Chapter 136
Chapter 136
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 136
Chapter Title: Hatan's Vengeance
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"Chwiik!!"
Hatan lightly kicked the belly of a dire wolf that was larger than even a tiger.
"Woof!!"
Dududududu!
Whether it was fueled by its master's rage coursing through its back, the dire wolf let out a long howl and charged ferociously toward Gula, the Poison-Eye wyvern.
"Kyaaah!!"
As Gula, writhing in agony, whipped its head violently, the battle axe lodged in its mouth couldn't withstand the centrifugal force and flew out toward Hatan.
Thud!
Hatan leisurely snatched the deadly axe from midair, then leaped from the dire wolf's back straight toward Gula.
Weeeeeeng!
A sound like countless flying insects buzzing their wings began to emanate from Hatan's battle axe.
The mighty power of the High Orcs, born warriors.
Vibration.
With monstrous cutting power that could slice through anything.
Gripping the axe with both hands, Hatan swung down at full force toward the wyvern.
"Chwiik! Die!!"
Since the Poison-Eye wyvern hadn't yet regained its senses, Hatan's axe was about to sever its wing clean off.
Shweeeeeek!
But then, another wyvern dove from the sky like a cannonball straight at Hatan.
With wings spanning nearly 10 meters, its weight was beyond imagination.
As the massive wyvern barreled toward him at full speed, Hatan had no choice but to redirect the axe meant for the Poison-Eye wyvern.
Kwaaaaang!
A dust cloud erupted in the middle of the forest, as if a high-tier spell had struck, blotting out all vision.
"Chwiik! Wa, my king! Chwiik!"
Even the orcs from the great village following Hatan were made anxious by the sheer force.
Fwoosh!
But Hatan, clad in blood-red armor alongside his dire wolf, emerged unscathed from the dust cloud.
As the dust settled, the vertically bisected corpse of the charging wyvern appeared, along with the Poison-Eye wyvern already back in fighting stance.
"Chwiik, Jerome."
Hatan, shaking off the blood of the wyvern that had charged him like a living battering ram, called out to me softly.
"What."
"Chwiik, that request I made before. Can you... grant it now?"
The Poison-Eye wyvern.
He had asked me to let him kill that one wyvern with his own hands, no matter what.
Clack!
Releasing the tension from my gauntlets, I spoke slowly to Hatan.
"Of course I remember."
Clack!
Not long after arriving at the cliffs of the abyss, I pulled out the high-grade mana stones I'd asked Lady Aria to procure.
Items used as cores for crafting high-grade artifacts—worth a fortune that would drop jaws.
'But if it wins over Hatan and the orcs' loyalty, it's practically free.'
Plip! Plip! Plip!
Tossing the mana stones around the forest where Hatan and the wyvern stood formed a massive triangle with them at the center.
Booooom!
Soon, thick mana rose from the mana stones.
"You're lucky, Hatan. This formation can't be set up roughly with just any old rocks."
Especially not to contain something as massive as that wyvern.
"Make sure to thank Lady Aria properly later."
"Kieeeek!!"
Sensing something amiss, the Poison-Eye wyvern flapped its enormous wings to take flight.
Keening!
But as if blocked by an invisible barrier, it couldn't rise beyond a certain height.
"Go on, Hatan. We'll clean up here."
Booooom!!
As if responding to my send-off, Hatan, axe in hand, gave the slightest nod.
Flash!
The insanely expensive formation then emitted a blinding light that hurt to even look at.
Moments later, where the light faded, only traces of Hatan and the Poison-Eye wyvern remained.
"Wh-what?! Where'd they go?! You, you bastard—can you use magic too?!"
It wasn't teleportation, but their presences vanished in an instant.
From Saladin's perspective, it must have looked like I'd cast some spell.
"Magic? No, they're still right there on that ground. We just can't see them."
"You little... what the hell are you...?"
I ignored Saladin muttering, 'Last time he threw me into the sea...', and stared at where Hatan had been.
Formation. Azure Heavens.
A formation that manifested the location with the strongest presence in their shared memory.
I'd thought its abysmal cost-to-effect ratio made it useless outside of merely projecting past scenes.
Never imagined it'd be used like this.
The place they'd face each other inside Azure Heavens was obvious without looking.
'This is all I can do for you, Hatan.'
Your stage is set—just handle the rest on it yourself.
"Kieeeek!!"
A guttural screech filled the sky, snapping me from my thoughts.
The wyverns' panic and fury at their leader's disappearance rang out raw and clear.
"Oh, right—there's one more thing I can do."
Lifting my head to the source of the shrieks, I readjusted my gauntlets.
"Saladin, stay hidden. If you pop out trying to be useful and get caught, it'll be a pain to rescue you."
"Damn it! You cocky bastard. Next time, I'll reinforce Mimi and Nene even more... Momma!!"
Though mere monsters, the wyverns instinctively targeted Saladin as the easiest prey here.
"Alright then."
Until the lycanthropes and Set's group arrived, might as well play a bit.
Watching the orcs on dire wolves targeting the diving wyverns' necks, and Lady Aria timing her spells to intercept them perfectly.
I began channeling Pankration as well.
Once upon a time, there was a tribe revered by all orcs in the Dragon Mountains.
The Silver Wolf Tribe.
The only tribe permitted the honor of riding dire wolves—lone, proud beasts—sweeping across battlefields together.
The Silver Wolf Tribe was the orcs' pride and glory.
