Damn Reincarnation Chapter 98

The wolves came to a halt. It was just as Ujicha had been told — a man was sitting down right in the center of the bumpy forest road.

“I am Ujicha, the chief warrior of the Garung tribe,” Ujicha shouted pompously as he got off his wolf's back. “I am searching for the thieves who dared to steal our tribe's prey. You, have you seen any elves with just one leg?”

The man didn't respond. His body was wrapped up in a large cloak, and he even had the hood pulled up, so his face couldn't be seen clearly.

“Answer me,” Ujicha demanded as his voice lowered into a growl.

Even though he had made sure to use the common language, the man didn't respond. Ujicha took the man's silence as confirmation of his guilt.

The moment that Ujicha raised his hand, the wolves began to growl. Dozens of warriors surrounded the man and blocked his escape routes.

“A hunt? Are we going to be hunting?” Dajarang's voice rose slightly in excitement.

Dajarang, who only felt desire for women with physical impairments, had no interest in running around on his own two feet to hunt, but he did like watching others hunt and examining the corpses of their prey.

“Bron, Bron! I want to get closer too. If that bastard tries to take me hostage, make sure you stop him. Got it?”

“Yes, young master.”

Bron had no intention of trying to stop Dajarang. It wasn't the first or the second time Dajarang tried to do this sort of thing, so Bron was used to it.

“Tell me about your comrades,” Ujicha ordered as he grabbed the hilt of the great sword that was strapped to his back, “Where are they taking the elf? If you tell me what you know about them and lead me to them, I might just spare your life.”

“This bald bastard! What gives him the right to decide whether this guy lives or not? There's no way, no way! Kill him! Tear off all his limbs and kill him!” Dajarang squawked out in a childish outburst.

Ujicha ground his teeth and glared at Dajarang in frustration.

“...Ahaha!” The man who was sitting in the middle of the road started laughing, his shoulders shaking. As he pounded his knee in amusement, he shook his head and said, “To think that I would get a chance to see a piglet wearing a silk robe that doesn't fit its status and a golden collar today.”

“...Where the hell is he seeing a piglet…? Bron! D-did that bastard just call me a pig? He did, didn't he?! I'm sure of it! He looked at me and called me a pig! C-catch him and bring him to me! Make him bow down in front of me!” Dajarang screamed as he threw a tantrum.

“Now, now, young master. Please calm down. Even without the young master prompting me, you'll soon be able to see quite the enjoyable sight.” Having said this, Bron turned to look at the man. “You. You should be careful with what you say.”

“What reason do I have to be careful? I have no intention of listening to your orders and I'm not going to beg you to spare my life. Since that's the case, we're sure to end up fighting here and now,” the man said as he stood up.

Ujicha smiled, revealing his yellow teeth. “Is that so? So that means you have no intentions to give us the information on your comrades and the elf?”

“I can tell you this much,” the man offered, a golden light flashing within the dark depths of his upturned hood. “The warriors of your tribe were all trash. Even though they claimed to be warriors,they were all ridiculously weak. Also, they were petty and cowardly. Do you know just how pretentious they were when they first met me? Do you know just how quickly their bluff was called and how many tears they shed in the end as they begged me for their lives?”

“...Do not insult the warriors of the Garung tribe,” Ujicha growled out as veins throbbed on his skull.

Seeing this sight, the man burst into laughter. Once he had calmed down, he said, “I'll give you a chance.”

“...A chance?” Ujicha parroted.

“If you give up your pursuit and withdraw right now, I'll allow you to do so instead of kicking your ass. You can go back and keep on wiping that ugly pig's ass,” the man said.

“Kill him! I said, kill him!” Dajarang's eyes rolled angrily in his head as he screeched.

Now that it had come to this point, Bron also couldn't keep up his smile. Bron did feel a similar disgust towards his juvenile young master, but he was nevertheless a knight who had sworn allegiance to the Kobal clan.

“Ujicha. I'll take care of this,” Bron said.

“...Hm.” Ujicha hummed as he nodded in agreement.

He still needed to take out his anger at the tribe's warriors being insulted, but he could take his revenge on the other thieves who were probably escorting the elf. Right now, it was better for him to concede this chance to Bron, out of consideration for Bron's injured dignity.

“My name is Bron Jerak,” Bron declared as he stepped forward and grasped the sword hanging at his waist. “I am a knight sworn to Count Kobal of the Shimuin Kingdom.”

“Bron… Bron Jerak…. Ahh, so it was you. One of Shimuin's Twelve Finest,” the man realized, letting out a short sigh as he nodded his head in recognition.

The Shimuin's Twelve Finest was a term used to refer to the twelve most skilled knights in the Shimuin Kingdom.

Bron arrogantly admitted, “That's right. Although it's embarrassing to admit, I can be called one of the Twelve Finest. As for you, you nameless ruffian, it's too late to regret it now. The sin of insulting the young master of the clan that I have sworn my loyalty to, you'll pay for it with your—”

“It's good that you understand your place,” the man interrupted Bron with a smile. “It's only right for you to feel embarrassed. As one of Shimuin's Twelve Finest, that means you only measure up when it comes to the knights of your own country, right? Furthermore, you, Bron Jerak, are the youngest of the Twelve Finest, so what gives you the right to act like you're so amazing?”

