Chapter 5

Chapter 5. The Time Is Now (2)

The village falling silent the moment Balun spoke to Turgan was not his imagination.

The murmuring voices that had been tickling his ears only moments before cut off in an instant. All he could hear now was the chirping of birds. Other than that, not a sound remained. Only the cold silence and Turgan’s narrowed gaze welcomed him.

At such a stark change, Balun almost let out a hollow laugh.

'Of course. Exactly the reaction I expected.'

'Honestly, all of them have sharp ears when it suits them.'

Everyone was probably listening with their ears pricked up. Turgan’s voice was loud enough, after all.

"Balun. You were different from the other children from an early age. You were not brave. You were timid and fainthearted. The tribe’s warriors said you lacked the makings of a warrior, but I thought of you differently."

Turgan continued,

"You were not timid or fainthearted. You were merely wise. I believed that you, of all people, would surely succeed, and just as I expected, you fulfilled my hopes perfectly—no, you exceeded them."

'Wise, my foot.'

He really was timid.

This man did not seem particularly perceptive.

"Look at you. You have become a fine warrior, acknowledged by every member of the tribe. That is likely because you possess a weapon the other warriors do not. Wisdom."

For a moment, Balun wanted to ask him something.

'What exactly have you seen that makes you think I’m wise?'

Aside from fleeing like a coward, what was different about him compared to the other tribal warriors?

He had learned to fight just like they had, and he had gone hunting just like they had.

As for being good at fighting?

No matter how he thought about it, that was simply talent.

With a body like this, if he could not manage at least this much, would that not make him a complete fool?

"Balun. I truly cannot understand why someone as wise as you has made such a strange decision."

Turgan’s low voice was remarkably gentle. But Balun knew very well that Turgan was not the sort of man who spoke gently to another man.

The same man who would casually press an axe blade to someone’s throat and say things like, 'An evil spirit has possessed you, so I ought to beat it to death,' was now speaking gently?

Impossible.

So what did it mean that something impossible was happening right now?

'If I answer this badly, I am going to be killed.'

Balun’s heart trembled. It felt as though the tension he had felt when facing the Rock-Cleft Troll during his coming-of-age ceremony had returned.

'But how am I supposed to answer this?'

He had no confidence that he could persuade that battle-crazed zealot with logic.

More importantly, would logic even work on this man? If it would, Balun would have persuaded him long ago.

'Should I approach him emotionally instead of logically?'

"Very well. Try persuading me. I dearly hope your pure soul has not been defiled by the Ironclads."

Balun swallowed and opened his mouth.

"Chieftain, do you remember the question I once asked you when I was young?"

"A question... Let me think."

"It was how vast this world was."

"Hm. I think I remember."

In an instant, Turgan recalled something from ten years ago. A bold, snot-nosed child had come to him and asked that very question.

"You told me then that this world was unimaginably vast. You said that the great grasslands where we lived were only a small part of it, too narrow to satisfy ourselves with, and that I ought to dream bigger than this plain. You said that a man’s dream ought to be grand."

"Ah, yes. I did say that."

A faint smile rose to Turgan’s lips. Thinking back, Balun had been different even then.

The other children all burst into tears the moment they saw his fierce face, but Balun had not cried.

More than that, he had calmly pestered him with one bold question after another.

"Perhaps those words of yours stayed with me more deeply than I realized. Ever since then, I have carried a great dream."

"A great dream? What is it?"

"To make our Red Fang Tribe the greatest in the world."

"Was that so?"

"Yes."

"You carried a truly grand dream. As expected of Balun."

Seeing that Turgan’s smile had not faded, Balun felt an unexpected twinge of guilt.

Was it really right to fabricate a dream that had never existed?

"I spent a great deal of time thinking about what I needed to do to make that dream a reality. But no matter how much I thought about it, I could only come up with one answer."

"And what answer was that?"

'Hm?'

For a moment, Balun found himself puzzled. Turgan’s eyes seemed to be shining.

As though he were filled with expectation.

"Go on. Tell me. What was the answer?"

He even urged him on, so Balun answered with slight reluctance.

"To become the greatest warrior."

"Exactly! That is it!"

Clap!

Turgan clapped his hands. It was so spontaneous that he did it before he realized it himself.

Not even noticing his own excitement, he continued.

"I truly had no idea you had been carrying such a purpose! Ever since childhood, you never once revealed what was in your heart. So that was it! Hahaha!"

At that, Turgan burst into booming laughter. It was so hearty that even Balun was taken aback.

'What is this?'

This was the first time Balun had ever seen the man laugh so loudly.

"You fool. If you were carrying such a great dream, why did you never say anything? Why did you keep it locked away in your chest all this time?"

"What? Ah, well..."

Balun felt bewildered. He had never expected such a dramatic reaction.

Was this happy about it?

"If you had opened your heart to your parents, or to me, or to the shaman, any one of us would have supported that grand dream of yours long ago!"

