Chapter 96: Chapter 96

Ran opened the barracks door. The roughly patched wooden door was so flimsy it was almost a wonder it hadn't blown off in the wind.

Four members of the Poison Talon Eagle tribe, seated around a round wooden table in the center, all turned to look at Ran at the same time.

Ran looked at them, and beyond them, he also saw a naked woman lying on a floor mat and another figure on top of her.

A mixture of rain and snow was carried inside on the wind, scattering through the barracks.

Everyone's dazed gaze locked onto Ran.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stop and a heavy silence settled over the room.

One of them at the table raised a finger, pointing to the small axe Ran was holding.

Ran adjusted his grip on the handaxe and immediately threw it.

The axe flew in a straight line and buried itself in the head of the man atop the woman.

"What the—! You son of a bitch!!"

All four men at the table sprang to their feet at once, a clattering commotion filling the air.

Ran didn't draw Nachal. He'd decided to spare one of them. There wasn't really any need to use Nachal, anyway.

He kicked the nearest Poison Talon Eagle tribesman, knocking him over. Then he grabbed the arm of the next closest and twisted it sharply behind his back.

The sound of bone breaking was crisp and clear. Ran grabbed him by the back of the head and slammed him into the round table. The table splintered without resistance.

Ran stepped back quickly, pulling his neck away just as a blade swept through where he'd just stood.

The tribesman wielding a small, curved blade recoiled in shock.

'Did he dodge that without even looking?'

They were all, in their own right, warriors who'd spent a lifetime on the battlefield. They relished life-and-death fights, and because of that were quick to read an opponent.

Before he could even be seized by the terror of facing a true predator, something shot at his throat like a bolt of lightning.

Ran struck upward with the edge of his rigid, open hand at the man's throat. He snatched the curved blade dropped by the tribesman as it fell through the air and swung it at once.

A dull, meaty sound resounded.

Ran finished off the first tribesman he'd kicked, then, for the last, he plunged the curved blade into the head of the man who had fallen as the table broke. Thick, sticky blood spilled from the split scalp.

The sole remaining tribesman was frozen in place, unable to move a muscle. Just moments ago, he'd been laughing and joking with his friends—now, in the blink of an eye, they were dead. The blood splattered everywhere seemed unreal.

"So, what'll it be? Are you going to guide me?"

Ran wiped the blood from his cheek indifferently. There wasn't a drop of fatigue on his face.

"Are you really going to guide me to your actual base? It's in the Frost Cavern, isn't it?"

"No. I've changed my mind. I saw a lot of prisoners outside. Ah, are there only six of you here?"

It wasn't a situation for clear answers. The tribesman's face grew steadily paler.

Shivering, he suddenly rolled his eyes back, seeking his god out of sheer instinct.

"? Dakir watches over me—!!"

Ran let out a dry laugh. The Poison Talon Eagle tribe had supposedly turned their backs on Dakir and chosen to follow the Empire's religion.

Northland was no different, really. Some had strong faith, some didn't, some treated religion like a hobby. All sorts existed. Did the merciful god Asriel foresee all of this and still pronounce an end to mankind?

For a brief moment, Ran snuffed out the Northman's life with the same feeling Asriel must have had when being slighted by humanity.

Leaving the weeping woman wrapped in animal furs behind him, Ran stepped outside.

Outside, his companions were freeing the prisoners.

Ran exhaled softly. The rows of tightly packed cages resembled livestock pens. From inside, people emerged, stretching their cramped bodies.

Ran thought this as he walked over. The freed prisoners, overwhelmed with emotion, embraced each other.

"Dakir has given us this chance!"

"Thank you, Lord Dakir!"

Among them, not a single one spoke of the mercy of any other god.

"Everyone! Eyes on me! I am Kujo, the Black Priest Hunter!"

Kujo took control of the prisoners. There were well over thirty of them, from various tribes. Still, their feelings were much the same. Some Northmen were already clamoring, vowing to avenge themselves on the Poison Talon Eagle tribe responsible for their misery.

Maya raised her hand as she approached, then quickly put it back down, blushing in embarrassment. Habits of warmth and friendliness slipped out unintentionally for her.

She cleared her throat a few times, then said,

"You handled it all that fast? Impressive."

Compared to the effort it took to find the outpost, clearing it out from the inside was almost disappointingly easy.

No wonder—the Poison Talon Eagle tribe didn't have many threats to be wary of. Even inside, the tribesmen had failed to hide their shock at seeing Ran.

Ran had already told them to start freeing the prisoners while he dealt with the stragglers, expecting it to go this way.

"We haven't got much time. Let's not delay—let's move out immediately."

"Fine. As soon as we finish up?"

A voice called from among the crowd. Ran and Maya turned in that direction to see a man approaching.

Maya had thought Beorn was dead. It felt surreal, as if meeting someone who had come back to life.

After a tearful embrace, beorn's face clouded over.

"I'm the only Sabertooth Tiger left here. The rest...?"

Snubnose, with his taste for nightly pleasures, had prevented his execution—a truly wretched stroke of luck.

"So, what exactly happened? What's been going on?"

Maya swiftly recapped the recent events: Tascar's return, the Pontiff's fall, the northward campaign to retake Ortega.

She even introduced the Imperial Ran, at the center of it all.

Beorn's astonishment was plain as day. He couldn't believe it: that an Imperial was here, that he had Tascar's trust, and, above all, that he'd single-handedly defeated the Pontiff and now stood at the heart of Sabertooth Tiger's restoration.

It all seemed utterly unreal.

