Chapter 61

Chapter 61
## Chapter 61: Sons of the Wilderness (4)

When the arboreal abominations first took root, their movements were as sluggish as snails. Gradually, however, their pace accelerated until they were sprinting with a speed that far outstripped any mortal man.

*Krduk, krduk, krduk, krduk!*

In a heartbeat, the furious timber wraiths hemmed them in from every direction. They glared out of crimson-stained sockets, lashing their limbs with savage intent. Thorny tendrils of wood whipped through the air, hungering for the taste of skin.

Kadim braced his legs, finding a solid anchor in the earth. With a violent twist of his torso, he unleashed **Mosquito** with brutal momentum.

*Shwick—crack! Kwajijik!*

The slender switches snapped like dry tinder, and even the sturdier boughs could not withstand the sheer force of the blow. *Thud, thud*—severed wooden appendages began to pile up in heaps upon the soil.

The tree monsters were denied a second opening. As Kadim transitioned his strength into a fluid rotation, the returning **Salmon** carved a secondary arc of devastation through the air.

*Kwajijijijik!!!*

A sharp, pungent aroma of sap and timber filled the air as sawdust erupted in a fine mist. The primary trunks of the shattered entities were split clean through. Despite being bisected, they refused to succumb, dragging their splintered remains across the dirt toward the two warriors with relentless malice.

*Krduk, krduk, krduk!*

*Fwoosh—!*

Kadim launched the **hellfire dagger**. The crimson steel bit deep into wood, and brimstone flames roared to life, incinerating the timber fragments. Even as they were reduced to glowing coals, the possessed flora continued to writhe their roots and branches in a final, murderous struggle.

*Krduk, krduk, krduk, crackle, crackle!*

With a heavy boot, he kicked aside a charred horror that had crawled to his ankles. It spun away, shedding sparks, until it was nothing more than a lifeless cinder. He reached out to reclaim his blade, intending to follow up with the axe, when a sudden grip tightened on his forearm.

It was **Tundal**, his expression drained of color and etched with grim determination.

Kadim yanked his arm back with a sharp movement.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“…I should be the one asking you that. What is this madness?”

“I’m clearing out this stack of firewood. Instead of loitering, why don’t you make yourself useful?”

*Kwak!*

He ground another smoldering remnant into the dirt. Tundal let out a cry of pure distress.

“Stop! These aren’t just monsters! These are the villagers who once lived here!”

“I’m well aware of that. Your point?”

“…What?”

“They aren’t coming back to their senses. We can’t just stand here while they try to tear us apart. Dismembering them and offering them to the flames is the most merciful end for everyone involved.”

Beings warped by abyssal energy rarely found their way back to humanity. This was doubly true for those corrupted by the **Reverseplague**—the spiritual rot was far more profound. Even that plagued survivor from before would have likely been beyond saving after the hydra’s fall.

Furthermore, even if salvation were possible, Kadim would have burned them without a second thought the moment they became a lethal threat.

Tundal stood paralyzed by the cold logic. He squeezed his hand into a tight knot before forcing the words out.

“…Even so, stand down. We need to avoid a large-scale confrontation if we can. We still haven’t identified the true nature of the demon behind this. We fall back and wait for daylight to find a different path. Retreat.”

“…”

“That isn’t a suggestion. I am giving you a direct order.”

The command was heavy with authority. Kadim weighed the words. Was pulling back truly the strategic choice?

To an unseasoned soldier, it might have sounded like a prudent retreat.

But Kadim saw the flaw.

‘The entity is a **Reverseplague**. Now that it knows we’ve breached its territory, it will only grow more frantic throughout the night, swelling its ranks. If we wait for dawn, the entire expedition might be turned into timber before the sun even rises…’

Beyond that, Kadim had his own agenda: securing the demon’s essence before anyone else. They had wasted enough time already. It was better to carve a path through these wooden husks and slaughter the **Reverseplague** demon now than to squander hours on a detour.

Kadim made his choice. He would disregard Tundal’s command.

“If you aren’t going to help, get out of my way. Before I start treating you like the rest of these logs.”

“…!”

Fury ignited in Tundal’s gaze.

A spark of rage flared in the eye beneath his scarred brow. He looked from Kadim to the legendary weapon in the man’s hand and back again. Finally, he drove the butt of his spear into the earth and turned away with icy disdain.

“The **Great Warrior’s** blade has found a master wholly unworthy of its legacy.”

“…”

“**Atala** commands us to be courageous, not suicidal. I hope you learn your place when you are forced to pay the price for this arrogance, brother.”

Kadim paid no mind to the retreating warrior. His focus narrowed back onto the remaining host.

*Krdruk, krdruk, krdruk—*

*Flutterack, kwajijik!*

He hewed, clove, and incinerated the wooden sentinels without a moment’s rest. Though the world was draped in the shroud of night, Kadim’s immediate vicinity burned with the brightness of noon. His frantic combat and the dying embers sent plumes of black smoke spiraling toward the heavens. The sharp scent of burnt bark mingled with the foul tang of demonic essence, stinging the back of his throat.

