Northern Threat (1)

Once the rain and wind had stopped, the mosquitoes returned with a vengeance.

Scott and Shati used magic to repel the approaching mosquitoes, while Azadine, mounted on a Kerim mountain goat, cycled through the copies of the Heavenly Kings’ Grimoire he carried, refining the mana within his body.

As the powerful white mana accumulated in the grimoire copies circulated through him, not only did his own mana grow stronger, but Flowers, Birds, Wind, Moon and the Kazas Grimoire also became more potent.

At first, the changes didn’t feel tangible, but now the power was undeniable.

Still, traveling made it hard to focus.

Azadine’s thoughts spun with Arael’s words.

If what she said was true, then Aldis and Kazas, who had become his spiritual pillars, were ultimately individuals acting within the Elder Council’s designs.

They might be kind on an individual level, but their loyalty to the Elder Council, whose will was undoubtedly evil, meant their hands were already tainted.

‘If the Nagas are attacking Vthuma, and the Chieftain seeks to seize the throne of Vthuma… Hmm, how do I stop that? And if I have to confront the Chieftain, will I even be able to suppress their ambitions? And what happens if my teacher or Aldis side with the Chieftain? I may have returned under the Second Decree of the Emperor, but I could end up cursed by the Curse of Servitude again…’

His thoughts grew increasingly tangled. Though he had set out determined to save others, in truth, he had no concrete plan.

If he appeared anxious, so would everyone who followed him, so he put on a bold front—though he too was walking into the unknown.

“If the Blue Turban Party really is as powerful as they seem, I hope I can somehow use them to gain support.”

But could that even work? If what Arael said was true, then gathering more Blue Turban followers might only make things more dangerous.

Just then, a voice broke Azadine from his thoughts.

“Ah… Good day to you.”

A group of armed men, camped at a vague border area between the domain of Adirov and the Kingdom of Vthuma, greeted Azadine’s party with a fire lit by the roadside.

Men in rather fine armor stood around the fire with hunting bows and arrows. But their heavy armor made them feel off for hunters—suspiciously so.

“Just a bandit gang. They’re being cautious since we’ve got the numbers.”

Azadine recognized them for what they were but chose not to start a confrontation and returned their greeting.

“Good day. We’re headed toward Vthuma—any news from that way?”

“If it’s news you want, just be careful. Madmen turning into monsters killed people we know and fled to Vthuma.”

“Madmen turning into monsters? You mean werewolves?”

“No, not that…”

“Then maybe turning into dead trees?”

Azadine suggested old trees, but they shook their heads again.

“Not that either. But it was definitely a terrifying monster. See over there?”

Azadine looked and saw a tree by the roadside that had been broken. Something stained it—blood, seemingly washed away by yesterday’s storm.

“They hit one of our brothers… He was hurled into that tree and crushed like that. The tree broke, and the man…”

“When we tried to recover the body for a funeral, we had to collect pieces and stuff them into a sack.”

The bandits shuddered as they explained.

“They’ve been appearing between Vthuma and the Korasar border, killing people. So be careful.”

“We’re searching for them to avenge our brother, but honestly… we’re starting to lose our nerve.”

“Is that so?”

Azadine clicked his tongue.

They were definitely bandits, but they seemed to have their own sense of loyalty. Willing to risk everything to avenge a comrade’s brutal death.

“Still, judging by their gear, they seem to have some skill and confidence.”

Azadine approached the tree, inspecting for anything left behind.

Soon, he found a small chunk of flesh. It had likely come off some time ago, but nestled in the tree’s crevice, it writhed like a leech, glistening as it moved.

Azadine knew well the nature of this kind of Nether servant.

“Hmm… This is…”

“What is it?”

“Sir Zebec. Do you think you recognize this?”

“Ah, this thing…”

Zebec grimaced at the leech-like chunk of flesh.

“Is it Sir Ject?”

“Probably not the real Ject himself.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Well, from the Church’s perspective, replacing the ruler of Coral Sahar is a bigger event than coming to Vthuma, right? And I can’t imagine that guy ever giving up his flashy gilded armor. If it really were Sir Ject, we’d have heard rumors of a golden paladin passing through. He probably went toward Coral Sahar, and these things are acting separately.”

“That does make sense.”

Zebec nodded in agreement, impressed.

Azadine had a knack for quickly analyzing a situation with just bits of information.

Even though Zebec had received knightly training, Azadine was simply on another level.

“Still, we should prepare ourselves.”

Still mounted on the trembling mountain goat, Azadine trimmed a branch, attached an iron arrowhead, and readied a steel bow he had taken from a heavy crossbow.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Jiswa asked nervously.