“...I'll make you feel such terrible pain as you die that you will regret ever being born,” Bron promised as the smile disappeared from his face. He drew the long sword that hung from his waist and pointed it at the man. “I won't be following the code of chivalry in this fight. This is not a duel between knights, and as you have failed to respect my honor, I see no reason to respect yours.”

“That's why I hate knights,” the man said, his golden eyes curling up in a smile. “They're always much too wordy. Just how much longer are you going to keep chatting away?”

'Let's start by cutting off an arm,' Bron thought as he stepped forward.

With just that one step, he was able to instantly narrow the distance between them and stab out with his sword. This rapid thrust was the ultimate expression of Bron's prided quick sword technique.

“Ugh,” Bron groaned as his body shook violently and he lost his sense of balance.

There was a simple reason for this. Namely, the arm that he had used to thrust his sword had been torn clean off.

“See,” the man said, his cloak still swaying slightly from when he had made his move. The golden eyes beneath his raised hood were smiling as he commented, “You're so weak that you deserve to feel ashamed.”

“You…!” Bron's face contorted as he desperately swung his other hand at the man.

He was no longer holding a sword, but Bron attempted to slice at the man with sword-force wrapped around his bare hand.

However, that arm was also torn off. Yet, it didn't fall to the ground — instead, each of Bron's arms were held in one of the man's hands. This meant that the man had destroyed Bron's sword-force and ripped off Bron's arms with just his bare hands.

“But it seems that you still didn't know your place well enough,” the man said regretfully as he let go of the arms that he was holding, then he reached out slightly and grabbed Bron by the stomach.

“Ugh… aaagh… aaargh… aaaaargh…!” For the next few moments, Bron wasn't even able to release a proper scream.

Each time the man loosened and reapplied his grip, Bron's thick waist was forcefully squeezed thinner.

Crack!

When the man finally fully clenched his hand, Blon's body had been split in two.

One of Shimuin's Twelve Finest, Bron Jerak, died just like that.

Dajarang's mouth fell open at this sight.

Ujicha was even more shocked than Dajarang. He recalled the corpses of the warriors who had died a horrible death. His comrades had their faces punched in, they were sliced by swords, stabbed by spears, blasted by explosions, and even crushed to death.

He had made a mistake. The warriors weren't actually sliced by a sword or stabbed by a spear, nor were they hit by an explosion. As for those that had been crushed, he had dismissed what these clues were pointing to as mere nonsense, but it had turned out to be the truth. Ujicha realized that the tribe's warriors had all died to this man's bare hands. After all, he had just seen it happen right in front of him: Bron had been picked up and crushed to death by this man with just one hand.

“See now, just why did you keep following me?” the man asked with a smile. As he flicked away the blood that had spilled onto his sharp fingernails, he continued. “I told you not to follow me, and that was after I even kindly left those corpses behind as well. After seeing those corpses, that should have been enough to frighten you away from coming after me.”

Ujicha faltered, “That's… uh… my-my mista—-”

“That goes for you as well.” The man interrupted him. “Ujicha, chief warrior of the Garung tribe.”

The wolves had lowered their tails in submission. The monsters' innate ferocity had shriveled down to nothing in the face of their overwhelming terror. It wasn't just the wolves either. All of the warriors there were trembling from their instinctive fear of death.

'I'm going to die,' Ujicha realized.

He had a gut feeling that no matter what he said, he wouldn't be able to make that monster in front of him back down. His luxurious life in the city, his glorious future — all of that would end up lost with his death.

'It's time.'

The man moved.

Ujicha squeezed his eyes shut.

They had a slight problem.

They had confirmed the existence of the village that was said to have been built by the wandering elves. Although the deceased informant — Jackson — hadn't been able to tell them anything, according to the dark elf they had caught, the elven village wasn't just a rumor and it definitely existed.

But how were they supposed to find it? Even the dark elves weren't completely certain of the village's location. The only thing that they knew was that the village was somewhere deep in the forest, near the territory of the Ajan tribe.

None of the dark elves had been able to approach the village.

They had been terrorized by the Guardian.

Three hundred years ago, the elves had truly detested the dark elves. The elves declared that all dark elves were traitors who had forgotten their duties as an elf and had corrupted the essence of their race by cozying up to the Demon Kings.

And now?

The times had changed greatly. During the era three hundred years ago, the whole world hated the Demon Kings. For the elves who were dying from the Demonic Disease, the Demon Kings weren't someone to whom they could plead for their lives, but instead an eternal enemy who had already slain much of their race.

However, the present era didn't find the Demon Kings as detestable as it had three hundred years ago. People wouldn't be stoned to death just for following the Demon Kings like in the past, and they wouldn't be hunted indiscriminately just because they were warlocks.

The same went for the dark elves. It couldn't be helped that they were viewed with disgust, but they weren't an object of unconditional hatred either. After all, dark elves born after the Oath was sworn couldn't help but be seen as victims of injustice. It was all because of the Demonic Disease.

