Chapter – 133….
“Grrrk!”
The young warrior had fallen so hard that he couldn’t get up easily.
It made no sense that a barbarian warrior couldn’t stand simply because he tripped over a stone.
From the very beginning of his escape, he had already suffered severe injuries—that was why he couldn’t rise…
“Keh-heh-heh! Why don’t you understand that a flea cannot outrun a man!”
“Coward! Do you really think you can enter the Hall of Warriors like this? Showing your back to the enemy and running away! You have no right to call yourself a warrior!”
The barbarian warriors chasing the young man encircled him.
This confrontation happened only about fifteen meters away from where the scouting team lay ambushed.
‘Not bad. Yeah… this might be enough.’
Seeing the scene, Carlisle thought maybe he didn’t need as much as he expected to turn the situation around.
Even if misfortune struck, if he added just a spoonful of luck, he could escape the crisis…
“Kh…!”
The young warrior used his hammer like a walking stick and barely—strenuously—stood up.
“D-Don’t misunderstand. Khk… I didn’t run from death. I turned my back because I judged it possible to survive.”
“Puhahahaha!”
The barbarian warriors laughed at him.
“You brat! Even if you are Awanga’s son, aren’t you overestimating yourself? How could a hatchling like you escape and live to return?!”
“I am no hatchling!”
The young warrior shouted.
“I am Malaga, son of Awanga! Do not insult a warrior, you lackeys of the Black Fangs!”
Declaring himself ‘Malaga,’ the young warrior clasped his hammer and released a fierce spirit.
“Come! Until the moment my heart stops, I’ll drag at least one more of you to Valhalla! And I too, as the proud son of Awanga, will enter the Hall of Warrio—cough!”
Malaga suddenly spat black blood and doubled over in pain.
He wasn’t just wounded—he had clearly been poisoned by something.
Watching this scene from their ambush, Carlisle…
‘Awanga’s son? Don’t tell me… that’s him?’
Awanga was the chieftain of the large tribe known as the “Raging Storm,” an important figure who also appeared directly in the game Overlord.
The Black Fangs were likewise a tribe featured in the game—few in number but individually fearsome and extremely troublesome opponents.
And the man named “Malaga”…
‘So he was Awanga’s son who the Black Fangs killed.’
Awanga’s affection for his children was so intense that even the main story of the game mentioned it.
His revenge against the Black Fangs had influenced the game’s storyline.
Besides, he was the type of man who would join hands with the continent’s people—their natural enemies—if necessary.
‘Hmm. If I save him and make Awanga owe me a favor, that wouldn’t be bad. Or even take him prisoner…’
But the risk was tremendous.
If he made one wrong move, he might drown trying to save a drowning man.
‘What should I do…’
Carlisle carefully weighed the benefits he might gain from rescuing Malaga.
While he deliberated, the fight between Malaga and the Black Fang warriors began.
“Captain.”
“Shh! Are you insane? Keep your mouth shut!”
“They won’t hear us—they’re too busy fighting.”
“You little—!”
“Let’s help that guy.”
“What?!”
“He’s the chieftain’s son. He could be useful.”
“Are you crazy? Helping barbarians is already insane, but if they discover our position, you know exactly what’ll—”
Beggman never got to finish.
“You damn lunatic!!!”
Carlisle had already dashed toward the battlefield without waiting to hear the end of the sentence.
Acting on his own—without orders from Beggman, the reconnaissance leader—Carlisle charged in, committing a truly outrageous act.
** **
“Ughhh… urghhh!!!”
Beggman grabbed his neck in agony.
“Why the hell does he always have to cause trouble?! Huh?!”
“You should expect it by now.”
“What, you brat?! Expect it?!”
Beggman snapped at Kudo.
“Why else would Private Carlisle be called the Northern Mad Dog? Maybe we’re just expecting too much from a walking disaster.”
“Well… you’ve got a point.”
“He behaves when he wants to, but the moment things go sideways, he acts however he pleases. It’s not a new thing.”
“Urgh…”
“But he does think… somewhat. It’s best to just go along with it. It’s not like he’ll stop if we tell him to.”
“Oh, heavens. What did I do in a past life to deserve this mad dog…”
Then Russell suddenly chimed in:
“Maybe you sold out the country or something?”
“What did you just say?”
“I mean… otherwise someone like Carlisle wouldn’t have ended up under your command. Hehe.”
“…You think so?”
