Iron Blooded Hound-Chapter 49 - : Whispers of War

The dim forest was eerily silent.

The quiet woodland was surprisingly dark.

The sky resembled a handful of coarse salt scattered across a black rug, yet not a single beam of its countless stars could penetrate the thick canopy of plants, roots, and leaves to reach the bottom of this watery mess.

Not a single grasshopper chirped around him.

Pop, pop, snap.

The ominous sound of weak ashes disturbing the kindling.

"...."

Morg Camus. She was bound and gagged, glaring at the savages of Balak.

With her powers of perception and retention, she had been able to gather some of the names and positions of her assailants while being dragged here.

Beyond the faint warmth and light of the campfire, she could discern the outlines of the savages.

The so-called leader is a young girl of around seventeen.

She is Aiyen.

Her hair is a mix of silver and black, her ears are pointed and triangular, and her face is charcoal-dark.

But one thing is for sure: she's in charge.

She was strong enough to hold off Vikir, a humble Inclination.

Next to her, a man grumbled as he added wood to the fire.

The one who had shot himself with the tranquilizer needle was named Ahun, and his back was still hurting from Vikir's attack earlier.

Other women and men were also there, most of them around 17 or 18 years old.

They had not made a large fire, but had rather thrown ashes on top of the fire to create a soft crackling flame, and were lounging around it all around.

"I didn't find the spouse feeling."

"I liked that girl I met before."

"Maybe we'll get him again someday."

The three women warriors chattered among themselves.

Camu could hear, if not speak, the brute language, so he could get a sense of what was going on in their conversation.

The savages of Balak often go on "spouse hunts," "saxi hunts," "son-in-law hunts," and "daughter-in-law hunts" around this time of year.

The targets are various clans and sometimes even kingdom borders.

The reason for this practice of finding mates in different regions is simple. To avoid genetic diseases caused by inbreeding and to get new blood from outside.

So most warriors who go out to find a mate want a superior seed.

Once they've captured the right individual, if they're good enough, they'll start making children, and if they're not, they'll subjugate or kill them.

They especially value women, since women are more important than men when it comes to replenishing the population.

Is that why? The savage boy, who goes by the name Ahun, has been staring at the camel for a while now and smiling devilishly.

"The men of the clan must be joyful, having captured such a fine female."

Understanding Ahun's words, Camu gritted his teeth.

"You think that I should accept the seed of your savages? I'd rather die for that!"

Camu immediately tried to stay silent, but Ahun was quicker to gag her.

Ahun laughed and thrust a sharpened stone under Camu's chin.

"Perhaps this defiant slave needs a lesson."

He was about to touch the camel's body.

... Jaw!

Someone stepped in front of Ahun.

Aiyen. A female warrior leading a young Balak hunting party.

She pressed the nock of her bow to Ahun's sternum.

"Back off."

Aiyen's words were short.

Ahun's brow furrowed.

"What the hell, leader. I got him."

"Bullshit. A bit less."

"What do you mean, I shot the tranquilizer needle and roped him!"

"Who did that for you?"

Aiyen asked icily, leaving Ahun stunned for a moment.

She continued.

"You would have been dead if I hadn't intervened with that 'kid with the blade' earlier."

She is referring to Vikir.

Ahun began to tremble as Aiyen mentioned the situation earlier.

He shouted out in frustration.

"So, you're saying that this female belongs to you?"

"Of course."

"The boss is a woman!"

"Why does it matter?"

At Aiyen's retort, Ahun fell silent, as if he were stunned.

Then, cold blue flesh began to emanate from Aiyen's entire body.

A shimmering aura emanated from the bow she was gripping.

Upon seeing it, the camel's eyes widened.

That was the liquid air, the symbol of the Slope.

Although it was faint, it clearly revealed the ability of a lower-ranked Graduator.

A 17-year-old grader. There were masters like that in the world besides Vikir and himself.

Even if Camu was surprised, Aiyen didn't seem to mind at all.

Ahun, meanwhile, bowed low before Aiyen's power.

"Come at me whenever you want. I'll beat you to a pulp."

"... Kouwa."

"No?"

"...No. Whatever. I give up. She's yours."

Ahun shook his head, a mix of anger and bitterness.

Aiyen tore her gaze away from Ahun and looked back at Camu.

He didn't particularly feel that she had saved him.

Neither

did he.

"Good eyes, good constitution. You must have good blood."

Aiyen looked at the camel with the eyes of a discerning merchant.

"I, too, was once captured and sold into slavery by your empire, specifically the Morg."

"...."

"And so it will be with you."

After speaking, Aiyen closed her eyes briefly, apparently recalling someone.

"Just, you won't be as lucky as I was."

Coming to, Aiyen ground her teeth and stared at Camu.

"I will take my time, slowly, bone by bone, soul by soul. I will make it a daily routine for you to lick your tongue between my toes...."

But Aiyen couldn't finish her sentence.

... Quack!

A loud explosion erupted from the bushes behind them.

"Die, barbaric savages."

The voice sounded like a death sentence.

At the same time, ice picks flew, piercing through Balak's hunting party.

In less than a minute, three or four of the trackers in the rear were dead.

Behind them stood Morg Adolf, a crimson mana tail.

Soon, Morg and Baskerville's followers were on the battlefield.

"I'll repay your debt."

Staffordshire's Baskerville and the trios of the Baskerville family slashed at several Balak trackers with their swords.

Morg's wizards were frantic.

Various offensive spells were flying, creating a burst of light and sound.

...?

Somehow, the Balak trackers couldn't respond.

Despite the vast disparity in power, if they focused on organizing and escaping rather than retaliating, they should have been able to minimize the damage.

But why?

Balak's hunting party, and the wolves they ride, are incredibly confused and restless.

Perhaps they were more concerned about Morg and Baskerville's onslaught than they were about the lights and sounds they were making.

"Ugh! These lunatics are making such a racket in the waters of the night!"

Ahun recoiled in shock.

His uneasy gaze was fixed not on the swords and magic raging around him, but on the darkness of the water beyond.

It was no different for their leader, Aiyen.

"...."

Aiyen moved swiftly.

The first thing she did was not to respond to Morg's magic or Baskerville's sword, but to kick up sand to smother the campfire.

Once the faint glow was gone, Balak's hunting party took their cue.

They mounted the backs of the wolves, firing arrows as they retreated further into the water.

"They're escaping. Don't leave a single one alive!"

Staffordshire shouted to the Baskervilles' hounds, urging them on in pursuit.

And through the sinister darkness, a figure approached the camo.

Vikir. Instantly, he cut the rope and noose from the stake and freed the camel.

The camel, still paralyzed by the immobilizing poison, recognized Vikir's face.

"It's ...! It's you!"

"Shhh."

In no time, Vikir had the camel in his arms and was falling backwards.

No. He tried to pull away.

If not for the silver shadow that appeared suddenly.

"I knew you'd come, 'kid with the blade'."

Aiyen was facing Vikir squarely.

Her eyes scanned Vikir's entire body as she spoke.

"A strong body to cover such a distance in such a short time."

"...."

"A strong mind to see through the darkness of the water."

"...."

"The fiery innocence to put his life in extreme danger to save the woman he loves."

"...?"

Vikir scowled.

Why did he have to wait listening to this brute woman's assessment of him right now?

Vikir was about to sidestep past her to the rear.

Aiyen pointed a finger at the camel in Vikir's arms.

"I won't ask about the past."

The corners of her mouth curved in a gentle arc.

"Go."

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