Morse Ironbone gave up pretending to be dead. He couldn't stand a swarm of flies buzzing in his ears, and he especially couldn't bear hearing his descendants called rootless broken leaves.
He floated before Blackheart, who was half-kneeling, and his hoarse voice brimmed with murderous intent, frightening even the crows pecking at the corpse's eyes into flight.
"Xipel Blackheart of the Larona Clan, you tried to provoke me by slandering Malik's offspring. I am King Busuo's personal guard, the first warrior to scale the walls of the Visma Empire, the Dragon Slayer, the Titan Killer... Morse Ironbone.
"You want death, so I'll grant it to you."
"You!"
Xipel's pupils contracted sharply. He hadn't expected the Iron Bone skull, which had seemed like nothing more than a decoration, to be "alive."
No, more accurately, no Reshman had truly died. They had only gone somewhere else. And by chance, Morse had returned just in time to hear him insult Kas.
Iron Bone didn't give Xipel the chance to say another word. The red light in his eye sockets flickered violently.
The incredibly hard black steel twisted and warped inch by inch. The blood runes offered no resistance at all against a "spirit."
Blackheart, encased in his armor, looked like a drooping banana, its dark red, overripe flesh slowly oozing through the gaps between the plates.
Jam dripped onto the dust-covered ground, where flowers had bloomed in layer upon layer.
Blackheart, squeezed into banana jam, toppled heavily to the ground. He might have had a rather legendary past, but he was nothing special when faced with a warrior even more legendary than himself.
Morse returned to Kas's shoulder without a word. The skull became an ordinary, dust-covered thing once more. Only the corpse on the ground bore witness to the fate of those who offended an ancient clan.
It proved that in a lawless place, you only earned respect by proving you were stronger and more ruthless than everyone else.
Xipel Blackheart's death didn't make the Larona Clan reach for their weapons. They each tamped down the excitement rising within them, their fiery gazes fixed beneath their helmets on the unremarkable skull.
Kulan Black-Halberd, who had inherited Xipel Blackheart's authority, walked up to Kas and swung his axe at the gap between his plate-and-chain armor and helmet.
Without hesitation, he picked up Blackheart's head, tore away the bull-horned helmet embedded in the flesh, and surveyed the people around him, making sure everyone could see the bloodied face and its terrified expression.
"I told you: Kas of the Zagwell Clan is our honored guest. He bears a sacred mission from Great Shaman Hadi.
"We mortals have no way of knowing the secrets hidden within this sacred mission, but we know all too well the calamity that comes from defying the Great Shaman's will.
"Look at him—Xipel Blackheart, a warrior our clan once took pride in!
"He offered countless southerners' lives to the Blood Forge and led us to victory after victory on Iron Peak Mountain.
"We all thought his cold, dark resolve could defy death itself. Yet he meant to go against the Great Shaman's will and slander a descendant of an ancient clan, bringing down the wrath of the renowned Morse Ironbone, whose glory in Pierce Arena was boundless!
"Blackheart cannot enter Vagha's halls. He was afraid when he died, and Lady of Death will not allow such a disgraceful wretch, one who brought shame upon his clan, into her realm. His spirit will wander atop Iron Peak Mountain, forever scorched by the blazing sun and pierced by the bitter wind!"
Kulan took a spear and tossed the head high into the air. His spear flew from his hand and struck Blackheart squarely in the left eye socket, pinning him to the sheer cliffs towering over Iron Peak Mountain.
From the perspective of a power transfer, Kulan's actions quickly distanced him from Xipel Blackheart, appeased Iron Bone's wrath, and let him fill the power vacuum Blackheart had left behind.
But Kas knew full well that this cruel, savage act stemmed more from fear of religion and divine authority.
Religion, sorcery, and the environment—the three mountains weighing down the Reshman people.
Kas accepted the spear Kulan offered with both hands and sighed inwardly.
He planted his feet, tensed his arm, leaned to one side, and hurled the spear with all his might, striking Blackheart squarely in the right eye socket.
That was how you dispelled hatred. If Kas showed even the slightest hesitation, Kulan would use the head of one of Blackheart's relatives to appease the Great Shaman and Iron Bone.
With the grudge settled, a satisfied smile spread across Kulan's face. He seemed completely unmoved by Blackheart's death.
He approached Kas very cautiously, watching the seemingly lifeless Iron Bone skull from the corner of his eye.
"Is he still here? I mean, is Iron Bone still alive?"
"Iron Bone died a long time ago. The Thunder Titan smashed him to bits with a single blow."
Kas shook his head. He had been about to pat Kulan on the shoulder, but seeing the spikes covering his black steel armor, he decided against it.
"What a terrible thing. I hope your War Chief doesn't do anything to embarrass his guests like he did."
"He was just a cowardly fool who took pleasure in tormenting people after Malik Axe-Breaker defeated him.
"But War Chief Kaike won't disappoint you, Kas."
"I'm looking forward to meeting War Chief Kaike. I hope he won't mind Seneya entering Black Ash territory."
"War Chief Kaike will understand. He's always been wise and tolerant."
Kulan nodded, tugged on the iron chains binding the two hobgoblins, then gestured for Kas to go ahead.
"Please. I'm sure the Black Ember Tribe will open your eyes."
The Black Ember Tribe was located at the flat entrance between two mountain peaks. True to its name, it had built a towering wall of blackened oak and earth.
The walls bristled with sharp hooks, the watchtowers rose like swords, and siege crossbows with arms as thick as a man's silently trained on passing travelers.
At least when it came to war machines, the Black Ember Tribe was happy to learn advanced techniques from the weak southerners. While the other tribes were still howling and brawling with wooden clubs, the Iron Peak Mountain chicken coop had already entered an arms race.
A man on a tall horse was surrounded by armored warriors before the city gate.
He didn't resemble the tall, burly Reshman warriors Kas had imagined. His gloomy face and build were rather lean.
His gray eyes were lively, and his neatly trimmed beard softened the savage scars on his face, though he still radiated authority.
At first sight of Kaike, Kas knew he was a ruthless man.
Usually, for warriors to accept someone as their leader, he had to meet one of two conditions.
First, be strong enough to beat everyone into submission.
Second, be ruthless enough to make everyone fear him.
Kas thought Kaike was the second kind. The Reshman had a famous saying: "Pray your War Chief isn't a short man. Otherwise, you'll die, and so will he."
But, unexpectedly, Kaike dismounted and personally went forward to welcome his guest.
From a long way off, Kaike opened his arms. As if greeting an old friend, he pulled Kas into a tight embrace and slapped his back again and again.
"Gods be praised! I got to see Broken Axe's son while I'm still alive. I personally took you from Lohalin to Ferode Canyon back in the day. Who would've thought you'd grow up so much?"
Kaike let go while Kas was still bewildered, wrapped an arm around him, and studied his familiar-looking face.
"Hair burning like flames, eyes blue as ice—you must be Kas."
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