Academy’s Genius Swordmaster

[Translator – Peptobismol]

Chapter 208: King of the North (2)

Another name for the Tukan Plateau was the Land of Life. With relatively stable average temperatures and lush green landscapes that appeared in the summer, the streams flowing throughout the plateau provided a foundation for countless lives to thrive, aside from the residents of Rundalian.

Among those who benefited greatly were the indigenous peoples living in small tribes. The Tukan Plateau, where obtaining food was relatively difficult, allowed them to form primitive communities and sustain themselves. Pocha, a Werewolf hunter, was one of those fortunate enough to enjoy such blessings.

“I never thought I’d meet Lord Jaeger in my lifetime.”

As Pocha set out for the hunt, he hummed a tune. Despite the rather dreary weather, his mood seemed to soar. It was all thanks to meeting Lord Jaeger in person.

Jaeger had come to his tribe with two human companions. They requested to stay in the village momentarily, as they needed to tend to Jaeger’s wounds. Thanks to this, Pocha had the opportunity to rest and even engage in brief conversations with Jaeger.

‘His complexion doesn’t look good. I hope he’ll recover soon…’

The only thing that troubled him during their conversation was Jaeger’s complexion, which didn’t seem quite right. Something seemed amiss. For a moment, Pocha closed his eyes and said a prayer for him.

“May you find peace.”

As he prayed, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. Although he hated humans, Pocha felt like the ones accompanying Jaeger wouldn’t harm him.

‘If only I could catch a Great Deer today. That would be great.’

Just as Pocha rose to continue his journey, he heard a sound.

“Ugh… aghhh…”

“Hmm?”

Pocha turned his head. A young Werewolf boy was dragging his leg as he walked. He looked to be no more than five or six years old.

“Hey, kid, where are you going?”

“Ahhh.”

Instead of replying, the boy let out a strange sound. His eyes lacked focus, and viscous drool dripped from his open mouth. Long, untrimmed nails were visible under his drooping hands. At that moment, Pocha realized that the boy was one of the many recent cases of deformities among newborns.

“Oh dear… Tsk tsk.”

It seemed like the frequency of deformities among newborns was increasing, and he seemed to be one of them. For a moment, it seemed like the tribe had lost sight of him. However, even if he dragged his leg or drooled, it was considered a relatively benign symptom.

“Judging by your attire, you must be from the Mossrock Tribe… Come with me, kid. I’ll take you back.”

Pocha approached the boy and reached out his hand. He couldn’t ignore such deformities, which were common even in his own tribe. The young Werewolf boy continued to walk without responding.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to carry you then.”

Just as Pocha was about to pick him up. Swoosh! Something swift and sharp passed by his neck like a breeze.

“Huh?”

Suddenly, the world around Pocha turned upside down. His body collided with the cold ground, his senses fading rapidly. In his hazy consciousness, he saw the cloudy sky above and his own body falling, his head separated from his neck in a swift motion.

Gradually, his vision faded to darkness. The boy, with his long nails stained with crimson blood, muttered in his eerie voice.

“Agh… I did it…”

Following Pocha’s footsteps, the Werewolf boy continued his walk. In the distance, torchlights created a blurry glow. Under the dim sky, the falling snowflakes grew heavier.

****

[Translator – Peptobismol]

“His name is Barka. He’s the brother of Zaifa… and the mastermind behind the Night of the Fangs.”

Jaeger’s parched voice echoed through the air. Ronan and Adeshan’s eyes widened. After a moment of silence, Ronan spoke up.

“…Brother? Zaifa had a brother?”

“Yes. It wouldn’t be surprising if you didn’t know. He’s never been one to reveal his background to others. Even among our northern kin, probably no more than ten people know his true identity.”

It was truly a surprising revelation. Ronan never would have thought that Zaifa had a brother. He approached in stride and squatted down in front of Jaeger again.

“Tell me more. What do you mean by ‘mastermind’ behind the Night of the Fangs?”

“Just as it sounds. While Zaifa was the figurehead and focal point for gathering people, all the scheming behind the scenes was done by him. Even our swift capture of Barsa Stronghold in just three days was partly due to his strategic planning.”

Adeshan’s face stiffened at the mention of her homeland. Jaeger began to list the events Barka had orchestrated.

“Unlike Zaifa, who is known for his courage and valor, he’s cunning and wicked. And he’s naturally gifted in strategy. Do you remember the pivotal event that led to the Night of the Fangs?”

“The Empire’s occupation of the Holy Land, Jube?”

“Exactly… He deliberately arranged for it to be handed over. A messenger secretly sent by Barka informed the Imperial forces of a shortcut to attack the northern defense, leading to the capture of the symbolic land of Jube. While we lost the Holy Land, it served as the focal point of our rage, rallying ten thousand of our kin.”

It was a series of shocking revelations. Handing over Jube, the Holy Land of the northern beastmen, to the Imperial Army and defeating the Stronghold’s soldiers were all Barka’s schemes. Jaeger continued.

“He came to me directly and asked if I had any intention of becoming the King of the North. Unlike in the past, he treated me with respect. Without much thought, I replied that I would do it if given the chance. The rest, as you know, is history.”

