison—with their bare hands.
The sky was now bathed in full moonlight.
As the chosen offering screamed and bled, the barbarians grew frenzied.
Like warriors slaughtering livestock before battle, they butchered the human.
A gruesome sight.
"......Let's go."
The entire barbarian horde was worked into a fever.
Lingering longer risked detection by the blood-maddened foes, exposing our position and trail.
Having pinpointed the village and unmasked their leader, I neatly shelved my thoughts and prepared to return to the heavily guarded village.
But one lingering concern held me back.
I paused my steps and extended a hand toward Arrow Feather.
"Elder, just one arrow, please."
"Think it'll pierce that one?"
A sheer cliff ahead, forest behind.
This spot, with a clear view below, was perfect for sniping.
"Not him. You watch and go ahead."
Such a makeshift arrow wouldn't fell an Aura user.
I took the emphasis off him, accepted the bow, and assumed a practiced stance.
Uo! Uo! Uo!
They were reveling wildly.
I scowled at the frolicking horde, drew the bowstring taut.
Kreeee—
I held my breath.
As if the heavens agreed with my intent, the biting winter gust halted for a moment.
The perfect moment to loose.
I released without hesitation.
Twang!
The arrow sliced through the air.
Its target was neither their chieftain nor the rampaging mob—but the human offering.
Thuk!
The man, shrieking in torment, took the arrow through the throat and closed his eyes in peace.
And like the silenced screams, the revelers fell deathly still.
Rest easy.
I offered a brief prayer for the human man, then swiftly withdrew from the scene.
Hoping this keen arrow would next seek a different mark.
"Dig in!"
"Yaaah! Finally over!"
"Thank you, ma'am!"
Two kindly faced women arrived carrying pots brimming with soup and loaves of bread.
The recruits, sprawled on the training ground floor cooling their sweat, swarmed eagerly as if the ordeal had never happened, grabbing the pots and baskets.
Truly grueling training that ground their teeth.
Their sole comforts were seeing family upon returning home and devouring the rations.
"Whoa......! Smells amazing."
"Thanks for the meal!"
Rations came twice a day.
And today's menu wasn't the usual watery root slop but hearty soup thick with meat chunks, paired with freshly baked wheat bread.
Knowing the village's strained circumstances, they wondered if such fine fare was truly permissible.
Aside from orders not to waste, no other words were spoken, leaving the recruits anxious instead.
But such worries vanished clean at the sight of steam rising invitingly from the soup.
As one scooped a ladle, only the sounds of eating filled the air.
Slurp slurp.
Munch crunch.
As bellies filled, vigor returned.
The rationality that had briefly fled came creeping back with the warmth.
Which meant the worries they'd shelved resurfaced too.
No sooner had silence fallen than vague dread crept in.
A young recruit, midway through wolfing his soup, sighed and spoke.
"......By the way, are we really doing okay?"
"What now."
"We're just repeating the same basic drills. I haven't swung a spear once."
When the Knight first appeared for the demo and speech, everyone buzzed with excitement and duty.
But the training since was just shield runs and rote strength exercises.
Not that they hated it.
Even if it had teeth-grindingly tough at first, tasty food and cheerful comrades made it bearable.
Yet they felt guilty and worried for their families toiling daily at construction sites while they lounged.
With war looming, shouldn't they at least swing a spear once to save face before their kin?
The ideal lay distant; reality was rolling in the dirt, eating mud.
And as all shared the sentiment, their gazes converged on one spot.
Munch crunch.
Chomp chomp.
She ate heartily.
The thought struck the moment they saw her: Snow-Covered, far smaller than them.
The common thread? She rolled in the training yard and ate the same meals as they did.
Wasn't she the Knight's disciple?
They couldn't fathom why someone of her evident prowess endured such mundane, grueling drills.
Yet they were curious too.
What thoughts lay behind her unflinching compliance?
"- - - - - - - -."
After a long mutual stare, they thrust the youngest recruit forward as spokesman.
"Um, th-that...... Are you okay?"
Focused on her meal, she hadn't caught the murmurs.
But she lifted her head at the voice calling her.
"Yes?"
"You've learned the sword and all. Wondering if this training's okay for you......"
The knights of their tales were lofty eagles soaring the high skies.
They required immense talent, and upon proving it, received special treatment.
Yet Snow-Covered was no different from them, caked in dirt and snow.
Just another ordinary soldier forming the shield wall, a common cog.
Snow-Covered chewed her remaining food.
Then, with utter nonchalance, she posed a sharp question.
"Do you think this training's beneath you?"
"Y-Yes? No! Absolutely not!"
The young recruit yelped in shock.
Not from exposed thoughts, but indignant denial—how could they think that?
If meant as mere cannon fodder or meat shields, no one would furnish quality gear and nourishing meals.
Crude and worldly as they were, they knew the Knight who trained them that day was sincere at least.
"Just...... wondering if we measure up......"
Merely anxious.
Fearful they'd gorge and run but fail when it mattered.
Dreading they'd buckle under the fallout if this uneasy peace dragged on.
"- - - - - - -."
Snow-Covered, sensing their true feelings, smiled faintly.
Just as she gave her all, these folk fretted earnestly for the future.
The disappointment from their initial question melted away in an instant.
Snow-Covered straightened politely and addressed the gathering crowd.
"There's surely a reason."
"......For this training?"
"No—for Master entrusting you with spears and shields."
Her master believed even a farmer's son could become a peerless warrior.
In this dark age where all was judged by innate talent, only he trusted the potential of ordinary folk.
Thus, they must rise to it.
Prove these self-doubting souls could be reborn as warriors.
"I won't ask you to believe."
One deed outshone a hundred words.
Those who had trembled in anxiety their whole lives never forgot that voice.
"Let's do it together. You can."
No further complaints arose before Snow-Covered's pledge of effort.