Chapter 210. Even If I Lose the Light (5)
***
“Damn it!”
“You damned monkey bastards! Can’t you do it properly?!”
The naga sorcerers fumed as they watched the Herald Clan fight half-heartedly. Because the Heralds were openly slacking, only the nagas were taking damage.
“What do you mean, we’re doing our best too!”
“Get out there and block them!”
“There are undead too, why should we?”
The corpses enchanted with necromancy eventually rot and collapse as time passes. If you remove the organs and preserve them, they last a little longer, but even such mummies, once they walk in the rain, become soaked, and flies lay eggs so that they rot in an instant. For this reason, in an army that includes necromancers, the undead always hold the front lines.
Since they will rot away sooner or later anyway, the principle of necromancers is to use the undead as much as possible as sword fodder and arrow fodder.
But…
“That doesn’t work now, that’s why!”
A naga sorcerer moved the undead onto the rooftops. But the moment they were sent up, something came raining down.
It was the bodies of undead cut clean in half. Azadin was swinging his halberd-axe, cleaving them apart. With the undead falling like autumn leaves before a storm, there was no living man willing to climb up there.
“They’re your tribe, so you deal with them!”
The naga side demanded that the Heralds take responsibility. But the young Heralds had no intention of stepping forward.
‘That damned halberd-axe Azadin wields is ridiculously fierce.’
‘Azadin’s bad enough, but over there is Arael.’
‘Anyone here confident enough to stop Arael?’
‘Are you insane? I fought Arael once before, couldn’t even match her for a second.’
‘Why should we put ourselves in front of Arael, just for monsters that eat people alive?’
All the Heralds had been beaten by Arael at least once, so they knew well her true strength.
And then.
“Seems you’re displeased with my people.”
A cold voice came from behind the Heralds.
“Gasp?”
“L-Lord Zion!?”
Zion Aether, the man who became an elder of the Aether bloodline at a young age, appeared behind the quarrelling nagas and Heralds.
He brought along masked attendants and looked upon the tribesmen who had been slacking.
“Ah, well, this is…”
“Well done.”
“What?”
“They will let their guard down now, will they not? It was excellent behavior.”
With the nagas watching, Zion Aether did not rebuke the slackers, but instead praised them. Yet though his words were praise, for those who heard, it could only chill their hearts.
“We’ll keep following them and launch a pincer attack at the refuge area ahead. Move.”
“Yes, sir!”
Zion Aether led the youths of Aragasa himself in pursuit of Azadin and Arael.
***
“Damn.”
Azadin’s steps stopped.
The refuge area stretched out before them. Near the royal castle, the Bruma army had demolished buildings by the waterway to create a wide open space, and a fortress had been built around it. To approach that fortress, they had to cross the refuge area.
“An open field, dangerous.”
Until now, the group had been leaping from building to building, mocking their pursuers, but now they had reached their limit.
The Bruma army had demolished the refuge area to block nagas approaching through the waterways, but now it stood in Azadin’s path. And worse, the fortress facing the refuge area was already heavily manned.
Unlike the other Aragasa who only pretended to fight, the discipline of these troops was strict. That was because an elder was among them.
“You’ve come!? Traitor Arael!”
“Elder Altua.”
Arael recognized the elder guarding the fortress. A stern middle-aged woman wearing a monocle stood on top of the wall.
“Yes, Arael! I doted on you so much, and this is how you betray me…”
—Thwack!
At that moment, a throwing knife struck Elder Altua’s head.
From over a hundred paces away, not an arrow but a dagger had flown true and struck her dead on. The sudden, warning-less attack made everyone watching shiver.
But astonishingly, even with a dagger stuck in her brow, Altua did not die.
“Grrh! Y-You wench!”
Altua yanked the dagger from her head and glared at Arael.
“What are you doing?!”
“Showing affection.”
“What?”
“Right now I’m stronger than you, Altua. You’re no cute young vampire anymore, just a decrepit old hag, but I’ll make you a little cute in my way. That’s the right of the strong!”
So saying, Arael raised her hand to her lips and whispered something into her palm. From the wound struck by the dagger, black energy began to ooze forth. It was the language of the nether.
“Ugh, guuugh…! Kyyaaaa!”
Altua screamed. From her wound spilled clumps of dark red flesh.
The clumps became eyes, blooming all over Altua’s body like flowers, tearing it apart.
“Ahhh!”
Her body collapsed. The leg bones meant to support her weight turned into eyeballs, unable to hold her, and she toppled to the ground. Yet still the eyes kept forming, turning her into a massive, hideous pulp.
“Ugh.”
The Heralds stationed in the fortress recoiled in terror at the horrific destruction wrought on their elder by Arael’s dreadful power.
“Yes. Now you’re a little cute. Ptew.”
Arael drew out her obsidian blade, slit her tongue to counter the backlash of using the nether tongue, and spat out blood-mixed saliva.
