Chapter 101
Chapter 101
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 101
Chapter Title: Flames of Beast's Field
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Golden Heaven and Mudflow, vast territories in their own right, faced each other across borders that spanned incredibly expansive regions.
These groups, each convinced they were the true masters of the Great Mire, were tightly bound by that belief. Small-scale border skirmishes never ceased, which was only natural.
Among those hotspots, one area stood out where both sides unanimously agreed disputes erupted most frequently—and most fiercely.
It was the vast plain known as Beast's Field, situated between the western and central regions of the Great Mire.
Though fertile, this plain held no special strategic value for monsters who had no interest in farming.
Yet the reason it saw the most brutal ongoing battles was something else entirely.
It was simply the place where the most savage and belligerent warriors from Golden Heaven and Mudflow tangled with one another.
The leader of the Eighth Waterway, Eight Ghosts Quintus, and the notoriously explosive Blue Lightning Tribe clashed here over this land as the main players.
Beast's Field wasn't some minor skirmish zone—it was a true battlefield where casualties piled up in droves every single day.
And now... the already scorching inferno of Beast's Field was about to blaze even hotter.
Thud, thud, thud!
Orcs covered head to toe in blue lightning tattoos marched across the field in perfect unison.
Along their path lay the corpses of the lizardmen scouts Quintus had sent to reconnoiter Beast's Field, scattered like trash.
"Chwik! Chieftain, we've wiped out all the lizards on the field, and everyone's assembled."
Nur bag, a young warrior of the tribe, wiped the blood from his greatsword as he reported.
"Mm."
The massive orc riding a noble white dire wolf without a single blemish—Jorg—nodded in satisfaction.
"Chwik! Chieftain, may I ask one final time?"
"Speak."
At Jorg's resolute demeanor, Nur bag cautiously opened his mouth.
"Do you truly have no hesitation? Your decision here... it could spark the start of all-out war with Mudflow."
"Chwiik! All the better!"
Jorg scoffed at the warrior Nur bag's fearful words.
"It'll let us orcs unleash our long-lost savagery to our hearts' content."
Twirl!
Having answered Nur bag's question, Jorg wheeled around and bellowed to the tribesmen who had willingly followed him into Beast's Field.
"Chwiiiik! The Golden Eye, that great leader and unparalleled warrior, gathered us orcs who were scattered like grains of sand! Thanks to him, no one—not in the Great Mire, nor among the humans beyond it—dares belittle Golden Heaven's orcs! Denying the Golden Eye's monumental achievements? I wouldn't dream of it. However!!"
Pausing to catch his breath and rally the mood, Jorg locked eyes with every single Blue Lightning tribesman and roared.
"Even as countless kin fall to lizardmen blades, the Golden Eye remains motionless! And that's not all! One by one... so many orcs, lulled by the comfort Golden Heaven provides, waver before the battle ahead!"
Roooar!
"But I ask you!!"
As the dire wolf carrying Jorg stepped forward, his body drew even closer to the tribe.
"Are we proud Blue Lightning succumbing to the sweet temptations of comfort, dreading battle and repeating our hesitations?!"
"Chwiiiik! No, never!!"
The orcs raised their voices, vehemently denying Jorg's question.
"Must we Blue Lightning stay cowardly silent over the death of our sworn brother White Ghost, just because caution demands it?!"
"Chwiiiik! No, never!!"
Pleased by their fierce denial, Jorg's jaw clenched in a massive nod.
"Chwik! That's right!"
Whoooosh!
Spinning a massive spear—one too heavy for an ordinary human to even lift—effortlessly from his fingertips, Jorg shouted.
"If our other kin cower like liars in false peace, then it's our duty to forcibly awaken their lost savagery! We will be remembered as the vanguard of history, fulfilling that noble mission!"
Slaaash!
Aiming the heavy spear tip toward the opposite side of the field, Jorg cried out coldly.
"Charge! Fight! And to those lizards who've tormented our kin for ages, trampling Golden Heaven's greatness and dragging orc honor through the mud... let's show them exactly who we are! Let them learn what it means to mess with orcs!"
"Chwiiiiik!"
As Jorg's speech ended, the blue-tattooed orcs surged across the Beast's Field border in unison.
Their numbers... were on an entirely different scale from the petty skirmishes of the past.
"Ugh... uuuuh..."
Were the agonized groans from the elves, dwarves, and humans in Western Heaven's lodgings due to the harsh trials of the past few days?
Squelch!
Glacia carefully wrung out a towel soaked in hot water and gently wiped the sweat-soaked face of the young elf ranger.
"Thank you, Lady Glacia..."
"Thanks? Don't mention it. I'm already sorry for dragging you all out here and making you suffer—don't thank me for something this small."
Though Glacia smiled softly as she rinsed the towel, now filthy with sweat and scabs, in hot water again, she was just as frustrated by the situation.
How could her heart not ache?
Glacia firmly believed the Amatres River pollution had nothing to do with Western Heaven. Yet there was no proof absolving them either.
If Ian returned empty-handed and Regulus decided to scapegoat Western Heaven... how many in this lodge could survive?
'My old life? I'd gladly give it...'
But who could compensate for the lives of these young elves and dwarves who came to hone their skills?
Besides, once the bloodwind started blowing, it wouldn't end with Western Heaven's fall.
The Lichtenauer Martial Clan wasn't the type to laugh off violations of their domain.
Uncertain how far the front lines might spread, Glacia couldn't help but worry.
