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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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The Giants’ village.
Managed by the Werebeast Barony and regularly supplied with provisions, it was uniquely known as the Giant’s Fortress Village.
Usually, a place was either a fortress or a village. The dual designation of the Giant’s Fortress Village had a specific reason.
Despite its name, the Giant’s Fortress Village lacked even a simple palisade. It was a collection of crude dwellings, wide open and exposed, clearly a village. It shouldn’t have qualified as a fortress.
The key was its inhabitants: Giants.
Even wild animals and monsters, repelled by their stench and foul breath, avoided the village.
The primitive houses, built by massive hands, were clustered so tightly together that they formed a wall of sorts.
But even breaching these makeshift walls wouldn’t be much of an achievement.
Because within those walls lived the Giants.
While few in number and lacking in intellect, they possessed monstrous strength, capable of crushing a human with their bare hands. And any disturbance would rouse them from their slumber, their fury unleashed in a flurry of axe blows.
That’s why the Giant’s Fortress Village was both a village and a fortress. Its inhabitants, the Giants themselves, were its defense.
And now, Aslan was witnessing an attack on this fortress village.
“Wraiths… so many wraiths…”
A Giant’s voice, filled with terror, echoed through the village. The stench of death, thick and cloying, hung heavy in the air, undeterred by the Giant’s foul breath.
Aslan frowned, jumping down from the Giant’s shoulder. As his feet hit the ground, he heard the screams more clearly.
Not human screams, but the roars of Giants, echoing from within the large, tent-like dwellings, rising above the village.
As Aslan took in the scene, the Giants who had been carrying him hesitated, then stepped forward.
“We have a Great One with us! He will kill the wraiths for us! We will fight without fear!”
One of the Giants roared, his voice booming through the village. The other Giants, their fear momentarily forgotten, looked at Aslan, a sudden, almost childlike trust in their eyes.
“I’ll go first!”
The Giant who had initially interrogated Aslan shouted, then charged into the village, his stone axe raised high, his own roar swallowed by the cacophony of screams echoing from within the village.
“Our leader is right! We have a Great One with us!”
“I’ll fight too!”
The other Giants, their faces almost identical, roared their agreement and followed their leader, their heavy footsteps shaking the ground, their battle cries a strange mix of fear and bravado, slowly drowning out the screams coming from the village.
“…Damn it.”
Aslan, caught off guard by their sudden charge, watched them go, then drew his sword.
As the blade shimmered with a white light, he spoke,
“Let’s go. Before those idiots get themselves killed.”
Ereta, her expression neutral, drew her weapons, and Angie, gripping her staff tightly, followed.
Aslan led them into the village.
The situation was worse, and far more chaotic, than he had expected.
Giants were running everywhere, their movements a confused jumble of panicked flight and reckless charges. Those fleeing collided with those attacking, creating further chaos.
“Get out of my way! I’m going to fight!”
“You idiot! Run! You can’t kill wraiths!”
“No! The Great One is here! He’ll kill them!”
Their nonsensical shouts added to the confusion, making it difficult for Aslan to focus.
But he could fight, even in the midst of chaos. He gripped his sword tightly and charged forward, pushing his way through the throng of arguing Giants.
–Swish!
He ran, his sword a blur, then swung, a diagonal upward slash, as a giant wraith lunged at him. The wraith’s arm was severed.
Aslan slid to a stop, shifting his grip to one hand as the wraith swung its other arm. He used the flat of his blade to deflect the blow.
–Clang!
He swung again, a swift, powerful blow that severed the wraith’s other arm, sending it flying. Blue sparks flew from the wound. As the now armless wraith lowered its head, Aslan’s sword flashed, a streak of white light.
–Thump.
The wraith’s head fell to the ground, its scream echoing through the village.
The true death of an undead creature, severed and silenced.
–Screech!
A Giant, who had been cowering nearby, saw the wraith fall and shouted,
“The Great One! He really killed a wraith!”
“Then fight, you idiot!”
Another Giant retorted, and the first Giant, emboldened, ripped a nearby tree from the ground.
“I’ll fight too! I’ll smash the wraiths!”
