Chapter – 139….
However, the image of Grand Duke Guntram smiling lasted only for the briefest moment.
“But tell me.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“What do you think he’s really up to?”
“In what sense do you mean…?”
“To be honest, I can’t make heads or tails of what’s going on inside that boy’s mind.”
Guntram sounded tired just imagining it.
“Do you think I would know any better?”
Maranello made a troubled face.
“I simply cannot understand it. That trouble-making brat behaving like this…”
Guntram trailed off.
It was something he didn’t dare to say outright—for a single wrong word could plunge not only House Sigmund but the entire North into ruin.
“How could I not understand Your Grace’s feelings? This old servant shares the same thoughts.”
As the first retainer of House Sigmund, Maranello instantly understood what Guntram had left unsaid.
He, too, found the situation baffling.
The fact that a scoundrel like Carlisle inherited the legacy of the Chaos King was enough to turn the entire household upside down.
But that wasn’t all—Carlisle had dared to question the royal family’s power of foresight, blown up the crown prince’s carriage, and even stormed a royal safe house alone, massacring all the spies within.
And now that same Carlisle had brought the fierce Stormwind Tribe a reason to negotiate…
“In my humble opinion, two possible explanations can be considered.”
“Two, you say? Speak.”
“First, having survived death, he may have reflected on his past misdeeds and reformed himself.”
“Calling it reformation might be an exaggeration, but still… he has improved.”
“Second, he may have learned some secret upon inheriting Grimungandr.”
“Or perhaps both.”
“I believe so as well.”
“Then what am I to do? He’s not the type to reveal anything he knows.”
“I believe Your Grace must simply trust the second young master.”
“Trust… him?”
“What other choice is there? As you said, he is not someone who will share what he knows.”
“Hmph.”
“And now that he has become the master of Grimungandr and successor to the Chaos King’s legacy… it may be that the fate of the North rests in his hands.”
Guntram let out a hollow laugh.
It was a reaction anyone would have.
The fate of the North—left to that trouble-making brat?
It was laughable to any Northerner.
“I cannot decide so hastily. Too many lives depend on me for me to entrust the North to a reckless child.”
“Your Grace…”
“But I will watch. I will observe his next moves.”
With that, Guntram picked up a quill to write a response to Carlisle.
The Stormwind Tribe moved exactly as Carlisle predicted.
They immediately marched south toward the region known as the Forest of Wraiths.
And in doing so, they destroyed everything in their path.
Their march of fury was merciless.
They killed and destroyed everything they saw, showing no mercy even to other Barbar tribes.
The Barbarians lived by strict tribal identity and the law of the strong devouring the weak—annihilating and absorbing weaker tribes was considered natural.
“What? They already fled from here?”
“Yes, Chieftain.”
“Those cunning, spineless rats…!!!”
Awanga roared with fury upon hearing that the Black Fang Tribe had withdrawn from the area.
The Black Fang Tribe was unusually crafty for Barbarians.
Clearly, they had abandoned all their strongholds out of fear of Stormwind’s retaliation.
Grit.
Awanga wanted to storm their homeland immediately.
But doing so would bring out other great tribes who protected the Black Fang—and that would be troublesome even for the Stormwind Tribe.
Now was not the time for war. He needed to find his son, Maraga.
“Listen.”
“Yes, Chieftain!”
“Search the entire area and find my son. Use any means. Understood?”
“Yes!”
Following Awanga’s command, the warriors and shamans of the Stormwind Tribe began to scour the region for Maraga.
Meanwhile, Carlisle watched the tribe’s movements with perfect clarity.
Between the battalion’s scouting teams and Huginn’s aerial surveillance, he could track the Stormwind Tribe’s position in intervals of mere hours.
‘At this rate, they’ll be here by today or tomorrow. Then I can hand Maraga over, make the Stormwind Tribe owe us a favor, and send them on their way. And if we take control of the territory they occupy… it’ll be a deal both sides benefit from.’
With that thought, Carlisle idled around camp with nothing to do.
He wasn’t the only one.
Major Kravel had halted mana-stone mining in case of unexpected danger, so the soldiers remained inside the fortress resting.
‘I got lucky, but the results aren’t bad. This will help when activating the Veil of Fire.’
Lying on his cot, Carlisle glanced at the map on the wall.