“Preparing for battle. Don’t worry too much. It’s nothing major.”

“I-Is that so? I mean, battle prep can’t exactly be ‘nothing’…”

Not just Jiswa—the refugees and Blue Turban followers began trembling in fear.

“What’s this? The Blue Turban Party guys used to brag about hunting bandits and monsters around here, shaking people down. Now they’re scared?”

“Well, that’s because…”

“When we patrolled, the bandits stayed off the roads and avoided us, that’s all.”

“Then you’ve had no real combat experience?”

“Th-that’s correct.”

“So you’ve just strutted around bullying the weak this whole time. Don’t worry. I’ll make men out of you today.”

“Uh, yes…”

“W-wait…”

The Blue Turban Party members recalled the shattered tree, the fleshy remains caught in it, and the heavily armed bandits they’d seen camped by the roadside earlier.

Unlike the ragtag Blue Turban Party, the bandits had impressive gear. Even seasoned bandits with real battle experience had been killed by that thing—none of them wanted to prove their ‘manliness’ now…

But the current priest of the Blue Turban Party was Azadine. And at this point, it was too late to turn back.

“Easy to laugh when it’s not your neck on the line,”

muttered Shati, dragged along with Azadine, scoffing at the cowering Blue Turban members.

“Kr…rr… This can’t be. We… children of the King of Teeth… are far stronger than humans.”

An ogre, soaked in blood, was in denial of reality.

The Children of the King of Teeth—an enormous army of ogres, hobgoblins, and goblins—had descended from the mountains.

These tribes, who raised yaks in the highlands, regularly formed massive raiding parties to descend mountain paths and plunder human settlements whenever hunger struck.

But this time, they had been annihilated by bizarre humans—or rather, humanoid monsters.

“We are allied with the Naga Empire to strike Vthuma. If you’re opposing us, then you’re making a grave mistake.”

“Kekeke. Do we look like followers of the Kurt Pantheon to you?”

“Did you hear that? An ogre is begging for his life!”

The human-shaped monsters who had defeated the ogre horde burst out laughing.

“So then you’re just humans? In that case, ogres eat humans. The reverse is impossible.”

–CRACK!

The man shoved his arm deep into the ogre’s mouth mid-rant.

Then it expanded—black-red worms squirmed their way inside, devouring the ogre from within.

The ogre thrashed in agony, but with all its limbs already crushed, the struggle was meaningless.

“Whew…”

The man looked around. Over fifty goblin corpses littered the area, along with three ogres—all slain with ease.

“What a tremendous victory. A feat worthy of a hero from legend, and I did it myself.”

The speaker was none other than Doneor, who had once called himself the Bandit King of the Lantarique–Salasma borderlands.

“Yes. We’re getting stronger too…”

Doneor’s subordinates were similarly intoxicated—perched atop piles of goblin corpses, basking in their newfound power.

The thrill of victory, the intoxicating sense of omnipotence, and the physical pleasure they felt as the black worms from their own bodies fed on the dead—these overwhelmed their reason.

“With this much power, I feel like we couldn’t lose to anyone.”

“Yeah, not even that Inquisitor guy.”

The ‘Inquisitor’ they referred to was Ject the Arbiter, the corrupted enforcer of the King’s Church.

Turned into monsters by Ject, they had come here, to the border of the Kingdom of Vthuma, under his orders. The Light of the Crown was weakest at the borders, and here they had been preying on humans and beasts alike to grow stronger and gather intelligence.

“So what now? We don’t even feel like we’d lose to that Inquisitor anymore. Are we still supposed to sit here waiting on his orders?”

“No, but let’s keep growing stronger here for now. The Light of the Crown torments us, after all.”

Doneor’s thoughts grew heavy.

They could now feel the Light of the Crown clearly—because it caused them pain.

What that meant was obvious. They were no longer human. They were now monsters.

And yet, the monstrous power now surging within them awakened even greater ambition.

Even before they became monsters, Doneor and his men had enjoyed tormenting and abusing others.

As humans, the violence and torture they inflicted on Sir Brand and other locals had been horrific.

Now, driven mad by bloodlust, they had finally taken on physical forms that matched their nature. And for any traveler passing through this land, they were a true disaster.

“Hm?”

Just then, Doneor spotted a group of travelers in the distance. Some were armed, others not. Their poor clothing suggested they were refugees rather than merchants.

“Looks like we’ve got guests. Let’s kill them.”

Doneor licked his lower lip.

He temporarily cast aside his obligation to follow Ject’s orders. He ignored the reality that he was now a monster hunted by the Light of the Crown.

He just wanted to bask in the thrill of violence.

Driven by this hunger, Doneor and his followers charged down the hill.