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Chapter 146: The Small Fang Tribe Captures a Human
🕑 Added 2025-06-27 16:00:02 +0000 UTCLyle’s eyes narrowed as a horde of grotesque creatures charged at him from the mist-drenched wetlands. Without hesitation, he crushed the summoning scroll in his palm.
Fwsh!
A radiant column of white light burst into the air. In its midst, wings of golden flame unfurled as a majestic Flame Archangel descended, its blade gleaming with searing power as it dived toward the enemy like a falling star.
Lyle stood motionless, his crimson-lined cloak fluttering gently in the moist breeze. He had no intention of joining the fray—at least, not yet.
Before charging in recklessly, he wanted information.
These creatures, could have poisonous blood or worse. And unlike the Great Tob Forest, whose ecology he had mostly mapped out thanks to library records and forum lore, the Great Marshes were mostly uncharted territory, even in the anime and light novel adaptations.
And so, he had entered the wetlands from the forest, rather than taking the obvious sky route with [Flight].
Information was power—and he didn’t yet have enough.
He wasn’t like the Overlord of Nazarick who could swat dragons aside like flies. He still needed to make calculated choices.
The Flame Archangel let out a divine screech and plunged into the horde, golden wings slicing through the air. In an instant, it was swarmed.
Whoosh!
Its blazing sword danced, carving through beast after beast with mechanical precision. Each slash split them cleanly in two, but as their blood splattered across the angel’s armor, it let out a sharp sizzle, smoke curling where the ichor touched divine steel.
[Experience gained: +107]
[Experience gained: +112]
“Hmph. Corrosive? No... more likely toxic,” Lyle muttered, lips curling. “Good thing I didn’t bother with hand-to-hand.”
As several creatures slipped past the angel’s assault and lunged toward him, Lyle calmly raised a hand.
“Magic Arrow.”
A dozen arrows of pure energy materialized midair, humming with arcane light, then shot out like a swarm of angry hornets.
Thud-thud-thud!
The crested beasts, like oversized roosters mixed with lizards—screeched and tumbled mid-leap, riddled with magical holes.
His current magic attack stat had reached 158. Against low-level mobs like these, even beginner-tier spells were more than sufficient.
The battle was over in minutes.
Dozens of the so-called “Crested Marshbeasts” lay dead, granting him roughly 5000 experience. From that, Lyle estimated their level to be around 6 or 7.
Not exactly a threat—at least not to him.
Still, for an average human adventuring party, this would have required at least a Silver-tier squad with proper gear, formation, and someone who didn't immediately scream and run when charged by poison-spitting poultry.
He dismounted his Barghest, and casually walked to one of the corpses. With the flick of a wrist, he hoisted it by the tail, pulled a leather water-skin from his inventory, and began collecting blood.
This kind of toxic blood could be rare and valuable—possibly an alchemy material.
Currently, Lyle only had two known toxic samples in his storage: blood from a Troll, and that of the Naga, Ryraryus.
He’d collected dozens of blood samples in the Tob Forest, but most turned out useless—at least to him. He suspected it wasn’t the blood’s fault, but his own lack of specialized alchemy skills.
After draining what little he could, the rest had been lost in battle—he corked the water-skin and stashed it away.
“Only one flask’s worth. Huh. Guess most of the good stuff got chopped or evaporated.”
He turned his gaze across the wide expanse of wetlands before him. Rippling waters stretched into the haze, dotted with reeds, mudbanks, and the gleam of distant eyes.
“I’ve barely scratched the surface,” Lyle murmured. “Let’s go, Black.”
He climbed back into the saddle, and the undead hound growled softly, padding forward into the marsh.
The Great Marshes were split into two regions: the Lower Marsh, closest to the Tob Forest, and the Upper Marsh, near the Azerlisia Mountains.
Due to shallow waters, the Lower Marsh didn’t harbor large apex predators. That didn’t make it safe—on the contrary, it was crawling with smaller, more numerous threats.
The Small Fang Tribe
One of the five remaining Lizardman tribes of the marsh.
There used to be seven, but two were wiped out years ago in a tribal war. The survivors were absorbed into the dominant Dragonfang Tribe, leaving only five tribes remaining.
The Small Fang Tribe had been one of the factions involved in that old conflict. Their numbers had only recently recovered after heavy losses.
Unfortunately, they had neither sacred treasures nor new shamans with the rare Forest Seer bloodline, which placed them at the bottom of the tribal hierarchy.
Their saving grace was their location—nestled near a fish-rich lake, which provided enough food to survive.
Until recently.
As the population slowly recovered, their reliable fish supply began to dwindle. Competition grew fiercer. And now... something had changed.
In the tribe’s central longhouse, a group of Lizardmen sat around a fire pit, the air tense.
“You’re sure?” asked the chieftain, Sukyu Juju, a squat, yellow-spotted Lizardman with sharp eyes and an oddly energetic tail. “You actually saw a human?”
The Lizardman across from him, scar-faced and still covered in muck, nodded vigorously.
“I’m certain, Chief. Skin like wet bark. No scales at all. Spindly limbs. Freakish little face. Definitely not one of us.”
“He summoned a shiny fire creature,” the hunter added, growing excited. “It had wings! And a flaming sword! It was so cool!”
Sukyu Juju’s tail froze mid-swish.
Across the room, an older Lizardman, scales faded with age and wearing a ceremonial bone necklace, squinted thoughtfully.
“Describe it again,” croaked the tribal priest.
With wild gestures and much hissing, the hunter reenacted the angel’s dramatic entrance, complete with sound effects.
The old priest fell silent for a long time. Then he spoke:
“It sounds like a ‘Heaven-Walker.’ The humans call them... angels, I think.”
“Summoned by divine casters, faith-magic users. Difficult to say what tier, though. Could be second... could be higher.”
“I don’t care what he is,” growled Sukyu, tail flicking again. “He’s on our land. He’s killing our fish. That makes him our problem.”
The priest inclined his head, but added gravely, “He’s clearly not weak. You must be cautious.”
Sukué bared his teeth. “We’ll use the entire hunting party. He may be strong, but we’re many. And we’ve got spears.”
“And if he resists?” asked one of the other warriors.
“Then kill him where he stands. No corpse, no witnesses. The other tribes haven’t seen a living human in years—we’ll keep this catch for ourselves.”
“Yes, Chieftain!”
The hunter clutched his weapon with excitement and sprinted out of the longhouse, rallying others with a gleeful war cry.
The priest gave the chieftain one last glance. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do,” Sukyu replied with conviction. “He may be powerful... but this is our swamp.”