Their simple, almost childlike, exchange made Aslan wince. He ignored them, his eyes scanning the area beyond the fallen wraith. More wraiths were approaching.
And they weren’t all giant wraiths.
Giant serpents, thick-bodied lizards resembling pterosaurs, even monstrous forms reminiscent of trolls.
Animal wraiths, as well as monstrous ones. Aslan frowned. This wasn’t normal.
Wraiths were supposed to be humanoid. This abundance of different forms defied everything he knew about Gelladrion, both from the game and his twelve years of experience.
“Graaagh!”
But he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He adjusted his grip on his sword and charged towards a wraith that was attacking a Giant.
His sword flashed, cleaving the wraith in two, and as it screamed and dissolved, the Giants, their morale boosted by the sight, raised their weapons and charged at the remaining wraiths.
“Giants, stop! Don’t engage them recklessly!”
Aslan shouted, seeing the Giants struggling against the wraiths, their physical attacks ineffective. They were being injured, even killed. He felt a surge of panic.
His warning was lost in the din of battle. He gritted his teeth, adjusted his grip on his swords, and began to cut down the wraiths, his movements a blur.
His blades shimmered with a white light, slicing through the wraiths’ translucent forms, cleaving them in two, in three, sometimes even more, his attacks precise and efficient, the blades unaffected by the lack of blood and gore.
And with each wraith he killed, more Giants charged forward, emboldened, creating a frustrating cycle of rescue and reckless attack.
Aslan, accustomed to killing those who attacked him, found the Giants’ willingness to die for him unsettling. He continued his relentless assault, cutting down wraiths one after another.
“Damn it!”
Focusing on the wraiths surrounding him, he inevitably left himself open. Angie swung her staff at a wolf wraith that had lunged at her, but the weapon passed straight through its ethereal form.
The wolf wraith, seeing its opportunity, opened its jaws wide, revealing rows of sharp, white teeth, and lunged at Angie.
As the wraith’s fangs closed in on her throat, Angie raised her staff to block.
–Screech!
The wraith’s teeth scraped against the staff. Angie lost her grip, and the wolf wraith, lowering its body, prepared to attack again.
Angie, seeing the wraith pounce, instinctively ducked, her body low to the ground, almost prone. The wraith’s jaws snapped shut inches above her. Angie, using the momentum from the deflected attack, spun around, planting her hands on the ground and kicking upwards with her heel.
–Crack!
A brutal counterattack, a display of surprising agility and flexibility.
The wolf wraith’s head exploded, its jaws still open.
“Huh?”
Angie watched the wraith scream and dissolve, its form disintegrating, and then she understood. A sudden realization.
With an almost instinctive understanding, she realized the wraiths only materialized when they attacked.
It was an unusual characteristic, not seen in ordinary wraiths.
“Hey! We can kill them when they attack!”
Aslan, hearing her shout, frowned, but he drew his axes.
A troll-like wraith stood before him, raising its arms, its hands clasped together, ready to strike. Just as it swung, its forearms shimmered, turning a sickly white.
Aslan leaped to the side, dodging the blow.
–Whoosh!
–Crack!
His axe swung upwards, cleaving through the wraith’s arm, almost simultaneously with the wraith’s attack. The severed limb fell to the ground, and the wraith roared.
It was true. They only materialized when they attacked. And their attacks were physical. Aslan, still finding this strange, swung his sword, severing the wraith’s leg, then, using the momentum, spun around,
–Swish!
…and sliced through the wraith’s head. The wraith, its face split in two, died instantly, its scream cut short.
With Aslan aggressively hunting the wraiths, Angie taking them down with well-timed counterattacks, and Ereta, though hesitant, joining the fight, their numbers dwindled rapidly.
“They’re running! The wraiths are running!”
“We won! We’re strong!”
As the number of slain wraiths exceeded twenty, the remaining wraiths, one of them missing an arm from Aslan’s attack, turned and fled, their screams echoing through the village. The wraiths fighting the Giants also retreated.
The Giants roared, their cries a mixture of triumph and grief. Those who hadn’t joined the fight lay dead on the ground.
Most of them were the Giants who had carried Aslan and his companions to the village.
Aslan looked around, his heart sinking as he realized he didn’t recognize any of the survivors.
