Chapter 85
Chapter 85
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 85
Chapter Title: Kobold and Gnoll Extermination
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It took less than five minutes to wipe out over a hundred kobolds and gnolls.
In the wide-open plains, the monsters had nowhere to run from Gou.
They were slower than horses, but even at a leisurely trot, Gou was faster than any human, so the kobolds and gnolls couldn't shake them off.
On top of that, even wild Gou were chanting their death throes, but these were armed riders—veteran mercenaries, soldiers, and elves.
The kobolds and gnolls died without putting up any real resistance.
"Leave a few alive."
To learn their lair's location, Sion gave that order.
"What about the people? Are they okay?"
They had also rescued everyone who'd been dragged off by the monsters.
Their condition wasn't great, but since they hadn't suffered anything truly horrific yet, they recovered quickly after drinking the water offered by the unit members.
"Yes. They're villagers from a nearby settlement. A small place called Veilo with about thirty households."
"Just as I thought."
Sion frowned.
Monsters usually targeted small villages first. Larger towns with walls had hundreds of adult men, which scared them off.
Of course, if their numbers swelled like this group of hundreds, they wouldn't hesitate to charge in.
"There must be a lot more of these bastards, right?"
"Way more. They're nocturnal, so for them to raid a village in broad daylight means they're not just losing ground in competition—they've been pushed down from the mountains in huge numbers."
When Sion had first arrived in the Dukedom, there had been more beasts and monsters than humans.
It was truly the age of the wild.
Of course, things weren't that bad now.
But judging by nocturnal kobolds and gnolls attacking during the day, their numbers had at least tripled or quadrupled, to three or four thousand.
'Which means more mid-sized and large ones too.'
Small bipedal monsters settled away from mid- and large-sized ones.
In the end, today's group had fled down from the mountains to escape rival kin and bigger monsters, which meant at least five or six times—maybe ten times or more—were swarming the range.
"This is getting more complicated than expected. Hmm. What to do."
Sion pondered.
Hunting monsters wasn't hard.
He'd once toured the entire Dukedom with his knights, turning them into a beggar horde while smashing monsters left and right—his old skills hadn't rusted, and everything was better prepared now.
The problem was time.
He needed to wrap up southern affairs and stick to the original plan within a month at latest.
"Oh, right. That guy's still around."
"Pardon? What guy?"
As Pietro asked, Sion stroked his chin and muttered.
"But is he even still alive? He's no ordinary beast, though. Hmm."
"......?"
Ignoring the puzzled Pietro, Sion turned to Frielle.
"Frielle. Call over some of the High Mountain crew."
"Yes."
Soon the High Mountain Elves came rushing over. Stella was naturally among them.
"You called, Instructor?"
Stella and the High Mountain Elf warriors stood at sharp attention.
They had all witnessed Sion fighting today.
Sure, the unit had fought well without a single injury, but Sion smashing monsters was on another level entirely.
Remembering their first meeting and his power demonstration against them, they stood before him with undisguised awe.
"Yeah, sorry to interrupt your rest."
"Not at all. What do you need?"
Sion thought, 'This one's getting weirder by the day,' as he regarded Stella—sharper at attention than the others, staring at him with eyes like she wanted to devour him whole.
"There's an ogre in the High Mountains with an abnormally large right tusk. Know it? Or is it still alive?"
"Large tusk. How do you know about him, Instructor? Ah."
Recalling Sion's true identity anew, Stella continued.
"Large Tusk is still alive in the High Mountain basin. He never encroaches on our tribe's land—stays up at the peaks and basin, so we rarely cross paths."
"Good."
The ogre called Large Tusk lived up to his name: his right tusk was as thick as a man's arm.
He always hunched like other ogres, but standing straight, he was four meters tall, with thighs thicker than two grown men's torsos combined.
Sion had seen Large Tusk as a juvenile tear a full-grown male gray bear apart.
Then the bear-slayer charged at the insolent human staring dumbly at him—and that day, it lost one tusk and earned the moniker "Large Tusk."
Back then, Sion had beaten the real deal like clubbing a dog on a hot summer day.
Ogres were known for their regeneration, and Large Tusk was exceptional even among them.
Yet he'd been pummeled by an immortal old monster for nearly half a day.
Beat him down when he tried to flee, wait for half-death recovery, then beat him again.
