Chapter 100
Chapter 100
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 100
Chapter Title: Found One
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*
The beastkin alliance's encampment was extremely short on entertainment. Aside from the supplies drafted from each tribe and the goods obtained through trade relays, there wasn't even enough food to go around.
In a camp full of vigorous young warriors, the only things they could do were sparring sessions, sparring disguised as duels, duels disguised as murders, or drowning themselves in liquor.
At that moment, the sole mission assigned to Kirhas was simple: beat every challenger who stepped up. Ever since the day a large number of the alliance's elders had departed. To reform the sinister atmosphere enveloping the camp, they needed an 'icon.'
-Kiiing!
Kirhas's longsword vibrated thinly from the impact. The high-quality steel longsword forged in the Kingdom of Dane vastly outperformed the crude weapons of the tigerkin warriors.
-Kwaduk!
"Damn it!"
One beastkin warrior snarled as he stared at his longsword, snapped right above the crossguard. It wasn't just the superior steel; she was overwhelming most of these warriors with her skill and instincts as well.
The command from her lord was singular: do not lose. And for Kirhas, that was far simpler and more comfortable than vague orders to use her head or win their hearts.
"Haha! Next!"
"You're like a damn ghost."
The beastkin warrior grumbled as he picked up the shards of his broken blade and left the training ground. Soon, a young man stripped off his upper garment, flexing his well-developed muscles, and stepped forward gripping a club.
"A champion of the Zares clan, Enax! I seek your tutelage!"
"Too wordy, Enax! Haha, if you just wanna fight, say so!"
"Uahaha! Don't cry after getting hit!"
The young man laughed heartily as he swung the club around with whooshes. Immense power emanated from his movements. Kirhas spun her sword once, settling into her stance, and grinned ferociously.
A familiar type of opponent. It felt just like sparring with the Demonica.
And that guy was definitely weaker than the Demonica.
*
After her twenty-seventh victory, Kirhas's stamina was gradually reaching its limit. She let out a long breath and scanned the warriors around her, who were gazing in awe.
"Anyone else?"
"You can still fight after that?"
"If you're up for it, come at me all at once!"
Kirhas burst into laughter, and the tribal warriors followed suit, chattering noisily. They revered exceptional warriors and hunters.
-Flick.
"Here, wet your throat."
"Thanks!"
A canteen flew toward her and landed in her hand. Kirhas uncorked it and gulped down the lukewarm water. Warriors gathered around her.
"Impressive martial prowess. Kirhas Hearttaker. Where did you learn your skills?"
"Here and there?"
She couldn't very well say the Inquisition. Kirhas wiped her lips and smiled. The warriors were already captivated by her. Her striking beauty, bold personality, and superior strength.
"Is that rumor true, by any chance?"
"Hm? What rumor?"
"That you're going to be the great chieftain."
". . .Hmm."
Kirhas's mind raced. Fernandez had only told her to fight and win, and her speech in the alliance council chamber was merely a slight adaptation of the script he'd prepared to create a focal point.
It had ended up looking like she'd revealed ambitions, but she harbored no grand dreams like becoming the first great chieftain in decades for the beastkin alliance.
'Well, Silver Lord will have the plans figured out.'
"A bit tricky to answer right now!"
Kirhas laughed as she replied, and the warriors' eyes gleamed. They were young and full of vigor, but not fools. Being drafted to this camp instead of staying with their tribes meant they'd essentially been discarded by them.
Warriors cherished and loyal to their chieftains didn't leave the tribal stronghold. Those sent to the tigerkin council's encampment were threats substantial enough to challenge the chieftain or their heir.
Thus, this camp was like a homecoming ground for the second-in-commands discarded by tribal politics. They instinctively sensed the need for a new wind to lead them or a rope to climb.
In a place gathered with warriors of similar caliber, a standout, charismatic outsider. And the title of a great warrior blessed by divine revelation was immensely appealing.
Just as Fernandez had envisioned.
*
Fernandez sat in a dim tent lit by a small candle. After days of preparation, he had placed the entire encampment firmly under his mana control.
-Hwaruruk.
His finger traced the air. A black halo ignited, flooding his mind with the movements, positions, and conversations of everyone inside the camp.
Watching this, Partak swallowed hard. He was the tribe's top shaman, perhaps one of the five finest across the entire beastkin alliance.
Because of that, Partak could vaguely grasp the magic Fernandez was wielding. It was an advanced spell requiring delicate control that he wouldn't even dream of attempting.
'Just how much mental strength. . . .'
Fernandez had extended sensory organs across the vast encampment. He could detect everything from large-scale movements to the chirps of grass insects.
To process that flood of information without losing control of the magic or his sanity required mental fortitude beyond imagination.
"Someone's coming."
". . .From which direction?"
"North."
"North means. . . ."
Partak glanced at the map and spoke quickly.
"The Rakar, Ventus, Pelsuan, and Tachali clans are positioned to the north."
"Any imperial affiliates?"
"None among them. Heading north from here leads to Kirjart territory anyway."
