Chapter 67: Blood Relatives (1)

Chapter 67: Blood Relatives (1)

The four seasons of the jungle are quite distinct.

Summer. Crazy summer. Winter. Crazy winter.

Beyond the vast expanse of water, beyond the forest, the seasons have changed many times.

And here, in a quiet meadow at the beginning of the season.

...Puck!

A dull noise is heard. Rêạd new chapters at novelhall.com

A Balak warrior, probably in his late teens, winced, clutching his nose.

"Oh, my nosebone!"

He grunted, his nose dripping with blood. It was Ahun.

And in front of him stood an impassive-looking man with an extended fist.

Tall, black hair cropped casually, cold eyes, and pale skin.

Vikir stared down at Ahun with a grim expression.

"That's enough hand-to-hand combat."

His task complete, Vikir turned away without another word.

Ahun grabbed his companion's hand to help him to his feet.

As Vikir walked away, Ahun spat at the back of his head.

"You bastard, you've become more and more of a monster since you've been restored."

The others around him snickered.

"You used to be a great fighter. Nowadays, your bow skills are amazing. From what I've heard, you're on par with Captain Aiyen."

"Oh, I don't see how I can compare to Captain Aiyen, and judging by his fist just now, he's not that great."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ahun's nose was bleeding, but that's something I can handle."

As his coworkers exchanged giggles, Ahun spoke in a low voice.

"... it didn't hit."

"What?"

"The fist. I didn't get hit."

Ahun felt a chill run down his spine.

Sure enough, Vikir had extended his fist. And stopped in front of his face.

The pressure of the wind that followed was enough to make Ahun's nose bleed and his bones jolt.

" ... You did this with just the wind from your outstretched fist?"

The others' mouths dropped open in disbelief.

They can only stare blankly back at Vikir's back, now a tiny vanishing point in the distance.

* * *

Vikir just turned seventeen this year.

His face has aged a lot.

His short stature grew with each passing day, and his chubby cheeks grew thinner.

The 24 months in the water did a lot for Bikir.

Not only has his body fully recovered, but he is much stronger in body and spirit.

Realizing that Ahun and the other warriors his age were no longer glaring at him, Vikir showed his true strength.

...Pow!

The magic sword Beelzebub pierced through the arteries of his wrist.

The blade had grown thicker and longer. Beelzebub could now pull out nearly a meter.

Vikir swung it around, testing out slashes and thrusts.

...snap! Qua-qua-qua!

The boulder in front of him split in two, and the boulder next to him was pierced with a hole.

Vikir's swordsmanship was quite advanced, considering that it was generally more difficult to deliver a slashing blow than a thrusting one.

The other hunters pay him little attention, as his simple attire, equipment, and short stature allow him to outperform most other hunting parties.

Except for one, ...Aiyen.

"Is he gone?"

Aiyen turned to see that Vikir had completely disappeared.

The subordinate who had been reporting nodded and spoke up again.

"Shall I report back in detail?"

"Yes. Do so."

Aiyen listened, and the subordinate resumed his report.

"To summarize, four things. First, the rainy season is coming."

Earlier, the search party had passed by a stream and spotted an unusual creature.

It was a fish called a "lungfish.

These fish have lungs that allow them to breathe through their lungs, which allows them to stay out of the water for quite some time.

Flapping their fins and crawling through the mud, they sleep in deep wet mud during the dry season, only to wake up as the rainy season approaches and the moisture in the air increases.

Balak hunters don't eat meat without scales because they consider it unclean, so they don't specifically hunt lungfish, but their presence means that the rainy season is coming.

The rainy season brought many bad things, such as flooded rivers and plagues, so they needed to be prepared.

"Secondly, we found suspicious strangers."

Aiyen narrowed his eyes at the next report.

They were white-skinned Imperials.

He wondered if they were remnants of the merchant and mercenary groups he'd exterminated two years ago, but of course they weren't.

They came in quietly and went out quietly, and the only thing they did was release something at the river's source.

A red liquid in a glass jar.

The suspicious men poured it into the river and then slipped back through the jungle.

Balak's warriors captured one of the dogs, who immediately consumed the poison they had hidden in his mouth and killed himself.

All he left behind was a dagger with the markings of a single, large snake on it.

Aiyen clutched it in her arms. He would ask Vikir what it was later.

If Vikir knew anything, he would surely know about this sigil.

"Third, an updated report on the Rococo."

The subordinate continued his report.

The Rococo were a rival tribe to the Balak, and just as all of the Balak were excellent archers, all of the Rococo were shamans.

Masters of curses and spells, they went by the name of black magic in the Empire.

Aiyen frowned.

Reports indicated that the Rococo tribe had made few appearances in Balak territory lately.

This was strange, considering they outnumbered the Balak by nearly ten to one.

Then came the final report.

"Fourth, a search party from Morg."

It was this fourth report that caught Aiyen's attention the most.

"Have they come again?"

"Yes. They're more frequent than before."

"And their commander? The same?"

"Yes. It's 'her' again."

Aiyen's face crumpled at his subordinate's report.

For the past two years, Morg's search parties had been tirelessly scouring the surface.

And the leader of the search party has remained the same.

Morg Camus.

She was almost there.