Chapter 208
Chapter 208
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 208
Chapter Title: Baukalak’s Moonlight Ritual
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They say that in the slums of the continent, come summer, there’s a custom of catching stray dogs on the streets to eat for health.
Before the poor folks eat the dogs, they tenderize the meat by beating it thoroughly to make it chewy.
"Kiiing…."
That must be exactly the kind of sound those pitiful dogs make after getting beaten.
And with its black fur mixed with silver strands, it perfectly evoked a specific breed of dog in my mind.
"What’s this? Did something happen to Baukalak?"
Saladin, who had bound Baukalak tightly with threads, finally voiced his belated question.
Don’t people usually worry about that sort of thing before beating them senseless?
"Well, we’ll find out when we get there. Lycaron’s just a nose away if he topples forward."
When you’re clueless about a situation, the best thing is always to hear it straight from the people on the scene.
Did Baukalak go berserk and indiscriminately slaughter the drakekin?
Fortunately, no more drakekin appeared on the path to Lycaron while we carried the fallen Baukalak on our backs.
Lycaron, visible in the distance, wasn’t absurdly tall like the abyss cliffs where the wyverns nested, nor was it covered in moss, making it hard to climb.
It simply sat quietly within an ordinary forest.
The only distinctive feature was the multiple layers of thick log palisades that enveloped Lycaron without a single gap.
No matter what drakekin targeted this place, the lycanthropes could respond to the intrusion before all the palisades collapsed.
It was simple, but against simple-minded drakekin, it was the most effective method imaginable.
Not bad. They’ve done their homework.
The young lycanthropes, cast into this harsh land by their chieftain Lugal’s machinations, had found the best way to survive on their own.
From the looks of it, there didn’t seem to be any problems inside Lycaron.
Glance!
My eyes involuntarily drifted to Baukalak, dangling limply over Beskin’s shoulder.
Then why the hell did this guy end up like this?
The question lingered, but I’d learn the details once we entered Lycaron.
As we approached Lycaron slowly, growls began emanating from atop the palisades.
"Grrr! Who goes there!"
Still, since we were humans and not drakekin, they opted for dialogue first.
Smart move. Charging in blindly when friend or foe was unclear would get them treated like monsters instead of fellow sapients.
I shouted up at the palisades.
"I am Jerome von Carviot! I found your leader Baukalak collapsed, and I want to hear what happened!"
"Grrr, Jerome von Carviot?"
The lycanthropes seemed more focused on my name than Baukalak’s.
"Grrr, wait a moment!"
Soon, one of the lycanthropes dashed inward from the palisades. With Baukalak absent, he was probably going to report to the next in command.
It wasn’t long before the palisade gate slowly creaked open.
Rumble rumble rumble!
From behind the palisades, a familiar-faced lycanthrope came into view.
His name was Oborten, if I recalled correctly.
Oborten recognized me too and dipped his head slightly.
"Grrr, this familiar scent. It’s the human who visited the village. Definitely Jerome."
Confirming by smell rather than face. Oborten sniffed toward me, Saladin, and Beskin before nodding.
"The other two humans fought alongside us against the wyverns. I remember."
With Oborten’s verification complete, the subtly bristled fur of the lycanthropes waiting behind him began to settle.
They’d been poised to spring into action at a moment’s notice.
Impressive. Just as Lugal had planned, the young lycanthropes were gradually forging themselves into elites by rolling through Death Valley.
All except for the one guy slung over our backs.
Perhaps because my gaze turned to him.
Oborten’s eyes followed mine to Baukalak on Beskin’s back, and he let out a deep sigh.
"Grrr, sorry for the trouble, uninvited as it was."
"What the hell happened?"
Smooth!
Instead of answering, Oborten gestured for us to follow him inside Lycaron.
"Grrr, come with me. This isn’t something to discuss standing here."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
After defeating the one-eyed wyverns in Death Valley, every race involved had reaped satisfying rewards.
The orcs gained a truce with the cyclopes and the pride of avenging their king.
The cyclopes secured massive wyvern parts from Banten and stabilized the mountains by halting the orc advance.
The lycanthropes acquired new territory in Lycaron within Death Valley and opened exchanges with Banten.
Humans obtained wyvern wing scales for their research purposes.
Thus, every race that joined the wyvern subjugation had gained rewards to their satisfaction.
However.
Not every race being satisfied didn’t mean every individual was.
