Chapter 95: Chapter 95

The morning of the fourth day.

Maya was the last of the group to awaken.

She had dreamt for the first time in a while. She was not one to dream often.

The Northmen are sensitive to divine inspiration. They believe that dreams are the most basic means of communion with gods through reflection on the inner world.

The tribe's shaman elders had diagnosed Maya, saying that after she became a Barbarian, the side effects or aftereffects of the Mark caused her spiritual communion ability to be lacking.

'Is it because of last night's conversation?'

Kujo had adamantly insisted that Bloodhorn really existed.

In Northland, for a legend to be acknowledged, there must be a real successor or evidence; at the very least, there needs to be sufficient legends or myths related to it.

Among the Sabertooth Tigers, no one acknowledged Bloodhorn.

It was only treated as a story for little children.

A faint chuckle escaped Maya. Foreign imperialists and people of other tribes were the ones believing in the existence of Bloodhorn.

Her father and grandfather, who had been treated as outcasts for all their lives—at least because they had a daughter who was a Barbarian, had barely been treated as human at all—but here, at least, their lineage could stand tall.

'? Three Sacred Treasures.'

Words she once ignored kept pricking her mind.

But the more she thought about it, the more negative aspects came to mind, so she decided to give it up.

After learning about the true nature of Asthra and Kujo, who claimed to be among the Three Sacred Treasures, she felt it was better if she had never heard any of it.

In the early morning around the edge of the snowy mountain, the sun shone especially bright.

When Maya finished tidying up her bedding and stood up, the only one she could see wandering nearby was Ran.

"Good? No, you're the last to get up."

"Sorry. Where's Ragna?"

"He went to morning training with Kujo."

"W-what did you just say? Morning training? With Kujo?"

"That's right. Ah, you must not have heard since you slept first last night. Ragna asked Kujo to accept him as his disciple."

Her bewilderment quickly turned to rage. How could the blood descendant of the great Mukesh volunteer to become the disciple of an old weirdo like Kujo?! It was outrageous.

This was a separate matter from Kujo's certainty in the existence of Bloodhorn. Going to bed first had come back to bite her.

She couldn't blame Ran for this turn of events. Maya gnawed on her nails, surveying her surroundings.

Just then, ragna could be seen running from afar. Behind him, kujo lazily jogged along.

"Ragna! Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, I decided to learn the way of the warrior from Kujo for a while."

Ragna wiped his sweat off as if it were nothing. Kujo gave a boisterous laugh.

"My eye for warriors is exceptional—and this lad has the makings, for sure! Is this what they call the pride of the Sabertooth Tigers?"

"But basics come first in anything. Gotta start by building stamina, right?"

Before anyone knew it, maya had drawn her dagger and held it to Kujo's throat.

Kujo raised his arms to his ears in surrender. Ragna tried to calm Maya down at his side, but she didn't budge an inch. A steely, murderous glare flashed in her eyes.

"? Kujo. If you mess with Ragna one more time, I swear you'll never smell earth again, got it?"

Kujo nodded up and down frantically. At last, ragna burst into tears beside Kujo, his pent-up frustration breaking loose.

Ran stealthily backed away and buried his face in his fur collar. The two of equal height, standing side by side getting scolded, looked funny and pitiful at the same time.

"Even Tascar acknowledged me as a warrior. Why does Maya always interfere?! I want to grow strong too!"

Kujo looked sideways at Ragna.

The great Mukesh was famous for having heterochromatic eyes—green left, violet right.

"That's enough, both of you. Let's focus on our actual plan."

Again, it was Ran who calmed the situation. The longer things dragged on, the worse for them.

They had to return to Tascar as soon as possible.

He wasn't lying when he said he was the only one who knew the sea route from Ortega to Igraine. Ran had asked other Northmen similar questions, and their answers had all been the same—they only knew the sea path from Aurag in the southwest of Northland to the western mainland. That route was now under the Emperor's army's control.

'It'll be bad if anything happens to Tascar.'

Find Bloodhorn, win the war, and help Tascar enter Ortega.

Even if they failed to find Bloodhorn—it didn't matter. Somehow, they would get Tascar to Ortega.

Ran's objective was clear. First, tascar must stay safe. There was no time to be sentimental.

"The key issue is whether our path overlaps with the home base of the Poison Talon Eagle tribe. If it doesn't, we're better off ignoring them and passing by. It's no time for pointless delays."

Maya nodded in agreement with Ran's assessment.

Frankly, maya saw little point in staying with Kujo. Since she'd found out that he'd tried to form a master-disciple relationship with Ragna, she'd felt her patience run out entirely.

'It's not like he knows where Bloodhorn is, either.'

Kujo snickered and clicked his tongue.

"You lot are so naïve—Poison Talons may be notorious for their cruelty, but they're not a bunch of random thugs. They're fairly organized. By now, they'll know some of their tribe were hit and are scrambling to find us."

"That's irrelevant. Dealing with a few who tail us is nothing new."

Ran answered, arms crossed. Suddenly Kujo snapped, shouting.

"That's not the problem! It won't end at a few! You're planning to enter Frost Cavern, right? I promise you—their real base is somewhere inside. You know full well, right? The Frost Cavern system around the snowy mountain is a tangled web. Do you think those Poison Talon bastards will just roll out a welcome mat for you?!"

