Ch.612Worthless Proposal

“…Return to the steppes?”

I let out a hollow laugh and shook my head in disbelief.

[That level of nonsense could be considered a masterpiece.]

‘Indeed.’

What sudden nonsense is this? Did my kick to his head actually have some effect?

He’s not some middle-aged man trying to convince his runaway daughter to come home. What on earth is he talking about? Not only was it an absurdly random proposal, but it wasn’t even remotely possible in reality.

“This is ridiculous. I’ve been called a filthy sorcerer, a treacherous villain, a mongrel bastard, and now suddenly you speak of making me Khagan.”

I’ve killed thousands of Ka’har by my own hand, including several who had reached the rank of Champion. I’ve broken virtually every taboo of the great plains.

If someone like me were to return as a member of the Aishan, would they welcome me back like the prodigal son? Of course not. They would try to kill me by any means necessary.

Even if they did accept me, I wouldn’t want it.

Khagan of the steppes? I wouldn’t take that position even if offered. It might sound impressive, but how is it any different from being the leader of a large bandit group?

“With the power of sorcery, there’s nothing to worry about.”

However, Orhan continued his persuasion in a calm tone, as if such problems were nothing.

“Warriors despise and oppose sorcerers. It’s a hatred passed down through generations. An undeniable truth.”

Yes. That’s truly fortunate for the Empire.

Despite being a nation that knows nothing but swordplay, they’re still a threat to the Empire. If they had added the power of magic and priestly miracles to their arsenal, they would have been a calamity more dangerous than dragons.

“But how many among the steppe warriors truly remember the real reason they reject sorcery? Most warriors simply follow blindly because that’s how they were raised and taught.”

“…And?”

I continued my conversation with Orhan. Not because I was tempted by his proposal, but simply to buy time and rest my body a little.

“If hatred is born from teaching, can it not also be eliminated through teaching? If I accept sorcery and you take up the sword as an Aishan warrior, achieving results that outweigh the harm done to the steppes, this matter can certainly be resolved.”

So he’s saying that if two top-tier Hero-class warriors force it, the other warriors will have no choice but to follow?

Well, the first experience is always the most difficult.

At first, they might reluctantly agree under pressure, but as they become accustomed to fighting alongside sorcerers, the warriors would gradually come to accept the power of sorcery as a natural part of their culture.

It wouldn’t happen in a year or two—it would take at least a decade or more.

“You have a more flexible mindset than I expected. Accepting the power of sorcery? Is it appropriate for the Khagan, the warrior among warriors, to say such things?”

“Why not? Though none remain who remember, the Aishan-Gioro were originally a clan of sorcerers, warriors, and shamans.”

“…Huh.”

Now that’s a shocking confession.

I had my suspicions, but to think they were actually a clan of sorcerers.

‘That Ka’har from hundreds of years ago who ruined the Holy Grail plan, talking about the “death of the sky”—that must have been your ancestor, right?’

[…What shocking hidden history.]

Hersella’s voice sounded dazed, as if she too was at a loss for words at this suddenly revealed clan secret.

“The wolf’s blood flowing through our lineage is what remains of that heritage.”

“What’s this wolf’s blood?”

He’s been strangely emphasizing it since earlier. Saying that wolf’s blood flows through me.

Surely he’s not suggesting I have werebeasts blood mixed in or something absurd like that?

“You’re aware that your physical body transcends that of humans, aren’t you? Superhuman physical abilities closer to werebeasts or dragonborn.”

“…Yes.”

It’s definitely not human strength. Whether it’s raw power or vitality. Even my reaction speed and movements exceed the limits of what a human body can achieve through training.

Whether Master or Hero, no one has ever surpassed my physical abilities with pure bodily strength without using the power of Karma.

Well, there is one person right in front of me. A human with physical abilities similar to mine.

Despite having forearms as thick as my thighs and an overwhelmingly large build, his raw strength is similar to mine, which means the quality of my physique must be far superior.

If I had Orhan’s build, my strength would probably be twice his.

Anyway, I had assumed this power was simply physical ability inherited from Orhan, but was that not the case?

“That is the ‘wolf’s blood.’ The blessing of divine blood passed down to the descendants of the Sky Wolf… or more precisely, the ‘Wolf That Devours the Sky.’ Among all my children, only you were born with the wolf’s blood. And yours is even more potent than mine.”

Does that mean Orhan’s other children are ordinary people? Come to think of it, Amin’s body didn’t have anything exceptional about it. I thought he was just a weakling, but apparently that was normal.

“That’s quite a surprising story. Surprising and nothing more.”

I continued the conversation while cracking my fingers and loosening my shoulders.