"Grrr, Baukalak wasn’t satisfied."
The lycanthropes who had migrated en masse under Lugal’s orders had honed their skills admirably.
"Grrr, Baukalak was the same, but this one took it to extremes. He was always pushing himself like he was being chased by something."
Smooth!
Oborten’s thick finger pointed at me.
"It’s because of you, Hatan, and Brontes."
Hearing Oborten’s words brought back the sense of déjà vu from Baukalak’s behavior.
Hatan and Brontes were powerhouses who transcended their races’ limits.
I needed no further explanation, having seen Baukalak since his escape from the Sharon Kingdom.
"…He must have been impatient."
"Grrr, exactly."
Among the races establishing forces in the Dragon Mountains, each had outliers beyond the norm.
Cyclopes had Argues and Brontes, orcs had Hatan, elves had Paolo, and so on.
But uniquely, the lycanthropes lacked such a powerhouse.
Ironically, lycanthropes boasted unmatched average combat prowess per individual, yet had no standout elite.
Oborten sighed.
"Grrr, stupid pup. Just look at old man Lugal—what’s the rush to mess with dangerous forbidden arts?"
A strange dissonance hit me from Oborten’s low mutter.
"Forbidden arts? Do you know why Baukalak ended up like that?"
Hatan’s ascension to high orc was a miraculous convergence of countless factors.
That’s why high orcs rarely appeared in continental history.
But from Oborten’s words, it seemed lycanthropes knew how to elevate their own tier.
"Grrr? Of course we do. By using the Moonlight Forbidden Art, lycanthropes can evolve into the superior being, the Vanagand."
No way. They could artificially transcend tiers?
What kind of cheat ability is this race?
Hiding my shock, I pressed Oborten further.
"What do you mean we’ll know if we see Chieftain Lugal?"
"Grr? You don’t know?"
Oborten seemed puzzled.
"When one becomes chieftain, they receive the Moonlight Blessing and evolve into a Vanagand. Old man Lugal might not be the strongest, but he’s no weaker than Hatan or Brontes."
Things were getting deeper. So lycanthropes always had at least one tier-transcended individual as chieftain.
Now I get why lycanthropes are counted among the mountain powerhouses.
"Hm? Wait, so Chieftain Lugal is a Vanagand now. Then why was Baukalak so desperate?"
Saladin tilted his head.
From what I’d heard, Baukalak was already slated as the next chieftain.
If so, he’d become a Vanagand eventually—why push so hard?
"Grrr. As I said earlier, Baukalak’s eyes were fixed elsewhere. To him, becoming chieftain must feel too distant."
Oborten meant this: His rivals were already at Lugal’s level or aiming higher.
Yet Baukalak alone hadn’t even transcended tiers, flooding him with self-loathing.
Looking at Baukalak, twitching in residual spasms after getting pummeled like a dog, it somehow made sense.
"Grrr, anyway, that’s why he dabbled in forbidden arts and bolted. We were already headache-deep without him. Thanks for bringing him back."
"Just how dangerous is this forbidden art?"
"Grrr, do you know lycanthropes’ weakness?"
"Silver arrows, right?"
Oborten nodded.
"Grrr, correct. We’re vulnerable to silver. That’s our racial constraint and limit. To become Vanagand, one must surpass that limit."
Oborten’s gaze turned to Baukalak.
"To become Vanagand, on the night of the full moon when lycanthrope power peaks, you must take silver into your body."
Insane.
Silver was like deadly poison to lycanthropes.
And at their power’s zenith?
"Can’t it be stopped?"
"Grrr, he’s already halfway through the ritual’s domain. Only Baukalak himself can surpass it now."
"What happens if he fails?"
"Those consumed by the ritual become little more than monsters. Before he turns into a slaughtering beast, as Lycaron’s interim leader, I’ll kill Baukalak myself."
Watching Oborten leave, I scratched the back of my head.
This is a total mess.
We couldn’t just leave.
Damn it, what do we do?
As Beskin and I scowled in thought, my eyes caught Saladin staring intently at Baukalak.
"Saladin, sit—"
"Doesn’t this look familiar?"
"Huh?"
"You know, for aura specialists like you or Sir Beskin. Doesn’t mana cultivation backlash sometimes cause mental glitches? Doesn’t this match those symptoms?"
"There are techniques to control cultivation runaways. You guys must have some too."
We did.
"So, maybe we could take a look?"
Absolutely.