The Sorrow Mountains were also known as the Edge of the World. This was the boundary of the known world.
The barren earth was hard as iron, and the howling wind slashed at skin like the coldest dagger. Snowfields and mist-shrouded peaks formed the rugged settlements of the Reshman people.
Amid them were countless cracks in the mountains that belched poisonous gas, violently erupting volcanoes, and sheer cliffs that rose to the sky.
"Mountains" was not quite the right word. The Sorrow Mountains rose high in the middle and sloped down on all sides, forming a vast plateau.
Broad stretches of flat land could occasionally be found between the towering peaks. Powerful tribes occupied them all.
Kas was currently at Iron Peak Mountain, in the southwestern part of the Sorrow Mountains. Several tribes renowned for forging and smelting were based here, and they had waged long, bloody wars against one another over rare ores.
It was now the beginning of autumn. The valiant tribal warriors once again fought without end over the resources around Iron Peak Mountain, hoping to stockpile enough food to see their families through winter.
Kas crouched behind a rocky outcrop on a low hill, peering down at the warriors fighting in the canyon pass.
One side was clad from head to toe in heavy black plate-and-mail armor. Their helmets and shoulders were decorated with the fangs and horns of ferocious beasts, thrusting skyward in a fearsome display.
The other side looked shabbier and more disorganized, wearing a mix of mail, plate, scale, and lamellar armor.
The clash of battle-axes, swords, and maces kept the valley roaring. The cries of battle would not cease until a banner fell.
And it had all started because a few children had discovered a goblin nest and brought the news back to their tribe.
Judging by how the tribes around Iron Peak Mountain divided up their territory, he figured the goblin nest belonged to Tribe B. But children from Tribe A had found the food hidden there, so Tribe A had secretly sent people to capture the goblins for provisions—and Tribe B had caught them.
The two tribes had been enemies for generations. Tempers flared, and they went straight for the kill. In the end, more people died than there were goblins.
What a pain...
Kas grumbled to himself. This scene was nothing new to him.
"Reshman" was just a collective name. In truth, there were several branches, each with its own beliefs and traditions.
All the tribes nominally submitted to their supreme ruler, Vanak, but their disputes with one another never stopped.
The original Kas had followed the War Chief and smashed in the heads of several warriors from rival tribes.
I need to get back to the tribe before winter. Iron Peak Mountain is at least three hundred and fifty kilometers from Ferode Canyon.
Some areas along the way have extremely difficult terrain, and I'll need to keep Seneya away from other people. Will we make it in time?
He furrowed his brow, calculating how much longer the journey would take, and failed to notice a gray-white eagle swooping overhead with a hoarse cry.
We've been spotted!
In just a few minutes, a group of men who had been standing guard rushed up the low hill and reached the spot where the eagle had sounded its warning.
"Friend, you'd better explain what this werewolf is doing here."
The leading warrior narrowed his eyes beneath a heavy bull-horned helmet.
The blood on the black halberd in his hand had yet to dry. Its blade was pointed vaguely toward the werewolf beside Kas, ready to pierce the monster's throat at any moment.
When he had first seen Kas, he had been struck by how sturdy the boy was for someone who had yet to earn his battle marks.
But then he noticed the tuft of white fur and the sharp claws, and immediately realized there was a werewolf hidden behind the rocks.
Kas raised his hands, hoping they would all calm down. He didn't want to start trouble with the tribes of Iron Peak Mountain.
"Her name is Seneya..." Kas paused, then took Seneya's hand to make his words more convincing.
"She's my wife."
"Your wife?" The warrior looked baffled. He quietly rebuked his companions for laughing, then tightened his grip on his halberd.
"I don't understand. Would your clan really let you marry a cursed werewolf? What clan are you from?"
"Kas of the Zagwell Clan, from Her Tribe in Ferode Canyon."
"Zagwell..." The warrior repeated the name. Memories of the clan's many legends immediately came to mind. He spoke with near certainty.
"Impossible. Malik Axe-Breaker would never let one of his clan's children marry a werewolf. You're lying!"
Kas helplessly scratched the back of his head. Malik Axe-Breaker was his father, though he barely remembered him.
Malik had earned his epithet by breaking his opponents' weapons in battle, most often battle-axes. He was a ruthless duelist.
