The Sorrow Mountains' Eternal Melody - Slaughter

The Sorrow Mountains are also known as the Edge of the World, marking the boundary of the known realm.

The barren earth is as hard as iron, and the howling wind pierces the skin like the coldest of daggers; snow-covered plains and mist-shrouded peaks form the rugged settlements of the Rishiman People.

Amidst this landscape lie countless mountain fissures spewing toxic gases, violently erupting volcanic vents, and sheer cliffs that pierce the sky.

The term "mountains" is not entirely accurate; the Sorrow Mountains as a whole trend higher in the center and lower toward the edges, forming a vast, sprawling plateau.

Between the towering peaks, occasional stretches of flat land are occupied by powerful tribes.

Kas is currently at Iron Peak Mountain in the southwest of the Sorrow Mountains, where several tribes renowned for their forging and smelting reside, having engaged in long, chaotic skirmishes over rare ores.

It is now the beginning of autumn, and the valiant tribal warriors are once again locked in an endless cycle of slaughter over the resources surrounding Iron Peak Mountain to stockpile food for their families to survive the winter.

Kas crouches within the rock wall of a low hill, peering down at the warriors fighting in the canyon pass below.

One side is fully clad in heavy, pitch-black plate-mail, their helmets and shoulders adorned with the fangs or long horns of ferocious beasts, pointing skyward in a menacing display.

The other side is far more ragged and disheveled, utilizing a mix of chainmail, plate, scale, and lamellar armor.

The clashing sounds of battle-axes, sharp swords, and maces make the valley roar incessantly, and the shouts of battle only cease when a banner falls.

The cause of all this was merely a few children discovering a goblin nest and bringing the news back to their tribe.

He surmises that based on the territorial divisions of Iron Peak Mountain, the goblin nest should belong to Tribe B, but children from Tribe A discovered the hidden food source, leading Tribe A to secretly send men to capture the goblins as winter rations, only to be discovered by Tribe B.

The two sides were already bitter enemies; tempers flared, leading to a bloodbath where more men died than there were goblins.

What a nuisance...

Kas mutters to himself; this scene is nothing new to him.

The Rishiman People is merely a collective term; in reality, there are several branches with different beliefs and traditions.

While all tribes nominally submit to the high king Vanak, the disputes between them have never ceased.

The original owner of this body had followed the War Chief to smash the skulls of several enemy tribesmen.

I must return to the tribe before winter sets in; Iron Peak Mountain is at least three hundred and fifty kilometers from Ferode Canyon.

Some areas have extremely complex terrain, and I still need to keep Seneya away from the crowds—can I make it in time?

He frowns, calculating how much time it will take, failing to notice a grey-white hawk sweeping overhead, letting out a hoarse cry.

I've been spotted!

Within a mere few minutes, a squad of alert men quickly charged up the low hill, arriving at the spot where the hawk had issued its warning.

"Friend, you'd better explain what's going on with this werewolf."

The lead warrior's eyes narrow beneath his heavy bull-horned helmet.

The dark halberd in his hand, its blood not yet dry, has its blade vaguely pointed at the werewolf beside Kas, ready to pierce the monster's throat at any moment.

When he first saw Kas, he was impressed that a half-grown boy who hadn't yet earned his war-tattoos could be so robust.

But then, noticing the tuft of white fur and sharp claws, he immediately realized a werewolf was hiding behind the rocks.

Kas raises his hands, hoping to keep things calm; he does not want to create conflict with the tribes of Iron Peak Mountain:

"Her name is Seneya..." Kas pauses for a moment, and to make his words more convincing, he takes hold of Seneya's hand:

"She is my wife."

"Wife." The warrior is puzzled, whispering a rebuke to his companion's mocking laughter, his grip on the halberd tightening:

"I don't understand. Would your clan agree to you taking a cursed werewolf as a wife? Which clan are you from?"

"Kas of the Zagwell, from the Her Tribe of Ferode Canyon."

"Zagwell..." The warrior repeats the name, his mind immediately conjuring the various legendary deeds of this clan. He says in a tone that is almost resolute:

"Impossible. Malik Axe-Breaker would never let a child of his clan take a werewolf as a wife. You are lying!"

Kas helplessly scratches the back of his head; Malik Axe-Breaker is the father he has little memory of.

The nickname came from Malik's habit of shattering his opponents' weapons during battle, most notably battle-axes; he is a duelist and killer through and through.

