[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]

Chapter 294: Let’s Start With a Hit

Grimnar Angantyr.

He was a man who seemed to symbolize the malice, poison, and ruthlessness of the Virgenhrid Mountains themselves.

“Even beasts and bugs deceive their enemies, trap them, and kill them cowardly to feed. Humans should be even more ruthless.”

Survival of the fittest. Survival of the adapted.

To Grimnar, that was the only law of the world.

“Honor? Culture? Trade and exchange? Ridiculous nonsense. Those are what have made the mountain people weak. Craving sweet and salty food, fragrant things, and beautiful clothes, such desires have made us soft.”

While the Eisenach clan admired cities and the lowlands, eventually marrying off the daughter of Lordstir to the Duke of Grunewald…

Grimnar gathered the discontented factions of the Angantyr clan under his control, wooed and threatened them, and prepared for a coup.

“First, I’ll reduce my father to a senile, and then I’ll exterminate the Eisenach clan.”

It wasn’t something he could accomplish alone.

“We will aid you.”

Through the underworld of the Grunewald Duchy, the Black Society offered their support.

“Schelde. Why are you helping me?”

“What we desire is Georg’s despair and chaos within Grunewald.”

To forge harmony with the mountain people, secure allied forces, and stabilize trade routes, Georg had formed a marriage alliance with the Eisenach clan.

That alliance was distasteful and threatening to Count Bergen and Count Agrippa, who secretly extended their hands in aid as well.

“Hahaha! Kill them all! Exterminate and take everything!”

The coup succeeded.

Grimnar plundered everything from Eisenach and became the king of the mountain people—Lordstir.

However, not everything went as smoothly as expected.

“Georg… what the hell is he thinking?”

The Black Serpent Duke’s schemes ran deeper than Grimnar’s own.

He never declared revenge, nor did he take any visible action.

As a result, the one who bowed and found himself shackled was Grimnar.

It was truly a brilliant maneuver.

“To choose pragmatic gain over revenge for his wife and child… That cold-blooded plainsman is crueler than I am.”

Even with such insults, the result was his own defeat.

Initially, the plan had been simple—if Georg, in his fury, made a move, Grimnar would bunker down in the mountains, and during that time, Bergen and Agrippa would strike from the rear.

But as if he knew everything, Georg chose the best strategy of all: to do absolutely nothing.

“A shame. I’ll abandon that strategy.”

And so the Black Society’s attitude turned cold as if their previous alliance meant nothing.

They deemed Grimnar no longer useful.

Bergen and Agrippa also cut ties, stating they no longer wished to be involved.

“Goddamn it.”

Now there was no choice but to build power.

Who knew when Grunewald might yank his leash and come to slaughter him like a dog?

‘They can’t invade easily.’

The Duke had many enemies within, and the Black Society still prowled behind him.

…But the sleepless nights continued.

If Georg suddenly launched an assault with his elders, could Grimnar really stop them?

Plagued by paranoia, he became more and more obsessive.

“Scour the underworld for artifacts. You, search the mountains and bring me all the spirit medicines, rare herbs, poisonous insects, and poisonous plants you can find.”

“Yes, Lord Lordstir.”

His obsession with the stolen throne slowly twisted Grimnar.

Once cunning and ambitious, he grew warped.

For seven long years, he trained relentlessly, determined to drag anyone with him to hell.

He honed his poison arts even further, diligently cultivated martial arts, and even absorbed Eisenach’s stolen martial manuals into his own techniques.

“Stronger. Stealthier.”

He built fortresses in various places, dug traps, and prepared to repel external enemies.

The place where he currently resided was the most remote and hidden stronghold of them all.

“…What a cowardly, vicious hedgehog of a man.”

Allenvert muttered, gazing at the secretive, closed-off fortress that didn’t resemble a royal citadel at all.

“A man more concerned with self-preservation and comfort than anything else. Not a bear ruling the mountains, but a fox hiding in its burrow.”

According to Balthazar, Grimnar was arrogant, cruel, cautious, and thorough.

