317

Chapter 317. Isha (17)

Translator: Atlas / Editor: Regan

There was a rumor spreading through Kurkan.

They said an ancient one with golden eyes had appeared.

It was hard to believe that such a legendary creature had ever existed, much less that one had been born now, and a half-breed at that. Most Kurkans dismissed the absurd rumor, sure that it would pass and disappear, as so many others had.

But that wasn’t what happened. On the contrary, as the years passed, the rumor grew, was embellished, spreading like a fire through dry grass.

At the center of the rumor was Morga, chief of the snake tribe.

He was a great sorcerer, the best among them. No one could deny his skill, despite his terrible personality. Even the King was trying to sway Morga to his side. But through the endless civil war, Morga had never chosen a side. No matter what happened, he had been resolutely neutral.

And now, he suddenly declared he would serve a new King. His King was the ancient one, the creature of legend.

It shattered the tenuous balance between the various Kurkan factions, and amidst the chaos that followed, the ancient one gradually revealed himself.

He began in the distant desert, far from the Kurkan palace. First, he took control of those furthest lands, and within a year, the tribes began to fall to him, one by one. With the snake tribe supporting him, five others soon followed, and knelt at his feet.

His reputation began to grow. After that, tribes began to approach him on their own, offering to swear their allegiance to him.

The Kurkan King belatedly sent soldiers to try and suppress the rebels, but the situation was already beyond his control. After three years, the ancient one had conquered Kurkan, and the rebels had reached the city where the King resided.

Then came the last day.

“Filthy half-breeds!” The King shouted, as he saw the rebel army storming toward the front of the palace. The sound of a battle horn echoed through its halls.

The King’s final battle was to defend himself, backed by the remnants of his knights. He personally joined the fray, killing many of the rebels with his own hands. It was a fierce fight, but one-sided from the beginning. The victory was not even close.

“Ancient one,” the King said to the invader, refusing to acknowledge the defeat.

The invader approached, dripping blood onto the white stone floor. Seeing him was like looking into the past, a vision of that golden-eyed child the King had sold to the slavers. Now he had returned to Kurkan as an adult. – Posted only on NovelUtopia

The ancient one looked down at the King, and his glowing eyes were the ferocious eyes of an apex predator, that feared nothing. No Kurkan could deny what he was.

The King was only sorry he had not killed him with his own hands when he was a child.

He looked away, averting his eyes from the ancient one. Many rebels followed behind him, and the King smiled bitterly at the familiar faces.

“Haban. Genin…”

They had once been his escorts.

“I didn’t know that the dogs had come back, to bite their master’s hand.”

Neither of them responded. The King spread his arms defiantly.

“You have come to kill me?”

The ancient one approached instead, walking slowly toward him.

“You promised me your throne,” he said, with his wild nature filling his voice. “You told me to come back and take it. I am here to see the promise is kept.”

Lifting the curved sword that had taken so many lives, he pointed it at the King.

“I challenge you to a duel for the throne.”

Instantly, the King’s anger erupted.

“You young fool!”

It was an insult. Their swords leapt together and the King gritted his teeth as he wielded his own curved sword, burning with rage at the proposition.

The ancient one could have crushed him with his soldiers, but that was not sufficient. He had invoked the ancient Kurkan tradition of determining dominance by single combat.

He had done so for one simple reason. He did not want his victory clouded with the hands of others. He would defeat the Kurkan King alone, with his own hands, to prove that a half-breed Kurkan could defeat the pureblooded King. It would prove his superiority in terms no one could contest.

It would be a humiliating defeat. The King fought furiously, but the longer the duel went on, the more clearly the difference between the two men was illustrated.

Chapter 317. Isha (17)

Translator: Atlas / Editor: Regan

There was a rumor spreading through Kurkan.

They said an ancient one with golden eyes had appeared.

It was hard to believe that such a legendary creature had ever existed, much less that one had been born now, and a half-breed at that. Most Kurkans dismissed the absurd rumor, sure that it would pass and disappear, as so many others had.

But that wasn’t what happened. On the contrary, as the years passed, the rumor grew, was embellished, spreading like a fire through dry grass.

At the center of the rumor was Morga, chief of the snake tribe.

He was a great sorcerer, the best among them. No one could deny his skill, despite his terrible personality. Even the King was trying to sway Morga to his side. But through the endless civil war, Morga had never chosen a side. No matter what happened, he had been resolutely neutral.

And now, he suddenly declared he would serve a new King. His King was the ancient one, the creature of legend.

It shattered the tenuous balance between the various Kurkan factions, and amidst the chaos that followed, the ancient one gradually revealed himself.

He began in the distant desert, far from the Kurkan palace. First, he took control of those furthest lands, and within a year, the tribes began to fall to him, one by one. With the snake tribe supporting him, five others soon followed, and knelt at his feet.

His reputation began to grow. After that, tribes began to approach him on their own, offering to swear their allegiance to him.

The Kurkan King belatedly sent soldiers to try and suppress the rebels, but the situation was already beyond his control. After three years, the ancient one had conquered Kurkan, and the rebels had reached the city where the King resided.

Then came the last day.

“Filthy half-breeds!” The King shouted, as he saw the rebel army storming toward the front of the palace. The sound of a battle horn echoed through its halls.

The King’s final battle was to defend himself, backed by the remnants of his knights. He personally joined the fray, killing many of the rebels with his own hands. It was a fierce fight, but one-sided from the beginning. The victory was not even close.

“Ancient one,” the King said to the invader, refusing to acknowledge the defeat.

The invader approached, dripping blood onto the white stone floor. Seeing him was like looking into the past, a vision of that golden-eyed child the King had sold to the slavers. Now he had returned to Kurkan as an adult. – Posted only on NovelUtopia

The ancient one looked down at the King, and his glowing eyes were the ferocious eyes of an apex predator, that feared nothing. No Kurkan could deny what he was.

The King was only sorry he had not killed him with his own hands when he was a child.

He looked away, averting his eyes from the ancient one. Many rebels followed behind him, and the King smiled bitterly at the familiar faces.

“Haban. Genin…”

They had once been his escorts.

“I didn’t know that the dogs had come back, to bite their master’s hand.”

Neither of them responded. The King spread his arms defiantly.

“You have come to kill me?”

The ancient one approached instead, walking slowly toward him.

“You promised me your throne,” he said, with his wild nature filling his voice. “You told me to come back and take it. I am here to see the promise is kept.”

Lifting the curved sword that had taken so many lives, he pointed it at the King.

“I challenge you to a duel for the throne.”

Instantly, the King’s anger erupted.

“You young fool!”

It was an insult. Their swords leapt together and the King gritted his teeth as he wielded his own curved sword, burning with rage at the proposition.

The ancient one could have crushed him with his soldiers, but that was not sufficient. He had invoked the ancient Kurkan tradition of determining dominance by single combat.

He had done so for one simple reason. He did not want his victory clouded with the hands of others. He would defeat the Kurkan King alone, with his own hands, to prove that a half-breed Kurkan could defeat the pureblooded King. It would prove his superiority in terms no one could contest.

It would be a humiliating defeat. The King fought furiously, but the longer the duel went on, the more clearly the difference between the two men was illustrated.