"The Malik Axe-Breaker you're talking about is my father... I'm on my way back to the tribe, hoping Elder Hadi can lift the curse on Seneya.
"As you can see, she really is a werewolf, but she's never harmed anyone. I hope the Larona Clan can do us a favor. I'd be deeply grateful. I swear it on the bones of my grandfather, Elliott Dragon-Slayer!"
"Elliott Dragon-Slayer..."
That legendary name had traveled even as far as Iron Peak Mountain, far from Ferode Canyon.
Sixty years ago, a powerful red dragon had seized the sacred grounds of the Reshman people—Crone's Peak.
Countless mighty warriors feared that the Crone who governed fate would punish them for trespassing on her sanctuary. They worried that even if they died to the red dragon's breath, they would never enter Vagha's halls.
Only Elliott dared to climb the thousand-meter snow slope alone. He beheaded the red dragon that had made its lair in the sacred grounds, bathing himself in blood and flame and earning a place among the legends.
Seeing that the warriors searching the area still looked doubtful, Kas simply pulled the Ancestor out from behind his waist. The old skeleton was pretending to be dead.
"Morse Ironbone, one of King Busuo's Seven Warriors, accompanied my ancestor on a sacred rite. I can't tell you what it was."
The black skull was covered in web-like cracks, and looked as though the slightest touch would shatter it. But the Larona Clan specialized in smelting and forging, and its members could judge a material's strength and resilience just by looking at it.
Under the sunlight, the battered skull gleamed like black steel gilded in gold. Not even steel tempered a thousand times over could destroy it.
The warrior lowered his halberd and removed his helmet.
His youthful face didn't match his steady voice. Black hair framed a rugged face with gray eyes, and dark battle marks were inked into his skin. His expression was tense and serious.
He put a fist to his chest and saluted the skull with a warrior's respect.
"Kulan Black-Halberd. It's a tremendous honor to meet a warrior who entered the Pierce Arena."
Kulan turned to his companions, who had also saluted with their fists to their chests.
"Tell the War Chief that honored guests have arrived. We must prepare a grand feast to celebrate the visit of one of the Seven Warriors, Morse Ironbone of the Zagwell Clan, and his descendant, Kas!"
"Yes!" The excited warrior scrambled down the hill, eager to share a feast with a legendary warrior.
Each of King Busuo's Seven Warriors was a legend celebrated throughout the Sorrow Mountains for a thousand years. Morse Ironbone, famed for his unshakable will and cold resolve, was especially revered by warriors.
Though he had been dead for a thousand years, his bones still held the same unbreakable fighting spirit. They longed to draw courage from them.
Kulan turned his back without a hint of suspicion, ready to announce the good news to his kinsmen, who were clearing the battlefield in the canyon.
That left Kas awkwardly digging his toes into the ground and the Ancestor looking at him with disdain.
"I knew it... Things were never going to be that simple." Kas let go of Seneya's hand, only to find that the Werewolf Lady was still clutching his and wouldn't let go.
Seneya looked a little confused. She pointed at the Ancestor's skull in Kas's hand and at the people cheering excitedly on the hillside, then tilted her head and asked softly:
"Arf?"
"If you didn't understand Reshman, I'd be convinced you weren't one of them..." Kas considered his words, then explained as gently as he could.
"That old geezer explained our clan's history to you earlier, but he wasn't quite accurate. It involves the four clans of Her Tribe..."
Morse, who had been pretending to be dead, suddenly cut in.
"Simply put, Her Tribe is a fearsome power that every Reshman tribe and Southerner dreads.
"The Gunther Clan has peerless heavy woolly rhino cavalry; the Mihota Clan has giant eagle hunters who patrol the skies; the Ang Clan has an unshakable elite shield guard; and the Zagwell Clan leads them all. Together, these four make up Her Tribe's formidable military strength.
"We've smashed down walls as solid as mountains and fought dragon riders. We've faced the Southerners' vaunted knightly legions head-on. Zagwell's children will always stand at the front."
"Because that way, they die faster," Kas quipped. There's only one of us left. Stop singing the praises of our past glory. Do you want the last descendant to die even sooner?
Kas slapped his thigh. As he watched the crowd gradually streaming toward them, he turned to Seneya.
"The trouble is, I'm getting back to my clan on name recognition alone. Never mind the danger of running into clan enemies; even the feast that'll last eight days will be exhausting."
Before you continue