Chapter 68: Chapter 68

Northland is a world governed strictly by the law of the jungle.

In such a harsh wilderness, conversation and compromise have no place as tools.

Only the strongest warriors survive and fulfill Dakir's work.

Tascar charged forward like an arrow. His bare feet hit the ground-nimbly.

Mid-run, he leapt into the air.

Northlanders are born with robust muscles. Their bodies, as large as great beasts, are weapons in themselves. Compared to them, tascar was on the smaller side. Tall, but lacking in muscle mass.

But his body, built of finely split muscle fibers, was incredibly agile.

The spear he stabbed straight in midair pierced through the brow of a bear beast. As the body collapsed, tascar sprang off it and leaped again. In another fluid motion, he cleanly skewered the eye of another beast.

He repeated the same movement over and over.

The bear beasts flailed their paws wildly over their heads, but only clawed empty air.

Rev watched with his mouth agape at Tascar's fight. It was like watching an eagle ravage the lesser creatures of the earth.

It was truly wondrous.

Tascar curled up in midair, spun quickly, and landed. It looked as though it had been a long time since he'd last stood on his feet. That's how long he had spent soaring through the air.

He spun halfway toward the remaining beasts. His hair, tied tightly into a single knot, swayed with the motion.

The two beasts roared and charged at once. Their massive quadrupedal rush sent dust tumbling from the ceiling.

Tascar snapped his spear in half. He took a stance as if wielding twin weapons.

His thunderous battle cry echoed through the cave.

Unshaken and calm, he glared at the beasts. Murderous intent flickered steadily in his eyes.

Tascar stomped his foot. His body soared up over the head of a bear beast. He landed atop its back, gripping the spear blade in a reverse grip.

He stabbed repeatedly into the nape. Dark red blood spattered everywhere.

"I am―! A warrior of the Sabertooth Tigers―!"

The bear beast thrashed in a frenzy. Tascar clamped his legs tightly around its neck and held fast without falling off. The muscles on his thighs bulged as if about to burst.

"A true descendant of Dakir―!"

The other beast lunged with its huge mouth agape. Tascar twisted his head towards it. The bloodshot red in his eyes left a trailing glare as he moved.

He raised the spear shaft in his other hand vertically and shoved it into the beast's mouth, then-nimbly switched bodies.

He seized the spear tip, now reduced to a blade like a dagger, with both hands and raised it overhead. Tascar's gaze fixed on the bear beast's crown.

"I am Tascar Hon Ortega―!"

The bear beast's blood spouted like a fountain.

Tascar slowly closed his eyes. He stood drenched in the beast's foul blood as if he were anointed in holy water. His tattooed torso and face were stained red.

Rev trembled with awe. It wasn't a fight between man and beast, but a desperate human struggle against raw nature.

"Tascar Hon Ortega! Warrior of the Sabertooth Tigers! Ou! Ou!"

Ragna repeatedly shouted Tascar's name. The two barbarians performed a ritual to praise the warrior in their own way.

'Damn, they're making a real spectacle of this.'

Ran crossed his arms indifferently. Unlike the others, he hadn't just stood there absentmindedly.

'Basically, if it were me, slash, slash?'

In his head, he'd already run imaginary fights as if he himself took on the beasts—several times over.

One way or another, his fights always ended quickly. Compared to that, tascar's was highly inefficient.

'Is that barbarian watching me?'

The barbarian was staring his way. The eyes peering through bloodstains were fierce.

Ran glanced left and right. Realizing no one else was nearby, he looked away.

He had no intention of openly clashing with their precious hostage.

The group ventured deep into the beast's den.

Tascar, now wielding a longsword instead of his broken spear, led from the front, tearing through any beasts that barred their path. The scouting party assisted as well.

'Damn, tascar's as terrifying as ever.'

Huven licked his dry lips. Now that things were going smoothly, anxiety was slowly starting to creep in.

'No way he'll stab us in the back, right?'

He remembered their first encounter.

It'd been a nightmare. Several grown men had tried to handle him together, but before the barbarian, they were nothing but helpless chicks. Men once hailed as seasoned warriors died horribly in mere moments.

'If not for Sigurd and Ragna...'

It was only by taking them hostage and threatening Tascar that they'd barely managed to force his submission.

Huven glanced aside, almost subconsciously.

Rev—hailed as a sword demon—walked with an indifferent face. He'd seen with his own eyes how that man could dispatch a wolf beast with ease. He was definitely not an ordinary person.

'If only I'd managed to set them against each other in advance.'

They had rushed the expedition out of impatience.

He bitterly regretted not having the wandering mercenary in their pocket.

'But he's not without weaknesses.'

He looked at the excited young nephew, fired up by his uncle's battle prowess.

A sly smile twisted Huven's lips.

Considerable time had passed since they entered the den.

Tascar, too, was visibly exhausted. He'd hunted all those beasts like a starving predator.

They ate their carried rations as meals. No casualties so far. Rest and hunting alternated on and on.

"I had no idea the den was this big. Just how much farther is it?"

Huven wiped his sweat as he spoke. He'd picked up his sword for the first time in a while.

"We're almost there. It's best to split the group."

Tascar spat out blood that had splashed into his mouth.

It was about time to put his plan into action. He pointed at a fork ahead, where the path split into two. So far, the path had always gone in one direction.