Learning that the Aishan-Gioro were originally sorcerers, that Hersella’s body inherited divine bloodline—these were all things I was hearing for the first time, and while interesting, that was all they were to me.

The secret of my birth. It might be important to Hersella, but to me, it felt no different than reading the backstory of a character in a novel.

“Even so, I’d still be treated as a traitor, wouldn’t I? The corpses of the Ka’har I’ve killed could form a swamp down there. They’d hardly welcome me.”

“If you bring achievements greater than the damage you’ve caused, things would change.”

Orhan raised his left hand, pointing west. A gesture toward the wall that had blocked them for hundreds of years, toward the Empire that had been their enemy for centuries.

“Return with Ludwig’s head. Lead the warriors, break down the wall, and advance westward to destroy the imperial capital. Then all the warriors of the great plains will acknowledge and praise you.”

…Whose head am I supposed to bring back?

“You will become the greatest warrior of the steppes who conquered the west, and the Khagan of a great empire ruling over both westerners and Ka’har. What glory or achievement could be greater for a warrior? The entire world will kneel before you.”

His tone was like that of a demon lord tempting a hero. Not in a sexual sense, but you know, the typical “follow me and I’ll give you half the world” kind of proposal.

Of course, it was equally typical and obvious that no one who accepted such proposals ever met a good end.

‘What do you think? He’s offering to make you the Khagan of a great empire. Should I embrace him and call him father?’

[Only if you plan to stab his heart while embracing him.]

I thought as much.

It was a proposal of no value whatsoever to me, and it didn’t seem satisfactory to Hersella either.

The Hersella I knew would rather slaughter all the Ka’har warriors and force submission from their dying lips than become Khagan in such a manner.

“Make your choice. Will you follow me as the heir of Aishan-Gioro? Or will you remain a hunting dog of the westerners and meet a powerless, worthless death?”

As if the conversation was over, Orhan pointed the blade of his sword toward me. Was he threatening to kill me if I refused? Well, this was much easier to understand than his feeble persuasion.

“Go to hell.”

I smiled, lifting the corners of my mouth wide.

“…That’s unfortunate.”

Orhan’s expression hardened at my firm rejection as he charged toward me.

—-

The longsword and sword crossed, scattering metal fragments, and streams of blood evaporated in the heat, rising like mist.

I parried his sword with Durandal and whipped my tired body forward, continuing the fight that was approaching its end.

Fist against fist, leg against leg, we continuously struck each other’s bodies. It was a fight where only I felt pain, thanks to that damn Unyielding Flesh.

Still, perhaps because he too was running out of strength, he seemed a bit softer than at first.

– Clang!

…Or maybe that was just my imagination.

“I find it difficult to understand. Were you not interested in the position of Khagan?”

Despite delivering what sounded like an ultimatum earlier, Orhan continued to speak during our exchange of blows, as if still harboring lingering attachments.

[Tell him I have no interest in accepting charity!]

“I have no interest in a crown placed on my head by others!”

I thrust forward with my left hand on the end of the sword hilt. The blue-silver tip of the blade dug into the center of his tattered sword—

– Crack!

With a sound like ice breaking, his sword shattered into pieces.

“Then what about revenge!”

Orhan threw away what remained of his sword—just the handle—and charged forward even more aggressively with his fists tightly clenched. One blunt weapon had become two.

I had destroyed his weapon, yet he became more difficult to deal with—truly unfair.

“Revenge?”

“Yes. Isn’t that what you wanted? Revenge for your mother, Imelia de Median. If you follow me—”

[How dare you speak my mother’s name with that mouth!]

Before I could answer, Hersella, enraged like a dragon whose reverse scale had been touched, unleashed tendrils of Murder Karma and struck Orhan’s entire body.

Struck by the suddenly emerging tendrils, Orhan was thrown back with a groan, falling like he’d been shot.

And I fell too.

‘Hey, you crazy woman!’

The curse escaped my lips involuntarily.

I understand being sensitive about her mother, but she should have maintained at least a minimum of rationality…!

Thanks to her using the depleting power of Murder Karma in such a way, the already weakening flames of Karma were completely extinguished.

[Oh no, what a blunder…!]

Hersella’s voice was filled with dismay.

There was no time to scold her. My body was flipping over. The ground was rapidly approaching. In a few seconds, my head would smash into the ground. Looking up at the earth, I stretched my hand above my head and—

“Cascador!”

I summoned the biological shock absorber.

A unicorn formed by gathering holy light. I grabbed its mane and placed both feet on its side, then fell toward the ground in a bent posture.

– Thud!

The impact wasn’t too severe. At least not for me.