the time they were thirty.

“I see.
You are the only man I can recognize.”

Camou smirked and stepped up to Vikir’s side.

She had taken a defensive stance, as if she thought Vikir was tired of projecting his aura.

“Stay back, it’s dangerous.”

Stepping in front of Vikir, the camo created a wall of steel and rock while summoning icicles of fire and ice to pound the field.

Three circles of magic, even a quadruple cast.

Truly a Morgue genius, a talent worthy of a kick in the ass at age 15.

“I will avenge my brother’s death!”

Camu summoned all the mana in his body and hurled it at the barbarians.


The battlefield is a place where even the most genius of talents can’t let their guard down.


Camou frowned at the stinging sensation at the nape of his neck.

“An arrow?

But if it was an arrow, he would be dead before he had a chance to think about it.

He reached up and pulled the thing out of his nape.

Something so small and thin it could have slipped through the shields floating in the air.

It was a cactus needle.


Camu felt his head spin.

The thorns must have been laced with paralyzing poison.

“נתפס! היא אשתי עכשיו!”

I see one of the barbarian warriors pointing at the camel and jumping up and down with glee.

Apparently, he was the one who shot the tranquilizer needle.

And now.


The barbarian warrior threw the lasso he was holding at the camel.

It looks like he intends to capture the camel alive.



The lasso was intercepted halfway.

Vikir reached out and caught the lasso halfway.


The barbarian warrior and Vikir began to struggle.

The other man tugged at the noose with all his might, but the already superhuman Vikir was no match for his strength.


The barbarian warrior was thrown off the wolf’s back and sprawled on the ground.

“That’s at least a half-wit.

Vikir shook his head as he watched the Balak warrior roll around on his back.

Vikir looked back at Camu.

“I think we should retreat from here.”

“What? But the farmlands and the prisoners?”

“It would be better to refrain from engaging them until we have rejoined the main body of the Baskervilles.”

The camo looked conflicted.

Rationally, it would be better to back off moderately here.


She had just lost her beloved half-brother, and in the heat of the moment, her emotions got the better of her judgment.

He was taken alive by a savage tribe.
He must have suffered terrible pain and terror until the moment of his death.

The image of her brother flashed through her mind, and her fists tightened.

Just then.


A sharp piercing sound came from somewhere.

Vikir instinctively jerked his head back.

An arrow whizzes past the nape of his neck, sending him flying into the city wall.


The blow was strong enough to pierce the ear of the rampart.


Vikir jerked his head back.

A lone female warrior stared back at him, perched on the back of a large wolf.

Black hair mingled with silver, tipped with triangular ears, and a face smeared with ash.

She threw her lasso right at Vikir, as if she knew he would dodge it.

The snake-like lasso swooped down, aiming for Vikir’s throat at an exquisite angle.


Vikir didn’t react, instead calmly reaching for his sword.

The black aura that symbolized the Baskervilles drew four teeth in the air.

The noose snapped in half in midair.

Just then.


There was a hand on Vikir’s back.

He turned his head to see a camouflage of stiffened bodies pushing against Vikir’s back.

And behind him, the barbarian man who had fallen off the wolf’s back earlier, tugging at the noose through clenched teeth.

I thought he’d be a half-wit, but he’s stronger than I thought.

The noose was wrapped tightly around the camel’s waist, and the barbarian took off running with the paralyzing poison.

‘……So this is what happens.’

Vikir sighed softly.

A momentary lapse in judgment is costly.

Morg’s next patriarch would learn this the hard way.

“Even in her original history, she was kidnapped by barbarian tribes once.

Even before the regression.

As a young man, Camouflage was captured as a prisoner of war and taken away as a hostage.

Of course, it wasn’t long before she returned home, slaughtering barbarian tribes.

It was during this time that she became known as the Queen of Enemies and Black.

“But I still have to do my job.

Even though it’s not Baskerville’s business, Vikir has formed a strategic alliance with Morg.

Vikir quickly unleashes her aura.


The silver-haired female warrior’s weapon blocked Vikir’s path.


Vikir’s eyes narrowed as he realized the identity of the thing blocking his sword.

The Balak female warrior in front of him had swung her bow with its full length, blocking Vikir’s blade.


Vikir locked eyes with the woman before him.

A strange sense of disquiet washed over him.

“You look familiar.

Just as Vikir was about to rummage through his memory.

The warrior spoke up.

“You said you’d see …… again, didn’t you?”

She spoke in broken Imperial.

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