‘…That must have been him in his younger days when he was still ambitious, before the coup.’

Now, all that was left was a weary old man clinging desperately to what he had stolen.

Allenvert whispered to the man who had become such:

“A king must remain a king, even after losing everything. But you… you could never do that.”

The Grimnar they now faced was a towering man shaped by the savage mountains, his body enveloped in a green poisonous aura.

‘Even his skin has blackened. With poison that intense… can he even hold his clan in his arms?’

What meaning does power or prestige hold, if you can’t embrace the ones you love?

“No, wait. Did you ever have anyone you loved in the first place?”

Most likely, the only thing he ever cherished was the isolated and secretive throne he kept locked away in that chamber.

‘Pitiful man. Let’s end your long, wretched glory here.’

Allenvert activated his stealth technique and melted into the darkness of the mountain.

“Let’s begin.”

That was the signal for battle.

***

Grimnar remained cold and calculating.

“Behold—the grandson of the man I killed, and the daughter I discarded.”

The two vanguard warriors endured every trap, spell, and assault as they advanced up toward his fortress.

“Roll the boulders. Fire poisoned arrows from above.”

Despite being assaulted with poison-laced arrows, the two advanced, slashing and blocking with frightening momentum.

“Now.”

With a wave of Grimnar’s hand, the poison warriors of the Angantyr clan simultaneously unleashed their poison mists.

Sssshhhhh—

The toxic miasma engulfed the two warriors.

It wasn’t something that could be easily dispersed with a wind technique or cut down with a sword, it was a ghostly poison mist.

“Snowstorm Myriad Blossoms.”

At that moment, Ulbhild unleashed her ice technique, freezing the miasma in an instant.

As soon as it solidified, Knut and Rudgarda shattered and split the ice apart.

“…So that’s Ulbhild’s Snow Blossom Sword Technique.”

Grimnar’s lips twisted.

Using hand techniques despite being a sword user, it was absurd, yet likely a method to achieve full mastery of swordplay.

“The level of her ice arts is impressive. How much can she freeze, I wonder?”

Realizing that her ice ability was the perfect counter to his poison, Grimnar muttered.

“They’re not fools. But in the end, they’re just kids playing at war.”

Now that these brats had stepped into a deathtrap, he would simply wrap them in webs and devour them.

“Unleash the monsters. Release the tamed beasts to encircle them.”

“Yes, sir!”

“And send in the first wave. Keep Knut and Rudgarda occupied.”

He would first block them with beasts and monsters, then send his elite soldiers to wear them down and gauge their full strength.

“Knut has mastered body arts. Keep your distance when engaging.”

A precise and level-headed command.

Heavy and resilient beasts charged at Knut, and as slashes, arrows, and hidden weapons rained down, Knut’s advance slowed considerably.

“Haha, Knut. You’re as brave as your grandfather once was in his youth.”

Grimnar taunted Knut, now surrounded by walls of flesh and bone.

But Knut wasn’t rattled by the obvious provocation.

“Grimnar, just stay where you are and wait. You cowardly bastard.”

“Hm? How boring. You’re a colder man than you look.”

Grimnar waved his hand again.

“Let him go wild. Until he exhausts himself.”

“Yes, sir.”

He didn’t care how many underlings were sacrificed.

He fed, clothed, and trained them precisely for this.

“Ah, Rudgarda.”

Grimnar’s expression curled into a sadistic grin as he looked toward the daughter who had lived her life in hatred of him.

“Can you hear me, my daughter?”

At the sound of his mana-laced voice, Rudgarda raised her head.

“If you were abandoned as a hostage, you should’ve just lived quietly and died forgotten. How dare you repay the grace of being birthed and raised with betrayal?”

Rudgarda drew in her mana and responded.

“My mother died due to your neglect. It wasn’t you who raised me—it was the mountain. So how dare you speak of grace to me?”

“Hahaha!”

Grimnar let out a scornful laugh.

“You ungrateful wench. Boys, bring me your sister’s head.”

He had many children.

