Revenge of the Iron-blooded Sword Hound
Chapter 69

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]

Episode 69: Flesh and Blood (2)

Upon hearing the report, Aiyen grimaced.

“…That woman is still roaming around, huh?”

For the past two years, Camus Morg had been consistently scouring various locations in the floodplain. The pretext was pacifying the barbaric tribes and searching for territories, but nobody knew her true intentions. Only one person did—Aiyen.

“It’s obvious.”

Even without asking, Aiyen could empathize with her purpose. She was likely searching for a man who went missing two years ago: Vikir.

Aiyen recalled the first time she met Vikir. A small boy who rescued her from the cell, on the verge of death. Since that day, she had never forgotten his face.

But when they met again, that boy was holding another woman in his arms. The woman he held was Camus Morg, and she had returned to this dangerous floodplain because she couldn’t forget the man from before.

With a glimmer of hope as fine as a thread, an expectation that couldn’t be let go, and an ineffable longing, Camus Morg was tirelessly searching for Vikir. Her unwavering determination and willpower over the past two years were impressive enough to provoke Aiyen’s admiration.

“If you came to dig rubies, you should just dig and then leave. Such a headache.”

Aiyen crossed her arms and fell silent for a moment. She was pondering whether to relay this story to Vikir or not.

In the jungle, Aiyen retraced Vikir’s footsteps. She soon spotted Vikir tracking prey ahead. Aiyen rode on the back of the wolf Bakira and approached Vikir.

At that moment, Vikir was measuring the depth of marks left in the mud.

“The floodplain snake, Mushussu, huh? A very old and large specimen. If we catch it, the entire village will feast for at least three days.”

Vikir was analyzing the prey’s size, weight, movement direction, location, age, health, and even its current mood. These were all things he had learned from the Ballakin hunters.

Aiyen silently observed Vikir’s actions. Over the past two years, Vikir has changed significantly. Cute traces still lingered on his face, but there was an air of maturity that pervaded him.

He had always been resourceful and capable, even two years ago, but now he was even more experienced. In this way, the boy was undoubtedly growing into a man.

“Indeed, He must have been quite memorable for that Camus Morg. Where else could you replace a man like this?”

Aiyen nodded in agreement.

Although Vikir would become the next leader of a hostile faction, Aiyen could still empathize with her as a fellow woman.

Then, Aiyen spoke.

For some reason, her voice was slightly trembling at the end.

“Hey, slave.”

Even after Vikir’s departure, Aiyen had continued to address him with this title. Vikir, on the other hand, didn’t mind it. Without turning around, he replied.

“What?”

In the face of his question, Aiyen hesitated slightly before asking.

“How was the place you originally lived?”

“…?”

Vikir fell silent at Aiyen’s question.

The place he used to live—did that refer to Baskerville, or did it mean the world before reincarnation? Vikir answered vaguely, lumping both places together.

“It was hell.”

Aiyen raised an eyebrow at his response.

Soon after, she asked the question that had been on her mind.

“Do you want to go back? To where you used to live?”

“….”

Vikir paused for a moment upon hearing her question.

To where he used to live.

Did she mean Baskerville?

Vikir answered, his tone slightly wistful.

“I won’t go back.”

Short response. At that moment, Aiyen felt the tension that had been building up in her body suddenly release. Warm energy filled every corner of her empty and drained body.

“…Really?”

“Yeah.”

Vikir nodded.

Why return? It was to fully reclaim his previous life’s power. At the very least, he had to do so before he could completely conceal his strength and avoid drawing Hugo’s attention.

“…And what about that woman?”

Vikir furrowed his brow for a moment.

Was she referring to Camus Morg? If so, it was a good thing. It meant that the favor of saving his life was still remembered.

“She’s more loyal than I thought. Or is this part of some diplomatic affair?”

Vikir closed his eyes and pondered. If Camus Morg was searching for him, it meant they were still within the territory of Baskerville. The alliance between Morgs and Baskerville seemed to have grown stronger as well. It made sense for them to conduct searches periodically, formally or informally.

Vikir thought that he should venture outside the floodplain soon.

At that moment, Aiyen, in a much lighter tone, spoke.

“Oh, by the way. There’s one more thing I’ll let you know about.”

She pulled out an object from her pocket. It was the mysterious dagger mentioned in the previous report, with an unknown symbol left by the intruders.

