Iron Blooded Hound

Chapter 53: Chapter 53: Chains of the Jungle

Aiyen, a Ballak fighter and the daughter of a clan leader, addressed Vikir before her.

"Get down."

Could it be said that she was attempting to make the pecking order understood? In any case, it didn't seem like that was her expectation.

Because...

Pfft.

Vikir felt an impact of air coming toward him.

Simultaneously...

...Pot!

Aiyen pulled on the rope around Vikir's neck.

As Vikir dodged, a flimsy bolt went by his back, stirring things up around town with a crash.

Aiyen yelled, "You young men, mightn't you at any point go practice elsewhere!"

Out of nowhere, a stirring sound came from past the shrubs, and a gathering of small kids came running.

Every one had a bow and bolt in his grasp.

"...."

Vikir lifted his head once more and looked at Aiyen before him.

The young lady shaking off the water before her.

The young lady he had safeguarded from the slave closeout previously.

Aiyen told Vikir, "We meet on the circle, right?"

He spoke in Balak, judging his abilities in the language to be better than Aiyen's in Majestic.

"... ... I see you once more."

Aiyen's eyes broadened at the Balak language emerging from Vikir's mouth.

"Do you speak Balak?"

"A tad."

She walked to stand before Vikir, her eyes wide with amazement.

She had a couple of short bits of deerskin around her, yet she didn't seem to have any disgrace.

Aiyen moved forward to stand before Vikir.

"We were thankful then. We will reimburse your approval two times and your retaliation ten times."

"...."

"You saved me once, so I will save you two times."

"...."

"I never suspected you'd attempt to battle 'her', I took off and returned for good measure."

Surely, Vikir would have been killed by Madame Eight-Legged, the Dull One, on the off chance that the rope Aiyen had tossed hadn't been gotten around his neck so as to pull him back.

...So what is the other time?

At the point when Vikir viewed at him as though requesting a clarification, the sides of Aiyen's eyes drew a fox-like bend.

"Did you not see it on the way here?"

She directed past the hedges toward the bitter section of smoke ascending from the town.

Vikir thought about the detainees he'd met en route.

Maybe she would share a comparative destiny.

Maybe it was the Aiyen before him who had forestalled it.

Assuming this is the case, that brought up a more central issue.

"For what reason did you save me?"

Was it just to reimburse some help? Assuming this is the case, there would be not a glaringly obvious explanation for him to toss the noose around his neck in any case.

Furthermore, Aiyen was by all accounts not the only one who needed to put a noose around Vikir's neck.

Each female fighter in Balak that day had her sights set on Vikir's neck.

As Aiyen cut into the pizza, Vikir asked her obtusely.

"Is this some sort of spouse chase or something like that?"

"Goodness, you probably caught wind of it some place."

It's not only the Balak, most savages in the wilderness abduct their mates from outside the clan.

The thought is to keep away from interbreeding and get new blood.

The Balak, obviously, are a fighter clan, so the actual strength of the abductee is a major variable.

Aiyen orbited around Vikir once.

Like an appraiser assessing a piece of product.

Meanwhile, Vikir had been thinking a great deal.

Imagine a scenario where they let the Baskervilles know that they were alive, and they arranged a prisoner.

That would discourage their arrangements.

Their arrangement to remain off Hugo's radar and develop their fortitude would be destroyed.

To stop it, you need to get away from this spot or obliterate every one of them... ... That was unthinkable with Vikir's ongoing state of being

Be that as it may, Vikir had stressed in vain.

They didn't appear to have any goal of slowing down him.

Aiyen looked at Vikir and said, "Try not to be mixed up. Dislike different ladies. I needn't bother with a spouse."

"...."

"You have been caught to be utilized as a slave."

She pondered, however didn't express it without holding back, in the event that it had been important to toss the noose so frantically.

At the point when Vikir stayed still, Aiyen waved the canine choker in his grasp.

"You will not have the option to pass for a man with that body in any case, so you should become accustomed to life as a slave."

Ordinarily, Balak ladies see only reproducing in the men they catch from the rest of the world.

In the event that the man neglects to satisfy his job as a male, they normally kill him, however luckily (?) Aiyen doesn't appear to have the sense to do as such.

Aiyen threw his garments to Vikir at the water's edge.

Vikir gets it, and the collar pulls rigid.

Aiyen drove the way back to the town.

"You will reside before my home and serve me."

Vikir's whole body shouted with each step, however he kept his mouth shut in any case.

Fortunately his body is recuperating rapidly, on account of the force of Murcielago.

To Vikir, Aiyen provided his most memorable request, momentarily.

"We should get our customs fixed."

Strolling ahead, Aiyen stopped at the entry to the family and glanced back at Vikir.

He peered down and squinted his eyes.

"Call me ace."

Vikir slipped again into the town of the Balak.

They lived unreservedly in the thick wilderness.

The idea of individual property appeared to be remote.

In the event that you didn't have a spot to rest, you dozed in a neighbor's tent, and nobody disapproved.