During that, Sion learned something new.
That ogres—the kings of monsters—possessed emotions beyond slaughter instinct and rage.
Against the fantastical sunset over the High Mountain basin, as the sun dipped west, the near-king ogre had whimpered pathetically.
Only then did Sion stop.
He'd climbed the High Mountains to subjugate Large Tusk, not kill him.
"I'll recognize this as your territory. In exchange, manage the monsters from here to there. Keep them from descending the mountains. Got it?"
He didn't remember the exact words, but something like that.
Yes. Sion had used Large Tusk to control monsters around the High Mountains, the tallest peak in the Brandon range.
Whether the ogre was smart or just terrified of his beater (both, really), Large Tusk had followed orders well.
Ogres usually lived about thirty years, but given his size and uniqueness, Sion figured he'd last longer—though he hadn't expected fifty years later, he'd still be kicking.
"Perfect, he's around. Anyway, got it."
"Yes. But Instructor, are you planning to hunt Large Tusk yourself?"
"Nah. More like traffic control? Succession work? Something like that."
"......?"
Stella and the High Mountain Elves tilted their heads at the cryptic words.
Stella knew his true identity, but the others—who thought him just a royal bastard close to the ducal house—were surprised he even knew of "Large Tusk."
Still.
"Well, he's tight with the ducal family, so he must've heard it there."
They let it slide.
* * *
Leaving a few to escort the rescued villagers home, the hunting unit marched the spared monsters ahead to their lair.
Less "ahead" and more "released."
With intelligence like five- or six-year-olds, they bolted straight home on instinct—the pack nature of kobolds and gnolls.
Sion and the unit just followed.
Before sunset, they found about ten lairs, killed the guards at the entrances, and decided to smoke them out.
"Won't there be captives inside?"
"Probably."
At Pietro's point, Sion replied.
"Kobolds, gnolls, goblins—they see humans as food stores. They keep them separate. Just find that one."
The human-holding cave was easy: largest entrance, since humans were bigger.
Sparing likely spots, the unit swiftly cleared entrance guards, gathered nearby grass, and torched the openings.
Even low-IQ monsters ventilated their digs, but choking smoke was game over.
Hundreds of coughing kobolds and gnolls poured out, and the unit butchered them at the mouths.
By dusk, the hunting unit had exterminated them all.
"Everyone rescued?"
"Yes, twenty-seven survivors. The rest..."
A similar number of villagers had already been sacrificed.
The survivors were in dire shape; without today's rescue, at least five or six would've died soon.
"The village militia's one thing, but what the hell are the town and Frland, Rozin doing? Incompetent fuckers!"
The Black Eagle Legion veterans couldn't hold their anger.
They knew the two cities had no military authority.
But they had guards—of course—and even mustering some would've prevented this villager toll.
Sion agreed.
Frland and Rozin had shirked their regional duty.
"Probably panicked at simultaneous monster attacks everywhere. Or decided to protect only the big towns first. Either way, still incompetent."
More bitter than angry.
When he'd fully left the Dukedom, the cities hadn't been this bad.
Long peace might explain it, but this level of incompetence was leadership failure.
"Anyway, taking out a horde this size means the area'll be safe for a while."
"Won't others swarm in?"
As Pietro asked, Frielle stepped up instead of Sion.
"Monsters aren't stupid. They'll smell blood and come, but the moment they arrive, they'll sense it—a powerful army's at work. Then they hunker down."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes. Especially the Dukedom's monsters—they all fear the ducal army, regardless of kind. Don't know if it's generational teaching or instinct at birth, but they know one man and his subordinates' deeds well. Recent hatchlings might not, though."
Frielle's gaze naturally drifted to Sion, and Pietro looked at his ancestor with renewed respect.
"I beat them hard back in the day. Anyway, you're tired, but let's move now. Most monsters are nocturnal—plenty'll come in hours."
He could've smashed any comers, but the unit needed rest.
Better to trek a few hours fast then rest, so Sion and the hunting unit loaded survivors on Gou and left the lairs.
Next morning, after delivering survivors home, Sion was speechless at the villagers still there.
Over ten days since monsters wrecked the place, and no one from the superior town or Rozin City had come.
"These crazy bastards?"
Sion's lid finally blew.
(To be continued in the next installment)