Chapter 119
Cauli raised the flag. 'Fucking idiots.' Balam spat the curse inwardly as he watched the unfolding chaos. No matter how brutish Balam was, he was still a leader commanding an army, and he knew full well the situation was shit.
The dark elves were holding the elves in check for now, but the real problems were that crazy bitch mage flying through the air and the elf queen commanding spirits. On top of that, the damn hero hadn't even shown up yet, and the enemy had the Light Sword on their side. Of course, all these bastards gathering in one place was because of Balam's own dawdling—but demons never admitted their own faults anyway.
'In the end, it comes down to me stepping in!'
But Balam was confident regardless. Excluding Baal, he prided himself as the strongest lone fighter. Heroes, Light Swords—none of them were a match for him.
"Get out of the way, you worthless shits!"
Balam grabbed his favorite massive axe and hurled himself toward the battlefield. His hulking body crashed down from the sky, crushing pitiful monsters beneath him, but he didn't give a damn. Monsters could be gathered anywhere on the continent, and anything useless to him wasn't even considered an ally.
Balam eyed a nearby dark elf locked in close combat with an elf. The dark elf clearly had the upper hand; given a little time, they'd crush the elf easily. But Balam swung his axe anyway, sending both flying.
"Kuhahaha! Die, you weak-ass bugs!"
Balam bellowed with genuine glee. To the dark elves who'd been diligently holding off the elves, it was enough to bring tears of blood—but once the fight started, they couldn't just pull back easily.
'Cauli!'
The dark elf leader had witnessed Balam's mad stunt loud and clear, leaving him no choice but to trust Cauli, who'd moved to strike the enemy's rear.
***
"What kind of monster is this…."
Cauli stared at the Light Sword with a dumbfounded expression. Every subordinate he'd brought was among the top fighters of their tribe. Yet the Light Sword toyed with them like children—and he was even going easy on them.
Sure, limbs were flying and blood soaked the ground; if you asked if that counted as mercy, there'd be no good answer. But not a single beastkin had lost their life to the Light Sword's blade yet.
"Hah, this is tough. At my age, I should be home watching the grandkids play."
The Light Sword grinned and grumbled, but no one bought it. His hair, more white than gray, must've been a fashion choice—his movements were as swift as the fastest tiger beastkin. His strength toyed with bear beastkin, and his cunning turned the wolf beastkin's sneaky ambushes against them.
"Come on, stop picking on the minions and have your boss step up for a proper fight, yeah?"
The Light Sword leaned on his blood-drenched sword like a cane and called out to Cauli. Grinding his teeth, Cauli glared back. He knew even if he died and came back to life, he couldn't beat the Light Sword—but as the wolf tribe's leader, his pride demanded he not back down.
"Cauli, just give up!"
"…Shut your mouth, Dalshinyang."
Cauli snapped at Dalshinyang's attempt to dissuade him. He'd never liked the bitch anyway, and seeing her cozy up to the humans made her even more repulsive. Just being lumped in as the same beastkin made him want to puke—but he had to admit her judgment was better than his.
'No wonder we beastkin have been nomads on the run.'
Cauli swept back his sweat-soaked hair, reflecting once more on their plight. Beastkin had superior physical prowess and combat instincts compared to humans, but as a race, they were among the continent's weakest.
They couldn't match humans in numbers, elves in magic, or dwarves in advanced technology—which beastkin couldn't even dream of. And beastkin lacked the unity of other races. With bears, tigers, wolves, foxes, rabbits, and more, they were too diverse. Even if they shared the "beastkin" label, differing temperaments and bad blood between tribes made solidarity impossible.
In the end, beastkin were one of the weakest existences on the continent. Joining the Demon King's army wouldn't change that. It might've been better to side with humans and score some merits—but back then, they hadn't realized it.
'At least Dalshinyang tying herself to the hero is a stroke of luck?'
The thought crossed Cauli's mind. From her reaction, she clearly had a close connection with the hero. Humans being humans, the best she could hope for was concubine status—but that might at least protect beastkin children.
"Dalshinyang. I have a favor to ask."
"…What?"
"Take care of the beastkin young. And shelter as many as you can."
"What the hell are you talking about all of a sudden?"
Dalshinyang stared at him in bewilderment. Him asking her for anything was unbelievable.
"I'll bear my karma. Light Sword—let's end this!"
"You madman!"
Dalshinyang cursed in alarm as Cauli's eyes turned bloodshot. It meant he'd triggered berserk mode himself—a wolf tribe technique that usually ended in death.
"Hah. Thought you were a coward, but you've got some spine after all!"
The Light Sword even clapped approvingly as Cauli's body cracked and loosened up. To Dalshinyang, the whole scene was just bewildering.
Cauli dying? She didn't like him any more than he liked her, so no tears there. What pissed her off was him dumping the beastkin on her and planning to check out peacefully.
'That bastard thinks he can run off alone? And dump this on me?'
Whatever misunderstanding he had, she wasn't equipped to handle the beastkin. If she were tight with the hero, maybe she could beg—but she was just a pet at best. Hell, that was just an excuse for the elves; moments ago, the hero hadn't cared if she fled.
"Awooooo!!"
Cauli let out a wolfish howl and charged the Light Sword. Several wolf beastkin followed, also going berserk, ignoring death as they slashed with razor claws.
"Good."
The Light Sword dodged with a murmur, his sword dancing. Blood sprayed from the wolves with each swing, but their berserk regeneration was freakish. Split flesh bubbled and knit back together.
The Light Sword looked surprised by the insane healing, but it wasn't true recovery—just accelerating natural healing at once, aging the wounded areas permanently.
"Die, old man."
One wolf beastkin clamped onto the Light Sword's ankle, while Cauli coordinated to rake claws at his throat. But the Light Sword stomped the wolf's head to pulp and unleashed light from his blade—true to its name.
The beam sliced Cauli's arm clean off. He reeled back desperately. Other beastkin—tigers and bears—stirred to help. As aggressive warriors, standing by wasn't their style.
"Don't interfere. This is the wolves' fight. Save yourselves with Dalshinyang's help. That's my final order."
With their Demon King army allegiance over, Cauli had no real command authority left. Still, he bellowed at the other tribes' warriors, and the bears and tigers halted.
Out of fear? No—they knew meddling in his last stand would taint his resolve.