The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 84: Lovesickness (2)

The night’s hunter had returned. By the time Vikir came back to the Balak village, the Red Death had already swept through the entire Black and Red mountains. Balak had managed to build reservoirs and dams to contain the damage, so their losses were relatively small. However, neighboring tribes were in a dire state.

Ahun was the first to rush forward when he heard the news of Vikir’s return. With a tearful face, he immediately embraced Vikir.

“You’ve returned!”

Ahun had looked emaciated over the past few days. After his younger sister, Ahul, fell victim to the Red Death, he hardly ate or slept, devoting himself entirely to her care. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he held Vikir’s hand.

“Thank you for coming back. You’re a loyal friend. Even if you couldn’t bring the cure, just your return…”

It seemed like they misunderstood Vikir because he returned empty-handed. But Vikir had indeed brought something miraculous – a remedy that could heal all of the affected people.

“Follow me.”

“…?”

Vikir, feeling puzzled, grabbed Ahun and headed straight for Ahun’s dwelling, which was located near the village entrance. Ahul lay there, moaning in pain. She was the first to be afflicted by the Red Death, and her condition was the most severe. Although her face had become partially disfigured, there was no trace of filth or stench thanks to Ahun’s careful care.

Without hesitation, Vikir produced a glass vial containing the “Tears of the Saintess,” and without even opening the bottle, the divine light radiated from it. Astonishingly, just the emitted light seemed to remove the Red Death from Ahul’s body. The red spots on her skin were disappearing rapidly.

The disease that had tormented her body so much vanished with such ease that it seemed almost anticlimactic.

“…! …! …!”

Ahun’s eyes widened to the point of bursting as he witnessed this miraculous scene. He was unable to scream. He stood motionless, most likely overwhelmed by his emotions. Ahun stroked Ahul’s face gently with trembling hands. The girl who had been suffering with a contorted face had now fallen asleep with a peaceful expression, which Ahun hadn’t seen in her in a long time. The only sound in the room was her steady breathing.

“…Vikir!”

Ahun shouted breathlessly, then repeated it several times.

“Vikir! Vikir! Vikir!”

Ahun shouted breathlessly, and he repeated it several times like a devout priest carefully invoking the name of a deity in prayer. It was an expression filled with boundless trust, affection, and joy, just as if he were a deeply religious person offering a prayer. And Ahun’s close comrades felt the same way.

They were friends who were close enough to entrust their lives to each other. They had to stand by and watch their friend’s pain and suffering.

They couldn’t help but enthusiastically chant Vikir’s name in front of Vikir’s miracle, which had exploded their previous anxiety, despair, powerlessness, and frustration.

“Vikir! Vikir! Vikir! Vikir!”

The cheers from the burly warriors of Ballak echoed through the palace, nearly bringing it to collapse. However, Vikir remained calm amidst this fervent atmosphere.

He had only cured one patient so far, and there was still a long way to go. Vikir asked Ahun and the Ballak warriors who had gathered around him, “How many patients are there?”

“Including Ahul, there are about thirty.”

Vikir nodded in response. It was a relatively small number, considering the circumstances. However, they couldn’t afford to be complacent.

“What about the other tribes?”

Ahun replied with a dark expression, “They’re in despair. Some tribes are almost on the brink of extinction. Those who didn’t build the dams and reservoirs suffered less, but…”

Vikir pressed further, “How many patients do they have?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s a lot. Like a herd of wild goats on those hills over there.”

It seemed to be in the thousands. Vikir made a decision.

“Gather all the patients from the other tribes as well.”

“Eh? Even from the other tribes? But do you have enough medicine?”

“We have plenty; don’t worry. Let’s use this opportunity to show some goodwill to the other tribes.”

Upon hearing Vikir’s words, Ahun, and the other young warriors’ expressions brightened considerably. They couldn’t help but worry about their fellow tribespeople.

Despite occasional conflicts over marriages or hunting grounds, they were all part of the same community and often connected by friendship or kinship. When faced with a crisis, they had a history of coming together as one and overcoming it.

As Ballak’s warriors rushed out to spread this joyful news, Vikir, on the other hand, gazed at the vial of the Saintess’s Tears.

“This is a chance to exert pressure on Baskerville.”

Vikir intended to use this opportunity to put significant pressure on Baskerville. They were tasked with exploring and conquering the Red and Black Mountains. If Vikir could control the natives, he would increase his chances against Hugo.

