Chapter 120
Chapter 120
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 120
Chapter Title: Chapter 120
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 120
Chapter Title: The Named Wyvern
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Slash!
“Keeeaak!”
An unnamed reptile-like monster was cleaved by Mimi's sword, letting out a final screech as it collapsed.
“Whew! This place is really crawling with them. How far have we come, and we're already dealing with this crap.”
Saladin sheathed Mimi, clicking his tongue in annoyance.
“Even moving carefully like this, we run into them. If we'd brought torches...”
He belatedly clamped his mouth shut.
But it was too late.
Aria's expression darkened even further.
“Ha, haha! My lady, sorry about that. This guy's mouth really gets him in trouble... Argh, argh.”
Smack! Smack!
“...It's fine, Young Master Saladin.”
Saladin smacked his own mouth repeatedly, calling it a killer, but Aria's face didn't brighten.
'I couldn't help again.'
Aria was feeling quite deflated right now.
She had come all the way from Philador Kingdom full of spirit.
But aside from melting a few weapons during the fight with some Cyclopes, she hadn't been of any real use.
'Why did Young Master Jerome bring me and Young Master Set along?'
From what she'd observed, that man handled everything on his own effortlessly.
'Did I really need to come...?'
“...That's what you're thinking, right, my lady?”
“Huh?”
Aria flinched as Saladin suddenly spoke up while smacking his mouth. He'd read her mind perfectly.
Saladin shrugged like he knew it all.
“Well, I get it. That guy's always like that. He drags people along and then does everything himself.”
Aria unconsciously glanced at Jerome.
Jerome was intently examining the monster's corpse that had just been felled by Mimi's sword, as if there was something crucial to check.
“Still,”
Saladin tossed out another remark while eyeing Jerome.
“If you stick with that guy, you'll never be bored. He doesn't bring people along for no reason. So.”
Saladin grinned at Aria.
“Just wait, my lady. Soon enough, you'll be sweating bullets running around.”
“......?”
Aria blinked in confusion, but she understood soon enough why Saladin had said that.
'...Something's off.'
I couldn't shake the strange unease as I looked at the monster's corpse sliced by Mimi's blade.
Excluding the last one, the area was littered with corpses of various wyrmkin monsters.
There were too many monsters for such a harsh environment, but that wasn't all.
“Young master, is something wrong?”
Beskin approached, wiping the blood-soaked sword.
“You've been examining only the corpses of the monsters we've encountered on reconnaissance. Did you notice something odd?”
Beskin was quick on the uptake, as expected.
“Sir Beskin, doesn't it seem strange?”
“...Hm, well. Their hides are a bit tougher than the monsters we've faced in the mountains so far... But isn't that just a trait of wyrmkin?”
True.
Tough hides, fiercer and stronger than monsters from other regions.
All characteristics of wyrmkin.
“That's right. But.”
Stroke.
I ran my hand over the monster's corpse sliced by Mimi's blade.
I felt the slick, snake-like sheen mixed with the hardness of its shell-like skin.
“...These things resemble reptiles, if anything.”
Creatures that struggled with self-regulating their body temperature.
Monsters weren't exempt from that classification any more than animals were.
“Orcs and Cyclopes shiver in this brutal cold, yet these guys are thriving...”
Even allowing for monsters enduring winter cold, it made sense.
They weren't mere animals, after all.
But every living being instinctively sought better conditions.
Especially wyrmkin, with their superior strength compared to other monsters.
Why stay in this barren northwest, fighting among themselves?
'...It's like they're rejecting any outsiders.'
I'd never thought about it until coming here myself.
I'd just vaguely assumed the northwest mountains were wyrmkin territory.
But seeing it firsthand, the oddities piled up.
“...Looks like we have more to check than just the wyverns.”
The sun was setting as I glanced up.
“Let's call it here and head back. The northwest is vast.”
The Dragon Mountains were a massive land equivalent to a nation.
No way to grasp it all in one day.
“Sir Beskin, did you bring the communication orb?”
“Of course, young master.”
Beskin replied as if it were obvious. They wouldn't send Shield Family direct lineage into danger without contact.
“Keep it safe. We might need to reach out to Milla or Dwayne.”
It'd only been a day since arriving at Death Valley, but my honed instincts were ringing alarm bells.
This land was hiding something.
The deepest, highest cliff in Death Valley.
Covered in slick moss, with fierce winds howling through narrow gaps, repelling all life.
A monster had made its nest here: a wyvern.
Its massive body unmoved by gales, and the ability to fly freed it from slippery moss.
Domains in Death Valley changed owners daily, but the wyvern's never had.
Among wyrmkin, wyverns stood out for their dominance.
Flap! Flap!
One wyvern flew into the nest and landed.
It hopped on short legs toward a spot.
“Kieeak!”
There lay a wyvern twice the size of others—so massive it was almost embarrassing to call it one.