Then, all of a sudden, Turgan rubbed at the corner of his eye with one thick finger.

"The truth is, I had been somewhat displeased because I thought you harbored some other intention. But now that I know that was my misunderstanding, I am overjoyed. Khk."

Seeing the moisture clinging to Turgan’s finger, which looked suspiciously like tears, Balun thought,

'With reactions like that, how was I supposed to tell you what I was really thinking?'

If a few words were enough to make him this happy, then what would his reaction have been if Balun had admitted that he had no real interest in being the greatest or in all that warrior nonsense?

He did not know for certain, but he was fairly sure he would not still be standing here in one piece.

At the very least, it might have ended in the tragedy of losing an arm or a leg.

"Hm. Now that I have heard your story, I think I understand your intentions. Shall I tell you what I believe they are?"

"What? Yes, I suppose..."

Still carried away by his enthusiasm, Turgan continued without giving Balun any real chance to speak.

"You meant to escort the Ironclads back only as a convenient pretext. Your true purpose, in reality, must be to defeat the strong Ironclad warriors. Am I wrong?"

"What? Ah... yes."

"Haha! I knew it! I was right!"

Balun scratched his cheek awkwardly.

'That reason actually sounds much more convincing.'

If anyone else asked, he would answer that way from now on.

"So that was why you protected the Ironclad prisoners. By firmly subjugating those Ironclad prisoners and turning them into your subordinates, you intend to make a powerful first impression on the Ironclads..."

By then, Turgan had stopped looking at Balun altogether and was lost in his own imagination.

After muttering to himself for quite some time, he suddenly turned his head and asked Balun,

"Balun. Do you know what the journey you are about to undertake is called?"

"What? A journey? I have no idea."

"It is called the Journey of the Great Warrior. A grand journey undertaken in order to become a Great Warrior—a warrior among warriors, a mighty figure spoken of like a legend."

"The Journey of the Great Warrior..."

"Have you ever heard of it?"

"No. This is the first time."

"You found that path by instinct. Even though no one taught it to you."

Turgan closed his eyes, folded his arms, and nodded to himself. Then he opened his eyes wide and thumped Balun on the shoulder.

"Good. I grant you permission. Balun, I grant you your Journey of the Great Warrior!"

"R-Really?"

"Of course! You have stepped forward of your own accord to do something admirable. How could I possibly refuse? Hahaha!"

Even after receiving permission, Balun’s expression remained somewhat dubious. It had been granted far more easily than he had expected.

***

"Balun! I heard the news! They say you are setting out on the Journey of the Great Warrior?"

"How did you even think of such a thing? To walk into the land of the Ironclads on your own."

"Hey, Balun! Go and beat every last Ironclad into the dirt!"

"Those filthy Ironclads. Let them have a taste of Balun’s axe! They’ll be weeping and begging for mercy before long!"

"Show those sly Ironclads exactly what a warrior of the Red Fang truly is!"

Rumors truly spread fast.

Barely half a day had passed since the chieftain granted permission, and already the entire tribe knew.

Though the version they knew had become somewhat distorted.

-Balun is going to smash all the Ironclads!

'No. I am absolutely not doing that.'

Of course, Balun had no intention of doing such a thing.

His life was precious. Why would he lose his mind and do that?

To be honest, his feelings were complicated.

Yes, his goal had always been to leave this place, but even so, this was his home—his second home, in a sense. How could he feel nothing but relief at the thought of leaving it behind?

If he had not grown attached to anyone, that would have been one thing, but that was not the case. Both of his parents in this life were alive and well, and he had close friends too.

In this life, Balun had been blessed with a warm family and good friends, far removed from anything that could be called miserable.

He did not dislike them. He loved his parents in this life, and he cared for his friends as well.

His life simply mattered more.

'It can’t be helped. I have to survive first. If I stay in a place like this, I never know when I might end up stabbed to death.'

To be honest, he had wanted to take his parents with him and live together, but he had long since realized that was impossible.

Their family was warm, yes, but there was a gap between Balun and his parents that could never be bridged. His parents would never understand his values.

Ktam and Rana, senior warriors of the Red Fang Tribe, would prefer to spend their lives roaming these great grasslands freely until they died of old age.

If he dragged people like that into the civilized world, they might well die of sheer frustration.

'Mother and Father... they will survive just fine. They are not the kind of people who would get themselves stabbed somewhere. They are both senior warriors, after all.'

Still, when he actually thought about parting from them, he felt a twinge of sadness.

But even so, was not leaving part of life? Whether sooner or later, the time for independence always came.

"My son."

"Yes."

"Go well."

"That is all?"

"What more do you want? Do you expect me to burst into tears and beg you not to go?"

"Well, no, but..."

Even so, this did not seem quite right.

Was that really the proper reaction when your son said he was leaving home?

