NOVPUB*Boom!*
Woroka, the chieftain of the powerful Sunstone Tribe, slammed his fist onto the table, shattering it with sheer force. The news that the Rutania Kingdom’s army was hunting them down had been a shocking blow.
He had big ambitions—to unify all the tribes of the region and establish his own kingdom. Slowly, he had been subjugating the surrounding tribes to bring them under his rule. But if the tribes were wiped out like this, there would be nothing left for him to conquer.
No, now even his own tribe was in danger.
“The Bloodstained Demon, they say?”
A warrior beside him responded to his question.
“Yes, there’s a rumor going around that it’s the very demon from the legends.”
“Is he really that strong?”
“They say that eleven tribes, allied with the Soundwind Tribe, were wiped out completely, with not a single warrior left. Kustu didn’t survive either.”
“...”
Woroka was left speechless.
He was known as one of the strongest warriors in the North, yet he had never achieved such a feat—facing and defeating ten tribes simultaneously.
Even more astonishing was something else.
“Kustu... dead?”
“Yes, they say he lost in a one-on-one battle against the Bloodstained Demon.”
“That... can’t be...”
It was easier to believe that the allied tribes were defeated without losses than to believe that Kustu lost in a duel.
Kustu had been his rival in the race to unify the North. Woroka knew all too well how powerful he was.
Kustu was renowned for his ability to take on dozens of elite warriors alone. Even Woroka couldn’t confidently claim he could defeat Kustu in a duel.
That was why he had been postponing the fight with the Soundwind Tribe.
“It must be the kingdom’s army. If they’re serious, we can’t handle them with our smaller numbers. And now they send someone strong enough to take down Kustu.”
As he muttered in frustration, a thought struck him.
“But why are they suddenly on the move? I thought they’d left the North under Ferdium’s watch? The nobility of the kingdom have always been too busy undermining each other to gather an army.”
Even the barbarians had heard rumors of the Rutania Kingdom’s internal conflicts.
No one in Rutania cared about Ferdium’s northern stronghold. The nobles prioritized their own territories, leaving the North to its own devices.
Because of this, the tribes had freely raided and fought each other without fear of being challenged. As far as they knew, Ferdium’s forces were far too weak to pose any real threat.
One of Woroka’s warriors cautiously answered his musings.
“Well... it wasn’t the kingdom’s army that moved.”
“What? Then who did? Did another grand lord make a move?”
“No... it seems it’s only Ferdium’s forces. The Bloodstained Demon is said to be the son of the Count of Ferdium.”
“...”
Woroka was momentarily at a loss for words.
To the warriors, Ferdium had always been seen as an easy target, a laughingstock. They had barely enough strength to defend against the tribes’ attacks and had never dared to strike first.
Woroka himself had looked down on Ferdium. Once he unified the tribes, he had planned to conquer the northern fortress and establish a foothold toward the kingdom.
And now, those easy targets were suddenly sweeping through the North with unbridled power. If his ancestors could see this, they would surely be shocked.
Not to mention, what kind of upbringing could produce such a monstrous warrior?
“They’ve been secretly building their strength. If we fight as we are, we’re bound to lose,” Woroka concluded, coldly assessing the situation.
He knew he couldn’t defeat eleven tribes at once, especially not without taking significant casualties.
Even as a major tribe, the Sunstone Tribe had just over a thousand warriors. With their current strength, beating Ferdium was impossible.
*But I can’t let my tribe be crushed under my watch.*
It was a warrior’s code to never back down, no matter how strong the enemy. To simply surrender one’s life was shameful.
After a long pause, Woroka finally spoke to the warrior beside him.
“Contact the Black Cloud and Mountain Echo Tribes. Tell them we must stop fighting and join forces.”
“Will they agree?”
“If they don’t want to be killed by outsiders, they’ll have no choice. Especially with the Bloodstained Demon as our enemy.”
The two tribes were some of the most powerful in the region. They had been in conflict with the Sunstone Tribe for years, with no love lost between them.
But Woroka was certain they would ally with him. Dying at the hands of an outsider was a disgrace, and they’d choose temporary unity over death.
Through similar messages, Woroka managed to rally the smaller surrounding tribes as well. Everyone had heard the rumors, so there was little resistance to uniting their forces.
Together, they gathered a force of around seven thousand warriors.
Even against the Bloodstained Demon’s army, that number would be no easy force to crush.
*The warriors are assembled. But... can we really win this?*
Woroka spent days contemplating his options.
Their enemy had already wiped out five thousand warriors and killed Kustu. Even with seven thousand, Woroka felt little confidence in victory.
Losing was unacceptable, but even if they won, heavy casualties would leave the tribe in a weakened, vulnerable state.
*With food already scarce, and no warriors to hunt, survival would be near impossible.*
They were settled near the Beast Forest, relying on resources from the forest’s edge for sustenance.
In this situation, a large-scale battle was out of the question.
Unlike his fellow warriors who only thought of fighting, Woroka harbored ambitions as a leader, not just a warrior.
*They’re fools who only know fighting and raiding.*
The others didn’t think of the future, living only for the moment. This short-sightedness had given Woroka the ambition to unify the tribes, but it also meant there was no one else capable of strategic thinking. 𝘯𝑜𝑣𝑝𝑢𝘣.𝑐𝑜𝑚
After much thought, Woroka finally made a decision.
