Chapter 87
Chapter 87
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 87
Chapter Title: Turka's Defiance
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"Whew! So the rumors were true that there's a white ghost in the west of the Great Catastrophe, and Golden Eye doesn't worry one bit about invasions from Takryu... Indeed, Turkah, those weren't empty words! I never imagined you'd cut off your own arm and still terrify my men like this."
The leader stepped forward through the dark elves, clapping repeatedly toward Turkah as he spoke.
Even with his subordinates' heads smashed and sprawled around, the dark elf leader's eyes held only admiration for Turkah.
"Tsk tsk! Compared to you, these guys... I even risked my life and cut off my arm for them myself, and this is the pathetic result? Sigh! What am I supposed to tell the fingers, huh?"
Despite the leader's flippant scolding, the dark elves stared at Turkah with doll-like expressionless faces.
The stark contrast in atmosphere sent a chill down the spine, but Turkah stared back at the leader without a flicker of hesitation.
"Dark elf. You think you can get away with this...?"
"Hm? What strange talk. Why wouldn't I be able to handle it?"
The leader smirked, tossing and catching the curved sword that had severed Turkah's arm as if he'd heard the dumbest thing.
"Look, I even prepared this! A perfect match for the curved swords the lizardmen use, right? See? It screams Takryu lizard scum tracks to anyone who looks."
"...Chiiiik! You take our chief for a fool."
At the dark elf's mockery, Turkah let out a disbelieving chuckle.
Golden Eye.
Among the countless orc tribes in the Great Catastrophe, he had gathered only the elite ones under his command, forging the massive force known as Golden Heaven.
He was no ordinary orc.
Someone foolish enough not to see through childish tricks like this could never achieve such greatness.
Take Turkah himself—he was called the white ghost, a warrior.
If the chief were just some mutt, he never would have bowed his head.
"No matter where you scum come from, our chief will never abandon us. That atrocity of laying hands even on our tribe's children... We'll repay it tenfold."
Thwack!
With only one arm left, Turkah raised his iron mace unflinchingly, his will unbroken.
Within him burned a steadfast faith that the great warrior Golden Eye would avenge his death.
"Heh..."
The dark elf leader, Aelion, twisted into a crueler smile, displeased by Turkah's resolve.
"Sure, whatever. I've heard Golden Eye's pretty sharp for an orc whose head is packed with muscle. But..."
Kekekekekeke!
Aelion cackled maniacally as he retorted.
"What if these incidents erupt simultaneously across the Great Catastrophe? And what if lizardmen corpses were left here too? You think Golden Eye would just sit there like an idiot?"
"...!"
A crack formed in Turkah's steadfast expression at Aelion's words.
What if... just maybe, if things blew up everywhere as this dark elf claimed.
The fiercely independent tribes of Golden Heaven would grab their axes and blades and rise before Golden Eye could even issue orders.
If it came to that... no one could rein it in anymore.
"Sorry, but this wasn't thrown together overnight. You lot... will definitely turn on each other."
That's right.
This divide-and-conquer scheme orchestrated by the Grand Veil was a grand plan meticulously prepared over long years by its fingers.
All for the day their king, Karaktus, would revive.
In less than three days.
The plan was to strike indiscriminately at regions of Golden Heaven and Takryu, denying them time for clear judgment.
In Aelion's mind, no variables could arise from this.
Or more precisely... minor variables would be ignored entirely.
Someone might have witnessed today's events, or others might find the sudden crisis suspicious.
But those cautious voices would be drowned out by rivers of blood and mountains of visible corpses.
By the time cooler heads could hear and judge... both Takryu and Golden Heaven would already be bled dry.
That's how it should have unfolded, exactly as Aelion envisioned.
But he didn't know.
In the sixteenth waterway of Takryu, farthest from the Misty Mountains in the west where he was...
A new variable had emerged—one the fingers of the Grand Veil never anticipated.
And that variable... wasn't some trivial nuisance to dismiss, but an enormous one capable of upending the Grand Veil's grand plan itself.
"Huuuuuh..."
Zzt, zzt!
The white and black twin daggers coiled around Ian's arms slowly returned to their sheaths.
It had been a full month since Ian shattered the Solar Meridian Blockage chains and broke his fifth restraint.
In that time, the unusually harsh winter had ended, giving way to the warm breezes of spring when life began to bud.
Of course, by Ian's standards, it hadn't been that cold anyway.
This was standard winter chill for the northern continent, Krohoka.
Ian was actually surprised at how quickly the weather had warmed in just a month.
The southern continent's climate is truly... merciful.
Up in northern Krohoka, it would be at least two more weeks before anyone could shed their heavy coats.
Now he understood why every continent in Agena salivated over the south's crop yields.
Two weeks.
A short time, but that gap would create vast differences in harvest volume and quality across the continents.
An early end to winter meant a late start to it, after all.
Of course, the south had its massive drawback—the Great Catastrophe looming large enough to overshadow all those advantages.
Everyone drooled over the unattainable prize.
And here in the Lichtenauer Martial Clan, spring's return brought no respite from preparations to eradicate that very 'drawback'.
Clank!
Ian sheathed the greatsword and shortsword, murmuring softly.
"Training ends here for today."
In the Latent Dragon Squad's training grounds. The moment Ian spoke, Dane and Helena collapsed on the spot with a thud.
"Ughhhh! I'm dying, gonna die."
"Hahk, hahk... Ian captain, you possessed by Satan or something?"
As usual, they whined and hurled complaints at Ian, but he didn't bat an eye, per the routine.
"...Ralph skipping again today?"
Flinch!
At Ian's curt question, Dane and Helena—who'd been jeering—both shrugged lightly.
"...Same as always."
After a brief silence, Dane answered Ian, who simply nodded.
