Chapter 141: The Vicious Merchant (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 141: The Vicious Merchant (3)
Eisengar was a land of endless, desolate snowfields, but here, the earth itself had opened its maw.
Descending a long staircase into the chasm revealed an underground fortress.
Frost Hollow, the Maw of the Ice Fields. Once a den of demonic beasts, it had been steeped in a history of blood, steel, and slaughter, only to be reduced to a human sanctuary.
Its structure was reminiscent of an ant colony. Though also subterranean, it was incomparably more chaotic than the orderly Doomheim—a perfect dwelling for barbarians.
Even among people of the same continent and race, societies took on vastly different forms.
If Lake Fortress was a cozy family home, Frost Hollow was a den of beasts. Its inhabitants drank all day and attacked any woman they saw without a moment’s hesitation.
The northerners here knew not their fathers, nor their own children. No description was more fitting than a den of beasts.
“Great Chieftain! I have come with urgent news!”
The visitor to this barbarian hideout was Bifen, the slit-eyed merchant.
After failing to rip off the people of Lake Fortress, he had come running to Frost Hollow like a beaten dog and now prostrated himself in the Great Chieftain’s quarters.
Before him, a burly man sat arrogantly on a throne-like chair, looking every bit the monarch.
Zeke Snowsvine, the Great Chieftain of Frost Hollow.
His roots lay with the honorable Northguard, but he had grown weary of their stuffy traditions and chosen the path of a barbarian.
He had swept through the other tribes, unifying them one by one. His power had snowballed until his tribe became the largest in all of Eisengar.
In Frost Hollow, Great Chieftain Zeke was a king in all but name. His cold, heavy gaze bore down on the back of Bifen’s head.
“I recently visited Lake Fortress to conduct a trade. I don't know what strings they pulled, but they had a large supply of wyvern wings. They also had yeti pelts of exceptional quality.”
“…”
“I intended to offer them to you, Great Chieftain, but they became absurdly greedy. The deal fell through.”
“What's your point?”
Bifen flinched at the low voice that rumbled through the cavern.
He forced out his words in a trembling voice.
“But while I was there, I saw a woman of breathtaking beauty. She was more beautiful than any woman I have ever seen. It was like gazing upon a goddess of winter…”
“Hmm.”
“And yet, that woman was a slave. Worse, she belonged to the Slave Reaper.”
“Who is this Slave Reaper?”
How can he not know the Slave Reaper? These damn barbarians are all alike.
Of course, saying such a thing aloud would get his head crushed, so Bifen explained politely.
“He's a slave trader infamous across the continent for his hobby of killing slaves.”
“And the woman you mentioned is his slave?”
“Yes. He will surely torment her in every way imaginable before finally taking her life. I tried my best to save her, but I failed…”
“We must bring her here.”
“That is precisely what I was hoping you would say!”
Their minds in sync, Bifen raised his head for a moment before quickly lowering it again.
Zeke propped his chin on his hand, his eyes scanning Bifen’s sorry state.
A bumpkin from the south.
His restless demeanor was the antithesis of a true northerner.
He wasn't the kind of man Zeke liked, but their interests aligned. Bifen was a man who meticulously weighed his gains and losses.
The tribe provided him protection, and in return, Bifen supplied them with quality goods. Sometimes he also provided information, which they would use to ride out on their frost wolves and abduct beautiful women.
It didn't matter if the women were nobles or not.
Zeke was, after all, a man who styled himself a monarch in the lawless North, and he had the power to back it up. The soldiers of the frontier cities were no match for him.
And now, he had information on a new woman. Bifen might be a flighty fool, but his eye for ‘products’ was second to none. If he was praising her this highly, she had to be more than just an ordinary beauty.
Lake Fortress, he said.
A historic tribe led by Chieftain Darka, one that valued tradition. It was the tribe Zeke was most wary of, as every one of their warriors was exceptionally skilled.
But after Pascal’s accidental death and Darka’s subsequent breakdown, Lake Fortress had crumbled rapidly, like a sled careening down a steep hill.
He had left them alone, seeing no reason to keep them in check, but now he had a reason to pay them a visit.
He would take the slave from this ‘Slave Reaper,’ force them to pay regular tribute, and in return, he would graciously spare their lives.
“Good. Right now—”
Just as Zeke was about to lift his heavy frame from the chair.
A desperate scream echoed through the cavern.
“Aaaargh! My arm!!!”
“Don't cry! You're a man, aren't you?”
“But my arm!!!”
Zeke’s mood soured at the sudden commotion, his expression darkening.
“…Who dares cause such a disturbance.”
“My apologies. I'll go find out at once.”
An angry Zeke was a ferocious Zeke.
One of the chieftains hurried out to assess the situation.
“Uwaaah!”
“Run! Some crazy bitch is cutting people down!”
The commotion grew louder.
The atmosphere grew tense.
The chieftain who had gone to investigate scrambled back, out of breath.
