Chapter 99
Chapter 99
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 99
Chapter Title: War Clouds Loom
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Kirzart hawk faction elders. They held a massive share of the council seats and, true to their name as the "hawks"—the war faction—backed by tribes boasting immense military might.
These tribes didn't rely on numbers. Worn down by countless wars, they employed only a highly elite few. Yet no one could deny that their collective martial power surpassed the pacifist dove faction in its entirety.
In contrast, the dove faction. With bases near the empire's borders, their tribes dominated vast spheres of influence through fertile lands and a pro-empire peace policy. Their warriors and hunters weren't in the majority, but sheer numbers were a potent weapon nonetheless.
Fernandez Cerned stroked his chin as he gazed at the map densely marked with beastkin tiger tribe strongholds. He had no beard yet, but it was a long-standing habit whenever he sank into deep thought.
-Flutter.
The flap of his tent opened. A beastkin servant bowed his head and approached cautiously. When Fernandez glanced over, the servant flinched and stepped back.
"What is it?"
"The shaman seeks you."
"I'll go shortly."
The Great Wilderness of his memories was long after Kirhas had ended the civil war. The emperor and sultan's war had slackened under foreign invasion, and beastkin tiger tribes seized the gap to expand their territories in fierce struggles.
At its close, Kirhas Hearttaker appeared, uniting the tiger tribes under her as great chieftain, halting the advancing Karadskarn legions in an epic saga. Fernandez knew only rumors of it.
'Information is scarce.'
The Great Wilderness of this era—and even more convoluted than his past life—was nearly an unknown realm to him.
*
Partak's tent housed the Kirzart hawk faction elders. They muttered in outrage.
Partak had called the war council and dropped a bombshell on his own faction without leaking a word. It was a political ambush. The kind where assassins bursting in wouldn't surprise anyone.
Yet Partak was a core figure among the hawk elders, and those attending the war council all owed him a "special" debt. The inescapable kind.
"Partak. We're all here now. What the hell are you waiting for?"
"You'd better explain today's council business well. If you want to prolong your political life, even briefly, Blackfang."
"Or that pathetic life of yours, anyway."
The elders bared their fangs and growled at Partak, who simply smiled without a word. Even amid their menacing aura, he merely stared at the spot where the servant had left.
"Damn it. Say something!"
"Care for some tea?"
-Pour.
Partak leisurely produced cups and poured clear tea. The elders' faces hardened instantly.
"We won't drink tea poured by a shaman. Partak."
"What are you plotting?"
The elders' words grew rougher. Offering tea—especially in such a precarious situation—was a highly aggressive move.
By tradition, among beastkin tiger tribes in disputes, alcohol meant reconciliation, tea meant poison. The elders showed signs of bolting from their seats.
At that moment, footsteps approached from outside the tent.
-Rustle.
"Sit."
The one who entered was the human prophet of Kadan, Kirhas's attendant. The beastkin flinched and glared at him.
"This isn't a place for a filthy wanderer. Young human!"
"It's beyond belief. Partak Blackfang. We'll report this to the tribe. Your betrayals are tiresome. If you want to play house with that human so badly, go ahead."
The elders spat on the ground, insulting Partak. Spitting inside a tent was a traditional declaration of war. Partak just kept smiling despite the blatant threat.
-Fwoosh.
Then, black flames rippled behind the young man's head. The beastkin elders panicked and gripped their weapons. A mage?
"You dare threaten council members in the heart of the tiger alliance?!"
An elder bared his fangs and snarled fiercely. Fernandez smirked and approached the table.
"Sit. Threaten? I'm just blocking sound."
"Rude. Why should we listen to you?"
"Because I called you here. Aren't you curious what I'm plotting?"
The elders narrowed their eyes, scanning Partak and Fernandez. It reeked of conspiracy. Between that gloomy, aristocratic youth and the old shaman—an ill-matched pair.
One elder slowly approached the table, glaring.
"What have you done, Partak?"
"Don't hold it against him. He's my vassal now. If there's a grudge, take it up with me."
"...Vassal?"
The young man's words drew a cackling laugh from the old shaman, revealing black teeth. What the hell was going on? The elders began to falter.
"This shaman made a pact with a devil, and five elders gladly drank from his cup, selling their souls."
"...You bastard!"
"Did you crave immortality? Fear death? Want to cling to your wretched lives a bit longer? Old beasts. Was life that sweet?"
Fernandez's somber blue eyes blazed. Somehow, his form seemed to grow larger. In the campfire light illuminating the tent, amid the dancing shadows, it sounded like devils cackled.
As priests said, an age where devils screamed in every shadow. Fernandez's dominance filled the tent.
In a hissing whisper, like a serpent slithering low, Fernandez spoke.
"Devils aren't good neighbors or kindly volunteers, elders. Someday, you'll repay that debt you incurred. And the process will be... very... exceedingly horrific."
-Fwoosh.
A black halo blazed massively behind Fernandez's head like a seizure. Hinting at their ominous future. In that instant, the elders beheld visions—different, yet converging on the same end.