The one-eyed wyvern opened its remaining eye at the scout's cry.
“Grrr... humans... saliva, mouth?”
Astoundingly, the one-eyed wyvern spoke halting continental tongue.
It didn't know why.
One day, after devouring countless other dragonkin in Death Valley.
It suddenly knew speech.
And things invisible before became clear.
Not instinct filling its head, but 'thought' emerged.
With thought, it pondered.
How to prove its uniqueness.
The conclusion: a name.
It decided to have a 'name'.
What name would set it apart?
After long deliberation, it chose.
The first day it ate non-dragonkin.
Orcs.
Devouring those orcs, it named itself.
It craved new flavors.
To eat, eat, and eat more.
Fill its mind with more than instinct.
Thus, it called itself Gula.
“Kieeeeeak!”
“Grrrr... humans, lycans... many, all.”
Gula curled its hideous lips at the scout's report.
Humans, lycanthropes, Cyclopes ruling the east. And the orcs that shocked it most.
“Food... plenty...”
Thrilled by Gula's reaction, the scout cried joyfully.
“Kieak! Kieeak!”
Meaning: hunt now before others claim them.
But Gula slowly shook its head.
“Grrr... not yet...”
It turned its head happily. Not time to hunt.
How long since other races appeared here?
Orcs and Cyclopes knew this was wyrmkin land.
They came prepared.
Won't fall easily.
Let fools weaken each other.
Then, at the critical moment, savor their blood and flesh.
Gula decided to wait until prey reached the deepest part, inescapable.
Gulp!
Jean swallowed dryly at the sight before him on the Cimaria.
“R-Really... a Leviathan...”
He pinched his cheek, doubting a dream, but the pain confirmed reality.
Before the Cimaria.
Floating with pale belly up, larger than several warships: a monster corpse.
The sea's calamity, sailors' terror: Leviathan.
Clank!
Marquis Schopf, who achieved this feat, sheathed his sword nonchalantly.
Then stared at Jean.
“Captain. Sailing or not?”
“A-Ah!! Yes, yes! What are you waiting for! Grab those oars!”
At Schopf's curt words, Jean and crew scrambled.
“Actions speak louder than words. They obey so quickly.”
Schopf said to Luna behind him.
“If I hadn't reattached his leg, who'd know how long he'd resist. Just thinking about it annoys me.”
Jean, overhearing, felt chills down his neck but showed nothing.
Provoking that monster meant loss for him alone.
“No, Schopf. If I hadn't reattached his leg, sailing would've been delayed, right? It's thanks to your mercy I'm comfy now.”
Luna spoke with saintly eyes, but to Jean, both seemed insane.
'Crazy bastards. For real.'
Were all empire-shaking superhumans like this?
'But... their skills are the real deal.'
Directing crew, Jean sneaked a glance at the Leviathan.
The fearsome beast torn apart.
Like kids playing with an earthworm.
'And... the other four did nothing.'
Trust in Schopf, or swollen guts? Likely the former, seeing them.
'...Or maybe, chores go to Schopf.'
Unlikely, but Jean figured highest probability.
Groups always dump dirty work on underlings.
These wouldn't differ.
Then, faint rear noises vanished completely.
No sound, unnaturally quiet.
“......?”
A sailor instinctively turned.
Thwack!
Jean kicked his shoe into the sailor's face.
“Eugh! Stinks!”
“Shut it! Value your life—don't look back!”
Jean knew.
Masters could block sound with aura.
His long captaincy senses screamed.
Glance back, see their lips move?
No mercy for witnesses.
Snicker!
“Thought the captain stubborn, but sharp.”
Schopf chuckled approvingly at Jean's response.
“Heehee! Smart captain makes things easy.”
No need for more caution with his sharpness.
Flutter!
Schopf unfolded a map from his bosom—detailed like aerial view.
The region: Dragon Mountains, inhuman demon realm.
“Our destination: Death Valley, wyvern habitat. Deepest in mountains. Balista Fortress guarded by Cyclopes ahead. Even Duke Camille won't arrive quickly.”
“...Chance other three dukes approach by sea like us?”
A cloaked companion asked.
“Possible. But Laurent Port always Second Prince's domain. Grand Maria Fleet and all fleets back him. Hard to procure ships here.”
Schopf eyed Jean.
“And this captain. Fine navigator. Even harder to snag one like him.”
“...I see.”
Cloaked one nodded, silent.
“Heehee! Our position now?”
“Post-Leviathan, about here.”
Tap!
Luna asked; Schopf pointed.
Sea not far from wyvern habitat.
Schopf slid finger toward habitat.
“Landfall, then you lead.”
“......”
Cloaked nodded wordlessly.
Schopf addressed group.
“Ibarella's hit, dukes stalled—perfect to solidify princes' position. Stay sharp.”
Continent's end sea, no humans.
Ironically, here fates of humanity's greatest empire would decide.
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