“Do you know anything about this symbol?”

It was a dagger with the image of a large snake.

Vikir’s eyes narrowed slightly upon seeing it.

“I know. It’s a fairly well-known emblem.”

It represented one of the seven major Imperial households, the “Reviadon”. Along with the Blood-Sword Clan Baskerville, the Magic Artisan Clan Morg, the Faithful clan Quovadis, and the Industrial Clan Bourgeois, among others. Why was it discovered in the floodplain at this time?

[TL/N: They’re called the faithful clan cause their major strength (specialty) comes from Divine/Healing power.]

Vikir’s mind began to race.

“Can I keep this?”

“Eh, do whatever you want.”

Aiyen nodded in agreement. Vikir put the dagger with the snake symbol back into his pocket.

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]

Then, from somewhere, an unpleasant cry could be heard.

“Groaak!”

Vikir and Aiyen turned their heads toward the source of the sound, which came from the vast mangrove forest filled with mud.

Among the twisting roots, a massive creature was wriggling its way towards them.

A lungfish—is a fish with two lungs that breathe on the surface. Despite its smooth, scaleless body and slimy mucus, it crawled on the mud, emitting an unpleasant sound. With its body over 8 meters long and its grotesque appearance and cries, it was a fish so repulsive it was considered inedible.

Aiyen grimaced as she looked at them.

“Looks like the monsoons is coming, given their behavior.”

“If the big ones are on the move… it means the monsoon will be lengthy this time.”

Vikir nodded in agreement.

The mud was marked with clear traces of large lungfish crawling about.

Aiyen pointed to a fallen tree.

“During last year’s monsoon, the water even reached up there.”

“This time, it might rise even higher.”

When it rained, the water rose at an astonishing speed. The lungfish were aware of this, so they crawled out from the mud in advance.

Suddenly, Aiyen’s keen eyes spotted something.

Something was protruding from the massive lungfish that had just crawled by—a harpoon.

“Look at this.”

Aiyen acted quickly. She shot an arrow through the head of the lungfish, then pulled out a knife and slashed its belly. A half-digested human figure emerged from the upper part of the lungfish’s stomach.

Aiyen’s expression froze.

“These are the members of the Rokoko tribe.”

Courageous humans who lived by consuming bear’s blood and milk. They were rivals of the Ballak tribe and the second-strongest tribe in the floodplain.

All tribes in the jungle feared confrontations with them, except for Ballaks.

Vikir spoke nonchalantly, “Does their presence in Ballak’s territory mean… war?”

“Well, I don’t think so.”

Aiyen peered at the harpoon lodged in the lungfish’s body. The harpoon wasn’t stuck from the outside in; it was protruding from the inside out. This meant that the lungfish had attacked the hunter before the hunter could hunt it.

Vikir said briefly, “The weakened one must have been in such a dire situation that it ventured out to hunt.”

It was speculation. The hunter who went out to hunt might have been weakened due to external factors. However, there were no signs of trauma on the skeleton. Although there were marks of resistance within the lungfish’s esophagus and stomach lining, it seemed to be a feeble effort.

“Not a good feeling, huh?”

Aiyen instinctively felt something was amiss.

Soon, Vikir and Aiyen began to search their surroundings. Considering the extent to which the bodies had been digested and the lungfish’s movement speed, traces would still be around.

Gradually, traces left by the Rokoko tribe’s hunters began to emerge. In life, the hunter had wandered the area with unsteady steps. Unaware of this was Ballak’s territory, he moved in a disoriented manner.

Traces of attempts to replace small prey like weak animals or tree fruits were also found. These were in stark contrast to the usually brave Rokoko hunters, who primarily hunted large animals.

Why? What turned the aggressive Rokoko hunters into this?

Vikir and Aiyen continued to retrace the traces. By the time they approached the Rokoko territory…

“…!?”

Both of them noticed something. Several Rokoko hunters were gathered at a makeshift campsite. With the mixture of ancient Dark Elf blood, every member of their tribe was known for their beauty.

Proficient in black magic, sorcery, curses, and command arts, they had a unique, somewhat eerie atmosphere combined with their stunning appearance. This made them particularly vulnerable to slave hunting.

However, what surprised Vikir and Aiyen wasn’t their appearance or atmosphere. It was the fact that all the Rokoko hunters were all dead.

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Lucky]