Chapter 407
Atan.

A manifesting species native to the North. Driven by raw, primal morality, they are aggressive beings who primarily feed on monsters.

In truth, it’s less of a species and more of an identity—a title bestowed upon those who awaken the instincts buried deep within themselves.

KRAAAANG!

A deafening roar tore through the air, forcing everyone to drop to the ground, clutching their ears. It felt like their senses were overloaded. Their ears rang, their vision blurred by a yellowish fog of dust—and the sharp scent of blood filled the air.

What on earth was happening? On a battlefield where beings far beyond human limits clashed, what were they even doing here? The price paid to etch a single line in history seemed far too steep.

One Burgos soldier cautiously lifted his head. Through the haze, a faint silhouette appeared—someone blocking King Damon’s path.

“Ah, hello there.”

“…”

Ziiing. Ziiing.

A woman with an Afro hairstyle stood firm, parrying Ian’s attacks with a black sword. Her golden eyes marked her unmistakably as a mage. She flashed a sharp glance and swung her blade at Ian.

“Hey, you’re quite the handsome one! A lackey of Bariel, huh? Hm?”

Clang! Clink!

Bang! Shing!

Ian raised his sword to block and stepped back. As his vision cleared, soldiers near Damon immediately thrust their Idgal spears forward, stabbing relentlessly.

At the same time, a sudden tearing sound echoed—the capture nets, usually used for hunting beasts, were snapping. The amber-colored nets that blanketed the sky shimmered, seemingly crafted specifically to trap Ian.

Now it made sense why Damon rode a conspicuous white horse and deliberately provoked Tommy. The reason behind it all was becoming clear.

Ian quickly retreated, and the Atan woman rolled aside, putting distance between them.

“Hey now! King Damon! This isn’t proper!”

“I didn’t expect you to intervene.”

“We’re friends, remember? So shouldn’t we be considerate of each other, at least on a sensory level?”

The woman rested her sword on her shoulder, muscles rippling like a wild stallion’s. She seemed to be the current chieftain of the Atan tribe.

“Pleasure to meet you! It’s been a while since I’ve seen a mage besides myself. I’m Efdiram. I’d shake your hand, but this doesn’t seem like the right time.”

“Waaah!”

“The Atan have joined the fight!”

“Burgos troops, advance! Forward! If you think about retreating, you might as well die!”

“Those who fall back will face the king’s severe punishment!”

“Kill them! Kiiill!”

Shouts erupted everywhere, announcing the arrival of the Atan. The enemy’s morale was being cut down to boost their own. Both sides, momentarily hesitant, plunged back into the bloody fray with renewed vigor.

Damon grabbed Tommy by the hair, pressing his sword to the boy’s throat. Ian hesitated. Attacks from soldiers targeting Ian continued intermittently, but mages watching from above the battlefield wouldn’t allow any harm.

Fwoom! Fwoom!

“Ian, I’ll say this once more. Take everyone and return to Bariel. Now that you hold military command, isn’t this the perfect time for you? If you retreat, my mages will kindly escort you back.”

Efdiram frowned, puzzled by what the others were saying, while Ian let out a small chuckle.

Damon was mistaken about the secret Ian carried. He assumed Ian was a hidden member of the current royal family, advising him to return to Bariel and swiftly overthrow the ten-year-old crown prince.

Ian smiled and awakened his magic once again. Damon, unwilling to be outdone, pressed his sword deeper into Tommy’s throat.

“I’m serious. If this guy dies, the other two mages in our camp will die with him. You’d better choose wisely. Mages are rare, gifts from the heavens, aren’t they? Hm? Ian!”

At that moment, Tommy, who had been writhing in pain, regained some consciousness. His eyes, once only white, sharpened until he recognized Ian.

For Bariel, for the war, Ian had declared that the lives of mages came first—but that resolve wavered, if only for a moment. It was fleeting, and so deep within Ian’s heart that no one noticed.

Locking eyes with Ian, Tommy gave a faint smile. His bloodied teeth gleamed as his expression brightened. He raised an eyebrow as if to say he knew everything, then bit his own tongue.

“E—!”

Damon quickly bit his own sleeve, but the bleeding was severe.

With the king’s attention turned toward Tommy, Ian realized this was the opportunity he’d been given—and he didn’t hesitate.

Clenching his teeth, Ian unleashed his magic. His sword shimmered brilliantly as the power coursed through it, and then his green eyes flashed as he dashed toward the command center, leaving only a lingering afterimage.

KRAAANG! BANG!

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going!”

Efdiram, the Atan chieftain, sprang up swiftly. Her speed rivaled Ian’s lightning-fast movement. Just as her sword pierced toward the right side of Ian’s neck—

Chaaang!

“What the hell. New face.”

“Well, what’s this now?”

Beric blocked Efdiram’s strike.

Seizing the moment, Ian continued charging toward Damon, while Efdiram whistled sharply, signaling all Atan warriors to join the battle.

Whoosh!

Warriors leapt up from the hillside.

Among the Cliffford ranks, the magic swordsmen sensed something unusual. Nearly half seemed ordinary, but that meant the rest possessed extraordinary spirit. The power of warriors who had awakened to their Atan identity was palpable.

Bariel’s magic swordsmen also took to the air, each facing off against an Atan warrior.

KRAAANG! BANG!

“Redhead.”

“Why, you curly-headed one.”

Efdiram tilted her head in curiosity as her sword clashed with Beric’s. Her sixth sense for recognizing species stirred. Without showing strain, she gradually increased the pressure on her blade. Beric’s waist began to bend under the force.