"...I see."
The past month.
Ralph, anxious about falling behind alone, had grown so haggard that everyone in the squad noticed something off.
And in the last week, he'd even started dodging training with Ian—who knew what he was up to.
Ian and the squad weren't fools; they knew Ryu An and Ralph were locked in a silent rivalry.
Everyone had sensed the balance tipping as Ralph gradually fell behind.
That made his bizarre behavior all the more concerning.
Ian was bothered by Ralph's movements too, but he made no move toward him.
It might seem cold, but Ian believed.
Someday, Ralph would overcome this pain and disappointment and return.
If he couldn't even handle this... regrettably, that would be the end for Ralph.
Ian couldn't drag squad members of such small caliber along his path.
"If he comes back, I'll drill him again. If not, that's it. Clean up and rest."
As Ian sheathed his sword and stepped out of the training yard, Hans approached from the corridor.
Swish!
"Good work, Young Lord."
"Ah, thanks."
Ian wiped his sweat with the towel Hans handed him. Hans's voice followed into his ear.
"Oh, right—a message came from the Patriarch's hall this morning."
"...From the Patriarch's hall?"
Ian's eyes gleamed through the towel at Hans's words.
Now that winter was over, there was only one reason the Patriarch's hall would summon him.
"Yes."
Hans nodded, affirming Ian's guess.
"Seems a new mission for the Latent Dragon Squad."
"I heard you wanted to see me."
Upon arriving at the Patriarch's hall, Ian bowed toward Paon, who lounged on the jade throne with his usual bored expression.
"Ah, you're here?"
The same indifferent response as always.
But the air in the hall was distinctly different from usual.
Unfamiliar faces sat beside Paon—not the strike team leaders or Nedyr.
Swish!
"The long winter made it feel like ages since I last saw you. And..."
Paon stared piercingly at Ian instead of introducing the others.
Then he nodded slightly.
"...Looks like you didn't just play around all winter."
A faint smile touched his face, pleased with Ian's achievements.
"What do you two think? He's ready for this job, isn't he?"
Swish!
Only then did Paon turn to the people beside him.
If Ian's progress hadn't impressed him... he wouldn't even merit introductions.
...Good thing I took the risk with that last Cold Heart Pill.
As Ian inwardly gritted his teeth at Paon's harsh test, the squat dwarf scowled and replied to Paon's question.
"...Grr! Patriarch, you really plan to entrust this to the Second Young Lord? Even if not the Eldest, there are other talents. Little Stars, or at least another strike team..."
"......"
A short dwarf with a ruddy face like he'd downed a bottle, and beside him, a stunningly beautiful woman silently affirming.
Their striking appearances drew eyes anywhere, but no one in the southern continent wouldn't recognize them.
They were celebrities—or rather, famous races.
Dwarf and elf.
The south's metallurgy and artifact crafting outpaced other continents thanks to them.
Dwarven craftsmanship and elven spirit arts reached realms humans couldn't touch.
"Patriarch, do you truly grasp the situation I described? If my explanation caused misunderstanding, say so. I'll explain again."
For a dwarf of advanced age, this rudeness toward Paon, the clan patriarch, was bold.
True to form—second to none in calling it like it is.
Paon knew this and continued without offense.
"My ears are still sharp, so no misunderstandings. There's trouble in the tribal villages dispatched into the Great Catastrophe—investigate, you asked?"
The dwarf and elf tribal villages were outposts in the Great Catastrophe.
Modest in scale compared to their mainland territories, but no less vital.
The Catastrophe was a treasure trove of resources.
New undiscovered ores and deep spirit communion from abundant mana advanced dwarven and elven crafts immensely.
Thus, trouble there was no small matter.
"Exactly!"
Bang!
The hot-tempered dwarf, Bardek, slammed the desk and raised his voice.
"You're handing this to the still-green Second Young Lord! Stop joking—give us a proper strike team!"
Face flushed, openly dismissive right in his face—it might offend anyone, but Ian's expression didn't change.
The decision rested with Paon, not him.
He'd follow whatever Paon decided.
Ian's focus was preparing for the future conquest of the clan, not brawling with this dwarf.
Watching Ian's calm, Paon answered Bardek.
"That's what I've been saying. The Eldest Young Lord guards the northern Catastrophe border, and other strike teams are busy with their missions. You barge in yelling about sudden issues—do you expect teams to magically appear?"
"Grr...!"
Bardek groaned, face twisting at Paon's retort.
He hated the answer, but knew it rang true.
The elf, Glacia, listening quietly beside him, chimed in supportively.
"The Patriarch is right. We did come in haste, that's true. But this is our village. Surely you understand its importance to the kingdom. So... you judge the Second Young Lord capable of grasping and resolving this, yes?"
A gentle question, but laced with pressure—if the Second Young Lord botched it, the blame was Paon's.
Undeterred, Paon corrected her softly.
"No, no. You asked me to investigate anomalies in the Catastrophe, right? For mere investigation, I guarantee Ian lacks nothing. Winter past, I'd have worried... but now? You can trust him. My word."
"Mm...!"
Glacia let out a low hum but couldn't refute further.
Paon usually accommodated dwarf and elf requests, but he was the Lichtenauer patriarch above all.
Among the continent's top monsters, he ranked in the top three.
When he dug in like this, they had to yield.
"...Haa. If you say so, Patriarch, we must trust your judgment. Very well, I'll explain the situation."
"No, wrong person."
Swish!
At Paon's gesture, Bardek and Glacia turned in unison.
"Tell him, Ian."
Perhaps imagination, but a faint sigh escaped Glacia's lips.
"...Very well. The truth is..."
Glacia began in place of the ineloquent Bardek.
To explain the urgent changes that had gripped their village in just one month.