"The Malik Axe-Breaker you speak of is indeed my father... I am on my way back to the tribe, hoping that Elder Hadi can lift the curse Seneya bears.

As you can see, she is indeed a werewolf, but she has never harmed anyone. I hope the Larona Clan can provide some convenience; I would be eternally grateful, I swear it on the bones of my ancestor, Elliott Dragon-Slayer!"

"Elliott Dragon-Slayer..."

That legendary name is whispered even in Iron Peak Mountain, far from Ferode Canyon.

Sixty years ago, a powerful red dragon occupied the holy land of the Rishiman—Crone's Peak.

Countless powerful warriors feared that the Crone who governs fate would blame them for trespassing on the sanctuary, worried that even if they died in the dragon's breath, they would not be able to enter the halls of Vagha.

Only Elliott climbed the thousand-meter snow slope alone, beheading the red dragon that had coiled itself around the holy land, bathing his legendary name in blood and flame.

Seeing that the searching warrior is still somewhat suspicious, Kas simply pulls his "dead" ancestor from behind his waist:

"Morse Ironbone, one of the Seven Heroes of King Busuo. My ancestor is accompanying me to complete a sacred ritual; I cannot disclose the specifics."

The dark, soot-colored skull, covered in spiderweb-like cracks, looks as if it would shatter at the slightest touch, but the Larona Clan, specialized in smelting and forging, can observe the sturdiness and resilience of a material with the naked eye.

This dilapidated skull shimmered like gilded black steel under the sun; not even the most tempered iron could hope to destroy it.

The warrior lowered his halberd and removed his helmet.

It revealed a young face that did not match his steady voice—a rugged visage with black hair and grey eyes, marked with ink-black war tattoos, his expression taut and solemn.

He clenched his fist and placed it against his chest, performing a warrior's salute to the skull:

"Kulan Black-Halberd is deeply honored to meet a champion who has entered the Pierce Arena."

Kulan turned his head and spoke to his teammate, who was also standing with a fist pressed to his chest:

"Tell the War Chief that we have distinguished guests. We must prepare a grand banquet to celebrate the arrival of Morse Ironbone of the Zagwell Clan, one of the Seven Champions, and his descendant Kas!"

"Yes!" The excited warrior scrambled toward the hill, thrilled at the prospect of attending a banquet with a legendary hero.

Each of King Busuo's Seven Champions was a legend sung throughout the Sorrow Mountains for a thousand years, and Morse Ironbone, known for his unshakable will and cold resolve, was a paragon revered by all warriors.

Even though he had been dead for a millennium, his remains still preserved that indomitable fighting spirit, and they hungered to draw the same courage from them.

Kulan turned around, completely unguarded, preparing to announce this grand event to his kin clearing the battlefield in the canyon.

He left behind only Kas, who was cringing in embarrassment, and his Ancestor, who wore an expression of disdain.

"I knew it... things wouldn't be this simple." Kas loosened his grip on Seneya's hand, only to find the werewolf girl holding on tight.

Seneya tilted her head, pointing at the Ancestor's skull in Kas's hand and the people shouting excitedly on the hillside, and asked in a low voice:

"Awoo?"

"If you didn't understand the Rishiman language, I would definitely think you weren't Rishiman..." Kas deliberated for a moment, then explained in the most tactful tone possible:

"The old man explained our clan's history to you earlier, but it wasn't accurate. It involves the four clans of the Her Tribe..."

Morse, who had been playing dead, suddenly interjected:

"Simply put, the Her Tribe is a terrifying force feared by all Rishiman tribes and the Southerners alike.

The Gunther Clan's peerless heavy-armored woolly rhino cavalry, the Mihota Clan's giant eagle hunters patrolling the skies, the Ang Clan's unshakable elite shield guards, plus the Zagwell Clan as leaders—the four together form the Her Tribe's formidable military might.

We have smashed through city walls as solid as mountains, fought against dragon riders, and faced the knight legions the Southerners take such pride in. The descendants of Zagwell will always stand at the front."

"Because that makes dying faster." Kas retorted. The clan is down to just me, so stop bragging about past glories. Are you trying to make your descendant die even faster?

Patting his thigh, Kas watched the crowd surging toward them and turned to Seneya:

"The troublesome part is that I'm relying on my face to return to the clan. Not to mention the danger of running into clan enemies, just the eight-day banquet alone is enough to wear me out."