Anagin Chronicles

Chapter 100

The Kingdom of Arcadia.A green-hued kingdom filled with ancient forests and mountains.

Its most defining feature was its pastoral landscape, yet, as a nation located in Northern Hellas (relatively inland), all its people were valiant.

They were especially skilled with the bow, and the beasts they hunted with those bows were traded as rare specialties.

Deer antlers that cured illness, hides that emitted heat, and mountain goat testicles that enhanced virility were among the most famous.

It was presumed that such rare beasts were captured thanks to the ancient forests and mountains within the kingdom, and perhaps due to that influence, even the livestock raised in the Kingdom of Arcadia boasted exceptional quality.

The meat was excellent, the milk was excellent, and the horses were excellent.

Thus, though the Kingdom of Arcadia appeared modest and peaceful on the surface, in truth it was quite wealthy—and possessed the strength to protect that wealth.

"So you're saying they're the real deal?"

After listening to Ponytail’s long-winded explanation, Anagin summed it up in a single sentence.

“That’s the gist of it. A wealthy, resilient, well-balanced nation. But the king of such a nation has one worry. Guess what it is?”

“Hair loss.”

"No, damn... wait, is that a problem too?"

Ponytail fell into momentary confusion.

Losing one’s hair was certainly a dreadful thing, no different from being cursed by the gods.

If his own hair were to fall out, he would rather kill himself. If he were to become such a hideous creature, ending his life to preserve his dignity would be one way to go…!

Ponytail shook his head, newly reminded of the terror of baldness.

“That’s a problem too, but there’s something more important. The succession issue.”

The current king ruling the Kingdom of Arcadia was Lasos.

He was the father of Atalanta, the ‘Great Warrior’, and Irida of the Wind.

“He’s a king with no particular flaws. In his youth, he made a name for himself as an outstanding hunter and warrior, and in his later years, he governed the kingdom competently. Just one issue—his children.”

King Lasos of Arcadia had only two children: Atalanta and Irida, both daughters.

And women could not sit on the throne.

"Whether there’s an issue with the sausage hanging between his legs or not, he only managed to have two children, and both were daughters. On top of that, he’s recently fallen ill. Do you understand now?"

Anagin did not answer, but he understood what was being said.

The Kingdom of Arcadia had no heir.

“So, the reason they’re holding a Groom Tournament is…”

“Obviously, to choose a king who will marry Atalanta and continue the royal line. Since he couldn’t have a son, he’ll preserve the bloodline through his daughter.”

“Huh…”

Anagin let out a somewhat hollow sound.

He roughly understood the situation.

He also understood why Irida’s expression had darkened earlier when Chiron spoke to her.

She likely disliked the idea of her sister having to marry.

Like with Meleager, Anagin hadn’t really spoken with Irida’s sister either, but he could roughly estimate things.

Though born in a woman’s body, she was called a hero, and in fact, she had landed a decisive blow on Erysichthon.

She must have endured hardships beyond easy imagination and put in immense effort.

After working so hard to become a hero, now she was being told to marry… It was understandable she would hesitate.

Still, just in case, Anagin asked.

“Does the person involved even want to get married?”

“According to our sources, no. Marriage itself is practically a grave for one’s life. Unless she’s a woman who can’t survive without a man, there’s no way she’d want something like that.”

The wording was somewhat crude, but it was accurate.

After becoming a hero with such effort, why would she want to marry?

That raised another question.

“Then can’t she just refuse?”

“What are you talking about? If her father orders it, she has to obey. All the more so for royalty… Isn't it the same for you?"

“Of course not. I’ve pretty much lived however the hell I wanted.”

It was true. As long as he did his share of work, neither his father nor any of the village elders interfered with Anagin.

Even if they had, he wouldn’t have listened anyway.

Because of that, Anagin couldn’t quite understand the very situation of being forced into a marriage he didn’t want.

If it sucked, couldn’t she just leave?

“Not here. Especially among noble bloodlines. It’s the gods’ teaching that children must obey their fathers. They say that is how order is maintained."

“Ha!”

Thinking it was utter nonsense, Anagin laughed loudly once.

But he left it at that and said nothing more.

He had no intention of debating something like that.

