Chapter 76
Chapter 76
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: Wolves Never Eat Dog Food
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“A wolf never eats dog food. You've rotted through and through, Darta.”
...Halt!
Darta's body froze solid mid-taunt.
“...What did you just say, Chief?”
Could he never have imagined the other man speaking up to him?
The barrage of sharp insults hurled his way—perhaps he'd misheard. Darta asked Mukali again.
“Oh dear, has grease clogged your ears so badly you can't even hear that much? Very well, I'll repeat it specially for you. Looking at that pathetic body of yours, bloated with fat and flab hanging everywhere in a total mess... I can tell without even seeing it just how much like livestock you've been living up there.”
Smooth!
Mukali glanced at his chains as he spoke.
“I have no intention of wagging my tail and scavenging scraps tossed by humans like some tamed mongrel. That's no life for a wolf. Better a hundred times over to starve honorably, pride intact, than live a wretched, pitiful existence like yours.”
Damn, since when was Mukali the type to talk this much?
That was a mistake. If he'd known the guy had such a sharp tongue, he would've ripped it out beforehand.
Mukali was usually so silent that his biting criticism hit even harder. Darta's face twisted further in rage.
“...Haha, what a laughable judgment. Weren't you, oh great Chief, chasing after the Hegemon's heels yourself? Leaving aside the master we serve, what difference is there really between you and me?”
“Hahahahaha!!”
Mukali burst into wild laughter at Darta's retort.
“There's a world of difference. A huge one. I wasn't chasing the heels of the path Lucas walked. I—and all of us—walked it with him.”
He then looked at Darta with eyes mingled contempt and pity.
“Living as equal friends, dreaming the same dream... that's worlds apart from licking someone's ass and running errands. How can you not grasp that simple truth? Darta, you've wasted your life.”
“...You...!”
Was it because his mockery had backfired into utter humiliation?
Darta's flushed face glared fiercely at Mukali.
But only for a moment. Darta slowly reined in his emotions.
He had something.
Information that would shake this self-righteous wolf, who chased hollow mental victories without keeping up with the changing times.
Darta's heart seemed calm on the surface, but inside it raged unchanged.
Because Mukali's sharp, brutal criticism had made him decide to reveal words he didn't need to share.
“...Kukuku! Chief, you still miss the Hegemon that much, eh? Was he really that great?”
“How could I not miss an old friend gone before me?”
Perfect.
“You know that young warrior Bator brought back some interesting news from the southern continent's Aslan Kingdom?”
“Bator... Ah, the third son of the Suzaka clan, right? A kid with decent talent. If only he hadn't fallen for your snake-like tongue.”
Unlike Darta, who couldn't even recall Bator's name properly, Mukali remembered every clan member's name and recalled it effortlessly.
“Well, he's dead now anyway. But that kid said there's someone in the southern continent who's inherited the Hegemon's martial arts—the one you love so much.”
“What...?”
For the first time, a crack appeared on Mukali's—damn, Mukali's—expression at Darta's words.
Yes!
That was exactly the reaction Darta had wanted to see.
“Kukukuku! Surprisingly, it seems he's mastered one of the Hegemon's derivative arts close to the original circulating on the continent. How about that—got your interest piqued even a little?”
“......”
Mukali said nothing, just stared silently at Darta.
He tried to hide it, but curiosity leaked through.
Savoring his twisted sense of victory, Darta sneered at Mukali.
“Before reporting to His Imperial Majesty, I just had to share this with you lot. Kukuku, mastering the Hegemon's arts is impressive, sure. But when His capable Majesty hears... he'll surely burn that seed to ash. He won't want it growing into a source of discord like you all.”
Smooth!
“How tragic. The heir to the Hegemon you've awaited so long will die so pointlessly.”
Hauling his massive bulk upright, Darta flashed one last grotesque grin through the bars.
“Wait powerlessly in there. I'll come back. Next time... I'll bring that heir's head you've longed for, along with all the details of how your precious friend met his end. Hahahahaha!!”
Drunk on the thrill of finally cracking Mukali's unchanging expression, Darta left the basement.
But was his triumph too overwhelming?
Darta failed to notice the glint deep in Mukali's eyes.
“...Lucas's heir.”
In the silence after Darta left, Mukali murmured softly.
“Strange business. To judge it as Lucas's heir means he's mastered a derivative very close to the true Blood Demon Iron Chain Art... How did such a precious art flow all the way to the southern continent's Lichtenauer Martial Clan?”
“Pfft! Lucas called it trash and scattered his derivatives everywhere in the northern continent. Who could track where all that went? Someone smuggled it, probably.”
A woman with mysterious aura from her mixed blonde and red hair spoke up, and a bearish old giant replied nonchalantly.
“Besides, who cares how it got there? It has nothing to do with us anyway.”
“What do you mean? If he learned Lucas's arts, he's like a nephew to us—how can you treat him like an outsider?”
The old man clicked his tongue low at the woman's sharp retort.
“Tsk tsk! You fool, is your head that thick? First off, would some hotshot from a powerhouse clan in the far southern continent come to this backwater? Second, even if he's not an outsider to us... heir or not, it only matters if he survives Siegfried's clutches, right? We all know Siegfried, that fake hero in his mask of a 'brave soul'—how vicious and insidious he really is.”