As he waded through mounds of ash and splinters, a realization struck him. The demonic signature in the air wasn’t uniform.

‘Now that I think about it, these timber thralls were far too coordinated…’

In addition to the overwhelming presence further ahead, a sharp, localized pulse emanated from nearby. There had to be a secondary entity acting in concert with the **Reverseplague**. Kadim shattered the grasping roots at his feet as he moved toward the secondary source.

He reached a small structure on the outskirts of the village.

*Kwajijijijik—!*

He smashed through the wall as if it were parchment, revealing the culprit: a hunched, humanoid figure, a wooden fiend with bark-like horns protruding from its forehead.

This intermediate-tier demon had clearly been twisted by the **Reverseplague’s** influence. A hollow cavity in its face radiated a pulsing light that tethered itself to the surrounding tree monsters.

Without hesitation, Kadim flung the dagger, engulfing the creature in a sudden inferno.

*Kwajijijijik!!!*

*Fwoosh—*

Wrapped in fire, the glow emanating from the demon’s face flickered and died. The creature cast one final, frantic look at Kadim before collapsing into a pile of gray ash.

*Woooong…*

Instantly, the light vanished from the eyes of the possessed trees. Darkness filled their hollow sockets, and their movements became sluggish and aimless. As he suspected, this demon had been the conduit, providing a tactical surge to the mob.

*Krduk, krdrdrduk…*

Clearing away the now-passive trees was a simple task. Kadim dismantled the remaining husks with the methodical precision of a woodsman. He piled the logs neatly and set them ablaze, ensuring the fire spread to the nearby thicket.

*Fwoosh, fwoosh, crackle, crackle!*

The flames rose like a phoenix taking flight. Intense heat radiated through the village, blurring the black horizon. The scorched roots finally went still.

*Krdruk, krdruk, krdrdrdr…*

Soot and smoke drifted on the wind. The immediate area was cleared. It was finally time to hunt the **Reverseplague** demon itself.

But as he prepared to move, he felt several presences approaching.

“By the gods… **Atala** preserve us… You actually slaughtered them all by yourself?”

Tundal stood there, mouth agape in disbelief, mirrored by the stunned faces of the rest of the **subjugation force**.

Kadim wiped a layer of ash from his brow and met their eyes with total indifference.

—

A night thick with the stench of the abyss. Earth turned to black charcoal. An atmosphere so tense it felt like a blade against the throat.

The soldiers of the **Disaster Army** swallowed hard, their breath hitching. The **Atalain warriors** set their jaws, their fists tightening in silence. Before the assembly, the commander of the force and the mercenary who fought like a legion faced one another.

Tundal spoke, his voice freezing.

“What was the purpose of this?”

“…”

“It is a formidable achievement, but I cannot offer praise. Our targets are demons, not the innocent people who were taken. Even if their souls were lost, they did not deserve to be butchered and burned like common refuse. Especially not… by such hallowed steel.”

“…”

“Furthermore, you disregarded a direct command. You gave your oath in the name of the **War God** to follow my lead. This breach of discipline cannot go unpunished…”

“I agreed to follow ‘legitimate orders,’ not the ramblings of a coward.”

Kadim’s interruption was flat and biting. Tundal’s jaw tightened. He gripped his spear with such intensity that the wood groaned under the pressure.

“Explain to me exactly what was wrong with my command. Do it before this spear finds its way into your windpipe.”

The moon was high and bright. Its silver light caught the edge of the spearhead, reflecting Kadim’s own face back at him in a cold, lethal shimmer.

Kadim could have explained himself, but his patience had evaporated. He had no interest in wasting further time on this arrogant, rigid, and green warrior.

He decided to provide the most ‘Atalain’ response possible.

“Raise your weapon. By the **Law of the Wilderness**, let us decide this with steel rather than words.”

“…”

The code of those who lived by the blade on the sun-scorched plains—the **Law of the Wilderness**.

Its foundation, the very soul of every **Atalain**, was ruthlessly straightforward.

All conflict is sacred. The winner is righteous; the loser is in the wrong. The victor inherits everything; the defeated loses all.

“That is exactly what I was hoping for. I had no desire for internal strife, but I will make this an exception. I cannot permit a rogue who flouts authority and taints the **Great Warrior’s** armaments to walk free…”

Tundal did not hesitate. He felt he had the moral high ground and a point to prove. The fire of battle erupted in his scarred eye. He thrusted his spear toward the heavens and let out a deafening roar.

“Here and now, I, **Tundal of the Half-Moon Spear**, son of the wilderness, invoke the rite of duel! Let the master of the eternal battlefield, his **Great Warriors**, and the champions of this world bear witness! The victor shall claim justice, prestige, and his heart’s desire. The loser shall surrender his life and his legacy!”

A shadow of doubt crossed the faces of the **Atalain warriors**. Their captain was a master of the spear, but his foe was something else entirely—the monster who had just eradicated an army of wood.

However, to retreat from a formal challenge was a fate worse than death. They gave their grim consent and formed a ritual circle. In place of war drums, they began to strike their weapons against the earth in a rhythmic cadence.