“Great Chieftain, an intruder!”
Zeke's eyebrow twitched.
“An intruder? Who dares attack us? How many of them are there?”
“I don't know who they are! So far, I've only seen one!”
One person?
Someone dared to invade Frost Hollow alone?
What fool with no regard for their own life would dare?
Zeke grabbed a greatsword as tall as he was and rose to his feet. Outside, his tribesmen were scattering in a panic.
Pursuing them was a lone swordswoman.
She was like a ray of winter light illuminating the gloomy underground fortress.
A woman so beautiful that for a moment, even Zeke—a man unfazed by the harshest cold—felt a shiver run down his spine.
“Th-that's the woman! The slave I told you about!”
Bifen cried out excitedly.
The very woman he had planned to capture had walked right in. And not only that, she was cutting down his tribesmen with her sword.
But Zeke found himself staring, mesmerized by her movements, as fluid and graceful as a sword dancer.
“Great Chieftain!”
The shout snapped him out of his daze.
Zeke gave his shoulders a shake.
This was no time to stand by and watch.
Gripping his greatsword with both hands, Zeke swung it upward. A wave of sharply honed sword energy surged toward Azyeth.
Azyeth, who had been navigating the rough terrain with light, rabbit-like steps, landed softly just as the wave of energy struck the spot where she’d been a moment before.
Like a relevé in ballet.
Azyeth, poised on the tips of her toes, pivoted on her ankle.
A graceful spin.
The sword energy grazed the very tips of her hair.
Thud!
Zeke leaped through the air and landed near Azyeth with a heavy thud.
Azyeth turned her head.
Her eyes met Zeke's.
“So Bifen wasn't exaggerating.”
He had thought the merchant was being overly dramatic, but now he saw why. She possessed a beauty that words couldn't begin to describe.
She's no ordinary slave.
Her entire aura was different from that of a typical slave. Her clothes, her looks… she seemed less like a slave treated as property and more like a sheltered princess.
Her swordsmanship was also extraordinary.
He had only seen a glimpse, but her movements were incredibly light.
“What brings you here?”
“Rami… told me to… clean up.”
“Who is this Rami? Is he the one they call the Slave Reaper?”
“Rami… is just… Rami…?”
“…?”
What in the world? Is she slow?
Still, it doesn't matter.
A few flaws were no issue for someone so beautiful. If anything, her eccentric personality only added to her charm.
“Don't think you can just walk into Frost Hollow and expect to leave. You will bear my children until the day your beauty fades.”
Zeke took a stance, his black greatsword held back, and lunged. He wasn't agile, but his massive frame charged forward, displacing the very air around him.
He had the intimidating presence of a charging buffalo.
Zeke brought his greatsword down in a diagonal slash.
Azyeth remained impassive in the face of the descending greatsword. Her expression unchanging, she sidestepped the attack and thrust her own blade forward.
Schlick.
“Kgh?!”
The sword slid smoothly into Zeke’s shoulder.
Blood sprayed into the air.
The droplets flying toward Azyeth froze in midair, transforming into crimson ice shards that shot back toward their owner.
They peppered Zeke’s body with shallow cuts.
Magic?!
The damage was negligible, but in a battle decided in split seconds, any distraction was a threat. Simply being a nuisance was effective enough.
Whoosh!
A volley of ice shards shot toward him.
Zeke hastily angled his greatsword to block.
Clang—!
After deflecting the attack with the flat of his blade, Zeke leaped backward.
“What kind of slave is she…?”
A magic swordswoman?
He could accept her skill with a sword, but he never imagined she could wield magic simultaneously.
She was far too skilled to be a mere slave.
It’s humiliating for me as their leader, but I need to attack with my men…
“Hm?”
Azyeth glided toward him.
The ground froze with her every step.
She expertly skated across the ice she created, closing the distance at high speed.
Closing the distance in an instant, Azyeth renewed her fierce assault.
Azyeth was left-handed.
Most people are right-handed.
The trajectory of her attacks was fundamentally different.
To someone accustomed to fighting right-handers, that subtle difference felt utterly alien.
Zeke scrambled, forced entirely on the defensive. He sweated, trying to block her strikes, but his guard was as full of holes as a honeycomb, and Azyeth’s attacks slipped through.
Every spray of his blood turned into ice shards that shot back at him.
It was a one-sided assault, not a proper battle. Against a level of swordsmanship a mere barbarian could never hope to match, the outcome had been decided from the start.
Crack—
The greatsword froze the instant it met the tip of Azyeth’s blade. As she pushed forward, the massive weapon shattered helplessly.
“Kraaaaargh!”
Zeke tumbled to the ground from the force of the blow.
Azyeth leveled her blade at him.
The difference in their skill was overwhelming.
A flicker of confusion crossed the face of Azyeth, who had relentlessly pressured Zeke the entire time. She tilted her head.
“Over…?”
She sounded as if she couldn't believe it was already over.
It was an unintentional flex.