[Hell has come before your eyes.]
Their most beloved family, cherished kin, hung from gibbets, burning and gasping in agony, as devils watched and burst into mad laughter. The vision unfolded before the elders' eyes.
"Huh... hngh..."
Fernandez's hand swam through the air. Partak watched in admiration. Astonishingly precise, clean hallucination magic. They wouldn't even realize they'd been ensnared, overwhelmed by Fernandez.
Even here, all instinctively knew. From the moment they took devilish power to extend their lives, the end wouldn't be gentle.
Fernandez burrowed into their unease like a serpent. As the elders staggered, sweating coldly, he rapped the table.
"Now, let's talk."
"...What do you want...?"
One elder groaned through the pain. His tail hung limp, stripped of its earlier menace.
-Clink.
Fernandez slid the cold, steeped teacups toward them. The elders stared blankly.
To beastkin tiger tribes, offering tea in council meant poison. Or surrender of life.
The elders grasped the cups with trembling hands. Shuddering at the viscous implication.
"Drink."
"Swear you can save us from the devils."
"If you're useful enough."
Fernandez sank deep into his chair, watching them slowly sip. Memories stirred. He chuckled.
-Not the cleanest method. Not for a saint, anyway.
'Beitasser won't care about our means. We share the same goal, and strictly speaking...'
-Yeah. Partners.
Even if it was an unequal treaty, he and the god weren't in a superior-subordinate relation. From the moment Beitasser summoned him to his domain, it was a collaboration request, treating him as an equal.
"What do you want from us?"
"First. We'll make a hero."
"...Hero?"
Fernandez smiled darkly. Even if it meant stepping into his mire, hands full of filth.
'Keep the promise, Kirhas. I'll make you a hero.'
Threats, seduction, corruption, assassination, schemes, stratagems. Gentle, righteous ways never suited him. He preferred darker, stickier plots.
*
The tiger alliance encampment was in chaos. Dove faction elders began withdrawing their forces one by one, and strange rumors spread among them.
-Civil war looms.
Nerve wars or petty disputes among beastkin tiger tribes were commonplace. But turning blades on each other was taboo.
Yet every beastkin in the camp sensed war approaching. Yesterday's drinking companions from neighboring tribes now bared fangs over trivial arguments—a new normal.
As the last dove elder led his forces back to his tribe, the camp burned like a furnace with only belligerent hawks remaining.
Their unease, their ferocity, their savagery felt tangible. Fernandez sat on a hill overlooking the camp, watching departing forces on the horizon.
"Strange rumors are circulating."
"Abel."
-Rustle. Golden hair like rippling wheat scattered in the wind. Abel stood with the breeze at her back, looking down at Fernandez.
"Rumors that elders rumored to summon devils are gathering. And a human youth leads them."
"Soon, other rumors will spread. Of elders who played in devils' hands repenting in tears, and a beastkin hero receiving divine revelation to lead them to glory."
Propaganda worked best when dramatic and laced with truth.
"You'll play the villain?"
"I've never been the hero."
"How much is true?"
Sorrow flowed in Abel's eyes. Fernandez closed his, feeling her grief. The fragment of Dane King's blood in his veins stirred.
This emotion is mere illusion. Fernandez inhaled deeply.
"Do not think I came to bring peace to the world. I bring not peace, but a sword."
Abel widened her eyes at Fernandez's words. He met her gaze steadily, enunciating each syllable.
"An age of flames. Truly so, Abel. Those who must burn shall burn."
"What remains at the end?"
"You asked what's true, Abel. There are those who sold souls to devils, and I'll use them. I have the plan and the power. They chose me over their devil captors. I made it so."
Fernandez paused. Far off, beastkin drew blades, snarling at each other.
Among them, Kirhas shouting with longsword drawn.
"That child will burn brighter than any, like a sun devouring the wicked, fiercely. If she needs kindling, I have plenty to throw."
"You deceived them."
"What's the guilt in deceiving those already tricked by devils?"
"Don't. Fernandez. I'm worried for you."
Abel laid cold fingers over his rough hand. Fernandez stiffened at the cool, delicate touch.
After a moment, a parched voice slipped from his lips.
"In my past life, Kirhas's emblem was the phoenix. Kirhas's undying legion. The shining shield of the Great Wilderness. Lady of the Hunt."
Abel bowed her head to him as he spoke. When their eyes met level, Fernandez held her gaze without flinching, word by word.
"You asked what's at the end of flames, Abel. Phoenixes are born from ashes."
"You're ready to burn yourself too."
"My flesh is mere consumable."
With that, Fernandez turned away. Kirhas was quelling the fight, forcing them to kneel.
A woman who should have become a hero by history's script. Instead, she pledged loyalty to him. Fernandez couldn't tell if his feeling was guilt or duty.
As Feizashi said, perhaps mere self-deception or solace. Or a ploy to exploit her position for his goals.
But he decided otherwise. She qualified. He did not.