Chapter 106: Forge Ahead, No Matter What!

‘What a picturesque sight.’

After the first day of snow, the snowfall alternated between light and heavy. In Nerman, which only had plains, the white blanket of snow was a monotonous sight. But the moment Bebeto and I reached the North and arrived at the boundary of the Rual and Litore Mountains, the majestic, epic scenery created by the mighty hand of nature made me exclaim again and again. The canvas was painted with not just a few dozen, but hundreds of snow-covered mountains. The snow piled heavily atop branches that bent with the weight shyly bared their bodies in the sun.

Whoooooosh.

The chilly wind that spoke of winter also played a role. Every time the wind blew, the powder atop the mountain peaks scattered into the wind, adorning the skies with a sparkling rainbow. The sight of the seven-colored blessings within the flying snow inspired a surge of emotions in all those who witnessed it.

‘From here on out, it’s Temir territory.’

When I recovered from my daze, we were already deep into the mountains, one hour of flight away from the northern fort, Orakk Castle. It was the territory of the Temir tribes, the tough warriors living within the mountains.

Guooooooooooo!

Like a dog delighting in freshly fallen snow, during the entirety of the flight, Bebeto could not conceal his excitement and periodically blared out his characteristic cry, enjoying the winter flight.

“How much longer do we have to go?”

Behind me, Kantahar was wearing an airplate and clinging tightly to me.

“Not much longer, sir! Once we pass that big mountain over there, we will see a valley! That’s where our tribe is!” yelled Kantahar with all his might.

‘So it’s not just mountains.’

This was my first time going into the boundary area of the Rual and Litore Mountains. I saw valleys here and there, as well as traces of agricultural activity.

‘To think they survived all this time amongst monsters, big respect.’

The flocks of monsters stood out clearly against the white backdrop. I saw orcs, hungry ogres, trolls, and monsters that looked like gnolls strolling all over the mountains. The Temir people had survived in such a monster-infested place. It was no exaggeration to say that their environment was far harsher than Nerman’s.

Swooooooosh.

Bebeto filled his wings with a gust of wind and soared high into the sky, effortlessly passing a massive peak in the blink of an eye. Even without teaching him flight techniques, he grew more skillful by the day. He was a smart kiddo who excelled all on his own.

‘Oho, that must be it.’

After passing the mountain, a fairly large valley spread out before us, a basin around 1km on every side at the foot of a mountain. A pretty high fence made of sturdy stones and wood was set up around the perimeter, and inside was the Aishwen Tribe Kantahar belonged to.

Thump thump thump thump thump thump!

Seeing Bebeto suddenly show up, several warriors in a wooden watchtower loudly banged on a drum.

“Karukao…!”

“Kukai…”

Shouting things I couldn’t understand, hundreds of warriors pointed at Bebeto as they scrambled up the fence, drawing their bows. Despite the cold weather, several of them had bare upper bodies.

‘Sigh, you guys are far from being our match. Tsk tsk.’

I had already heard the gist from Kantahar. Because the Aishwen Tribe was the weakest among the Temir tribes, they were located at the place closest to Nerman. As such, whenever the coalition attacked Nerman, the Aishwen had to act as guides for the other tribes and needed to invest the greatest manpower. In their recent attack on Haiton Village, half of their already strained warriors had to participate in the invasion.

Even if they didn’t want to, they were helpless before the threats of the other tribes and the Great Shaman’s command. In my eyes, the Aishwen Tribe was so feeble that a single spell could wipe them out. How could a tribe without any wyverns possibly block Bebeto and me?

Fwip fwip fwip fwip.

However, they never gave up. When Bebeto dropped in altitude, the warriors of the Aishwen Tribe fired arrows as if they had been waiting for him to come into range.

Ting! Ting! Ting!

All the arrows bounced right off Bebeto’s hide, which was sturdy enough to repel most mana blades.

GUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

Pissed off, Bebeto gave an ear-splitting roar.

“Kutaba… Dari!!!”

“UWAHHHH!”

Shocked by his enormous bellow, as Bebeto descended as if to hunt them down, the warriors either crumpled in abject fear or flung themselves down the fence to flee.

‘You were asking for that. Tsk tsk.’

Bebeto settled things nicely without me having to step in.

“Please head to the central clearing. That is where the house of my father, the chief, is located.”