"How is this possible? I can't believe it."

Blinking in disbelief, he finally managed an awkward greeting. Even speaking to an Imperial felt strange.

"Ah, you were the one from before, weren't you? Thank you. You... you saved me."

"It was nothing. Maya, is he reliable?"

Ran jerked his chin to indicate Beorn. Beorn, still bewildered, looked at Maya.

"Beorn, I'll leave this to you. Take the willing warriors and join up with Tascar."

"Of course. But what about you?"

Maya's voice trailed off.

Ran spoke up in her stead.

"We're going to find Bloodhorn."

"Bloodhorn? Maya, you're still—?"

Maya dropped her head completely, as if in disgrace. Beorn struggled to hold back words trying to burst out.

"Maya. I know I have no right to say this right now, but are you sure about this, given the circumstances? Did Tascar approve?"

Maya knew. Without Ran's support, tascar would never have let her go.

Every available hand was precious right now. Maya and Ran were vital fighting power. In a situation this desperate, perhaps it was actually reckless and selfish to ignore reality and chase only one's own desires.

Maya could refute none of it, so she only kept silent.

It stung all the more because it was Beorn saying it.

'Beorn's father followed my grandfather in trust and never returned...'

Ran quietly watched the two. There was a heavy air between them. Normally, he'd know he ought to leave them some privacy, but for some reason, it didn't feel right to do so now.

"Don't worry. Bloodhorn really exists. I'll find it, so don't worry—just head to Tascar, beorn."

Ran said whatever came naturally.

Back in the day, the Zima family's brothers used to utter confident words even in uncertain situations. Sometimes, that baseless certainty actually worked. Read full story at novel•fire.net

'If it turns out right, great. If not, as long as it works out right now, that's good enough.'

Ran briefly wondered if it was Armand or Eden who had first said those words. During that thought, beorn patted Maya's shoulder.

"Maya. Whatever happens, it doesn't matter. Let's survive, and meet again."

Maya and Beorn gripped hands firmly. Ran looked on, quietly.

Beorn spoke in a deliberately upbeat tone.

"You're going into the Frost Cavern, right? That's the closest entrance there."

The place Beorn indicated was the very spot Ran had expected from the start: a crevice in the cliff, covered haphazardly with tents.

Ran glanced over that way and asked,

"Is the Poison Talon Eagle tribe's base in there?"

"That's right. But it's odd—traffic in and out has really dropped off these past few days."

"I'm not certain, but it seems like something's happened inside."

Beorn was forced to recall memories he'd rather not.

On a recent day, a drunken Snubnose had said they were done with the Poison Talon Eagles and planned to take him out of there and use him as a sex slave for the rest of his life.

"? Normally, they rotated the guards here every day. But these six were the last group to rotate in, and it's been over a week."

"Is there any reason for trouble inside, when there's been no outside intrusion?"

"I'm not sure. I remember overhearing them say 'let's just wait a bit longer' or something like that."

Beorn described the location of the Poison Talon Eagle's base as best as he could remember from his single visit there. Perfect accuracy wasn't necessary—they just needed to be especially alert once they neared the vicinity. After all, their real goal was to search for Bloodhorn.

"Alright. Let's go, maya."

Just then, beorn noticed Ragna and the farewells stretched out a bit longer.

Beorn tactfully refrained from revealing Ragna's true identity.

The moment they entered the Frost Cavern, the howling wind outside was silenced.

A quiet that seemed to fill the void.

With each step, the sound of tiny ice crystals crunching underfoot, the transparent ice walls all around, the misty breath with every inhalation.

Ran felt the same way he had when he first left Quersa and arrived on the Empire's mainland.

It felt like stepping into another world.

"I never wanted to come back here because of this gloomy atmosphere. Tsk."

Kujo's grumbling voice echoed faintly.

It was Ragna's first time in the Frost Cavern, too. Looking around in awe, he muttered,

"Bloodhorn is supposed to be a small horn-shaped flute, right? How are we supposed to find it in a place this huge?"

Without even realizing it, Ran, who had been walking out front, suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned around.

"Maya, it's your turn to lead now."

At Ran's prompting, maya nodded. Beside her, kujo sneered,

"It's no use keeping quiet like that any longer, maya! We're here, so spit it out. What kind of legend is it the Sabertooth Tigers have, that our Thunder Anvil's relic gets treated like it never existed?!"

Normally, maya would have ignored him or glared at him ready to kill.

Instead, she stood still, gazing around. She forced herself to calm down.

'So I finally came back here.'

Her head and body didn't seem to be connected. Her heart pounded madly, refusing to settle.

If the Frost Cavern were a person, she would have torn it to pieces. When she was Ragna's age, she had begged Dakir and Gunhild, the god of nature spirits, to make it so.

'It took everything from me.'

She closed her eyes. It felt as if she could hear the voice that had blinded and deafened her grandfather, that had robbed him of reason and left him unable to escape.

'Why did I think I could take responsibility for all those lives so carelessly?'

After screaming inside a hundred, a thousand times, all that remained was withered resentment.

The vivid return of memories she'd wanted to erase at her tribe's moment of crisis was because something resonated inside her.

Drawn by something inexplicable, she had come here after all.

Maybe it was the desire to know.

Maybe it was a curse passed down the generations—or perhaps, a blessing.

"In the coldest and brightest place of the frozen land, a cunning shadow covets the noble; as the original sin is born, so shall mystery be reborn."

The granddaughter recited the line her grandfather had spent his life chasing.

"?? And what's that? Some kind of riddle?"

Ran asked, half-distracted.