The West is vast. Besides the six tribes, there were those who lived preserving what they considered tradition or stubbornness.
One of the people, the short blonde he met in the city of Oara was one of them.
There was only one, but Rem also knew someone.
A friend the short blonde had mentioned, who handled sorcery poison and had a wanderer's spirit.
"If you're caught leaving traces everywhere, you'll be in big trouble, right? So why leave sorcery poison?"
Picking flowers, following the traces of a Giant, and eventually finding a friend from a minority tribe.
"How did you know?"
The black-eyed one asked. There was no sense of caution, just pure curiosity. That was always the kind of friend they were.
Rem stood below the mountain slope, while the other was above.
Shouldn't the friend be more surprised to see him back in the West?
But this guy wasn't someone who cared about that.
He might not even know Rem had left.
"Just happened."
Rem replied casually.
The black-eyed friend blinked a few times. It was impossible to know what they were thinking, but their personality and life's purpose hadn't changed.
They used to say that stepping back like a ghost and watching people was the most enjoyable thing.
There's nothing as fun as watching people live, but they hated being involved.
As their long, flowing hair blew in the wind, they seemed annoyed and pulled out a string to tie it back.
"There won't be anyone else who uses sorcery poison. So, when someone uses it, it's obvious who it is."
It was a coincidence that happened to align.
This friend, like other minority tribes, didn't want to interact with outsiders, believing that was the only way to preserve some kind of energy or spirit they had.
In the midst of these tribes, an odd one was born.
Looking up at the stars at night, accidentally observing another tribe, and eventually wandering as far as the frontier.
This woman believed that her tribe couldn't remain trapped like this forever.
There was a greater cause, mixed with her own desires.
"Stagnant water rots."
That was her argument. Underneath it was a deep desire to watch people.
Rem had once dismissed what they called tradition as nonsense.
They said even speaking to outsiders would corrupt their spirit, and that only those who had never once touched a man could become priestesses.
It was all nonsense. Sorcery doesn't work like that.
But conversely, that kind of belief could also make their sorcery stronger.
They would believe and perform rituals based on that belief.
Even though they all worshipped the same Sky God, born from the birch tree, their ways of life were vastly different.
That's how it was with them.
So, should they be criticized for it? Should they be condemned? Should their way of life be forced to change through scorn or power?
There was no reason for that.
They weren't hurting anyone, and they just wanted to live peacefully among themselves.
In fact, if some tribes targeted their energy, it was usually those tribes who picked the fight, not them. They didn't seek conflict.
Though the odd one said their tribe would eventually rot and decay if they stayed isolated, they didn't really do anything about it. They just occasionally wandered outside to observe the world.
"Did you go far this time?"
Rem asked again.
The black-eyed odd one from the minority tribe didn't hesitate to answer. It wasn't a secret, nor was it a resolved issue.
"A crazy person aimed for our tribe's offerings before three summers had passed. Some of the offerings were lost, so I went to retrieve them."
Those who handled sorcery poison were highly skilled.
Even Rem couldn't fight the entire tribe alone.
And what were these offerings?
They were part of the God they worshipped. In terms of the continent's culture, they could be considered holy relics.
Regardless of tradition, energy, or spirit, if those were disturbed, even they would start interacting—through battles and warfare. But what kind of madman would target them?
The odd one was an observer who looked at the world from the outside.
They had probably seen and heard more than the other tribes, who had taken direct damage.
It wasn't as if they had come to ask for help in a fight.
They were already sharpening their knives, claiming they too had been harmed.
Actually, they had been the first to suffer.
"It was an outsider from the continent, a wizard."
Rem pieced together what he knew, gathering the fragments floating in his mind to form a single picture. He examined the backdrop of events.
That didn't mean he was trying all that hard.
It was more that he was curious to know which bastard had done this while being content to just let it pass.
He roughly figured out the guy's location and guessed at his intentions.
"Want to go kill the guy who took the offerings?"
That was how the question came out.
"We know the location too, but if we fight, we'll lose."
Since the tribe's priestess had already lost an arm in one fight, that said everything.
The priestess was both the tribe leader and the chief sorcerer in this tribe.
"Finding the offerings is important, but we can't sacrifice the entire tribe for that."
She said, her eyes glimmering with a fierce light.
She would repay what had been taken. Most people from the West were like that. It was the same for the minority tribes as well.
If anything, they were even more so.
"Fine, then come when we fight. Retrieve your offerings."
