Chapter 95: The Ancestors have Abandoned Us

Chapter 95: Chapter 95: The Ancestors have Abandoned Us

The alert hit Victor before his eyes were even open.

[Trial Failed: Defend the Territory of the Southern Bloodline Barbarian Tribe]

[Trial Penalty: You have lost the favor of the ancestors]

[All stats reduced by 10%]

Victor’s body went heavy, like someone had poured lead into his veins. He sat up with a grunt. All around the camp, others were doing the same, groaning, gripping their arms and chests. Two of them turned to look at him.

He didn’t need to explain. They had read it in his face.

One of them started to cry. Then another. Then three. Then it spread across the camp like a sickness, grown warriors folding in on themselves, hugging their knees, some hugging each other.

Barbarians had been nomads once, long before the Boundary. But that was hundreds of years ago. This land had been their home for generations. Their fathers had been born here, and their fathers before them. It was where the ancestors were buried, where the fires had burned, where every child learned who they were. It was more than a place. It was a mirror of the tribe itself.

And now the orcs were walking through it like it was their own. And the ancestors, whose favor they had lived under all their lives, had turned their faces away.

Even Kiki’s eyes shone. She turned her head to hide it, jaw clenched, shoulders rigid, but the tremble in her breath gave her away.

Victor had no relationship with the Barbarian ancestors. Not truly. He hadn’t grown up here. Their sorrow wasn’t his in the same way. But he understood it. He remembered the day the apartment fell and his mother with it, losing a person and a home at the same time. This was the same wound. And the fact that he had told them to leave, and that none of them had complained, only made it worse now that it was real.

He let them grieve a bit. They needed to get out of their system.

After a while, he stood and walked to the center of the camp.

"We have lost our home," he said. His voice was quiet, but it carried. "But we have not lost ourselves."

Heads lifted, eyes red.

Good, it’s working.

"As long as one Barbarian of the Southern Bloodline still stands, we can take it back. We can win back the ancestors’ favor. We will grow. We will get stronger. Strong enough that a single one of us can cut down a hundred orcs. No... A thousand!" His fist closed. "And then we will return, and we will take back what is ours."

One by one, they wiped their faces. They looked at him.

"I swear it on my honor," Victor said, "as Chief of the Southern Bloodline Barbarian Tribe."

Someone stood. Then another. A war cry rolled out of the nearest throat and spread, and the tribe beat their chests, first weakly, then harder, the sound rising until it filled the valley. The weight in their faces lifted a little.

Victor looked across at Kiki. She smiled at him. He smiled back.

Jaja came and wrapped both arms around him, thumping his back. "Chief," he said hoarsely. "We follow you." Lego joined them, gripping his shoulder.

"It’s only a few days’ ride to the orc lands," Victor said. "They decided to take our home. So let’s leave them a little present. They’ll learn we’re not easy to swallow once bitten."

....

Since the Trial had concluded, even in failure, the logout button was no longer gray.

Victor decided to use it right away. That night, he settled into a sleeping position near Kiki, he would be safe in case of emergencies. He closed his eyes, and logged out.

He woke in the hotel room.

First thing, he grabbed his phone and checked the time. Only a couple of hours had passed. Good. The conquest points he exchanged for days were working.

Next, a message waited from the Central Rankers Guild: It was an invitation to a raid in the Outer Ring, beyond the city.

He hadn’t expected anything this soon. After all, being a Ranker didn’t mean you were ready to fight. And from what he knew, the Outer Ring was worse than the Gates.

Still, he clicked accept. The Guild’s ranking system tracked every job a Ranker took, and that would affect status and pay down the line.

A second message appeared beneath it: accepting the raid required a mandatory skill test the next day.

Of course. The Guild always put safety first and tested Rankers before sending them out. He accepted that too. It was a chance to measure himself at Level 2.

Next came a message from Lango. It detailed the burial arrangements for Hana and asked whether Victor wished to attend.

He sighed, remembering all that happened that day. He replied yes.

The last message was the invitation from Dungeon Conquest’s parent company to their night gala. Victor nodded at it. This one was very important.

It was an opportunity for him to gather information. He still remembered what happened before he regressed. Competitors from other companys attended the event.

It was an opportunity to know if anyone had something to do with the fall of the sun.

After this, he jumped off the bed and rushed to the Dark Guild.

Rook was cleaning inside. "Well, if it isn’t our incredible Seer," he said. "A sight for sore eyes."

Victor had no time for pleasantries. "I’m going to try to forgive you for selling me a ceremonial axe instead of a proper armament."

Rook blinked. How did he know? Most Rankers can’t tell one weapon from another. As long as it’s an armament and fits in a Gate, they buy it. "...What are you talking about?"

"Bring me twenty low-grade mana potions and twenty low-grade healing potions. And if you can, a mid-grade mana potion and a mid-grade healing potion."

Rook’s jaw dropped. "That’s impossible. Even a low-grade mana potion isn’t easy to get. The Central Guild regulates everything. While, the government hoards the rest for its military."

"The Dark Guild has a hand in both the government and the Central Guild," Victor said. "I know this isn’t a hard deal."

Rook thought it over. "If this is about the axe, forget it."

"I’ll pay. Of course I’ll pay."

"It’s not about money. These things are tightly controlled, and they’re hard to produce."

"Then what about this?" Victor reached into his pocket and set a small strip of meat jerky on the counter.

Rook stared. "Who carries meat in his pocket?"

"You have an appraisal skill. Check it."

Rook pulled on a pair of gloves, lifted the strip with careful fingers, and studied it. Slowly, his eyes widened.

"This quality... it’s saturated with mana. Enough to kill an ordinary person. But it isn’t ordinary mana. It’s dark mana." He swallowed. "This would be priceless research material for the Church’s priests. For the Magic Guilds too."

He looked up. "Can you get more?"

"If I can, would you get me stamina potions free of charge?"

"Five low-grade stamina potions. As a bonus. But the amount can’t be this little."

Victor smiled. He had plenty. "I think you’ll need more space."

"What?"

"Come outside."

Rook followed him out. In front of the shop, taking up half the alley, lay a huge leg, the leg of the Basalt Dragonic Lizard.

Rook gawked. "How did you... When did you bring this here?"

"That part’s a secret."

Rook looked at him with new awe. First he’d sold information from the future. Now this. How had no one seen him haul it here? What kind of skills did this man have?

"How long until I get the goods?" Victor asked.

"I’ll start right away. Give me a couple of days." Rook rubbed his chin. "I have a few things to settle here first, but I’ll make the calls now."

Victor nodded, placing a hand under his chin. "Since it will take so long, could you do one more thing for me?"

"What?" Hook asked excitedly.