-Hey! That wall section's shoddy! Fix it properly, I said!
-Yes, sir!
Even late at night, Bardek was out by the walls, fervently directing the healthier dwarves to repair the damaged barriers.
Clumsy and lacking finesse, all he knew was barking orders at the young dwarves.
But Glacia, who had managed Western Heaven alongside Bardek for years, knew better.
His actions were his desperate way of stabilizing Western Heaven.
"Hoo..."
Having tended to all the wounded, Glacia quietly closed the door and let out a secret sigh.
She'd thought her long years here had toughened her up, but this level of helplessness was a first.
'Rumors say Mudflow and Golden Heaven executives might have surpassed the Master's wall. Looks like they're true.'
Master.
Those who shattered their racial limits and reached the transcendent realm of superhumans.
Even low-tier Masters, freshly ascended, weren't to be underestimated.
Across the entire continent of Agera, beyond just the Southern Continent, Masters numbered barely over a hundred.
Being a Master meant ranking among the continent's top hundred strongest.
Glacia, an upper-rank spiritist nowhere near weak, still couldn't fathom resisting the power Regulus—one of the Four Dragons—had displayed.
On paper, just one rank separated them... but between Expert and Master loomed an insurmountable wall.
There were hundreds of top-tier Experts on the Southern Continent alone.
Facing a Master's overwhelming might firsthand, Glacia hadn't even dreamed of drawing her blade against Regulus.
'But... that boy was different.'
Her thoughts drifted from Regulus's power to Ian, who had boldly drawn his sword before him.
With rumors painting him as half-baked from the clan, she'd expected unreliability at best.
Yet Ian had stood tall and raised his voice against Regulus.
No one could do that lightly.
'Why is that, Second Young Lord Ian? Somehow... I feel like you'll succeed.'
Thinking of Ian eased Glacia's anxiety a bit.
Investigating and deducing was a realm apart from combat.
His boldness proved nothing about finding evidence.
Yet Regulus's scene had impressed her so deeply that she kept feeling Ian could pull it off.
Leaning on that vague, slender hope, how much time passed as Glacia took a brief rest?
"...Latent Dragon Squad!!"
The shout from the sentries atop the walls pierced the ears of Glacia, who had dozed off against the lodge wall.
"...?!"
At first, Glacia thought exhaustion had made her mishear.
'...Already?'
Ian's group hadn't even been gone two full days.
Arriving at the tributary, assessing the situation, testing potions—it would've eaten up a full day easily.
How could they complete the mission and return in less than two days?
'He wouldn't take Western Heaven's plight so lightly.'
His past reputation might suggest otherwise, but after seeing Ian herself, she couldn't believe he'd make such a reckless call.
Which left only one incredible conclusion: he'd found the true cause.
'How on earth?'
Whoosh!
Sleep vanished in an instant as Glacia bolted toward the base of the walls.
To resolve her curiosity, nothing beat seeing it with her own eyes.
Tap tap tap!
Reaching the wall, Glacia's vision filled with Regulus and his trailing lizardmen.
They, like her, probably couldn't believe Ian had uncovered the cause in a mere day.
But unlike Glacia, fury blazed on Leader Regulus's face.
Having tried every method over long years to solve the Amatres pollution, he couldn't accept Ian cracking it in hours.
"Kerruk... Back sooner than expected. Was the Martial Clan's Second Young Lord this capable?"
"Got lucky."
"...Ha!"
Regulus let out an incredulous scoff at Ian's calm reply.
"Luck, huh. Luck that eluded us no matter how hard we searched suddenly shows up precisely when you move? In a single day? Frankly, it's far more believable the clan staged a hoax and fabricated evidence."
Ruuuumble!
Regulus slowly ramped up his aura, sneering.
"Fine. Show me evidence right here that proves it's not the clan's hoax. If you have any."
Convinced the clan was arrogantly claiming a self-made solution in one day, Regulus mocked him derisively.
But Ian didn't rise to the provocative, murderous threat. He quietly stepped aside.
Sometimes, showing beat telling for dramatic effect.
His encounter with Rasna had been sheer luck, even by their own admission.
Swish!
"Long time no see, Uncle Regulus."
"...!"
As Rasna emerged slowly from behind Ian, disbelief and mockery gave way to shock on Regulus's face.
"Ra... Lady Rasna? How are you with this guy...? No, more importantly—why is someone who should be at the main Haspel branch here in this backwater?!"
Even as one of the cunning Four Dragons, Regulus had never imagined Ian bringing Rasna.
"N-No, wait...!! What happened to all those wounds?!"
Shock yielded to rage.
"Who dares!! What vermin laid hands on Lady Rasna's sacred body...!! We can't stand here—treatment, get treatment! Hey, what are you waiting for?! Prepare to heal Lady Rasna immediately!!"
Rasna sighed faintly at the uncharacteristically flustered Regulus and stopped him.
"I'm fine, Uncle Regulus."
"But...!!"
"Right now, healing these scratches isn't the priority. There's something far more important."
"...!"
Regulus's hand froze at her words.
What was this? Why did Lady Rasna's tone feel off?
Something was wrong.
Her speech... it sounded like she knew the Amatres pollution's cause?
"Lady Rasna, what..."
"Uncle, however many questions you have... hear me out first. Bottom line: these people had nothing to do with the Amatres River. And..."
Interrupting Regulus, Rasna began her long tale.
"This whole mess... it was the Great Veil's doing."