"I think I generally understand. Why Irida's  expression was dark, and the reason her sister went out to hunt."

"She’s probably trying to enjoy her freedom while she still can."

Ponytail smiled spitefully, as if the misfortune of the two women was his own happiness.

Perhaps due to the bond of being women themselves, Sphinx and Kori, who had been listening quietly, showed sympathy for Atalanta.

"But I don't get it. I can understand Irida since she’s family, but why did Meleager look so upset?"

Anagin had seen Meleager's expression when Chiron was speaking. He looked angry, yet also like a puppy that needed to take a dump.

At those words, Ponytail curled his lips even further and leaned in playfully to whisper to Anagin.

"Actually, this is a secret, but there are rumors that Meleager and Atalanta like each other."

"Oh."

Anagin marveled despite himself. But it made even less sense now.

"Then that's a good thing. They can just marry each other."

"No, it's impossible."

Ponytail shook his head firmly.

"Meleager is the Prince of Calydon, so he must eventually inherit the throne of Calydon."

"He can inherit Calydon and inherit Arcadia too. Two is better than one, isn't it?"

"You might think so, but they don't. What Lasos  wants isn't a merger."

Knowing that saying anything more would only prolong the conversation, Anagin didn't bother arguing.

He just thought that everyone lived such tiring lives. Dealing with trivial matters in such a draining way—or perhaps, in such a frustrating way.

"Whatever, I don't care. I get it. Atalanta has to marry because of the succession issue, but she can’t marry Meleager.”

“Exactly!”

“But what I asked was why you told me to go check out the Groom Tournament.”

"Just because I wanted to say it? Reporters love explaining things like this. It’s fun, isn't it?"

Ponytail said shamelessly. Anagin couldn’t really deny that.

Ponytail continued.

“And when I told you to go, I didn’t mean to participate in the Groom Tournament.”

“That’s a relief. Then why?”

“There’ll be plenty of amusing things to see, so I thought you should go watch. A ton of men will show up and boast about how they’re the perfect husband for Atalanta. Sounds pretty entertaining, doesn’t it?”

“Not interested.”

Anagin answered briefly and firmly.

He had no particular curiosity about someone else’s marriage affairs. Let alone a marriage the person involved didn’t even want, it wasn’t worth mentioning.

“Then how about this?”

As if holding a major secret, Ponytail gave a meaningful preface and stepped closer to Anagin again.

Just as Anagin was about to tell him to back off, the guy opened his mouth.

“This is something I happened to hear… Apparently, Erysichthon has sent someone. To Atalanta’s Groom Tournament.”

“Erysichthon? Why?”

"Why else? To get revenge, of course. To restore his tarnished prestige."

* * *

It seemed that Ponytail’s pathetic article had far more impact than expected.

It was one thing for the guys at Chiron Tower to get worked up, but to have even Erysichthon’s prestige diminished.

“Sounds like you’re mocking him?”

“Honestly, I don’t think a lousy article of yours would be enough to damage his prestige.”

Anagin recalled Erysichthon.

The mere sight of him had frozen everyone in place.

In the end, Meleager, the Immortal of the Argonaut Expedition Team and the Great Warrior Atalanta, had intervened and driven him back, but was that truly humiliating enough to tarnish his prestige?

It didn’t seem like the kind of thing that would wound his pride.

From the beginning, when he retreated, it felt more like he had simply finished his business. He left cleanly, without the slightest regret.

“Tsk tsk, what matters isn’t the essence of it, but how people see it.”

Ponytail prattled on smugly.

“Whether Erysichthon felt humiliated or not. Whether he went easy on you or not. What matters is how my article described his retreat. When people read it, what do you think they’ll think?”

“That it’s a terrible article?”

“No, absolutely not! They’ll think Erysichthon has grown weaker.”

Having faced Erysichthon in person and not having read Ponytail’s article, Anagin couldn’t relate to that claim at all.

But according to Ponytail’s logic, that didn’t matter.

“And you keep talking like it’s someone else’s problem, but this concerns you too.”

“Why?”

“My article was titled, 「The Practitioner Killer Who Protected Practitioners from Erysichthon! Turns Out He’s a Practitioner Protector?!」You’re the one with the biggest share in damaging Erysichthon’s prestige.”