Assuming they were ravenous, they ate from individuals who had a lot of food, and they were glad to share.

There appeared to be a common cognizance that everything goes back and forth, so we should share while we have it.

They accumulated at a companion's home with a huge tent, played merrily, and nodded off.

Kindling, meat, and liquor were shared liberally, and there was no yamcha.

Regardless of whether they had been grabbed from an external perspective, whenever they were perceived as individuals from the clan, they could go anyplace and come anyplace.

Generally, an energetic and inviting environment.

However, the skeletons of prisoners swinging from the thistle trees at the clan's limit passed on an alternate message.

This is Balak's faction, a land that is unforgiving to outcasts however unendingly cordial and free to inhabitants.

... In any case, inside the tribe, there is a "honorable zone" where even insiders are not permitted to meander.

Vikir's objective was one of those couple of spots.

A huge tent in the focal point of the town.

It seemed as though it could hold up to two dozen individuals, however even the kids playing before it were not permitted to approach.

Passing champions generally bowed their heads in respect toward the entry of this tent.

Those barbecuing meat were mindful so as to hold the smoke back from floating toward this path, and those setting up the guts of their prey were mindful so as to hold the fragrance of blood back from floating away.

"'... ... Is this the tribal leader's home?

Vikir speculated from the size of the tent.

Aiyen snatched the chain around Vikir's neck and stepped inside.

"Mother."

Vikir could see the figure Aiyen looked for.

Inside the tent, there was a seat with a huge bird cut into it, and a lady sitting leg over leg, leaning back at a point.

A dreary articulation, scars ovipositing all around her body.

She wears a shroud and bottoms made of falcon feathers, and a long, huge bow lays on a staff despite her good faith.

She wore a shroud of hawk feathers, with a long, enormous bow on her back.

Aquila, the ongoing authority of the Balak.

Vikir bowed quietly before her, drawn by Aiyen's touch.

Vikir had proactively understood that the chieftainess' genuine name was Night Fox, as she radiated a weighty presence before him.

The one who had scarred the extension of Glorious Blade Holy person Hugo's nose.

Indeed, even Adolf the Frantic had been crushed by her, and had invested some energy in the assistance.

Her presence was the justification for why Baskerville and the Morg couldn't cross the boundary between the foe and the Dark Mountain.

All things considered, she had killed 16 Slope class fighters, 10 fourth-class mages, and 6 fifth-class mages in her short life.

All without a solitary injury!

She was likewise the person who had left sharpened stone blemishes on the essences of her foes and the Dark Mountain Devil Cerberus.

"Imagine a scenario where it was before the relapse.

On the off chance that I had the option to release the force of my heyday, might I at some point have confronted this lady?

'I would have had a 0% opportunity in a hand-to-hand battle, a 0% opportunity by death, and a... ... 20% possibility by taking off.'

That 20%, obviously, is the opportunity of endurance.

Vikir's psyche hustled as he attempted to measure the lady before him.

All things considered, she was facing a Hugo or an Adolf, a top hunter that she was no counterpart for the present moment.

In the mean time, Aquila glared down at Vikir before her.

"Girl, is this the Supreme male you've been slobbering over?"

"No, when did I at any point say that much... ... yet indeed, he is."

"Hmm. He's more youthful than you, and I perceive his face."

Aquila gazed at Vikir with limited eyes.

The look was like that of a top hunter from a boundlessly raised position, filtering the lesser prey beneath.

There was nothing left but to hold his head down and stay away from her look however much as could be expected.

Luckily, Aquila saw no indication of Hugo on Vikir.

Hugo had solid lines, a square jaw, and a manly appearance, while Vikir took on a greater amount of his mom's highlights.

Aside from that however, Aquila appeared to have a very smart thought of Vikir's state of being.

"I see. What are you doing getting a squandered man?"

"Assuming you treat him well, he'll be worth the effort. He's the person who hopped on Madame Eightlegs."

"Hmph. Indeed, yet rampaging without realizing your place will just cause you problems."

Aquila said.

"Sure. It doesn't make any difference on the off chance that the body is broken or not, as long as the seeds are flawless... ... ."

"Aah! Mother, that is not it, he will be utilized as a slave!"

"What? Yet, isn't that the reason you've been letting me know from the beginning... ... ."

"Hold up, that is the very thing that it was initially planned for, a slave, I really want one to assist me with hunting!"

Aiyen immediately waved her hand to stop Aquila's words.

Aquila took a gander at her girl with a bewildered articulation, then, at that point, gestured.

"... ... Indeed, so be it. It is your opportunity to involve your slave for anything reason you pick."

When the words were out of her mouth, Aiyen bowed her head and pulled on Vikir's chain.

When outside the tent, Aiyen's appearance was a lot stiffer than previously.

The bothered look all over before his mom was no more.

"From this point forward, I will give you a mission."

Aiyen peered down at Vikir, who was just a single head more limited than her, and talked in a piercing voice.

"It will be troublesome."

...A quite intense mission, for sure.

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