"Then it's a guest."
Fernandez slowly opened his eyes. Guests at this time needed to be welcomed. No need to make more enemies with civil war looming.
-Tok.
Fernandez lightly tapped the table. Outside the tent, Kirhas's figure sharpened into focus amid her laughter and chatter. She was joyfully sweating it out without a care, winning over the tribesfolk's hearts.
Seeing this, Fernandez smiled warmly.
'Well done.'
Her innate talent was shining. The charm and charisma that drew people in were in full bloom. Her talents were awakening.
The martial arts directly taught by the Inquisition's Heretica had evolved through Infermer, and now she possessed strength ranking at the top even among beastkin warriors.
"Everything's proceeding as planned."
Seeing his smile, Partak snickered. He viewed Kirhas as a pitiful puppet. She was the public face Fernandez had prepared.
With Kirhas building the great tribe, Fernandez would rule from the shadows. Fernandez clicked his tongue at such a Partak.
'Foolish fool.'
-That's normal.
'Shamans need to hide their true thoughts.'
-From our position with the chains of domination binding him, a shaman hiding his thoughts would be dead. This is his survival tactic. Not hiding them is actually wiser.
Partak slowly rose and bowed deeply to Fernandez.
"My lord, I'll prepare to receive the guest."
"See to it."
Fernandez glanced at Partak departing the tent, then closed his eyes again.
*
Vatrus had been unable to hide his bewilderment since arriving at the beastkin alliance's encampment.
"No, what in the. . . ."
"Umm. . . ."
His elders groaned lowly as they surveyed the alliance camp. The number of tents had nearly halved, trash rolled through the streets.
And the tribal warriors' eyes were unusual. They watched with tense, jittery gazes sharpened to a razor's edge.
"Did they suffer a raid or something?"
"Chieftain. Something's off."
"Pitch the tents first. Tend to the wounded. I'll head to the council."
"Yes."
The tribal warriors were exhausted from successive battles and a long march. They had escaped Tutan Gartep's army, but the damage to the tribe as a whole was not insignificant.
Vatrus looked at Piel, who stood quietly beside him with her head bowed.
"What will you do?"
"I'll follow."
"What do you see?"
"Yes. Definitely."
Piel nodded, her honey-gold eyes sparkling.
*
Fernandez sat cross-legged on the rug in his tent, methodically forming mudras. A sinister halo flickered incessantly behind his head.
The candle at his feet danced, flickering. Its light cast undulating shadows, etching eerie shades across Fernandez's face.
Seated there, he watched Vatrus enter the council.
"Tutan Gartep has declared war. We clashed with them, gathered our forces, and were retreating."
"Why? Weren't they in conflict with Kirjart?"
"They assassinated the envoy they sent us."
". . .What?"
Vatrus fell silent for a moment, then looked at his flustered elders. They were Kirjart hardliners and neutral hardliners. The complete absence of imperial dovish elders felt ominous.
"An agent dispatched from the Empire assassinated him. It happened inside our tribal camp, and Tutan Gartep immediately began military posturing."
"Damn human scum!"
The elders harboring grudges against the Empire gnashed their teeth in unison. Vatrus paused before pointing to the northern wilderness.
"From near the Kirjart border to here, they're marching toward beastkin tribes. Where are the other elders? This isn't the time for politics. The situation is urgent."
"Umm. . . ."
"Those cowards left."
"What?"
"We decided to elect a great chieftain."
". . .What? Great chieftain?"
By tigerkin alliance tradition, a great chieftain could be elected only by unanimous vote of the elders with voting rights. This meant it was impossible. The elder council could never achieve unanimity.
Vatrus instinctively sensed a threat in the mention of electing a great chieftain. Had these guys assassinated all the dovish elders?
He slowly put distance between them and spoke.
"Surely you didn't violate the peace edicts?"
"Of course not! They got scared and left!"
". . .Scared of whom?"
Vatrus felt somewhat relieved. No matter how reckless, they wouldn't assassinate elders. But the elders abandoning their voting rights and leaving the alliance council was still highly suspicious.
"The gods."
". . .Gods? What nonsense is that?"
Seeing Vatrus's confusion, the elders mumbled evasively. Amid them, Partak let out a snicker. Vatrus glared sharply at Partak.
"What scheme are you plotting?"
"Chieftain."
Piel, who had been quietly bowing beside him, suddenly grabbed his arm. Vatrus growled at Partak before looking down at Piel.
"What is it?"
"Their words are true. I sense divinity."
Piel's eyes turned toward the ceiling. Her honey-gold eyes pierced the ceiling, the roof, and beyond, beholding the complex flows of mana intertwined there.
And at the end of those flows, Fernandez's hand, controlling the mana, suddenly paused.
Despite the distance and obstacles, Fernandez and Piel's gazes met. Piel felt the gaze of Fernandez looking down at her and met it head-on.
In the darkness, Fernandez slowly opened his eyes.
"So you're here. Great Archangel."
An unforgettable appearance, indeed. Pieranel of wisdom and truth.