That was what had been said.
* * *
Rem, with a thought, blocked the club with his left-hand axe and slashed horizontally with his right-hand axe.
Thud! Splurt!
The Giant's club bounced off Rem's left-hand axe, and his right-hand axe cleaved through the middle of the Giant's shin, splitting the flesh wide open as purple blood spurted out.
'Could've just found it and handed it over.'
Rem thought as he jumped to the side.
Thud!
The club crashed down, sending shards of stone flying. The ground in front of the ravine was full of gravel, stones, and sand.
The force of the Giant's blow left a deep mark in the ground.
The Giant had great strength, but if the blow didn't land, it was useless.
Honestly, Rem could have faced it head-on without much concern.
'Just dodge it.'
From the outside, it seemed like a series of close calls. Rem darting between the Giants all by himself.
Even if it was Rem, a warrior candidate, it looked reckless.
It seemed like going out into a storm without proper clothes.
But in reality, Rem was calm.
Compared to fighting ten thousand specters, this was easy.
Whoosh!
The Giant's club came crashing down above his head.
All the clubs were dark brown, no doubt custom-made. It must have cost quite a bit of Krona to equip them all with the same weapons.
So, someone must have supplied them with weapons.
As the club came down, Rem raised his left-hand axe, bent his knees slightly, and lowered his upper body.
Bang!
A tremendous sound erupted. It seemed like Rem would be flattened into a bloody mess.
But, of course, that didn't happen.
The Giant's club stopped mid-air.
Rem, using the Heart of Great Strength, braced his left forearm and withstood the blow.
More precisely, he deflected the Giant's strength, letting it flow into the ground through his entire body.
He absorbed the blow gently, like water flowing to the ground.
Elbow, shoulder, waist, knee, ankle—all parts of his body wrapped in flexible muscles distributed the force evenly, scattering it.
In the past, he would have taken the blow head-on with brute force, but now things were different.
He had become more experienced, more skillful. His techniques had greatly improved.
His mind had broadened, and, in any case, he had become much stronger since leaving the West.
Crrrk!
A crack ran vertically down the club from where the axe had struck.
Rem charged forward.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Following the trail of his left-hand axe, the club split apart. The Giant, startled, tried to kick Rem.
Rem, with his right-hand axe, pushed forward and took the next action.
He threw aside the club with his left hand, and compared to Encrid's sword, the Giant's slow-moving ankle was an easy target for his axe. He spun, drawing a circle.
Sssshrrrip.
The Giant's skin was tough enough to resist most sword slashes, but Rem's axe cut through it effortlessly.
Purple blood gushed out. The half-severed ankle dangled, and with a thud, the Giant fell, quickly forming a pool of blood on the ground.
"Graaaahhh!"
The Giant roared like a beast.
But its eyes didn't change. The pupils were still unfocused. It had seemed strange from the start.
There was no thought in the Giant's eyes. It was like they were drugged.
They were different from the ones Rem had faced when he first entered the West. Or were they the same?
Those bastards hadn't seemed normal either. But in the end, did it really matter?
The Giant howled in pain, still flailing its arms.
Rem blocked its attacking hand with his left-hand axe.
Thud!
The axe blade couldn't withstand the blow and broke, so Rem tossed it aside without hesitation like a spear.
The broken axe blade had become sharp, but it wouldn't easily pierce the Giant's skin.
But the eyes were a different story. So he aimed for the Giant's eye.
Whoosh!
The broken axe handle flew and stabbed the Giant in the eye.
"Graaaahhh!"
The Giant screamed again.
Clear liquid mixed with purple blood and splattered onto the ground.
"Give me another axe."
Rem reached back with his hand as he spoke.
There was a warrior who had come fully armed with axes hanging all over his body, specifically for this moment.
If it were a Knight's order, he would have been called a Squire, tasked with assisting in combat and handling miscellaneous chores.
Here, they called him a small warrior.
At first, the small warrior wondered why he was tasked with carrying so many axes, but now he understood.
How many weapons could withstand Rem's strength?
"Huaaah!"
The small warrior shouted as he threw an axe.
The spinning axe flew straight into Rem's hand.
Smack.
Holding the axe, Rem cracked his neck from side to side.
"Try keeping your eyes open properly."
None of the Giants answered Rem's words.
They knew no fear, so they had no hesitation.
That was how the Giant horde was.
