The aftermath of the Bloodtusk Tribe’s defeat in Grimjaw Mountain had set off a chain of events that significantly altered the hierarchy of the Borderlands.

Some thought it was fate, while others believed there was a conspiracy behind it.

The Darkmane Tribe decided to weaponize Leone’s background as an exile from the Kingdom of Britannia to frame him as a spy sent to infiltrate the Barbarian Tribes. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

They even went as far as to spread the news that he used black magic to control the chieftains of the Alborin Tribe, the Riverfang Tribe, and the Black Wolf Tribe.

As this news spread as black propaganda, Jafar and the army of the Darkmane Tribe had arrived at the camp of the Bloodtusk Tribe.

The old shaman immediately tried to pacify the people, telling them that they had come to take them back to their territory.

He added that if they didn’t come now, then the other high-ranking tribes would come and raid their homes.

Since the Darkmane Tribe and the Bloodtusk Tribe had a very close relationship, it wasn’t that hard to make them submit to his will.

After all, with their chieftain and the majority of their warriors dead, they no longer had the power to defend themselves from the other tribes that might cause them harm.

This incident happened two days after the Stormhorn Tribe had finally arrived at Grimjaw Mountain to become part of the Aslan Tribe.

As these events unraveled, Malcolm and his family continued to follow the trail left behind by the wagons.

After recognizing the direction it was going, the veteran warrior had confirmed that the caravan they were following was headed to Grimjaw Mountain.

’We’re almost there,’ Malcolm thought. ’Just three to four more hours and we’ll finally arrive.’

But just as he and his wife were about to make a curve, they noticed a lone rider mounted on a black horse riding in their direction.

The person wore a black robe that covered his face, but Malcolm didn’t sense any hostility coming from him.

Perhaps seeing them, the robed person waved in their direction, as if telling them to stop for a while.

"Good day, everyone," the robed person greeted. "Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

Since they were now only a few meters away from each other, Malcolm noticed that the man in front of him was wearing a mask that covered half of his face.

The mask was actually a black skull, which made Malcolm’s wife look anxious.

"Ask," Malcolm replied as he moved his horse between his wife and the masked stranger that they had met just now.

"You see, I’m looking for someone," the masked man said calmly. "His name is Leone Frontera. Do you happen to know him?"

"Leone Frontera?" Malcolm frowned. "Are you talking about the Chieftain of the Aslan Tribe?"

"Chieftain?" The masked man tilted his head. "I’m sorry, but I’m talking about a young man who has just turned eighteen years old. He may be a bundle of talent, but becoming a barbarian chieftain is not one of them."

"Does he have blonde hair and blue eyes?" Malcolm asked.

"Yes, he does." The masked man nodded. "So, have you seen him?"

"I do," Malcolm answered. "But are you his friend or foe? I am indebted to the Chieftain of the Aslan Tribe, so I can’t possibly bring someone dangerous to meet him."

Leone’s name had now spread across the Borderlands, so unless a barbarian was hiding under a rock, they must have already heard of his name by now.

Any barbarian could share the same information Malcolm had told the stranger. However, this person seemed very suspicious, so he couldn’t possibly guide him to Grimjaw Mountain.

After all, if this man wished to harm Leone, he didn’t want any part in it.

But just as he was thinking of what to do next, he heard the sound of rumbling thunder. At least, that was what he thought it was when he first heard it.

However, there were no clouds in the sky, which made him look in the distance.

Sure enough, a dust cloud had formed in the distance, which was heading in their direction.

Malcolm thought that it was only a herd of wild horses. Though, when he saw that they had riders with them, his face turned solemn.

He could see the banner of the Grimfang Tribe being carried by their flag bearers, making him realize what was happening.

’The Grimfang Tribe pursued the Stormhorn Tribe!’ Malcolm wanted to run away with his wife and son. However, it was impossible. Their horses might be fit for traveling, but the riders of the Grimfang Tribe were riding war horses.

His Raptor might be able to outrun them, but his wife and child would not be able to escape their pursuit. As such, he decided to force himself to calm down and wait until the small army closed in on them.

Meanwhile, the man wearing the mask calmly glanced in the direction of the riders.

