The Primeval Era-Chapter 41: Honor Means Nothing To The Dead II

Damian listened to all of this with a calm gaze.

He looked at the Warrior in front of him, processing the information, fitting it into the larger picture of what was happening in these territories.

A Sworn Commander from a Vassal Tribe had come to these backwater regions and taken over an Unbound Tribe. She was using that tribe to expand her influence, sending enforcers like the Butcher to subjugate other tribes, building something in the shadows?

But why?

What purpose did conquering Dross tribes serve for someone who already had the backing of a Vassal Tribe?

He asked the most critical question. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

"And pray tell, just what glorious Anointed Ones is your Vassal Tribe working under?"

...!

The question caused Lukaku to pale.

His confident expression cracked, and he shook his head rapidly.

"That is not something I am privy to say!"

His voice rose with forced strength.

"Such knowledge is too esteemed for-"

"You do not know, do you?"

BOOM!

Damian’s words stopped the Warrior from moving or saying anything else. Lukaku grasped his weapon even tighter, his knuckles whitening around the haft, his face a mixture of shame and fury.

He did not know.

A Fang Commander of a Vassal Tribe, and he did not know which Anointed bloodline his people ultimately served. He was The Sworn, yes, but he was still far from the true centers of power. Still just another tool to be used by those above him.

Just like he viewed the Dross as tools.

The irony was almost amusing if there wasn’t so much blood being spilled.

As for Damian, he had uncovered much more than he expected. The situation right now became a bit more clear.

Lady Morgana was building something here, away from powerful eyes. There were many whys, but...

That question would have to wait for another time.

Because right now, there was still a Bone Tempering Warrior standing before him with a weapon in his hands.

And since the situation was clearer, the Mana within Damian’s body activated with ferocity again. The air around him changed, growing heavier, more charged, as if a storm was gathering in the space between heartbeats.

Lukaku seemed to have sensed it through their clashing weapons.

His gaze changed, desperation flooding his features, and he spoke out with a sense of alarm.

"Hey! Do not do anything rash, okay?"

His voice had lost all its earlier arrogance.

"If anything happens to me, I have already sent two Warriors to report back to Lady Morgana on what I found. That some backwater tribes actually targeted the Butcher. They will reach her by morning!"

He was speaking faster now, the words tumbling out.

"If you let me go right now, I could catch up to them and report something else entirely! Maybe none of this happened! Maybe the Butcher fell to Primal Beasts! Maybe my Warriors fell alongside them and all of this never happened, eh?"

He tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace.

"We could both walk away from this! No one needs to know! No one needs to die!"

...!

Oh!

Look at this fool now.

His eyes carried a sense of desperation as he did not want to put his power to the test against a monstrous-looking young man who had killed twelve Flesh Awakening Warriors in less than thirty seconds. A young man who spoke of Vassal Tribes and Anointed Ones in the same sentence freely, as if they did not matter in their distinction.

A young man who really should not exist among the Dross!

And at this time, the figure of Grandmother Essun, still treating the Chieftain and others, spoke without even turning around.

"Tokoloshe, that fucker is lying through his dirty teeth."

...!

Tokoloshe?

Lukaku paled even more when he heard this.

A ghost?

He was actually facing a ghost?!

The word sent a chill down his spine that had nothing to do with the night air. Tokoloshe were spirits that refused to accept death, entities that wore the bodies of the slain like ill-fitting garments!

They haunted places of great violence and brought ruin to those who had wronged them!

Was that what this creature was?

Was that why he had moved so fast, killed so efficiently, displayed power that no Dross should possess?

Damian remained calm.

Of course he knew Lukaku was lying.

Even if his experience did not tell him, the erratic Mana around the Warrior did. It was the Mana of an animal cornered, of a beast that would say anything, do anything, promise anything to survive just a little longer.

The desperate lies of a man who saw his death approaching and could not accept it.

"Wait..."

Lukaku began to speak, but Damian cut him off.

"Are you ready?"

His voice was calm and almost gentle.

"We will go all out in three."

Lukaku blinked.

"Let your Mana run wild. Allow it to course through your bones and flesh one last time."

Damian’s grip on his spear shifted slightly.

"Feel its rush. That energy. That immensity."

He met Lukaku’s eyes.

"Three..."

...!

Lukaku’s expression became livid as the battle he did not want to come was coming!

But okay!

Three seconds!

He could use three seconds!

He began to surge his Mana, drawing power from his bones, flooding it into his muscles, preparing the most devastating strike he could muster. If he was going to fight, he would fight with everything he had. If he was going to die, he would die as a Warrior of The Sworn, not as a whimpering coward!

His weapon crackled with concentrated energy.

His bones hummed with gathered strength.

His eyes locked onto the blood-soaked figure before him.

Two more seconds.

Two more seconds and he would unleash everything he had!

...!

But...

A spear shot out like a deadly snake.

Damian’s weapon blurred forward with speed that should have been impossible, aimed directly at Lukaku’s throat.

Because...why would Damian really wait three seconds?

While a Bone Tempering Warrior fought against fear and unknowns, while he gathered his power and prepared his defense, while he counted down the promised seconds like a fool who believed his enemy would play fair...

Damian struck out to kill.

The Lands of Stone were cruel and unforgiving.

And Damian had learned long ago that honor meant nothing to the dead.