“You wrote something like that without my permission?”

“Reporters don’t ask for permission. We just irresponsibly scribble away.”

Anagin briefly considered punching Ponytail.

“Even if Erysichthon himself doesn’t feel humiliated, the ones under him won’t sit still. If their leader is judged to have weakened, their own evaluation drops too.”

“So they’d come to the Groom Tournament to make up for that evaluation? To cause a scene?”

“They won’t be coming to offer congratulations, that’s for sure. Of course, it’s not confirmed. Just hearsay… Still, isn’t it worth considering?”

Well, he wasn’t sure if it was worth considering.

After the clash with Erysichthon, it felt as though the matter with the Forest Brotherhood had reached some sort of conclusion.

Yet, at the same time, it did pique his interest.

After all, Anagin had not obtained the Jacheon training method said to be within the Forest Brotherhood.

If Erysichthon had sent someone for revenge, that person wouldn’t be ordinary.

Who knows? If he crushed that bastard, maybe he’d learn something.

It was worth thinking about.

Of course, there was something he had to do first.

“What?”

Fifth-floor forge.

Grumbal, drenched in sweat and taking a break, spoke as he looked at Anagin.

Though his voice was weaker than usual from fatigue, the strength in his eyes remained solid.

Anagin looked at him.

“You look tired.”

“That’s because you dumped a filthy amount of work on me!”

Grumbal shouted indignantly, but went no further.

Instead, he asked,

“So, you fought Meleager?”

“More like we sparred.”

“I heard it was pretty rough for a spar.”

“Sparring is supposed to be rough. Getting hit, breaking bones, bursting, tearing, slashing, being chopped into pieces—that’s basic.”

“...Wait, chopped into pieces?”

Grumbal belatedly noticed the strange term mixed in and asked again.

Instead of answering, Anagin brought up the reason he had come.

“I came to tell you a phrase I thought of.”

“For which item?”

“The Beast Cleaver.”

“That’s fortunate. I was just working on it.”

Grumbal climbed down from where he was seated and gulped down cold water.

He looked like the type to drink alcohol instead, but he didn’t.

He only drank while working if there was no clean water.

Grumbal’s professional spirit was exceptional. He drank water unless he absolutely couldn’t. The alcohol came after work, when he would drink like a madman.

He then led Anagin before the massive furnace.

The enormous bellows moved on their own, and the furnace glowed beyond red—nearly white-hot.

At its center lay the Beast Cleaver, fused back into one.

“As you requested, I used Periphetes’ bronze club to reforge it.”

“Looks like it.”

Anagin replied as he looked at the newly repaired Beast Cleaver.

Not casually, but seriously.

It might have just been his imagination, but the feel of the Beast Cleaver was somehow different.

Compared to when he had used it before, something had changed.

When he mentioned this, Grumbal did not scoff. He took it quite seriously.

“That could be. As objects accumulate time and history, their aura changes… That’s why inscriptions must be carved carefully. If you just engrave something that sounds strong without thought, it means nothing.”

Grumbal looked at Anagin meaningfully. It felt like a warning, yet also a test.

In truth, it was both.

If one did not properly understand a magical tool and merely engraved something flashy or pretentious, it would be useless.

At best, the magical tool’s power would weaken. At worst, its function could warp into something close to a curse.

However, craftsmen of magical tools like Grumbal would never assist with that part.

Helping someone who didn’t even understand their own magical tool was a luxury they didn’t deserve.

Repairs and enhancements could be done, but the inscription had to be decided by the owner. If someone else provided it, it held no meaning.

And so Grumbal waited to hear what phrase Anagin would say.

“How should I engrave it?”

A few seconds of silence.

At last, Anagin opened his mouth.

“I skin beasts, slice their flesh, and sever their bones."

‘An addition?’

Grumbal thought inwardly.

Instead of replacing the existing inscription, he was adding to it…

Not a bad approach.

It might even be more effective this way.

The problem was that the new phrase had to align with the item’s history—its narrative—while preserving the original inscription.

Short and clear. Lengthy wordplay would only be poison.

Anagin continued.

“And then I devour that beast.”

“……”

“I’d also like to change its name. To Devourer of Beasts. Is that possible?”