“Well, that's true, but...”
The woman trailed off at the old man's blunt words.
In truth, his straightforward talk aside, there was no flaw in what he said.
Mastering the Hegemon's arts and being recognized as Lucas's heir were entirely separate matters.
Even she doubted a southern kid could master the Blood Demon Iron Chain Art to Lucas's level in this situation.
“For starters, didn't that trash Darta hear it from some young Lang tribe warrior named Bator? You know what that means, right?”
“......”
The old man drove the nail home.
Indeed. Darta's words implied the kid who learned the Hegemon's arts couldn't dispatch Bator on the spot—which meant he hadn't mastered the Blood Demon Iron Chain Art proficiently.
Those chained knew better than anyone the power of Lucas's Blood Demon Iron Chain Art.
The monstrous might it wielded at its peak.
That power wasn't light enough for a mere Lang tribe whelp to slip away from.
“Tsk tsk, that fat wolf bastard... wasting energy on nonsense. Meeting that southern brat is as impossible as finding a pearl in the desert for us.”
“Hearing you say it, yeah, you're right.”
The old man and woman exchanged self-deprecating smiles mid-conversation, but damn Mukali stayed silent throughout.
“Hey, Mukali. Say something, will you?”
Unable to stand it, the old man spoke to him, but Mukali just shook his head.
“...Yeah, you're right.”
He grudgingly agreed, but from the moment Darta mentioned the Hegemon's heir, Mukali felt the ember in his chest—that he'd thought extinguished—flickering back to life.
Thump! Thump!
His heart pounded relentlessly, refusing to settle.
Why?
...No idea.
A sensation he couldn't explain himself.
So Mukali kept his true feelings hidden.
But instinctively, he sensed it.
A distant future—perhaps not so distant—where they might meet the Hegemon's heir Darta spoke of.
Perhaps it was a sense only he could feel.
The one who alone shared a brother's cup with Lucas and etched an oath into their souls.
Over the past week, the Latent Dragon Squad, credited with rescuing Princess Isabelle, had been lavishly hosted by the Aslan royal family.
And now, the final meal prepared before returning to the clan tomorrow morning.
A feast of delicacies from land and sea, plus rare liquors specially permitted for the occasion.
A moment to simply savor, chew, and enjoy.
Yet...
“......”
“......”
It felt uncomfortable.
Terribly so.
Sitting still before delicious food and drink—what sin was this, deserving such torment?
The suffocating atmosphere, where even swallowing could be heard, made it hard to tell if food would go in your mouth or up your nose.
“......”
Helena especially looked on the verge of tears, too timid to touch her drink.
Good grief, that boozehound.
Who'd ever take her for a priestess? Jeez.
But seeing that desperate plea in her small, animal-like eyes... it naturally stirred the urge to help.
In the end, Ralph let out a small sigh and steeled himself.
He'd have preferred dumping it on Ryu An, but hadn't Ryu An suffered enough this mission, pickled in Sylvia's poison?
It fell to him.
Besides, he hadn't achieved anything worth bragging about this time.
...Clink!
“Captain, if you have something to say, just say it. Everyone's holding back on eating properly because of you.”
Ralph set down his utensils quietly and spoke to Ian.
“...It's nothing.”
“Yeah, right, nothing. You've had that sour face since your private talk with Prince Demure. What, did he give some unfair order?”
“Nothing like that.”
How could he say it? That after interrogating the captured Adam, he'd heard about his old friends' plight and felt depressed?
“Then why the long face on our last day? We can't help if we don't know.”
Perhaps tired of Ralph's prodding, Ian slammed the table with intimidating force.
Bam!
“I said it's nothing!”
“...!”
The squad froze at his rare aggressive demeanor, speechless.
The table's mood iced over even more stiffly.
“...Sorry. Too much on my mind, lost my appetite. Eat comfortably without me.”
Realizing he was the cause, Ian sighed softly and set down his utensils.
Scrape!
He then strode out of the dining hall, leaving abruptly.
The squad sat stunned at the table.
“Wh-what the heck! Captain Ian just left alone! Ralph! What are we gonna do!”
Helena recovered first and rounded on Ralph.
“Wh-what did I do! You told me to ask!”
“When did I! He was just sad he couldn't drink!”
“That face! It was screaming it!”
Was it their bickering that made his head throb?
“...Both of you, shut it. Anyone have a guess why the captain's acting up?”
“......”
“......”
Sylvia's words turned them all mute as clams.
How could they know Ian's heart?
It was natural. They knew nothing of Lucas's memories.
With their captain like that, the banquet couldn't liven up.
“...Let's wrap it up. We head back to the clan tomorrow anyway—call it an early night.”
“Yeah, good idea.”
Scrape!
They rose one by one.
“Argh, seriously! Nothing goes right because of you, Ralph!”
Helena grumbled at Ralph, upset over the missed drinks.
Of course, she made sure to snag the leftover liquor on her way out.
With Helena's departure, Ralph alone remained at the table, forlorn.
“...If you're gonna grumble that much, at least leave the booze. Damn it all...”
Ralph felt wronged again today.