“…Hahh.”
Everyone who witnessed it was horrified. And that was not the end.
“Arise, gazing shadows!”
Arael chanted, and eyes began to open in the shadows of the refuge.
In the shadows of scrap heaps, in the shadows cast by unremoved corpses, in the shadows of the waterway, eyes opened, then slowly bodies emerged and began to move.
The Herald Clan stirred uneasily.
Their purpose was to block Arael’s intrusion here, and capture her band. Yet Arael was far stronger than they had anticipated. If a fight broke out like this, the tribe’s casualties would be unavoidable…
Then Arael shouted.
“Listen well, if we fight among ourselves right now, no fewer than a hundred of our people will die! There’s no need for that, is there?!”
“What nonsense are you speaking, traitor Arael!”
“I challenge the chieftain. Hatir must prove himself as chieftain!”
Among the Aragasa, it was common for heralds to duel each other for rank. The Aragasa valued hierarchy, but even more than that, they valued ability.
Yet no one had ever dueled for the seat of chieftain.
“Foolish talk! The position of chieftain is not decided by dueling ability alone! It is…”
“It is what?”
When Arael asked, even the Heralds fell silent.
Bloodline. That was the answer. But saying so was unconvincing even to themselves. It was an argument too weak to persuade.
“It must be decided by how much one can contribute to the tribe’s future.”
“In that case, all the more reason for a duel, isn’t it? If we fight each other here and many of our tribe die, then the tribe’s future will only grow darker.”
Just then, an arrow flew toward Arael.
Surprisingly, it did not come from the fortress facing them at the refuge, but from behind.
“Not a chance!”
Indim of the Moon cut down the arrow behind Arael, but it exploded in midair, forcing him back.
The arrow’s power was tremendous.
“Damn. Zion!?”
“My, my… such bluster.”
The one who had fired was Zion Aether, with his subordinates.
They arrived accompanied by nagas and an undead host, and Azadin’s party was instantly surrounded by an overwhelming army.
“Arael. You cannot become chieftain. Because the elder council does not want you to be chieftain.”
“Laughable. And who wanted your elders to take their seats? They happened to be born into good families, so they claim those positions…”
“Without the great deeds and grace of our ancestors, how could we exist as we do now? Ah, of course, from the standpoint of you, daughter of the traitor Akre, I can understand you wish to ignore your parents’ deeds and be judged only by your own ability. And so you threaten the lives of the tribe, throwing tantrums, is that not so?”
Zion Aether reminded all that Arael was the daughter of the traitor Akre. At that moment, Midiam stepped forward.
“No matter how great the parents are, that doesn’t mean their children are as well.”
“…Midiam?”
Zion’s face stiffened at Midiam stepping forth.
No matter what the daughter of the traitor Arael said, she could be dismissed as self-serving, seeking to turn things her way.
But if Midiam, a member of the Aether bloodline of the Five Great Clans, stepped forward, the story changed. Was there any argument more persuasive than one that carried more cost than gain for the speaker?
“Because the Five Families blindly supported the current chieftain Hatir, this is what has become of us, isn’t it? We wanted the tribe to prosper, not to become thralls of nether reapers. The elder council and the chieftain distorted our will and proceeded as they pleased. To challenge the chieftain’s seat as protest—why not? Ordinary heralds must prove themselves through duels for their rank, but the chieftain does not have to prove anything greater?”
Murmurs rose among the tribe.
“Who is that?”
“She’s a daughter of the Aether bloodline.”
“…Hmm.”
None dared speak aloud, but the heralds agreed with Midiam.
Those not of the Five Families harbored resentment toward them. For one of the Five Families themselves to voice it outright—this struck deeply.
If another had said it, it could be dismissed as the envy of the unprivileged. But for a successor of the Five Families to say it herself…
“Midiam. Return. If you do so now, I can cover for you without issue.”
“Brother Zion. Do you really believe this path has a future?”
“What are you saying? It has already succeeded. We, who were oppressed, will now be the rulers of this world.”
“What we wanted was the world before this. Not one where nether reapers roam, and nagas slaughter humans! This is like coveting jewels in a shop window, then setting fire to the shop, and bringing home only the ashes. That’s what this is.”
Those listening nodded in agreement with Midiam’s words. For Zion Aether, speaking only made things worse.
“So you truly mean to side with traitors?”
“The traitors are not us, but your elder council.”
Azadin stepped in front of Midiam, shortening his grip on the halberd-axe to deflect something.
It was a small, slender needle aimed at Midiam. Zion had launched a covert strike at her.
“To resort to trickery when you can’t persuade even a single girl of the tribe.”
“…Azadin. I had hoped not to, but you leave me no choice.”
Zion gestured.
At once, naga sorcerers drove the undead forward, and simultaneously, the attack began from the rear.
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