Chapter Sixty-Nine: Beast Soul Warrior

Xia Ya bitterly regretted choosing this path. As soon as he saw the Odin warriors beginning to form ranks, he immediately retreated cautiously, relying on his agility to climb the trees in utter silence. His movements were as nimble as a mountain cat, crouched low and arched, moving stealthily from one tree to another. The process was painstakingly slow; every motion was as light as possible. Only after he had traversed over a dozen large trees, venturing deep into the forest and putting some distance between himself and the Odin troops, did Xia Ya dare to move with a little more speed, making his way further into the woods.

But soon, deep within the forest, a small patrol of tundra hunters appeared, and Xia Ya’s heart leapt to his throat at once.

These men were sharp enough to threaten his hiding place!

He immediately froze, perching motionless on the forked branch of a large tree...

With keen eyes peering through the dense foliage, Xia Ya caught a glimpse of a squad of towering Odin warriors approaching. Compared to those he had encountered before, these men were even taller and more robust, each exuding a fierce energy. Draped in animal hides, wielding short axes, they stood in a circle, their faces cold and their eyes burning with a violent intensity, yet they remained eerily silent.

What was truly alarming was that more and more Odin warriors were gathering below. Besides the tundra hunters, over a dozen others appeared, clad in bizarre furs. These newcomers bore no weapons, but adorned themselves with all manner of strange ornaments crafted from beast bones. Among them was an ancient Odin, gaunt and towering, his tangled hair wild about his head, draped in a voluminous fur robe—under which, astonishingly, he was naked. This Odin seemed to hold the highest position among them, for the rest kept a respectful distance, bowing from afar.

A fire was soon kindled on the ground. The shriveled old Odin reached into a leather pouch, drawing out a handful of unknown powder and tossing it into the flames. Instantly, the fire blazed a ghastly green, burning fiercely.

Sprinkling the powder, the old man began to chant strange notes. Xia Ya, unable to understand the Odin tongue, could only watch as, with the chanting, all the Odins around him dropped to their knees, prostrating themselves before the green fire.

A peculiar sensation crept into Xia Ya’s heart.

This Odin... could he be a sorcerer?

No, rumor had it the Odins did not call them sorcerers, but... priests?

Soon, some Odin warriors carried in two wild beasts—one was a living wolf, the other an actual live gray bear!

The animals, still bound, growled and howled beside the fire, baring their teeth. The Odin priest approached, an eerie grin twisting his gaunt face. He reached out to stroke the wolf, and instantly the creature seemed utterly cowed, no longer daring to struggle, its head tucked in, whimpering pitifully.

With a grim smile, the priest gently pressed his hand upon the wolf’s head—his fingers like withered twigs. As his chanting grew stranger, the wolf’s cries faded to silence.

Then, as the priest’s fingers gave a slight squeeze, Xia Ya’s eyes went wide as he witnessed a scene of uncanny horror—

Above the wolf’s skull, a faint, translucent light was drawn out by the priest, as if gently plucked from its body!

That wisp of light was weak, but as it left the wolf, the animal went rigid, motionless.

Suddenly reminded of his own encounter with the dragon’s death, Xia Ya’s heart pounded in terror!

It was... a soul!

The priest had just, with a single motion, pulled the wolf’s soul forth from its living body!

With profound solemnity, the priest cupped the spectral glow in his hands, then gently cast it into the green flames...

With a roar, the green fire flared up, and from within the flames came a sound like a soul’s anguished wail!

The priest, guiding with his fingers, sliced a mass of green fire away from the blaze, which transformed in his hand into dozens of emerald sparks. With a flick, he sent those points of light flying toward the burly, axe-wielding Odin warriors.

Each spark struck a warrior’s chest or head, sinking instantly into their bodies. Every man threw back his head and howled in agony!

Their faces twisted with torment, muscles contorting, teeth bared—some even wept and drooled, seized by unbearable pain. A few staggered upright, their bodies seizing and jerking like marionettes. Suddenly, they began tearing off their fur robes with monstrous strength; on their naked chests, Xia Ya could see muscles swelling at impossible speed, their skin splitting open—only to heal again in an instant. Patches of dense black fur erupted across their bodies, even sprouting from their faces... as if, as if—

Monstrous hybrids, half-wolf, half-man?

Where before their eyes had been cold, now they glowed a menacing green, as if twin flames flickered within each skull! If their gaze had once seemed chilling, at least it held a glimmer of humanity. Now, with those emerald fires, all traces of the human soul were gone.

(Burning a beast’s soul and injecting it into a man’s body... could it be—?)

Xia Ya’s face twisted in dread.

Could these be the fabled Beast-Soul Warriors?