Those who had caught the disease were faced with only two choices: become a dark elf or enter Samar. If they weren't even able to defend themselves, going to Samar would leave them with no choice but to risk being enslaved, but if they became dark elves, they could be freed from the shackles of the Demonic Disease and even receive Iris's protection.

Ultimately, it was up to the individual to decide whether or not to become a dark elf. They all had the choice of whether to live as an elf or as a dark elf. Eugene was not able to accept such a decision himself, but he felt like he could understand how things probably looked from an elf's point of view.

However, the Guardian didn't show any such tolerance towards the dark elves. He just gathered the wandering elves and protected the village. Any encroaching hunters were mercilessly killed, and the same went for dark elves as well.

The Guardian did not recognize the dark elves as his kin. Though this was a rather outdated view in these modern times.

But it was an outdated view that suited someone like Eugene — no, Hamel.

'This probably means' — Eugene started to imagine what the Guardian he had yet to meet looked like — 'that the Guardian must be well over three hundred years old.'

It was just a vague guess.

'He should be in his four hundreds at the very least.'

Elves, as a race, derived no enjoyment from killing things.

'He also probably took part in the war.'

Elves usually refused to kill their own people, but elves and dark elves were different. At least, that was the conclusion that the Guardian must have reached, which meant that the Guardian likely hated dark elves so much that he had no choice but to feel that way.

Three hundred years ago, the dark elves did many things that left the elves with no choice but to hate them. Elves were originally a race that loved nature and was loved by nature. When the Demon Kings started raising their armies and spreading the Demonic Disease, many elves participated in the war against the Demon Kings.

The elves used the mountains and forests in various sites as their battlefields on which to fight against the armies of demonic beasts and demonfolk. In response, the Demon King of Fury used a very simple and yet effective tactic to deal with these elven rangers.

He formed a dark elf corps led by Iris.

At that time, the elves were still hesitant to kill the dark elves. They considered the dark elves as poor innocents who had been corrupted by the Demon Kings. They thought that they might be able to save the dark elves, or at least persuade them to coexist.

But the dark elves led by Iris left the elves with no choice but to hate them.

She set about burying all those forests and mountains. As Iris had once been an elf, she had a good grasp on the character of these elves. Even as the elves screamed in pain, burning alongside the forests and mountains, they refused to run away. For them, the most important matter wasn't to save themselves, but to instead put out the fires that were ravaging the forests and mountains.

—I don't know… the location of the village. Dark elves can't even get close to the village.

That was what the dark elf who had been made to 'confess' had said.

—The Guardian… he brutally kills all dark elves. He makes them kneel, then he slices open their stomach and pulls out their intestines. Then he takes the… long intestines… and pulls them out as far as he can before leaving them to die. That guy… that guy is crazy.

It might just be a vague guess, but these words had made Eugene feel confident that his suspicions about the Guardian were correct.

'That was the method Iris used whenever she executed someone.'

In order to instill fear in her opponents, Iris had made sure to kill the elves in a brutal fashion. While giving them the choice of whether to live as a dark elf or die as an elf, she would force her elven captives onto their knees and make them watch as their own comrades suffered this cruel execution.

“...Ah…!” Narissa, who was still being carried by the wind spirits and floating in mid-air, suddenly gasped as her body began to tremble with excitement. “S-sir Eugene… I can hear… I can hear a song!”

“So that really was the case,” Eugene muttered to himself without any surprise.

The elven village had been expertly hidden. Under such circumstances, he had been speculating how they would go about guiding the wandering elves to enter their village. Could they have left some clues out in the open that only an elf would be able to notice?

“A song you say… but I can't hear anything, though.” Eugene continued to mutter as he sharpened his senses.

He was certainly not an elf, but he was proud of the fact that his ears were as sharp as any of theirs. However, even as he circulated his mana, he still couldn't hear the 'song' that Narissa was talking about.

Hesitantly, Narissa described it. “Ah… um…. This is… well…. Instead of my ears, it's more like I'm hearing it inside my head. Just like… just like magic….”

“Can you tell which direction it's coming from?” Eugene asked.

“From deeper inward… huh… uh… yes…?” Narissa shrugged her shoulders, then she turned to look at Eugene and Kristina with a helpless expression. Hesitantly, she continued, “Um… well.. Uh… Sir Eugene…?”

“What is it?”

“There's a voice inside my head… it's telling me to say something to you….”

“Say it.”

“It wants me to tell you that you should leave me here… and go back,” Narissa reluctantly admitted.

“And if we don't withdraw?” Eugene asked with a smirk.

At these words, Narissa pulled a tearful expression and seemed hesitant to respond.

“Just say it, Narissa,” Eugene reassured her.

“...If you continue traveling with me any further… sob… it says that it will kill Sir Eugene and Lady Kristina…,” Narissa tearfully conveyed the message.

“Is that so?” Eugene burst out with a huge laugh as he called over the wind spirits carrying Narissa. “If you want to kill me, then you'll just need to come out in person.”

Eugene directly took hold of Narissa and started carrying her.

“For now, let's start with meeting him, then we can plan our next step.”

The Guardian might just be someone that Eugene had met in his previous life.

Chapter end