"There'll be an outpost near the snowy mountain entrance. About thirty Poison Talon warriors. More prisoners than that. They can't keep all those prisoners inside the caverns—there'll be split between the outpost and guards. If you plunge straight into the Frost Cavern, you'll be surrounded inside and out!"

"So first, if we destroy the outpost, we won't have enemies behind us and the defenses inside will be disrupted as well?"

"If those inside don't know we're here, it'll be easier to move. We'll get the initiative, too."

"You're sharp. Whose son are you?"

"So, maya? What's your call?"

Ran let Maya have the final say. Deep down, he thought it was wiser, even if a hassle, to go with Kujo's idea. More than anything, he couldn't stand leaving an enemy behind.

"In a situation , divided opinions aren't good. Keep personal feelings out and judge coolly."

As if nothing had happened, maya's eyes became calm and composed.

"? Kujo. You said there are Sabertooth Tigers among the prisoners, right?"

"Of course. Their aim is to capture as many as possible to offer up to the Pontiff."

"Good. Then we strike first. We might even be able to rally more Northland warriors."

Maya was the one who tightly organized the anti-Pontiff faction during Tascar's absence.

She wasn't so much of a fool as to confuse public and private matters.

It wasn't until sunset that the four of them finally found the Poison Talon Eagle tribe's outpost.

The outpost was carefully concealed in a remote place. Had it not been for Jebe and Maya, they would never have found it.

Kujo murmured, stroking his messy, overgrown beard.

Even as the group scouted the enemy outpost from a hillside, kujo's eyes remained on the flying Jebe.

Jebe folded its wings as it landed on Maya's shoulder. Only then did Maya open her half-sleepy eyes.

"? What are you staring at?"

Maya spoke brusquely.

Kujo just grinned as if it were nothing—he was good at handling prickly people.

"Maya, your power—when did you first learn to use it?"

"? Around when Ragna was that age."

"Oh? Any aftereffects?"

"Heh! Being testy again. Here's some advice, maya."

"No. Don't." Googlᴇ search N0v3l.Fiɾe.net

"Still, listen. You got a consumption-type Mark, not a natural-type. Just because you don't see any side effects right now, don't go abusing your power."

"? None of your business."

"Tch, you damn wench."

Ran pricked up his ears. After listening to the two for a while, he quietly interjected.

"Maya, did you see anything?"

"Six enemies. Didn't count exactly, but plenty of prisoners—their condition seemed fine, enough to fight right away."

Maya briefly described the outpost's internal layout and enemy positions.

"They didn't seem particularly alert. Prisoner watch was lax, too."

"Figures. Their main concern is checking who comes into the Frost Cavern, not outside threats."

"Never mind, anyway."

The outpost was built against a sheer cliff.

'That must be where the caverns connect.'

A sleet was drifting down from the sky. As they were at the entrance to the snowy mountain, the cold was bitter. The howl of the wind whipped past their ears.

The noisy sound of a sneeze in the distance woke Beorn from his light sleep.

He was caged in a cramped pen.

It was tight even for one grown man, but he and another had to sit pressed together, knees drawn close.

The person beside him, instead of breathing, reeked of stench.

One never gets used to such stench. He retched repeatedly.

If he turned his head even a little, he'd see his companion's face, eyes still open in death.

Steps. Crunch, crunch.

Beorn swallowed another wave of nausea. Someone was coming.

Past the bars, he could only see below the knee. Thick legs waddled in a pigeon-toed gait, brushing snow aside.

The man kicked the rusted bars. Beorn didn't even flinch. This was familiar.

The man squatted down, twisting his neck until his face pressed against the bars.

His scalp was patchy, hair ripped out in tufts, the remainder filthy and tangled.

Beorn privately called this man Snubnose.

Snubnose grinned, exposing his yellow teeth.

"Beeeorn. Stop being stubborn and come out of there. I'll show you a real good time. Eh?"

"How long will you play hard to get? Well, that's your charm. Gets me all excited! Just imagining you panting under me like a dog—ohhhh?"

Snubnose licked the bars, breathing foul breaths in a cloud.

"You know, beorn? Guess why I gave up on Dakir and chose Asriel~?"

His eyes, sunken in fat, rolled lewdly.

"They say Asriel is the god of love. Supposedly told people everywhere to love with all they've got. Fuck, where in the world is there a god this wild? Am I right? Keh he heh!"

At the prisoner camp of the Poison Talon tribe, the warriors hung out in the central tent drinking, playing, and—when the time came—lit the camp torches.

Snubnose's off-key humming faded as he walked away.

Then and only then did Beorn drop his head and let out a heavy sigh.

As a descendant of Dakir, suicide was a forbidden taboo.

Yet Beorn bit his tongue, hesitated, and let go, over and over, every day.

'Snubnose is enjoying seeing me in this state.'

Heavy silence ticked by again.

Suddenly Beorn noticed Snubnose should have gone back to the main tent by now.

Instead, a stranger's leg entered his field of view.

The man squatted, tilting his head at a crooked angle.

The hatchet in the man's hand was unmistakable.

It was the one Snubnose used whenever he tormented Beorn. Fresh blood was dripping from the blade.

The man pressed a finger to his lips, then rose quietly.

**New Names, locations, skills, and Techniques**