Chapter 362: Death of a good leader
For Luke, Baldon had never been a good husband. He treated Roxanne poorly, neglected her, and yet still expected her to remain devoted to him. As a man, Baldon had never earned Luke’s respect.
But Luke still honored him as the chief of the village.
Baldon was a good leader, someone who never hesitated to put his own life at risk when it came to protecting his people, regardless of whatever flaws he might have had.
Just like now.
When the ambushers demanded three challengers and specifically excluded Kalish, Baldon could have remained silent and allowed Kalish to make the sacrifices instead. No one would have blamed him for doing so.
But Baldon stepped forward because those men had threatened the lives of his people.
Perhaps he was only trying to earn Kalish’s favor and prove his loyalty to the villagers. Perhaps there were other reasons behind his decision. Luke did not know.
But in the end, Baldon had still taken that heavy step forward and entered an arena surrounded by savages.
And that alone was enough reason for Luke to do everything he could to save the man’s life, even going as far as buying a high-grade potion and rushing to feed it to him as soon as possible.
Amid the roaring chants and jeering cries of the savages, Luke pressed the potion against Baldon’s lips and covered the wound as quickly as his hands would allow.
"Come on. You need to make it through," Luke said, tilting the entire bottle into his mouth.
The wound on Baldon’s throat began to close, the potion working exactly as it should.
But his condition did not improve.
His face remained pale. He was no longer breathing, and his heart...
[Host, it is too late. The target has lost too much blood. The potion cannot bring the dead back to life.]
Luke gritted his teeth.
If only he had been standing a little closer.
There might have been the slimmest chance of saving him.
Just then, someone approached and sneered, "Get the dead weight out of here. The next battle is about to start."
Luke’s eyes sharpened at those words.
[Host, stay calm. The situation is unfavorable for you. You could not take all these men, even with your Blessing. Acting recklessly could put the host’s family at risk.]
Luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Right.
He might be furious over Baldon’s death, but he could not allow his anger to cloud his judgment. Not here. Not when his family was still within reach of these men.
Slowly, Luke slid his hands under Baldon’s knees and lifted the man into his arms.
Then he turned.
His eyes met Ilya’s. There was genuine concern in her eyes.
He stepped past Regath, who was grinning from ear to ear, and stopped beside Ilya and Kalish.
"I’ll put his body somewhere safe first," he muttered.
Kalish wanted to say something. His expression was tight with concern, but in the end, he simply nodded and gave Luke’s shoulder a firm squeeze.
Luke walked past them.
The moment he was a few steps away, Regath’s voice thundered across the arena.
"Send the second one before I change my mind. My men are getting impatient."
Kalish gritted his teeth and stepped forward, his expression hardening as he prepared to intervene.
But before he could take another step, his daughter caught hold of his hand.
"Let me wipe that smirk off his face, Father," she said.
Regath grinned from ear to ear. "The little fox wants to fight, eh? Alright. Since you are putting your child into this, I will not hold back either." He turned toward the crowd and shouted, "Come out, Ragul! Step forward and fight, you oaf!"
A certain man was pushed out from among the crowd.
He was so heavy that it took four men just to force him a few steps forward.
Nearly the same height as Kalish, Ragul had broad shoulders, thick arms, a prominent pot belly, and a completely bald head covered in scars from what appeared to be old burns.
He scratched his belly lazily as he stared ahead with a vacant expression, seemingly uninterested in the commotion around him.
Despite holding a club he appeared far from prepared to fight.
Regath smirked as he gestured toward him. "I present to you my own son. He may not be as refined as my other boys, but he should still be more than capable of smashing your child into fine paste right before your eyes."
The insult made not only Kalish but the warriors standing around him clench their fists and grit their teeth.
Yet the girl in question remained completely composed, her expression as still as water as she stepped forward without hesitation.
The battlefield roared with excitement as Ilya arrived opposite her opponent, her gaze fixed steadily on the enormous man before her.
Ragul scratched his head and looked down at her, his expression as vacant as ever.
Just then, Regath’s voice thundered across the battlefield.
"End her!"
The bald man raised his massive club in the very next instant and brought it crashing down.
Despite its enormous size, the weapon descended with startling speed, far quicker than his appearance would have suggested.
THUD!
"Hmm?"
Ragul tilted his head as he looked down, only now realizing that his attack had struck the ground rather than his intended target.
Then he felt a faint tickle at the back of his neck.
His eyes shifted slightly before he turned his head, just in time to catch a glimpse of Ilya moving away.
Her blade had merely grazed the side of his neck, leaving behind a thin line of blood before she landed lightly a short distance away.
Regath’s grin widened.
"Oh, she is fast."
Kalish watched his daughter in silence. Concern was certainly present in his eyes, but his confidence in Ilya was far greater than the fear threatening to cloud his judgment.
He knew what she was capable of, and for the moment, that knowledge was enough to keep him steady on his feet.
"Come on, Ilya. You can win this."