*Thump, thump, thump, thump!*

Every heart in the clearing synced to the beat. The warriors’ eyes glowed like embers. The thick, acrid night air was drawn deep into their lungs.

Kadim raised his sword hilt with a look of bored detachment.

The combat began.

They circled one another like predators testing for a weakness. Then, Tundal vanished into a blur, launching the opening salvo.

*Whoosh—woong, hook, hook, whoosh—woong!*

The spear darted for Kadim’s throat, swung in wide, punishing arcs, and lanced through the shadows with ferocious speed. The moonlit blade moved like a frantic iron butterfly. Recognizing he could not win a contest of raw strength, Tundal skillfully disengaged whenever Kadim attempted to bind his weapon.

Kadim’s eyebrow twitched slightly. The spearwork was competent. It was enough to command respect among his peers. Had this been the beginning of his journey, or had he felt like playing along, it might have been an interesting bout.

But he was in a hurry.

*Whoosh—uk, tak!*

He slipped past a downward thrust and clamped his hand onto the spear’s shaft. Tundal tried to wrench it free in a panic, but it was as if the weapon were embedded in stone. Kadim closed the distance, his blade **Mosquito** striking like a bolt of lightning.

*Cree—crack!*

A silver flash carved a deep furrow into Tundal’s shoulder. The commander tried to pivot for a counter-attack, but his arm refused to respond. He looked down in confusion, only to realize his right arm was lying on the dirt like a discarded piece of meat.

Kadim gave him no room to process the shock.

*Puk—!*

“…Hup!”

The sword buried itself in Tundal’s midsection, drinking greedily from his lifeblood. The punctured muscle spasmed around the blade. The pain hadn’t fully registered yet—it was just a cold, sucking sensation, as if a frozen fire had been shoved into his core.

Kadim twisted the handle, tearing through tissue and internal organs, widening the exit wound as he ripped the steel out. The delayed agony and a torrent of blood hit Tundal all at once. He dropped to his knees, his body failing him.

“Keurgh…”

His tunics became heavy and crimson. Blood pulsed from the stump of his shoulder in steady, rhythmic spurts. The wooden ground beneath him was stained a deep, dark red.

Under normal circumstances, the duel would have concluded.

But Tundal would not submit. With a face twisted by pain and pride, he pulled a concealed blade with his left hand and lunged.

“Kuhuk, die, die!!!”

Kadim retreated with surgical precision. He stayed just out of reach of the dagger, while keeping Tundal well within the range of **Mosquito**. He was the picture of icy calm amidst Tundal’s desperate fire.

*Whoosh! Hook!*

*Swish—crack, cree—crack!*

The dagger found only air; **Mosquito** repeatedly bit into flesh and sinew, claiming more of the commander’s blood. It had ceased to be a duel and had become a systematic dismantling. Wounds far deeper than his facial scar began to open all over Tundal’s frame.

“Why not just give up? Continuing this is a waste of both our time.”

“Kuhuk, I will not… **Atala** is my witness… I can still stand…”

“**Atala** demands bravery, not stupidity.”

“Kuuuuk, be silent!!!”

He threw himself forward in a blind rage, but it was a futile gesture. Kadim sidestepped the charge with ease and drove his sword deep into Tundal’s gut once more. Tundal lost his grip on the dagger and collapsed pathetically onto the scorched earth.

“…Kuk.”

The contest was over.

*Thump thump! Thump thump! Thump thump!*

The **Atalains** looked on with somber expressions, but they beat their chests in a display of respect for the winner. The **Law of the Wilderness** was absolute. Regardless of their feelings, they were bound to accept the outcome.

Kadim walked over to the broken warrior. He had possessed a dozen opportunities to end Tundal’s life. He had held back specifically to send a message to the rest of the group.

The duel was legitimate, the chances were fair, and the difference in power was insurmountable—so do not challenge me again. No more distractions.

He used the flat of his blade to tilt the loser’s chin up, then pressed the edge against his throat. Tundal managed a bloody grin.

“I cannot understand the will of the **Great Father**. Why bestow such terrifying strength upon a heretic like you… Kuhuhu…”

“…”

“But I cannot argue with the **Law**… I concede my loss. But… one final favor?”

“…”

“Let go of those blades, the relics of the **Great Warrior**. A hand as unworthy as yours only stains the legacy of their master… You were born of the same wild earth… Show some respect for your forebears…? Please, let me enter the eternal feast without this regret…”

Kadim shut his eyes for a moment. He opened them slowly and spoke.

“No, I am certain **Atala** wouldn’t mind me carrying them at all.”

“…”

Tundal held his head high, a martyr in his own mind. To Kadim, he was simply a fool trapped in a well of his own making, deaf and blind to the truth. He looked down at the man for a beat, then slowly raised the hilt of his sword.

Just before he delivered the final strike, Kadim granted the man one glimpse of reality beyond his narrow perspective.

“…Because I am that ‘**Great Warrior**.'”

Tundal’s pupils dilated in total shock, as if he had been struck by a physical blow.

*Swa—ak!*

The cold steel swept toward Tundal’s neck.