“Let’s seek a truce.”
Immediately, the other chieftains erupted, shouting and pointing fingers.
“A truce with outsiders? That’s disgraceful!”
“As warriors, that would be a shameful act!”
“Ferdium’s forces are weak anyway! If we win this one battle, they’ll be finished!”
“We can’t bow to Ferdium!”
The tent filled with voices defending warrior pride, demanding battle.
*Bang!*
Woroka’s fist struck the table, and the tent fell silent.
No one there could defeat him one-on-one. He was, after all, one of the North’s most formidable warriors, alongside Kustu.
With the others finally silent, Woroka growled.
“These are people who annihilated five thousand warriors with minimal losses. They even killed Kustu in single combat. Even if we win, will we remain unscathed?”
“...”
“And then what? Can we survive in the harsh North without enough warriors? Do you want to cower in fear of roaming monsters?”
One of the warriors shouted dismissively.
“We are proud warriors! Such things don’t scare us! Losing our honor would be worse!”
“Think, you fools! Dying of hunger is more disgraceful than dying in battle!”
“...”
Though he had other reasons for avoiding the fight, Woroka kept them to himself.
The warriors lived by pride, so he knew that appealing to that alone would sway them.
For a warrior, starving with their families was a shameful death, one of the worst fates. Food was already scarce, so this excuse alone shifted the atmosphere in his favor.
Though some resisted, Woroka used a mix of threats and persuasion to bring them around.
Eventually, the barbarians agreed to seek a truce with Ferdium.
When Zwalter, who was inspecting the knights’ training with Ghislain, received news of the request for negotiations, he couldn’t hide his surprise.
“Well, I’ll be damned, they actually want a truce. You were right.”
“Yes. If we settle this well, they won’t come near the northern fortress for years. Some might still attempt minor raids, but nothing we can’t handle.”
“That alone is a relief. I can finally breathe a little easier.”
Zwalter, ever mindful of his people’s safety, seemed pleased.
The nearby tribes had already been wiped out, and with the five-thousand-strong barbarian alliance decimated, any future raids would be much easier to fend off.
So many unimaginable things had happened.
*Ha, I must admit, I’m lucky to have a son like him. Who could have foreseen any of this? Certainly not my father.*
Zwalter looked proudly at Ghislain. His composed expression, as if this outcome were expected, felt especially reassuring.
A few days later, on the plains before the northern fortress, the barbarian army and the forces of Ferdium and Fenris faced each other.
White flags were raised on both sides, and representatives from each side gathered at a table between the two armies to begin negotiations.
On the barbarian side, Woroka and a few warriors represented their forces. From Ferdium, Zwalter, Ghislain, and a few advisors joined.
“I am Woroka, chieftain of the Sunstone Tribe. We desire no further conflict.”
While his words called for peace, his face was contorted with resentment.
Though he sought a truce for political reasons and his ambitions, as a warrior, it stung his pride.
Zwalter, who held his own grudges, didn’t bother hiding his displeasure.
“Very well. Let’s hear what you can offer.”
“A five-year truce. We will cease our raids on
Rutania’s northern territories and find another route. I’ll do my best to control smaller tribes attempting minor raids.”
“Is that all you’re offering? Just to stop your raids after all the trouble you’ve caused?”
“It’s a fair deal for both sides. You’re already spending heavily to defend against us. This will give you peace of mind. Surely, this is enough? Continued fighting benefits neither side.”
Essentially, his offer was to shake hands after years of violence and promise not to attack again. It was arrogant, but not entirely incorrect. Ferdium’s poverty was largely due to defending against the Beast Forest and barbarian incursions.
Five years was a short time, but for Ferdium, it was enough. With Ghislain’s resources and mana cultivation techniques, they could use that time to grow stronger.
Zwalter finished his thoughts and asked, “How can we trust you? What if you break your promise and attack us suddenly?”
Woroka responded angrily, “I am a grand warrior! I do not lie!”
While pride held him back from saying it aloud, Woroka had nothing else to offer Ferdium.
Barbarian tribes lived by raiding, with few resources stockpiled. They often fought among themselves for what they lacked.
With their stores already low, they had nothing to give but their word and pride as warriors.
“Hmph... just that much?” Zwalter replied, his expression sour. But he understood the barbarians’ situation and the honor-bound pride of the grand warrior before him.
Zwalter saw that the terms presented were the best they could offer.
Although he couldn’t trust them fully, breaking the agreement would merely bring things back to the usual skirmishes.
It was better to rest and rebuild than to risk another costly battle against a united barbarian force.
With that practical mindset, Zwalter nodded.
“Fine. We’ll draft a truce—”
Before he could finish, Ghislain, standing beside him with a blank expression, spoke up.
“Deliver five thousand horses to me now, and an additional two hundred horses annually for five years.”
“What?” Woroka stared at Ghislain in shock. Just when things seemed to be settled, this man had suddenly spoken up.
Insulted, Woroka scowled and retorted, “And who are you to demand that of me? What if I refuse?”
Ghislain looked down at him arrogantly and replied,
“Then you all die here today.”