Their whites were wide, and their irises were dark brown with no focus. They were cloudy. The only thing visible in their eyes was a blind desire to kill, a murderous intent.
Looking into their eyes would make most people's legs tremble, but not Rem.
His lips twisted into a smile.
"These bastards, seriously."
Rem rested the axe on his shoulder.
There was no sense of danger, so he remained calm.
Meanwhile, Encrid was relentlessly cutting down the sorcerer.
"You."
"St…"
"Ma…"
"Yo… bast…"
The enemy sorcerer seemed to be under some curse, unable to speak clearly.
Encrid didn't care and continued to pursue him relentlessly.
The dogged slashing continued. It was as unrelenting as Oara's blade.
Then some of the others tried to step in.
They clasped hands and began chanting spells.
Snap!
A whip cracked above their heads. It was Frog's whip.
"So, you're all cultists, huh?"
Frog's voice was calm, but there was a cold fire in her words.
It was a cold rage.
"R'tir, your enemies are everywhere here."
Muttering something no one could understand, Luagarne, with a whip and sword, charged into the crowd of humans.
Even while fighting, Rem glanced around to grasp the situation.
He had seen Luagarne's fighting style.
Some Fairies were mixed in, but other than that, they were all familiar faces.
Cannibals, who believed that eating human flesh would transfer that person's power to them. A tribe with insane traditions.
They were the same bastards Rem had split the heads of before leaving.
The fact that they had now joined the enemy side wasn't all that surprising.
In fact, if anything, those guys probably didn't have a choice.
The one who would have become the cannibal tribe's champion had his head split open by Rem's axe.
Afterward, they were probably pushed around from all sides, and then the cultists showed up at just the right time.
So, in a way, all this was Rem's fault.
But that didn't mean Rem felt any guilt.
Everything in life can be given a reason. Conversely, sometimes things happen for no reason at all.
It all depended on how you looked at it. It was all about perspective.
So, just because something happened didn't mean you had to take responsibility for everything.
It was a chaotic battle, but not really—it wasn't like there were that many people involved in the fight.
If Luagarne was battling a few cultists with a crazed look in her eye…
On Rem's right, a beastwoman was rampaging.
With two curved swords, she slashed at the Giant's wrists and arms before suddenly rushing into the Giant's chest, slashing vertically up to the chin.
Then, after a swift strike, she darted out. The blade cut in, slashed, and returned in a flash.
A trail of purple blood followed Dunbachel's body.
The beastwoman's movements had become noticeably faster than before.
"Cultists!"
Luagarne's shout rang out.
"I've realized it. Killing them one by one like swinging a sword every day will eventually end this!"
It was a cry full of a will driven by hatred.
Rem wondered why Frog was suddenly acting like that.
But, in the end, as long as they fought well, that was all that mattered.
Thump.
Rem clashed the blades of his axes together, bouncing them off each other. He almost tried to fire himself up but stopped.
Well, if these bastards were dangerous or ferocious, he would be fighting for his life.
Even so, these were the same ones who had threatened his wife and family.
If Ayul had died, Rem wouldn't have been able to control himself. He would have gone on a rampage.
"None of you are getting past me."
Rem almost said those words but closed his mouth.
It wasn't the right atmosphere for that.
The Giant horde had lost all reason. Normally, they would have followed some orders, but that wasn't possible now.
So, the Giant horde focused only on the single human and beastwoman attacking them.
Geom Nares almost rushed in but stopped.
To him, the beginning was sudden, but after that, it was strangely calm.
It was hard to understand, but that's how it was.
You could call it reckless, yet calm. It didn't fit, but it was true.
That's how the battlefield was unfolding.
Encrid was fighting the sorcerer, while Luagarne rampaged toward the group gathered around him.
Just watching Rem's prowess was astonishing.
He knew Rem fought well—he was a warrior candidate, after all.
But had he always fought this well?
Geom Nares was stunned.
That didn't mean he could just stand by, so he raised his hand.
"Are you just going to watch?"
Speaking to the tribal alliance behind him, Geom Nares took out his totem.
It was a wooden carving of a wolf's head, darkened by age and use.
Holding it, Geom Nares prayed.
"Wolf God, Wolf God."
Come down and bite them all to death.
White ears, black eyes, friend of the dawn.
Purple veins bulged on Geom Nares's forearm.
Pain surged through his entire body. He gritted his teeth and endured it, then cast his spell.
It was a summoning of a divine spirit.
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