Looking at his comrades fleeing before Bebeto, Kantahar directed us to the central clearing with a sad voice.

Flap, flap, flap flap flap.

I led Bebeto in a slow descent in front of the big, wooden house in the village clearing. As Bebeto landed, warriors scrambled over to completely surround us, their weapons drawn. They were clearly fearful, but their eyes still shone with fighting spirit.

“Kantahar!”

With a click, Kantahar removed his helmet, and the Temir warriors uttered his name in shock.

“Kantahar!!”

The Aishwen Tribe murmured at the sudden sight of Kantahar. Even young kids gathered to look with curiosity.

‘There are less than 2,000 of them altogether.’

I knew they were a tiny tribe, but I didn’t expect them to be this small. My surprise was natural—I could see maybe 500 warriors who could fight, but they still managed to survive in these monster-infested mountains. Much less wyverns, they didn’t even have any special weapons.

“Kwaia!”

‘Hrm?’

Hearing a mana-charged roar, I turned. From the way everyone shut up at the man’s bellow, I could guess his identity.

‘He must be the chief.’

About 190cm tall, the man had wide-set shoulders covered with a demon beast hide, and in his hand was a bejeweled longspear. He looked to be in his late 40s, but he radiated vigor that didn’t lose to the young men.

At the arrival of the chief, Kantahar knelt. “Apiro!” he shouted.

“Lugevadia! Asira…!”

Pointing at Kantahar, the chief yelled at him with rage.

The mood took a turn for the worse.

‘Jeez, I need to be able to understand what they’re saying, at least.’

The language of the Temir wasn’t present even in the massive wealth of knowledge Master had planted in my brain. It seemed the successful and high-flying Master Bumdalf had not interested himself in the language of an uncivilized race.

“Atipaia… Lakishi…”

Under the rage of his father, the chief, the kneeling Kantahar wept as he pointed to me. And then, he began to speak to the chief with a trembling, desperate voice.

“Is this man the Lord of Nerman?” asked the chief with a dry, grating voice.

‘Well whaddya know? He can speak Common?’

“Indeed. I am the Lord of Nerman, Count Kyre de Nerman.”

There was no need to cower, so I held my head up high and introduced myself.

“Mm…” The chief narrowed his eyes.

“Father, you must believe me. Lord Kyre here is different from the other empire nobles we have met. From what I have seen all this time, the Lord’s loyalty is as unbreakable as the Sacred Boulder over there. The warriors of our people were captured as prisoners, but he gave us three meals a day, warm clothes, and a safe place to sleep. And he believed my words and came all the way here. I beg of you, oh Chief of the Aishwen, Eldest Son Before the Sacred Boulder. Please believe me and take the Lord to the Mother of All, Lokorïa-nim. Our tribe, no, the Temir people, cannot live any longer like ragged ants!”

Using Common so that I could understand, Kantahar persuaded his father, the chief.

“I cannot believe your words. Nerman has always been an enemy that has spilled the blood of countless warriors of our people. How could I possibly guide the leader of the enemy to the noble Mother of our people? If things went wrong, our clan could be subjected to Mother’s wrath and become unable to cross the River of Arakiki.”

I could read fear towards the Great Shaman, the Mother of their people, in the chief’s words.

‘Just how much did she beat her kids for them to be this brainwashed?’

Brute force trumped all—just the name of the Great Shaman, Lokorïa, the reincarnation of the Mother of their people, made this perfectly fine-looking chief tremble in fear. It made me really want to meet her.

“Father, think! Just a few years ago, our tribe had over 2,000 warriors, but look at what we have been reduced to! Do you really think that we can safely survive this winter with these numbers?! Do you think the other tribes will be sad to see our tribe perish? Father, please make a wise decision. If we do not receive the help of the Lord of Nerman, our people will have no future.”

Kantahar desperately tried to convince his father. I could feel his anguish and the passionate aura of youth from his body.

“If… If that is the intent of Hadvaish-nim, the Father of All Creation…”

‘What the heck, a Mother of the People and now a Father of All Creation?’

The culture of the Temir was really confusing.

‘Damn, the Temir are people, too.’

They might be of a different ethnicity, but they were still people. They were humans who had two legs, two arms, a torso, eyes, a nose, mouth, and the capability to think. Most of the people here were women and innocent children. Up until recently, I had fought brutally with these people, but that was the decision of adults—the kids, at the very least, were blameless. My heart wavered upon seeing the kiddos who grinned or waved at me.