“Starting with this sharp-mouthed one, I can tell you’re one of ours. Bariel, huh? How old?”

“Forty-one. Damn it.”

“See? Not an ordinary guy. Your magic flow doesn’t look like a mage’s—it’s more like a magic swordsman’s. Where’d you get that sword?”

Only then did Beric realize his black sword and Efdiram’s were similar. Hers was slightly thinner, but the material was definitely the same.

Efdiram grinned and leaned close to Beric’s face. He recoiled in shock.

“See? The fate of Atan can’t be denied.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve been going on about burning or something this whole time!”

“I don’t know the details, but just having a black sword like that is your destiny. It’s like a magnet. The sword’s material is the same as ours.”

The black sword lures monsters, drawing them in. The Atan then feed on the blood of the monsters it attracts. It’s a natural cycle, perfectly intertwined.

“But why are you on Bariel’s side? You look like you don’t have a clue, but can’t you tell right from wrong?”

“What? Your head’s weirder! Curly-haired freak!”

“There’s a massive rift beneath Cliffford. If it opens, it’ll be a monster’s paradise, idiot.”

“Ian hates that!”

Clang! Clink!

Beric barely parried Efdiram’s strikes and rolled back.

She shook her head, more confused than ever. The North was flooded with monsters, but political complications tangled with vested interests made things messy.

Whenever the Atan rampaged to hunt monsters, they were told to stand down here and there. The world was complicated enough, and some feared the Atan’s rise, so they formed vigilante groups to preemptively eliminate both Atan and monsters.

If a new monster outbreak occurred in Cliffford, the Atan planned to be the first to stake their claim. That was why they accepted Damon’s invitation.

“You don’t know you’re Atan?”

“You know me? When did you see me to keep calling me that—!”

“Idiot, you can tell at a glance. You don’t become chieftain for nothing. This guy’s a real piece of work. A magic swordsman who doesn’t even know where his own bowl is.”

“My bowl’s in the palace!”

“Oh? So you’re the palace’s personal guard? Not bad. You know the saying, birds of a feather flock together? You know that, right? Birds of a feather.”

Beric frantically launched attacks, but Efdiram calmly blocked them all.

It was a somewhat interesting face. He’d come just to scout a new monster outbreak, and here he was, meeting the Atan. It felt like running into a fellow countryman far from home.

“That’s why I’m sticking with Ian.”

“Ian? Who’s that? Bariel’s lackey?”

“Hahaha!”

In battle, Beric was clever. Annoying and unpleasant, yes, but Efdiram’s swordsmanship and strength were superior. It reminded him of the tough fight he’d had against Jerat.

So what choice did he have? Even though he was told to conserve magic, he had no choice but to unleash it. Sword energy flowed around him, and his red hair whipped wildly. Efdiram lowered her stance, intrigued, gripping her sword tighter.

“Looks like you’re top-tier.”

“I’m not meat, you know!”

“That means it’s perfect for slicing and eating, you idiot!”

“Curly head!”

“Redhead!”

“Never met a musclehead who’s good at fighting!”

“You think I took down the chief for free, you little punk?!”

Crack! Bang!

The Atan warriors, who had been cutting down the Clifford soldiers, glanced toward Efdiram with a sniffle. Here we go again, their eyes seemed to say. Being a group of aggressive fighters, they had all clashed swords with Efdiram before. And the result?

Swish!

Efdiram’s blade sliced cleanly into Beric’s side—precise and neat. She licked the blood off her sword and smiled.

“Not bad.”

“…Ugh. Pervert.”

“Never tasted monster blood, huh? It’s the best thing for awakening. Sweet and delicious enough to make your head spin. The finest flavor no human can ever know—that’s the blessing the Atan received.”

Beric gritted his teeth, clutching his bleeding side as he spat. Since old man Jarrett, this was the first worthy sparring partner. His eyes screamed, “You’re dead today.”

“Good. I like that look.”

“Damn it, you sound more perverted every time you speak!”

“Come on! I’ll stomp you properly! That’s how the Atan brand each other!”

“Yeah, go ahead and try. I’m gonna kill you and eat the meat Ian gives me!”

Ian, Ian, Ian. Why does that idiot keep mentioning Ian’s name in front of Bariel’s lackey?

Efdiram tilted her head slightly, glancing toward Ian.

“Oh?”

Everywhere around her, swords and spears rained down, but she dodged each one with perfect focus. Damon was dragging a bloodied mage hostage backward to avoid Ian, but the distance was closing fast.

The way Ian cut through the enemies and sent them flying, only for the sky mage to finish them off, was so flawlessly coordinated it was almost awe-inspiring.

At Damon’s urgent signal, the synthetic monsters moved.

“Hey, Burgos! We brought monster hides, remember?”

Noticed? Efdiram scratched her head as Burgos was seen hauling a monster corpse up the hillside.

Good. That’s it. Though the blood had been drained, the body was intact enough for the necromancers to use.

Swish!

“What are you doing? Stop them!”

“We’re trying—”

“Isn’t there just one? What’s everyone waiting for?!”

Frustrated, Burgos himself drew his sword and stepped forward.

But Ian charged at terrifying speed. His eyes were icy cold, frozen over. The enemy blood soaking his pale cheeks seemed to match that chill.

The general shouted and lunged at Ian.

“Hyaah!”

Swish!

But before the shout could finish, his head dropped in an instant. The sharp, shimmering magic cleanly sliced between helmet and armor. Ian lifted the severed head and threw it toward Damon.

“Damon. That won’t be enough of a thank-you for what you sent my way. Wait. I’ll make you the same.”