“Damn it.”
He had hoped to be able to introduce himself properly, but more than that, he felt a pang of guilt, seeing the Giants who had died for him.
But there was nothing he could do for the dead. As he sheathed his weapons, his expression grim, a Giant, its body adorned with bones and animal hides, approached.
“Thank you, human! I am the Chieftain of the Giant’s Fortress Village!”
The Giant’s booming voice made Aslan wince, covering his ear.
The Giant showed no sign of suspicion.
Thanks to the other Giants, who had proclaimed him a Great One without understanding what that meant, he hadn’t been questioned.
The Chieftain stopped before him and spoke,
“We’ve been asking for help for days! You humans are late! Many Giants have died! Why…”
“Wait.”
Aslan, considering his response, was interrupted by a strange sensation, an unfamiliar energy.
The energy, clearly perceptible thanks to his increased Mana and Luck, was faint, almost familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
It emanated from the direction the wraiths had fled, a prickling sensation, like insects crawling on his skin, a shiver running down his spine.
Aslan frowned, then saw the footprints leading away from the village, following the wraiths’ path. He knelt, examining them closely.
They weren’t human or Giant footprints. And there were many of them, all heading in the same direction.
The Chieftain, seeing Aslan’s strange behavior, looked around at the other Giants and shrugged. Aslan, ignoring him, his mind racing, felt the Chieftain’s shadow fall over him.
Wraiths were creatures of the night.
And yet, these wraiths had appeared in broad daylight.
Their method of attack was also unusual. Wraiths typically drained life force or inflicted curses. But these wraiths had attacked physically.
And they had been vulnerable to physical attacks, dying at the hands of Angie, Ereta, and even the Giants.
The footprints led away from the village, and creatures that shouldn’t be able to become wraiths had become wraiths.
Aslan stood up, his gaze fixed on the direction the wraiths had fled.
“Human! Why did you interrupt me?! I wasn’t finished…!”
“Chieftain. Could you do me a favor?”
“Huh?”
Aslan looked at the Giant, who was scratching his chin, and said,
“Gather the Giants who killed the wraiths, and bring me their weapons.”
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The forest had no name.
It was close to a well-known village, which might have been one reason. But the main reason was its ordinariness. There was nothing remarkable about it.
It wasn’t teeming with wildlife, it had no valuable resources, no nearby villages, and no trade routes ran through it.
Because of this, it was rarely visited, and bandits occasionally used it as a hideout. But today, it was eerily quiet.
And within that quiet, something stirred.
Hidden in the shadows, a figure resembling a Giant, but not quite.
It had four arms and six breasts, its long, distended body oozing pus.
Two of its eyes, rolled back, were embedded in its forehead, while the other two remained in their sockets, staring blankly ahead.
Those eyes were the only normal thing about it.
Half of its face was torn and mangled, the exposed flesh a gruesome testament to its unnatural state.
The deformed Giant rolled its eyes, then focused on something in the distance.
Another Giant, its four arms busily shaping a bluish mass, stopped its work and lumbered towards it, two of its arms dragging along the ground.
Wraiths, a multitude of them, emerged from the direction the deformed Giant was facing and approached it.
They rubbed their heads against its body, its arms, its legs, and the giant let out a low moan, its hands caressing them.
The wraiths, some missing limbs, others with their faces partially torn away, huddled against it like children seeking comfort, and the Giant, in turn, soothed them, its touch gentle.
Its hand paused, its fingers tracing a deep gash on one of the wraiths.
“…Ah…”
Its eyes rolled back, showing only the whites. The troll-like wraith whimpered, accepting the touch, and the Giant’s hand sank deep into its ethereal flesh.
–Squish. Squish.
The wraith let out a silent scream of pain, and the deformed Giant refocused its gaze.
“Are there… still living kin… nearby…? No, no…”
Its touch, its corrupted divine energy, burned the wraith, its flesh dissolving where her hand rested.
The divine energy within her resonated with the energy of the wound, causing her immense pain.
Her four eyes rolled back again, and she whimpered, her voice filled with a desperate longing.
“Mother?”
The dying demigoddess wept, her mind consumed by a frenzied grief.
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