Barka’s visit to Jaeger occurred when he was still a prominent bandit. From that day on, Barka served as Jaeger’s advisor, aiming to reunite the North once again.

Why he chose Jaeger instead of himself to be the king remained unknown. However, despite his simple demeanor, Jaeger possessed charisma and persuasiveness, and within just two years, he managed to build the New Northern Alliance, a powerful force. As Ronan listened to the story, his lips twisted in disbelief.

‘He’s dangerous. I didn’t even know he existed in my past life.’

Why such a giant figure hadn’t appeared in his previous life was beyond comprehension. Nothing significant had happened in the North until the giants descended from the sky. All Ronan had heard about was the news of the giant Doaru, handled by Navardose, evaporating the Tukan Plateau. Suddenly, a question crossed Ronan’s mind.

“Wait a moment. So, was Zafia’s defection to the Empire also an idea concocted by this Barka? It feels like a completely different course of action when I hear the explanation.”

“Sharp observation. To cut to the chase, no. Contrary to what you may think, surrender of the Northern Alliance was Zafia’s own independent decision. She wanted to secure what she had gained so far, while Barka advocated for pushing further, even to the extent of instigating a revolt in the Empire. As a result, they parted ways, likely never to reconcile again.”

Jaeger spoke with a somewhat bitter tone. Indeed, as Ronan suspected, Zafia’s surrender and oath of loyalty were the result of her autocratic decision-making.

While Zafia sought to safeguard the rights and territories of the northern beastmen through negotiations that saw her as a mentor, Barka sought to control everything. There was no doubt that there had been significant friction between the two in reaching and implementing such a decision.

Ultimately, war was simply a part of fighting, something Ronan knew well, but he believed Zaifa’s choice was the right one. Despite the ferocity of the Northern Alliance’s momentum at the time, it was inevitable that they would be defeated without being able to overcome the giant that was the Empire. After pondering for a moment, Ronan reached a conclusion.

‘Barka… I should take care of him before he becomes a problem, even if it means turning back for a moment.’

It was too deep in now to just look back at the blacksmith’s forge. Moreover, Barka belonged to the Nebula Clazier, so it was related to his duties as the Dawn. Ronan inquired.

“Alright. Do you know where he fled to?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but he probably went to Heiran. His stronghold is likely there. I once had my subordinates track him down there.”

Ronan raised an eyebrow. This was another unexpected development. If it was Heiran, that was the destination they had originally intended to go before the journey veered off course. As Ronan recalled the situation in the blacksmith’s forge, he spoke up.

“Oh, while we’re at it, take care of your men who have occupied Heiran. Free the blacksmiths they’re holding as well.”

“Hey, you seem to be mistaken. If you think I’m going to move according to your will…”

Jaeger furrowed his brow. Ronan saw a facet of evasion in his demeanor, and chuckled. While it seemed futile to spill everything and then still try to refuse, Ronan could understand his sentiment. He might face retaliation from Barka if he inadvertently leaked secrets. Just as Jaeger was about to say something, he nodded his head.

“…No, I’ll do it. I’m indebted to you.”

“Good idea.”

“But there’s a condition. Even if you meet him, don’t mention what happened here. Tell him that I was kidnapped by you and returned, babbling nonsense from the pain of having my limbs cut off. Got it?”

Seeing Ronan’s attempt to avoid responsibility, Jaeger chuckled dryly. Despite laying out the whole story, he wondered what the point was, but he could understand the sentiment. After all, he could face Barca’s retaliation for leaking secrets.

Jaeger clenched the doll. Although his head was bad, it was fortunate that his last conscience remained. Rather than such a dangerous individual like Barka, it was better to have someone like him.

“I don’t think you can kill Barka. He’s a different kind of monster from Zaifa. I’m sure he has a strategy to eliminate you without fail.”

“Is that bastard also a potential swordmaster? That’s a bit tough.”

“I don’t know because I’ve never seen him fight properly. He was more suited to be a strategist than a warrior. But the Turkon blood still runs in his veins.”

Ronan nodded in agreement. Just from the swift kick he received in Jaeger’s room, he could surmise his skill level.

Regardless of whether he was almost identical to Zaifa in stature, it seemed unwise to be complacent. Suddenly, Jaeger flicked his finger as if something had come to mind.

“Oh, right. Take this. It might help you track him down.”

“Huh?”

“However, you must never let him know about the existence of this item. He will definitely recognize that I gave it to you. Where the hell did this damn thing go…”

Jaeger muttered as he rummaged through his pockets. It seemed like he was about to hand something over. After rummaging through most of his pockets, he reached into his inner pocket. Ronan narrowed his eyes as he felt a twinge of pain near his thigh.

“Hmm…?”

“Ronan? What’s wrong?”

Adeshan approached him. Without a word, Ronan, who was searching the pocket where the pain occurred, pulled out a short, thick stick. It was the stakes used to curse the tribes.

“What?”

“Damn it, this…!”

Both of their faces stiffened simultaneously. An evil aura emanating from the surface was even stronger. The unique purple hue of the curse was visible to the naked eye. Shrill screams echoed from outside the tent.

[Translator – Peptobismol]

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