And their wolf rider unit was the envy of every young orc, stirring their ambitions.
Had the chieftain, jealous of the promising rider captain, not schemed to shove them into an evil dragon's lair...
The Silver Wolf Tribe's orc riders would still represent the central Dragon Mountains orcs as warriors.
"Grrr... Wh-where... is this...?"
The Poison-Eye wyvern, Gula, felt its mind clearing after a sudden flash of unfamiliar light.
It could 'think' and 'speak' again.
Yes.
The formation, Azure Heavens, recreated the most intense memory location for those trapped within.
The shared memory of these two: the very site where the wolf rider unit was annihilated.
The pass leading to the cliffs of the abyss.
Step, step.
"...?"
A small footfall from behind. Its owner made no effort to hide their presence, exuding raw killing intent.
The damned orc who'd chucked an axe into its mouth approached astride a blood-red wolf.
"Grrr... You...?"
Gula tilted its head, forgetting the wound at its mouth.
Definitely that orc from before, but something was off.
The orc looked a bit younger, and the wolf's fur, once shining silver, was now blood-soaked crimson.
"Chwiik, Jerome told me."
The orc said calmly, axe in hand.
"Chwiik, inside this formation, you appear as I remember you. And I appear as you remember me."
Crack!
"Chwiik, not for a single moment. Have I forgotten."
His grip crushed the axe handle so hard that the skin split under the pressure, blood trickling down.
"Chwiiiik! I'll gouge out your eyes, slice your flesh into sashimi. And serve it as a feast for my subordinates who went to Valhalla first."
"Grrrr... Now... I remember you...?"
Even though Zenoth's plague had stripped the 'rank' from Gula's mind, the formation Azure Heavens let it recognize Hatan.
Thus, Gula could recall fond memories and grin wickedly.
"Grrr... You all... were delicious...?"
Flap!
Gula's wings spread wide.
"Fresh... wriggling... so tasty...?"
Twice the size of an ordinary wyvern, Gula with wings outstretched was massive enough to blot out the sun.
"Letting you... escape... such a pity...?"
With slow wingbeats, its heavy body began to lift.
"Today... I'll sate... that regret...?"
A wyvern's terror lay in its weight and speed.
Thus, this was the perfect moment to strike Gula down—but Hatan just watched axe in hand until it fully took flight.
"...Chwiik! Good."
Far from mocking Gula's taunt, Hatan smirked coldly.
"That you're no mere beast. Chwiik!"
Before entering the formation, when his axe hit Gula's mouth, Hatan had felt an odd dissonance.
The damned Poison-Eye wyvern that toyed with him and his men in the past.
It was an enemy deserving of being torn apart, but no mere beast.
Cunning, ruthless, insidious.
Yet the wyvern struck by the axe only writhed in pain, showing no cool assessment of its surroundings.
No trace of its former slyness anywhere.
That wouldn't do.
This Poison-Eye wyvern couldn't be just some dumb brute with size.
Otherwise, it'd mean his proud wolf riders were wiped out by such a pathetic creature.
Killing trash like that wouldn't let him boast of a feast to his men in Valhalla.
But Jerome's spell changed that.
He couldn't fathom the principle with his simple mind, nor did he care to.
One thing was certain.
The dumbed-down wyvern had reverted to its cunning, ruthless past self.
For that, Hatan was truly grateful to Jerome.
Not a beast, but the sly, evil 'enemy' of old.
The Poison-Eye wyvern was that 'enemy' once more.
Thus, this wasn't mere...
"Chwiik, yes. This is."
Kwaaaak!
A drop of blood trickled from his clenched fist along the axe haft.
"A purification rite for my fallen subordinates' eternal rest. Chwiik!"
Swish, swish.
In a spacious study.
A man of massive build polished a shield.
Just the act of cleaning a shield, yet his mountain-like presence filled the room to overflowing.
"Thinking of the Third Young Master again?"
From a corner of the study, the diminutive Arandal asked the shield-polishing man, Bacchus.
"Ahem, does it look that way?"
"No 'look' about it—you've been craning your neck ever since Dwayne hung that banner."
Swish!
Bacchus set down the cloth after one final wipe.
"Think what you want. Why would I waste thoughts on a brat who finishes his mission, comes home after ages, doesn't even properly greet his father, and bolts off again. Ahem!"
"......"
Arandal prided himself on supporting Bacchus in Banten for years, but this side of him felt alien.
"...No way—you're sulking?"
"No clue what you're on about. Ahem!"
"Whoa... Lord, keep some dignity."
"Bored these days?"
Rumble!
As Bacchus rose, stretching, Arandal quickly bowed his head.
"My mistake, Lord! Surely you were pondering Banten's future!"
Bacchus chuckled at Arandal's instant backpedal.
"Well, half right. I did think of the third."
'Half?'
Meaning he'd thought of the other kids too.
As Arandal looked up, Bacchus, hands behind his back, gazed out the window.
"Only two years left until the third receives Olivia from the royals."
The majestic Dragon Mountains loomed, with Banten's vast plains below filling his view.
"For the third to settle easily in Olivia, Banten's future needs solid backing first."
An odd statement.
"Lord, you mean...?"
"When the third returns from this mission."
Bacchus's gaze shifted from the window to the study interior.
The wall bore a golden turtle emblem.
That symbol—which might seem comical—had eternally blocked the Holy Empire's southward advance. The Shield Family's mark.
"Guess it's time to seriously consider a successor."
Time to pass that symbol to the next generation.