Normally, Beggman would have smacked Russell’s head and exploded in fury. But not today.
This wasn’t something they could laugh off.
Exposing themselves within enemy territory?
Acting alone without orders?
He had endangered not only himself but the entire squad—a criminal offense punishable under military law.
But that applied only to ordinary people.
Carlisle was both the direct heir of the Sigmund family and a notorious madman. The scouting team had long been desensitized to his antics.
Whatever he did, their response was always the same: “That damn lunatic…”
“Enough gawking! Move! Unless you want to die with him!”
At Beggman’s order, the soldiers moved in stealth, spreading into a formation.
But Carlisle didn’t need them.
With a smooth motion, he raised Gremungandr… then swung casually.
SHAAAAAA—!!!
Hundreds of black blades erupted and pierced the Black Fang warriors.
“Ghk—!”
“Argh!”
They died without even understanding what hit them, turned into human pincushions within seconds.
“W-What the hell…”
“That’s impossible…”
The scouts were speechless at Carlisle’s massacre.
They had seen Blade Hell before. That wasn’t surprising.
But this?
The speed, sharpness, sheer power—none of this matched what they had seen previously.
Even the casting time was nearly nonexistent. The Black Fangs hadn’t sensed a thing.
Granted, they’d been distracted attacking Malaga and were caught off guard…
But still—Carlisle, after training with Gorbard, had grown to an absurd degree.
“H-How did you do that?”
“I just killed them.”
“…‘Just’?”
“Yes.”
“What the hell happened during that one month you were gone…”
“Don’t move carelessly.”
“…!”
Carlisle warned Beggman, who had approached.
“They’re Black Fangs.”
“Black Fangs?”
“Ah… guess you don’t know.”
Of course Beggman didn’t.
Hundreds of barbarian tribes roamed the blood-soaked land of Kuberin. Knowing them all was impossible.
“They mainly use poison. Their blood is toxic.”
“R-Really?”
“Not instantly lethal, but enough to poison you on contact. Otherwise… you’ll end up like him.”
Carlisle pointed at Malaga.
Tremble tremble…
Malaga’s eyes had rolled back, and he was shaking violently from the poison.
Given that barbarians were usually resistant to toxins, the potency of the Black Fangs’ poison was clear.
“Let’s move him over there, clean off the blood, and take him with us.”
“What about an antidote?”
“He’ll freak out once he wakes up. We’ll feed him later. He’s not dying right this moment.”
“…Alright. Let’s do that.”
“Okay. You guys handle it.”
“Got i—wait.”
Beggman frowned, realizing something was wrong.
“You brat! Are you ordering your superiors around?”
“Me?”
“You’re a mere private! How dare you give orders! And you acted without permission! You want a beating?!”
“I killed all the enemies. And now I have to clean up too?”
“T-That’s…”
“And I’m a noble. I don’t do menial work. I receive service.”
“….”
Beggman was speechless at Carlisle’s shamelessness.
He wanted nothing more than to beat him with a club, but Carlisle was the infamous mad dog of the Sigmund family.
All Beggman could do was accept his fate…
Like everyone else around Carlisle.
** **
The scouting team loaded Malaga onto a stretcher and began to retreat.
But it was anything but easy.
Bzzz! Bzzzzz!
Gremungandr vibrated intensely.
From the strength of the vibrations, Carlisle estimated how many enemies lurked nearby.
‘This is bad…’
He hurriedly activated Earth’s Whisper, the gift from Evangeline, to find a safe route.
[Notice: <Guide of the Earth> has activated!]
[Notice: The earth spirit guides you to a safe path!]
‘Worse than I thought. They’re serious.’
Every direction—east, west, south, north—was marked with a red arrow.
They were surrounded.
Saving Malaga might end up killing the entire squad.
But Carlisle stayed calm.
“This way.”
“You said that way is full of monsters!”
Beggman was nearly screaming.
“They’re trying to kill all of us and—”
Fwoosh—THUNK!
An arrow shot past Beggman and struck a tree beside him.
The bark turned green as poison spread.
A venom-coated arrow.
“RUNNNNNN!!!”
At Beggman’s scream, the scouts sprinted at full speed.
Carlisle and the scouting team ran into the monster-infested danger zone, carrying the poisoned Malaga.
“Get them!”
“Don’t let them escape!”
“How dare they!”
Hundreds of Black Fang warriors chased close behind.
