"Waaah!!!"
The moment Kakatu finished speaking, an uproar exploded through the Vichy tribe.
"Elder, has that thing appeared again?"
"Damn it! Which warrior of our tribe has it harmed this time?"
"Snow God! Please protect our people!"
Voices overlapped in a chaotic swell. In that instant, no one paid any attention to Ur and the others anymore. The Vichy warrior Kakatu had called, Guba, stiffened the moment he heard those words. Without a single reply, he turned and ran off at full speed into the distance. From the looks of it, he was going to retrieve the so-called sacred artifact.
Ur and the others were completely at a loss over the tribe's reaction.
Then, a deafening boom erupted from the ice cellar. A figure shot out of the cave, looking slightly battered.
"Haisha!" Anrika's eyes widened as she rushed forward to catch her. "Are you alright?"
Haisa's expression was ugly, but she shook her head. "I'm fine."
"ROOOAAR!!"
Before her words had fully settled, a savage howl tore through the air. From the cellar burst a black figure covered in wounds, missing one arm and half of a foot.
"Wula!" The instant the figure emerged, a visible ripple of unrest spread through the surrounding crowd.
Even Ur and the others, who had already seen this thing before, couldn't help but shrink their pupils in shock. Compared to earlier, the berserk Vichy tribesman now radiated a far more terrifying aura and far denser darkness.
"Rrgh!" The berserk tribesman growled low in his throat.
Unfazed by the nearly hundred tribesmen gathered around him, he merely glanced about briefly after charging out of the cellar. The moment he spotted Haisha, he attacked without hesitation.
Haisha had no idea how to describe her feelings anymore. At the very least, a single "what the hell" wasn't nearly enough.
In her entire life, she had never encountered such a disgusting opponent. He wasn't that strong, yet he feared neither death nor pain, couldn't be controlled, and, most infuriating of all, held a grudge like a demon. If she hadn't been certain she'd never met this Vichy tribesman before, she might have suspected she'd wronged him somehow in the past.
Half his limbs were gone, and he was still chasing her down to fight. How deep did that hatred run?
Haisha felt like coughing up blood, but to avoid actually getting punched, she quickly readied herself for battle.
The berserk Vichy tribesman wasn't weak, but he was far from overwhelming for them. The only reason she'd looked so disheveled earlier was that she hadn't understood the situation at first. In a true fight, she was confident she could kite him to death. The surge in dark energy boosted his speed and strength to an entirely new tier.
It posed a slight threat to Haisha and Anrika. The gap in strength had been there from the beginning. Even if he improved by several more tiers, then they'd be dead.
Anrika stepped in front of Haisha. She had already realized that this Vichy tribesman could no longer be considered a living being. He was an undead monster. Unless they found his weakness, the only option was to stall until his life force burned out.
Because the power he wielded now came at the cost of his own life. His earlier strength had already reduced his lifespan to three minutes. Now that his power had risen to another level, he likely had less than a single minute left in total.
A minute might not sound long, but it wasn't short either. With his current strength, if he charged into the Vichy crowd, he could slaughter at least a dozen ordinary warriors within that minute, perhaps even more.
After all, this monster neither died nor felt pain.
Whoosh!
Just as the berserk tribesman was about to reach Anrika and Haisha, Kakatu suddenly moved. Like a gust of wind, he vanished from where he stood and reappeared directly in front of the Vichy tribesman. Facing his former kinsman, a trace of sorrow flickered in his eyes, only to be replaced by cold resolve.
He raised his hand and clenched his fist.
Boom!
The punch he threw next shocked both Haisha and Anrika.
A massive fan-shaped scar over fifty meters long exploded outward before him. At the center of it lay the berserk tribesman, completely immobilized. His remaining arm and half-leg had been shattered by that single strike. Yet, even so, the crimson fury in his eyes burned undiminished.
Kakatu lowered his gaze slightly, as if reluctant. But he had no choice. A tribesman tainted by that thing had no chance of survival. It would rapidly drain the Vichy's life force, then corrupt and amplify their mind and power. If left unchecked, not only would this warrior die, but others might be dragged down with him.
Footsteps pounded rapidly. Guba had returned.
In his hands was a spear that looked as though it had been carved from ice, yet it shimmered with a brilliant silver-white radiance. He walked up to Kakatu. When he saw the fallen Vichy tribesman, he paused slightly, then silently handed over the spear.
"May the Snow God protect your soul."
Holding the spear, Kakatu murmured what sounded like a prayer. As he spoke, the surrounding Vichy tribesmen placed one hand over their chest and pointed the other toward the sky, a ritual unique to their people.
When the prayer ended, Kakatu raised the spear and drove it down into the Vichy tribesman.
Pshhk!
The spear pierced flesh. Silver-blue light suddenly burst from its tip. The black "flames" covering the tribesman recoiled as if a mouse had encountered a cat, vanishing at once.
In the blink of an eye, the black flames were completely purged, and with them, the last trace of life left the Vichy warrior.
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