“Huhu, how laughable. What would you do if you all died and it wasn’t the intent of Hadvaish-nim, Father of All Creation? No matter what the Father’s intent is, how could you utter such defeated words when you should be doing everything to protect your people? Because of how much you guys harassed Nerman, I thought you were full of fighting spirit, but I see you’re just a big coward.”

“W-What did you say!!”

The chief was instantly enraged by my sneering jab.

“Didn’t you say so yourself? That if it is the intent of Hadvaish-nim, it can’t be helped even if you all become orc poop tomorrow… Tsk tsk! If you want to die, then die alone; a chief shouldn’t take these children down with him… Can you really call yourself a chief?”

I rambled on as if talking to myself and continued to hurl spikes into the chief’s heart.

“Y-Youuu! How dare you call me, the Eldest Son Before the Sacred Boulder, a coward! Draw your sword at once! In the name of our people, I will tear your body apart!!”

Swish!

The chief immediately pointed the tip of his spear at me, causing a fierce gust of wind.

“You will regret it…” I said ominously, giving a perfectly wicked smile and putting my hand on the hilt of my sword. Playing the villain role was so fun that I had become addicted to it.

Flaaaash.

“Hooh, your mana control is pretty decent.”

Like an Aura Blade from a sword, the chief poured mana into his steel spear. His posture was fairly good.

“Come at me!”

“If I win, what will you do? If you win, I’ll cede the position of Nerman’s Lord to you.”

“I-If you win, I will become your servant for life!”

‘Huhu, I’ve got you now!’

Somehow, things progressed into a duel, and the chief responded to my bet with his own. I could tell my steadily rising baiting skill was reaching the level of true masters.

Scwhing!

I drew my sword, which vibrated immediately in response to my mana, as was fitting for a masterpiece made by the Dwarven Patriarch.

“Hup!”

As soon as I drew my sword, the chief launched himself forward like a tempest, swinging his spear.

Schwwiiinng!

‘Wow! I didn’t know the spear could be this cool!’

The sturdy, black spear made of cast iron bent impossibly. Rather, the incredible speed made it look like the spear was bending.

Cla-claaaaang!

Spears were specialized for piercing, but the tip of his spear had outer blades on both sides the size of small kitchen knives, which allowed the user to slice as well as pierce. I easily blocked the rapidly approaching spear. It was a different feel from when I dueled sword-wielding knights. I met the chief’s ever-changing, powerful spearmanship with my own swordsmanship.

“Ootaka! Ootaka!”

“Kiooooooooooo!”

The Aishwen tribespeople who had no idea how things had turned into a duel either chanted or howled with excitement. Like real warriors, their blood had begun to boil at the sight of a fight.

‘Is that all?’

Schwiiiiish.

The chief’s spearmanship held the mana of an upper-level knight. After blocking a dozen attacks from him, I felt like I had seen everything he had to offer.

“Hup!”

I readied myself with a vigorous grunt, and my mana core responded. The blue Aura Blade on my sword grew twice as long.

CLANG!

“Aghh!”

Wooooosh, bam.

That was the end. A single blow with all my strength blew the spear out of the chief’s hand, and it flew quite a distance before falling to the ground.

“Argh…”

His hands torn up by the impact, the chief clenched his eyes shut in pain.

“…..”

The tribesmen fell into silence in an instant.

Its job done, the sword returned gracefully to its sheath with a hiss.

“K-Kill me.”

The chief fell to his knees with a thud.

“F-FATHER!”

Kantahar, who had remained on his knees the whole time, ran up to the chief in shock.

‘You think I’m a butcher or something?’

I didn’t want to stain my sword with blood without reason. That is how I had lived, and that is how I would continue to operate in the future.

“Let’s discuss this one more time. Chief of the Aishwen Tribe, Eldest Son Before the Sacred Boulder,” I said smoothly to the chief, whose hostility towards me and fighting spirit were in shambles.

Lokorïa, Mother of the People. I wouldn’t go back until I met that woman.

‘Tch, come to think of it, I didn’t even get to eat breakfast!’

In my haste to get going, I missed breakfast and even lunch.

My beautiful plans for today were already broken beyond repair.

Until I met the evil witch named Lokorïa, I could only keep forging ahead, no matter what.