Our Family Has Fallen

But you must know that the Warwolf is the Wolf God’s chosen champion, essentially the embodiment of the Wolf God on earth. The Wolf God’s power allows him to resist any evil force.

Yet now, the Warwolf has been devoured by something, and immediately after, there was a complete loss of contact with the Warwolf. The Wolf God became frenzied, and at this point, the Priest knew something was wrong—things didn’t look good.

Without the divine champion, the Wolf God naturally became agitated, something the Priest had witnessed before after the death of three previous leaders.

During the war in Bastia, when the previous leader of the head wolf died, a similar situation occurred. It took a significant price to appease the Wolf God back then, leading to further weakening of the tribe’s strength.

If not for the head wolf’s hard work over the years, recovery would likely have been very difficult.

But now, he felt that the Wolf God’s anger was not so simple.

Because the power that devoured the Warwolf used the connection between him and the Wolf God to pollute the Wolf God.

The Priest could feel the Wolf God’s rage was a painful struggle.

To calm the Wolf God’s anger and seek a solution.

In the past month or so, frequent sacrificial rituals have been held, consuming a large amount of resources, causing the slightly recovering tribe to decline again.

Do not think that these rituals only require sacrifices; it is the Priest himself who bears the brunt. These rituals have almost drained his life force, leaving him so weak.

This made him recall those tribes slaughtered by the Warwolf, the malicious curses uttered by their Priests before their demise.

Could it truly be that these curses are being fulfilled?

”Elder?”

This greeting startled the Priest. He turned to look at the young boy, the successor he had chosen, the tribe’s next Priest.

This was a child with an exceptionally strong inspiration. Unlike the Warwolf, who sensed the Wolf God through bloodline ascension, he could easily feel the presence of the Wolf God.

The emergence of both the Warwolf and such a gifted individual in the Fang Tribe was a sign of the tribe’s prosperity, a gift from the Wolf God to the tribe.

But he was still too weak for now, so the Priest had always hidden his presence. Competition among the Mountain Barbarian Tribes was fierce; just one Warwolf was already seen as a major threat. If there were another, the pressure on the Fang Tribe would be even greater.

It’s never unusual for geniuses to perish young; even he couldn’t guarantee the child’s safety.

And now, with the Warwolf missing and the Wolf God frenzied, these events shattered the Priest’s heart. To stabilize the tribe, he could only hold on with all his might.

He kept the child by his side, prepared to pass on the position of Priest to him at any time, essentially already making arrangements for his own passing.

”Teacher, can we really succeed?” The young boy couldn’t help but express doubt, knowing more than the ordinary tribesmen because he could sense the Wolf God.

”The corruption and erosion of the Wolf God must never be revealed!” The Priest sternly warned.

Seeing the boy’s serious demeanor, he couldn’t help but offer a comforting word, ”Don’t be afraid, child, I will appease the Wolf God’s anger.”

”But there’s not much of the potion left.”

The young boy revealed a secret: the Priest had managed to hold on until now entirely by relying on potions stolen from the Deerhead Tribe.

If the Deerhead Tribe still existed, they might have been able to get more potions even if a price had to be paid.

But now that the Deerhead Tribe was destroyed, there was no longer any choice, an undeniable case of karma.

The Priest understood this clearly, but he could only sigh long and deep, slowly shaking his head, ”Study well.”

”Teacher, are you planning to offer yourself as a sacrifice?” The straightforwardness of the Barbarian tribes left little room for deception. The young boy, having been exposed to these matters, naturally understood that they had tried everything else and only one option remained.

The Priest didn’t answer directly; instead, he brought up another matter.

”What do you think about the invitation from those tribes?”

These past few days, the entire Mountains have been abuzz with activity.

Every year, those Barbarian Mercenaries would return to the Mountains in preparation for autumn. This required enough warriors to conduct the traditional autumn hunt, and also to bring back some supplies to help the tribe survive the winter.

But this year, Count Bastia cut off supplies and drove those Barbarian Mercenaries back to the Mountains.

These returning Barbarian Mercenaries also brought back news of changes in Bastia and of a Barbarian team that severely damaged a Knights’ regiment led by Lawrence.

This clearly contrasted with another narrative, which was precisely the Earl’s cleverness.

Count Bastia targeted them specifically — inwardly, he let Hamlet take the blame, but to the Mountain Barbarians, he pinned it on the Warwolf.

The reason was simple: if the Bastia people knew he lost to the Barbarians, it would undermine his authority. But he also wanted the Barbarians to descend the mountain, so appearing weak to Hamlet while also appearing weak to the Barbarians was the best course.

This move to expel the Barbarians and cut off their resource channels was forcing them to descend the mountain for plunder, unless they wanted to let a group of their kin freeze and starve to death; it was better to gamble and raid.

And clearly, this news sparked intentions in those tribes, with them contacting each other and forming plans for a grand ”autumn hunt.”

Even the notoriously infamous Fang Tribe received an invitation, because rumors had it that the Barbarian team that defeated the Bastia Knights’ regiment was led by the Warwolf of the Fang Tribe.

The invitation came, but whether to go became the issue the Priest needed to consider.

”The Warwolf leader is already in trouble; this isn’t simple. Count Bastia is treacherous. They invite us with ulterior motives, we shouldn’t participate.” The young boy had already made up his mind, expressing his thoughts.

The Priest was satisfied that there was no kneejerk reaction to picking a fight, but the situation wasn’t that straightforward.

”No! Precisely because the Warwolf is in trouble, we should go.

Because this is a test from those major tribes; if the Warwolf truly defeated the Knights’ regiment, our strength would intimidate them, preventing them from acting against us.

If we don’t go, it would reveal our weaknesses, showing them that our tribe is frail. Regardless of whether they raid the Empire, they will definitely raid us.”

The young boy fell into contemplation upon hearing this. The Elder’s wisdom was undeniably comprehensive, but he had one more question.

”They will certainly force us to join. But now the tribe’s warriors can’t endure further depletion. What should we do?”

”Wrong! We will join, but not send a single person. Tell them our tribe’s leader is already out fighting the Imperial people and boast about how we’ve easily defeated the Knights.

Tell them that after so many years without war, the Imperial people have become weak and mere soft cowards, and mock their timidity, questioning if they’re too scared, just as cowardly and lacking in fighting spirit as those Imperial people?”

The Empire has its form of political correctness—dealing with Barbarians.

Count Bastia used this as an opportunity to smear Hamlet.

Similarly, the Barbarians have their form of political correctness—dealing with the Empire.

In this way, today, the Priest used it to rid his tribe of the hostility from others.

The Fang Tribe had previously fought among themselves, slaughtering several small tribes, but now they could enhance their reputation by promoting their battle with the Empire, even claiming victory.

Yet, the reality was cruel.

The Priest remained ruthless, unwilling to suffer alone, dragging everyone else down with him.

As long as everyone declined together, their decline would be less conspicuous.

The wisdom of an old wolf can help the tribe out of its predicament.

”We should incite them to descend the mountain and fight the Empire to the death. That’s our tribe’s chance to survive.”

”I understand.” The young boy nodded, accepting the wisdom imparted by the Elder.

Only then did the Priest nod at the boy and, with his support, return to the nearby small hut.

After the young boy left, the Priest’s expression became complex as he lifted his garment, revealing a grotesque sight of twisted flesh beneath.

The Warwolf, being eroded, was used as a medium by that mysterious force to also corrupt the Wolf God, just as the sacrificial rituals over this period eroded him.

He had no retreat; he had to find a path for the tribe before his death...