"If we walk straight along the corridor, we'll all meet up at one point. I'll take one path with the fancy mercenary here. How about it, doable?"

Tascar slung his sword over his shoulder. He was running low on stamina but still acted relaxed.

'Gotta cut down the headcount. That bastard's dealt with last.'

Huven hesitated. He wasn't keen on splitting the group.

Ran was walking over, dragging his feet.

Ran walked past Huven and Tascar to stand in front of the fork.

He quietly stared into the dark passage.

"There's only the boss left. Most likely at the end of this tunnel."

Ran turned and looked at Tascar.

A strange tension filled the air. The scouts nervously glanced between the two.

Tascar narrowed his eyes.

"What do you know, running your mouth? Ever even been here?"

"No. But while I don't know the way, I can smell beasts amazingly well. It's certain. There's one overpoweringly foul stench wafting from the end."

"So you're just talking out of your ass based on feeling? What if we go back and the minions pick up your scent and backtrack? These guys aren't like normal beasts. You've got the wrong idea."

"I've noticed you talk a lot. Not very barbarian-like, scheming and all. Been sipping too much imperial culture, huh?"

Blood vessels bulged in Tascar's eyes. A strong urge to kill surged.

He had to kill this opponent anyway.

Tascar strode up to Ran. They were now close enough to touch if they reached out.

"Calm down, barbarian."

Ran murmured quietly.

Tascar's eyes shot open wide. His heart skipped a beat. The imperial mercenary just spoke in Northlandic.

Tascar couldn't close his gaping mouth. His pronunciation was so fluent he could have been a native.

That wasn't the only thing that surprised him.

Only now did he realize that every time he had private conversations in Northlandic with Ragna, Ran had always been somewhere nearby.

Huven's voice came from behind, clarifying the situation.

"If you're certain, I'd like to follow your lead. Everyone's running out of stamina. We can't afford to divide our forces."

"Of course. I'll take the front, follow my lead."

Ran had been rather quiet since entering the den. His mind had been entirely preoccupied with searching for that demonic energy, similar to the one from the wraith.

His back was drenched in cold sweat. The mental strain was significant. Thanks to Tascar doing his job, at least the burden was lighter.

'... It's getting closer.'

He crossed the passage. Sure enough, there wasn't a single beast in the area.

Ran's pursuit of the source of demonic energy was like looking for a sliver of light leaking through in a fog-shrouded forest.

Sometimes the light appeared vividly. Other times, it would flicker faintly from far away.

Now was one of those times.

This strange demonic energy in the bear beast's den appeared and vanished intermittently like a thin thread.

There was a chance it wasn't a wraith, but another form of beast.

Either way, it was trouble. Ran hoped it was just his imagination.

The moment they entered a spacious chamber, the group halted.

This wasn't just the beast's cry. It felt as though the darkness filling the entire cave resonated at once.

A ghastly vibration enveloped their bodies.

Someone gulped for breath. Their body froze, refusing to move.

Even Tascar felt a chill run down his spine. He had never heard a sound last time he was here.

Tascar hurriedly seized Ragna's wrist. Northlanders have sharp senses. Sometimes, intuition goes beyond awareness. An unknown terror slowly constricted his breath.

The rumble grew even louder, the epicenter seemingly drawing near.

Ran drew Nachal. The white blade gleamed sharply.

"Everyone, stay behind me."

Unknown to him, a faint golden tint appeared around the edge of his pupils.

A gust of oppressive wind blew through.

A whirlwind of black mist swept into the very center of the empty chamber and instantly took form.

A gigantic bear shrouded in darkness let out a howl.

The scouts recoiled in terror at the savage roar. A fierce wind swept through like backdraft.

Despite his hair and coat flapping wildly, Ran remained calm.

'The real one is behind that thing.' Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on novel~fire~net

Ran dashed at the bear beast.

Once he'd identified it, he had nothing to fear. All distractions disappeared. His body felt as light as a feather.

The bear beast swiped with its forepaw. Razor-sharp claws protruded from its pitch-black, vapor-like limb.

The spot where Ran had stood concaved as the forepaw smashed down. Dust burst into clouds in every direction.

Ran dove deeper inward. He moved so fast, all the onlookers saw were afterimages.

'I'll finish this in a single strike.'

Umi, the man-eater, although cursed with a twisted soul, had spent her life honing her sword in pursuit of mastery.

He had experienced the essence of her skills firsthand—by watching and by feeling them.

He grasped those principles through pure instinct.

Having slipped right inside, Ran jumped high from standing. He soared up to the cave ceiling and then, descending like a falling flower, hovered over the bear beast's brow.

A short breath. All his power focused at a single point. He set his hand softly on the hilt.

The swift Nachal drew a half-moon arc.

It was, literally, a flash of light.

He landed lightly. Ran sheathed his sword.

The hollow rumbling gradually faded.

The black mist forming the bear beast's body scattered like ashes.

'Th-that guy, he's the real deal?!'

Huven's eyes were wide as saucers, his mouth agape in shock. Saliva drooled thickly out.

Rev, standing next to Huven, was shaking his fist in excitement.

He burst out, unable to contain himself, wanting to hug Ran. The hero's shoulders looked broad and reassuring.

Ran shouted while keeping his gaze fixed ahead.

Startled out of his wits, Rev let out a little leak.