The Veil of Fire.
The only means to gain absolute control over Kuberrin, the Blood-Soaked Lands.
For anyone playing Overlord as Frey von Sigmund, completing this achievement was mandatory.
If the Veil of Fire quest was completed, Deckaron would no longer need to fight the Barbarians for the Blood-Soaked Lands.
With full access to the mana stones mined here, Deckaron’s military strength would skyrocket.
The problem was that the quest was notoriously difficult—one needed to capture at least seven specific fortresses or regions.
And some of them weren’t even held by Barbarians, but by a third faction…
‘Still, I guess I got one for free.’
One of the required starting areas for the Veil of Fire quest lay along the Stormwind Tribe’s projected route.
‘This is what auto-hunting feels like.’
A smile crept onto Carlisle’s face.
No one disliked gaining something for nothing.
“Private Carlisle…?”
Adrian entered the tent, interrupting Carlisle’s thoughts.
“Yeah? What is it?”
“That barbarian is asking for you.”
“For me? Why?”
“I’m not sure.”
“If he has something to say, tell him to come here. Who does he think he is, ordering people around? He’s just a barbarian.”
“Should I tell him to come in person?”
“Yeah.”
About ten minutes later—
The scouts brought Maraga from the holding cell.
“I came because you told me to.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to fight you.”
“You want… what?”
“I said I want to fight you, scion of Sigmund.”
“A spar?”
“A spar would do. Or a duel to the death. I want to test myself against a Sigmund.”
His eyes blazed with determination and competitive spirit.
As the son of the Stormwind Tribe’s chieftain, one of the five great tribes, wanting to fight a direct descendant of Sigmund was natural.
“Go ask someone else.”
“Hm?”
“Leave.”
Carlisle closed his eyes, annoyed.
“You intend to run from a challenge?”
“Yeah. I’m running.”
“You cowardly wretch! And you call yourself a Sigmund?!”
“Ugh. You’re loud.”
Carlisle frowned and said,
“Are you stupid?”
“What?!”
“You called me the disgrace of House Sigmund. What are you expecting from a disgrace?”
“T-that—”
“If you want to die so badly, go fight a real Sigmund, not me.”
“…I see.”
Maraga nodded as if enlightened.
“Then you’re the weakest among the Sigmunds?”
“Yeah, I’m the weakest.”
“You weakling! With that attitude, how do you expect to grow stronger?!”
“…What?”
“A warrior must always pursue strength! To admit you are the weakest so easily—shameful!”
“What is he even talking about…”
Maraga began lecturing Carlisle on a warrior’s mindset and spirit.
Naturally, Carlisle wasn’t listening.
He glanced at the scouts.
“Take him ba—”
BOOOOM!
A massive explosion erupted in the distance.
“…!”
Everyone froze at the sudden noise.
“Emergency! Emergency!”
“All units to battle stations!”
“We’re under attack!”
Shouts rang from outside the tent.
A massive enemy offensive had begun.
No one had anticipated this surprise attack.
Because all scouting and intel-gathering had focused on the Stormwind Tribe, no one noticed another enemy force approaching.
“What’s going on?”
Carlisle asked Helen as he exited the tent.
“Multiple tribes have launched a joint assault. Likely a continuation of the large-scale offensive from before.”
“You mean the battle from the day I returned?”
“Yes.”
Helen nodded.
“The problem is… their numbers seem even greater this time. There’s no time. Move, Private Carlisle.”
“On it.”
Carlisle grabbed Grimungandr and headed out.
‘Just how many are there?’
He made for the ramparts, but suddenly froze when he noticed the shadows blotting the sky.
Vwuuum! Vwoom!
Dozens of Barbarian warriors were suspended in the air.
Thunder Leap.
A technique used by Barbarians of 4-star rank or higher.
Dozens were using it simultaneously, preparing to invade the fortress from above.
And that wasn’t all—
BOOM!
KA-BOOM!
CRASH!
Warriors using War Chariot slammed into the walls.
“…Oh.”
Carlisle realized he didn’t even need to climb the ramparts to check enemy numbers.
If dozens of warriors capable of Thunder Leap and War Chariot were present, the attacking force was easily in the thousands.
‘We might die before the Stormwind Tribe even gets here.’
Carlisle thought that Bowden Fortress might become his grave.
