Chapter 95: Madame Eight Legs (2)
"Madame has made a mistake, and I will confront her."
Vikir's last words stunned all of Balak's warriors.
Not that they hadn't thought about it.
Innocent children, elders, patients, companions, and wolves had been killed, and they had lost buildings, food, and everything else they needed to survive.
But even so, the warriors were skeptical of Bikir's words.
"Impossible. No brave warrior has ever been able to do that."
"'Vikir. Even if you are the hero of the whole region, that's a myth."
"Madame Eight-Legged is the deity of these jungle. She is the evil one of the evil spirits."
"The damage will eventually be repaired. The only way is to forget."
For the first time, Balak's warriors, who trusted Vikir with anything he said, shook their heads at his words.
For such brave men to say such a thing gives one an idea of the extent of their fear of the Madame.
Then.
...tee!
Someone put a hand on Vikir's shoulder.
It was Chief Aquila, the Fox of the Night, staring at Vikir with a pale complexion.
She had lost much of her usual overwhelming majesty.
The one who had gone one-on-one with the Ancient One, the legendary Adonai, and sent him back to the dust.
But Aquila, too, had suffered many wounds in the process.
Countless arrow marks scratched his body, and even the poisonous venom of Madame Eight-Legged was too much for even a Master-level warrior to heal.
"Vikir. Young hero of all the jungle and the sun just rising, do not be swayed by the heat of the moment. Where Madame is involved, extreme caution must be applied."
Aiyen, beside him, agreed.
"The Eight Legged Madame is a terror to all tribes, not just the Balak. She is a force of unstoppable causality and the essence of darkness. Her presence is like a natural disaster, and even if we harbor feelings of vengeance...."
But Aiyen didn't finish her sentence.
[chuckles...]
She saw a figure crawling through the rubble of the collapsed building.
Bakira. The wolf who had been born on the same day and time as Aiyen, and had been with him all his life.
The one who had run to the village to tell them of Bikir's victory before the Iliad between Bikir and Ahriman.
For a moment, Aiyen couldn't help but think of his last words to Bakira.
"Go to the village and tell them to prepare to welcome the winner of the Iliad."
Little did he know the consequences of that simple errand would be so terrible.
[snicker... snicker...]
Bakira crawled over, dragging his hind legs, and wiped his wet nose at Aiyen's feet.
One of her right hind legs was in terrible shape.
Not only were all the bones broken, but a dark poison had seeped into the marrow.
The reason for this was obvious. What else could it be but the result of resisting Madame Eight-Legged?
The poison was still surging at this moment, and the situation was so serious that the leg had to be cut off.
Aiyen looked at Bakira in disbelief.
Bikir spoke briefly.
"Will you still say that revenge is futile?"
"...."
Aiyen did not answer this time.
Aquila glanced between her daughter's face and Bakira's moaning legs and sighed deeply.
"We'll talk later. For now, let's take care of Bakira. Come on, take care of the others."
Despite her own mortal wounds, Aquila tends to the others first.
The chieftain's words sent everyone scrambling again.
They had to rescue survivors, tend to the sick, and make sure they had food and shelter for the night.
* * *
The night was unusually dark and rainy.
There was no moon, so the pitch-black depths were illuminated only by the occasional lightning strike.
A shadow passed like a ghost through the rain that fell like spears.
It was Vikir.
Once again, Vikir had left Balak without telling anyone.
The hound was now on his way to see Madame.
'...She's someone I should have faced at least once.'
Madame Eight-Legged was one of Vikir's true purposes for coming to Depht in the first place.
An ultra-dangerous beast whose danger is still unknown to the Empire.
If we can hunt it down before it does, the benefits are endless.
Humming.
Vikir thought to himself as he listened to the pulsing of Beelzebub in the arteries of his wrist.
'In the future, when the Age of Destruction arrives, creatures like Madame will be relatively common, but for now... she is quite unique.'
Besides, the Madame was the one who had forced Balak's warriors to abandon their homes and move from place to place.
Balak's warriors were in a difficult position, having to avoid the Madame's constantly expanding radius to satisfy her hunger, and having to avoid the Baskervilles, who were cutting through the jungle to expand their empire's territory.
"I can set them free."
Madame Eightlegs and the Baskervilles. Vikir had the means to bring these two oppressors of Balak under his control.
It would be a favor to Balak for all he had done for her, and a favor for their future.
Vikir also wanted to test himself.
How much stronger he had become during his two years in the Depht.
'This battle with Adonai has made me stronger. Soon I will be able to climb another step....'
As he thought this, Vikir made his way through the rain.
But the hound was soon forced to stop.
A familiar scent wafted through the curtain of rain.
Not a day has gone by that he hasn't recognized it for the past two years.
Aiyen. She stood before Vikir, drenched from head to toe.
"I've been waiting for you."
"...."
"How long have you been standing there?"
"...."
Aiyen didn't answer Vikir's questions.
Finally, she opens her mouth.
"Wolves can't be tamed."
"...?"
"No matter how much you tie them up, they break the leash and run."
Aiyen lifted her head and looked straight into Vikir's eyes.
"Wolves can't be tamed, after all. You can only make them come to you when they want to, without a leash."
She smirked at Vikir.
"You are not a hound. Vikir. You call yourself that, but... no hound ever behaves like you."
"...."
Vikir looked down at Aiyen's legs.
Her right leg was wrapped in a tight bundle of leaves and leather.
Once, when they had fought the Adonai, Aiyen had wounded her leg while saving Vikir from a poisoned arrow.
He still limped from the aftermath.
Vikir broke the silence.
" ...You can't help me with your body. Go back to the village."
The air is so thick with water that the words come out dry.
But Aiyen kept her mouth shut, as if she'd expected that much.
Then she held out something to Vikir.
It was dried jerky and fruit and nuts wrapped in leaves.
Vikir smirked.
"It looks like a sacrificial meal."
"Don't joke about that."
Aiyen opened his eyes fiercely and glared at Vikir.
Then he added a word.
"I promise."
The scene was eerie.
The Hound thought it was a little familiar.
Aiyen spoke again.
"Promise me you'll be back."
"...."
When Vikir didn't answer, Aiyen spoke again, in a tone that sounded like he was holding his breath underwater.
"No."
She hesitated for a moment, then spoke again.
"I don't. You don't have to promise to come back."
A voice that crawls. A voice that hangs with anxiety, nervousness, and bitterness.
Aiyen looks into Vikir's eyes with a voice that sounds like she's about to vomit blood.
"You don't have to come back, just stay alive...."
Vikir is silent for a moment.
Then, a little too late, he speaks.
"...of course."
Then the breath he'd been holding came out of Aiyen's mouth, all white.
A darkness that swallowed him whole.
The master stood still, watching the hound, or rather the wolf, walk away.
The wolf runs through the dawn again.
Unlike last time, there was one thing she couldn't say to Bikir.
"You don't have to come back, just stay alive....
Women have a way of making difficult demands.
For the first time in all his life, since he was born twice, he had lied.
He didn't know if he could keep this promise or not.
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