He remembered tales from the wild taverns of Wildfire Town, where drunken mercenaries boasted of their exploits. Some claimed that the Odin Empire possessed legendary warriors called Beast-Soul Warriors, who fought with the ferocity of wild beasts—immensely strong, fearless, immune to pain, as though possessed by the very spirits of their animal prey.

The newly transformed wolf-men howled, while the tall, gaunt priest strode to the captured bear. The bear snarled and bared its teeth at first, but as the priest neared, its growls turned to mournful cries, as if it sensed impending doom.

The priest’s smile was strange and cruel, devoid of any joy but brimming with a merciless gleam. He pressed his hand to the bear’s head and, as before, chanted and made a deft, withdrawing gesture. Soon, a ribbon of greenish soul-light was drawn forth from the bear’s skull as delicately as silk from a cocoon.

Clearly, the bear’s soul was far stronger than the wolf’s; the brilliant mass was cast into the green fire, and the flames leapt higher and brighter.

The priest seemed exhausted—sweat beaded his brow, his face pale, his incantation faltering and breath coming short. He thrust his claw-like hand into the fire, and with a flick, split off the green glow. His magic seemed strained to the limit; though his hand should have been immune to the flames, it suddenly began to smoke and char, blistering black.

He only frowned, apparently unfazed by pain, but visibly tense. Swiftly, he clutched a mass of green fire in his palm, his now-charred hand twitching as he flung the flames.

A row of the largest, most imposing Odin warriors stepped forward, faces alight with savage anticipation. Each was at least two heads taller than Xia Ya, clad in thick iron armor, and wielding massive steel axes.

Sparks of bear-soul fire shot into their bodies; immediately, a chorus of thunderous roars erupted. Each warrior pounded his chest, muscles swelling grotesquely, some even growing taller in an instant. Their expanding frames deformed their armor, which groaned and twisted under the strain. Oblivious to pain, they tore at their own steel plates with monstrous claws—the thick armor shredded like paper beneath their hands!

From his perch, Xia Ya’s heart raced wildly...

Such terrifying strength! He knew himself to be powerful, but to tear iron armor apart barehanded was beyond even him. These Odin monsters could pierce and rip steel with a flick of their fingers—his own hands were nowhere near that hard!

Not even the dragon-blood coursing in his veins could grant such might.

Damn it, hard as iron! These Odin monsters truly had hands like steel!

Look at those bulging muscles—their arms thicker than Xia Ya’s own thighs! Their chests were covered in coarse black fur; some of their mouths sprouted sharp fangs at alarming speed—could these creatures still be called men?

Xia Ya’s heart hammered in his chest. He realized he had stumbled upon an Odin ritual for creating beast-soul berserkers, and now he was surrounded by these monstrous hybrids—each capable of tearing iron apart with their bare hands. If discovered, he would be doomed without question...

No, not just doomed—certainly dead!

Even the boldest fool would feel his courage falter in such a situation; Xia Ya felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck.

He barely dared to breathe, motionless among the branches, not daring to move an inch.

But just then, the ritual below continued—and Xia Ya’s expression changed drastically!

It was clear the ritual was not finished. The newly transformed beast-soul warriors lay prostrate before the priest, growling low. The priest, having refined two souls in a row, was visibly exhausted. Another Odin, similarly robed, apparently his assistant, approached and spoke a few words of concern. The withered priest wiped his brow with his eyes closed, shook his head, then opened his eyes and replied with resolute firmness.

Soon, more captives were brought from the forest—but this time, when Xia Ya saw them, his eyes reddened in horror!

This time, they weren’t animals, but people!

Several wounded Byzantine cavalrymen, still bleeding and obviously recently captured, were dragged forward. To Xia Ya’s shock, among them were men he recognized!

Bound at the head of the line was a burly man whose size rivaled that of the Odin warriors—such a physique was rare among Byzantines. His robe was slashed in several places and still bleeding, yet as he was dragged along, he strained his neck to curse loudly.

Xia Ya immediately recognized him. This was Sharba, a fellow member of the imperial guard, once the company’s strongest man and his own wrestling rival. In the guard camp, apart from Kevin and the cunning Kato, this rough fellow was the one Xia Ya got along with best. He, Kevin, and others had ridden north to rescue Butler—how had he ended up captured here?

Had Kevin and the others been defeated?

Xia Ya’s heart filled with worry.

Sharba kept cursing at the top of his lungs, knowing full well the Odins wouldn’t understand, but refusing to be silenced.

And the second captive—Xia Ya recognized him even more readily!

It was Kato! That sly Kato—the very same who, on Xia Ya’s first day in the camp, had slipped him a bottle of wine in secret!