"Mother, please say something too. Don’t just stand there watching."

"Your father is right. What more is there to say?"

"What?"

"Go well. That is all. Is that not a perfectly affectionate farewell?"

These were the parents he had known for sixteen years, and they had always been unfailingly detached.

How could they be so consistent?

Balun smiled. In a way, it was comforting because it was familiar. If they had cried and wailed about how they could not bear not seeing him, that would have felt stranger.

"Ah, but stay healthy. The most important thing is your life. Honor is all very well, but your life must come first. Do you understand?"

"Of course."

"Good. Our dependable son. Go and make all the Ironclads kneel before you. And when you return, bring back a pretty bride as well."

Balun’s mother, Rana, gave him a few light pats on the backside.

Her beautiful face and the firm muscles of a seasoned female warrior combined in a strangely harmonious way.

He was still feeling the touch of his mother’s affection, detached though it was, when he suddenly heard movement outside.

It was the shaman, Ulan.

After exchanging greetings with Balun’s parents, he gestured for Balun to come outside.

"Balun. Will you come here for a moment?"

"Where to?"

"Just follow me first."

When Balun followed Ulan to his home, the old man stepped inside, then returned carrying a square box, which he placed in Balun’s hands.

When Balun opened it, he found a necklace inside.

A necklace made of several large fang-like teeth strung together.

"Take this with you."

"What is this...?"

"A protective charm. It was made from the fangs of a Saber Tiger. It will protect you."

Balun stared dubiously at the Saber Tiger Fang Necklace, turning it over in his hands. Each fang was large and sharp enough that it looked less like a charm and more like a weapon.

'You want me to wear this terrifying thing?'

If he wore this around his neck, was it not more likely to injure him? Rather than protecting its wearer, it looked as though it might stab him.

But he could not show that on his face, so he put the necklace away without complaint. It might have been his imagination, but it almost seemed as if a strange shimmer was rising from it.

"I will use it well."

"I am giving it to you so that you do not die. The responsibility resting on your shoulders is immense."

"I do not intend to die. I plan to live a long life."

"You must. Only then can you become the chieftain of the Red Fang. The greatest chieftain in our history, possessed of both strength and intellect. Heh heh heh."

'That chieftain business again.'

Balun let out a dry laugh. Apparently, the old man still had not given up on the idea of making him chieftain.

"If you truly become a Great Warrior, then perhaps you may gather all the warriors of the grasslands and become a Great Chieftain. Just imagining it is magnificent. Heh heh heh!"

At this point, Balun was beginning to think the old man had simply grown too old and gone slightly senile.

***

The next morning, Balun finished preparing to leave the tribal village early.

He gathered all his weapons and stood at the village entrance with the Saber Tiger Fang Necklace Ulan had given him hanging around his neck. The entrance was crowded with tribespeople. Every last one of them had come out to see him off.

Voices poured in from all directions. Kill all the Ironclads, go make the Red Fang name resound, come back as a warrior worthy of a Great Warrior, Brother Balun is amazing, Balun oppa, do your best, Mother, I want to become like Brother Balun too, and so on...

He was loading the baggage wagon while listening to it all when Turgan approached and asked, almost casually,

"You truly do not want them? I could assign more escort warriors to accompany you."

"It is all right. If you did that, I would not be able to carry out this undertaking properly. I would be relying on my companions every step of the way."

"Hm, that is true enough. Your attitude is excellent."

'Have you lost your mind? As if I would take people with me.'

From Turgan’s perspective, it was an act of kindness, but unfortunately for Balun, it would have been a dreadful gift.

"Very well. If you are fully prepared, then go."

"Yes. Everyone, please take care of yourselves."

Balun bowed deeply, then left the village with Barel and his companions and made for the Valley of Death.

The farther they moved from the village, the lighter Balun’s steps became, and the more his heart swelled with hope.

'At last, I am escaping! Hahaha!'

At the age of sixteen, Balun, warrior of the Red Fang Tribe, thought that nothing but a bright future lay ahead of him.

But that belief did not even last two full days.

Not long after they passed through the opening in the Valley of Death and entered the Gray Plains, they suddenly ran into a band of robbers.

Twenty of them.

And every single one was mounted.

"Hey, merchants over there. Stop."

"I have a question for you. Answer obediently, and I may spare your lives."

"Have you seen a group of mounted men wearing headscarves?"

Seeing them ride up in an instant and stop nearby, Balun let out a long sigh and spoke to Barel in the language of the Ironclads.

"Barel."

"Y-Yes, sir."

"You deceived me. You clearly said there were no mounted warriors."

"Th-that... It makes no sense. There are no mounted bandits in the Gray Plains other than the Red Wolf Band. That is certainly true. So why...?"

Watching Barel flounder, Balun let out a deep sigh.

'Ha. Life.'

It seemed that the moment he escaped, the first thing he had to worry about was whether he would survive.