In just the span of a few minutes, the group of three was surrounded by the Grimfang Tribe with no place to run or hide.

"He has a Raptor with him!" One of the warriors pointed at Malcolm’s mount. "He is with the Aslan Tribe!"

"I’m not with the Aslan Tribe!" Malcolm shouted. "I hail from the Bloodtusk Tribe!"

"Then why do you have a Raptor with you?" Hugo, the temporary leader of the Grimfang Warriors, asked. "They are the prized mount of the Aslan Tribe."

"I am Malcolm of the Bloodtusk Tribe," Malcom replied calmly. "This Raptor was given to me by the Chieftain of the Aslan Tribe so that I can go back to our camp to tell them about what happened at Grimjaw Mountain."

"I see." Hugo sneered. "Well, it doesn’t matter. Since you are from the defeated Bloodtusk Tribe, your fate has already been sealed the moment you lost the war.

"Now, hand over that Raptor and surrender yourself to us. If you behave, we will let your companions live."

Malcolm’s face turned grim. They were completely surrounded, so there was no way to escape.

"Understood," Malcolm replied. "This is my wife and child. Please don’t hurt them. I will do as you say."

"Good." Hugo smirked. "I like talking with smart people."

He then glanced at the robed person that was riding on a black horse. Throughout his conversation with Malcolm, the rider didn’t do or say anything.

"And who might you be?" Hugo asked. "What tribe do you belong to?"

Those who wore masks in the Borderlands were people with special identities.

Some warriors of the high-ranking tribes only wore them if they met certain requirements, which was why Hugo didn’t immediately show any hostility to him.

The last thing he wanted was to accidentally offend a big shot from one of the high-ranking tribes.

"I only have one question," the masked man said. "Do you know someone named Leone Frontera? I am looking for him."

"Are you talking about the Chieftain of the Aslan Tribe?" Hugo asked. "Why are you looking for him? Did your chieftain send you to investigate his identity?"

"I see...." The masked man nodded before glancing at Malcolm, who had now dismounted his Raptor. "Are these people hostile toward Leone?"

"I don’t know," Malcolm replied cautiously.

He didn’t want to offend these people, who had them completely surrounded by saying something he didn’t know.

The masked man then shifted his attention back to Hugo before asking him the same question.

"Are you and your tribe Leone’s enemies?" the masked man asked.

"Damn right we are!" one of the warriors beside Hugo shouted. "We were only after the Stormhorn Tribe, but those Aslan bastards got in our way! Many of our warriors even died because of them!"

"I see. So, you are Leone’s enemies." The masked man nodded in understanding. "That makes things easier."

Suddenly, Hugo’s instincts screamed at him to run.

An intense feeling of dread soon took over his senses. This was a warning sign which was something that those who had survived many life and death battles possessed.

The masked man in front of them was being cordial earlier. However, the moment one of his subordinates mentioned that Leone was their enemy, the air grew heavy all of a sudden.

"Since today is a good day, I will give all of you a chance to live," the masked man declared. "Go on your merry way and leave this poor family alone. If you do that, we can still part as friends."

"Who do you think you are?!" the warrior who spoke earlier shouted. "We are the Grimfang Tribe, so if you don’t want to die, go on your knees and beg us for forgiveness."

"Oh, that would be a problem. You see... I hate being dirty," the masked man replied.

Suddenly, the warrior who shouted earlier collapsed on the ground, surprising everyone.

He writhed and clutched at his throat, where a throwing knife was embedded.

The warrior then pulled the knife out, spraying out a fountain of blood in front of him.

"You—rghhh..." The warrior tried to speak, but only a gurgling sound escaped his lips.

A moment later, he fell on the ground face first, blood pooling under his body.

Everything happened so fast that no one could react in time.

Many of the warriors looked at the masked man as if he was crazy. They were currently surrounded with nowhere to run, and he still dared to attack one of their people?!

"I told you that today is a good day," the masked-man said calmly. "But since he wanted to die so badly, I decided to send him on his way first. Now, who among you wants to join him in the afterlife?"

"Kill him!" one of the warriors shouted, prompting the rest to charge at the masked man.

However, in the next second, their heads rolled off their bodies, setting off a fountain of blood that dyed the ground in red.