Natives were known for their tenacity, piercing through the razor-sharp leaves of the Sword Forest with their bare skin and traversing the forest floor, littered with traps and snares, as if it were covered in a bed of nails. They could shoot arrows accurately from thousands of feet away, striking the leaves of the willow trees with pinpoint precision, and they could cleave giant beasts into halves with their axes and swords.

These were the daily lives of the Red and Black Mountains’ natives. If Vikir could somehow repay a great debt to them, they would undoubtedly be a powerful card against Baskerville. Moreover, if the native tribes could effectively stop the epidemic and thrive, they would naturally become a force that could exert pressure on Baskerville and even the Empire as a whole.

“To maintain friendly relations with them, I need to continue this,” Vikir thought to himself. Currently, he is regarded as a hero in Ballak, and this incident would propel him to the status of a hero for all the tribes in the jungle.

“We don’t have much time. We need to act quickly to prevent more casualties,” Vikir remarked, looking at the vial of the Saintess’s Tears.

He had already used the tears to heal all of Ballak’s patients. Now, what remained was the purification of the water source. They needed to distribute the Saintess’s Tears into the river that flowed from the highest point in the jungle and spread through all the lowlands.

Vikir acted swiftly. During his two years in the jungle, he had already identified the locations where these water sources connected. All the tribes of the jungle gathered behind Vikir. This included the cannibalistic witch tribe Rokoko, known for its barbaric practices, and the warrior tribe Renaissance, whose members could take on an entire Imperial army with just an axe.

When Chief Aquilla, leading all these tribes, reached the river’s source, she said, “Everyone, just drink from this river.”

Vikir sprinkled the Saintess’s Tears into the river. Soon, a bright light emanated from the entire river, resembling the Milky Way descending from the night sky and flowing on the earth, a beautiful spectacle.

Enchanted by this mysterious light, the native tribes naturally scooped up the river water with their hands and drank it. Then, a miracle happened—the Red Death began to vanish.

“O-ohhhh!”

A thunderous roar erupted throughout the jungle. Chief Aquila of Ballak shouted with joy, “Vikir, we must appoint you as the shaman of our tribe!”

It was like a night fox praising a night dog’s prowess. In addition to that, all the tribes present here, each speaking their own languages and using their own gestures, shouted in Vikir’s direction. While their ways of expression were different, their intentions were the same—love, respect, and gratitude were pouring out, enough to overwhelm the heart.

Among the patients who had come forward to thank Vikir, those who had family members, friends, or were patients themselves knelt before him, showing the utmost reverence. It was a sincere expression of gratitude from everyone in the jungle to Vikir.

Even the stubborn old men in Ballak who had previously regarded Vikir with unfavourable looks lowered their heads deeply in gratitude. They were genuinely thankful for saving their sons, daughters, sons-in-law, daughters-in-law, grandsons, and granddaughters.

Meanwhile, Vikir continued his work.

“…?”

As Vikir continued treating numerous patients, he was also searching for someone. He had heard that “someone” was affected by the Red Death, but their face wasn’t visible among the crowded patients. Vikir furrowed his brow, scanning the sea of patients, but the person he was looking for was nowhere to be found.

Just then, a series of rapid footsteps echoed through the area: tap-tap-tap-tap-thud. Vikir could tell from the noisy approach that the person he was searching for had arrived. He turned his head.

Thud!

Something collided with him at an incredible speed, wrapping its arms around him tightly. It was Aiyen. She had rushed towards Vikir like an arrow and embraced him with great force.

Thunk!

Vikir’s muscles tightened, and his bones felt like they might snap any moment. He had to summon his mana just to stay upright. After a moment, he managed to raise Aiyen’s cheek with his hand.

“Weren’t you affected by the Red Death?” Vikir asked.

However, Aiyen, who was staring at him intently, seemed perfectly fine. There was no sign of the disease on her body, no sweating, and her complexion looked healthy. The only unusual thing was a faint blush on her entire face.

Just to be sure, Vikir sprinkled some of the river water with the Saintess’s Tears on her face, but the blush didn’t fade. Aiyen, with a puzzled expression, looked at her own body.

“…What’s going on?” she mumbled with confusion, scratching her head. Then, she turned her gaze back to Vikir and said, “It seems like the illness is gone?”