Pointing out his 4th, 5th, and 8th sons, he sent them after Rudgarda.

“One will shoot arrows. Another will hold her at bay with a spear. And one will pressure her with a sword from the side.”

They weren’t children.

They were subordinates, or slaves at best—obeying their father’s orders, they attacked their sister.

“…He already poisoned them? They’ve lost their minds.”

“As long as one useful child becomes my successor, that’s enough. The rest are just dead weight who would only muddy the succession. I merely pruned the excess, as any proper father should.”

At his words, Rudgarda’s fury turned icy cold.

“Grimnar. You’re not even fit to be called a parent. Just because you sired a child doesn’t make you a father.”

She dodged the arrows with superhuman senses, blocked with armor infused with mana, and caught the incoming spear shaft.

“!”

Then, with her free hand, she countered her fourth brother’s attack and stomped his knee and snapped it cleanly.

CRACK!

But even with his knee twisted backward, the 4th son didn’t scream in pain.

“You fight well. That move just now, it was one of my techniques, wasn’t it? How admirable. You haven’t forgotten the martial arts I taught you.”

Ignoring Grimnar’s mockery, Rudgarda looked at her brother, whose sense of self had vanished like a puppet.

“…Did you endure under Father all this time just to become like this?”

There was no answer from the puppet.

‘…So pitiful.’

This brother had agreed to send her away as a hostage.

But even if she had stayed behind…

“Do you think I would’ve ended up like this too? No—I wouldn’t have.”

Grimnar, as if reading her mind, spoke.

“Even in hardship, you endured, grew stronger, and gained comrades—now you’ve come to place a blade at your father’s throat. You might have been chosen as my heir. Thinking back… what a waste.”

With a wave of his hand, Grimnar gave a signal.

“Second wave. Encircle them. They’ve come too deep.”

As the ambushers revealed themselves all at once, Rudgarda and Knut found themselves surrounded from all directions.

But at that very moment.

“Ten Thousand Snowflakes Frozen Flower Slash!”

Ulbhild, who had been waiting for this exact moment, unleashed the ultimate form of her Snow Blossom Sword Technique.

CRAAACK-K-K-K!

Ice dragons, ice birds, and ice tigers rampaged. The ground froze over instantly.

Her pure sword energy followed cutted through frozen soldiers, severing legs stuck in the frozen earth, and slicing unlucky arms clean off without even splattering blood.

“Hahahaha! Now that’s a proper ultimate technique.”

Grimnar applauded.

“Freezing and slicing? To develop ice techniques in this way, this must be called an ultimate technique worthy of its name.”

Grimnar assessed just how much influence Ulbhild’s presence would have on the battlefield.

“Indeed, your role in the rear, supporting and preventing isolation, is exquisitely timed.”

Ulbhild unleashed a massive ice bird that surged toward Grimnar.

However, with a strange, curved sword typical of mountain tribes, Grimnar easily cut through the ice bird.

“Hmph!”

Then, he immediately fired a poisoned arrow, but Ulbhild’s ice shield instantly nullified it.

“Hmph.”

From a distance where even arrows couldn’t reach, the two warriors exchanged martial techniques, eyeing each other carefully.

“So? Allenvert, where is that brat? I heard he’s excellent at stealth, but is he hiding like a rat?”

Sensing Grimnar’s vigilance, Ulbhild smiled.

“Ah, truly an advanced technique. I was the one who taught him the basics.”

Enraged by that, Grimnar unleashed his mana broadly and shouted.

“Allenvert! Where are you?!”

This was a move meant to blast whoever was invisible with his mana—

“Behind you.”

At last, the voice he had been waiting for came from behind.

“!!”

The furious Grimnar immediately turned and unleashed an attack.

Sssquiek!

Allenvert, using a ghost-like spirit technique, dodged the attack and his fist smoothly struck Grimnar’s abdomen.

“...Let’s start with you taking one hit.”

Allenvert unleashed his ultimate technique, the greatest of his style.

“Soul-Slumbering Black Moon.”

Dooooooom!

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]