Simultaneous with the Stormhorn Tribe’s migration, Malcolm and the survivors of the Bloodtusk Tribe were headed ho.
Unlike the other Bloodtusk Tribe warriors who were mounted on horses, Malcolm was riding the Forest Raptor Leone had personally given him.
He tried to refuse it, but Leone had been persistent. In the end, he could only agree gratefully.
They said that ignorance was bliss, and this was the most suitable phrase for Leone’s gift.
If Malcolm only knew that the raptor he gifted to him was actually a spy Leone had forced onto him, he might have risked his life to hack it to pieces with the help of his fellow warriors.
As he gazed at his tribesn, who were following behind him, the veteran warrior could only sigh in his heart.
Malcolm could feel it.
He could feel the unspoken desperation and anxiety everyone tried to hide in their hearts.
The re thought of returning to their camp made him feel pressure he had never felt in his life. The countless families who were waiting for their warriors to return, only to realize they would not be coming back.
Just like all the warriors behind him, Malcolm was experiencing the stages of grief.
Denial, Anger, Bargaining, and Depression.
They still hadn’t reached the last stage, which was acceptance.
Then again, how could they?
The battle had only ended a few days ago, so how could they possibly accept everything that easily?
While no one said it out loud, they all believed that there was no longer a future for the Bloodtusk Tribe.
Their forr glory had now been turned to ashes, like the bodies of the warriors that had been burned on the grand funeral pyre a day ago.
Malcolm thought of his family, waiting for his return. As a veteran warrior, he understood that the Darkmane Tribe would try to mitigate their losses by swallowing the Bloodtusk Tribe whole.
The worst part was that the other tribes wouldn’t even lift a finger to stop it.
They knew that the Bloodtusk Tribe was the pet of the Darkmane Tribe, so they couldn’t interfere with the inevitable that ca after.
’I hate it,’ Malcolm thought as he gripped the reins of his raptor. ’I hate it!’
He hadn’t wanted to participate in this war. However, he had no choice but to do so because his chieftain had ordered it.
Malcolm didn’t even like Varus. He actually hated the man. He was even happy that he died, for the latter constantly abused his authority and threw his weight around back at the camp of the Bloodtusk Tribe.
It was because of this selfish and arrogant man that their entire tribe had suffered a tragedy.
But... What was the point of thinking about what-if’s?
The battle was already over.
With their chieftain dead, the survivors were at a loss on what to do.
It was then that Malcolm thought of sothing.
A way on how he and his family could survive the trial that was about to befall their entire tribe.
Of course, Malcolm had no intention of telling the others about his plan. He didn’t dare to do so.
If he said that he and his family were going to Grimjaw Mountain to seek asylum in the Aslan Tribe, the warriors beside him might stab him in the back.
Even now, he could still vividly rember Leone’s expression when he agreed to Ross’ request to spare his people.
It was a face filled with sincerity of granting a dying man his last wish.
Aside from that, the way the young man asked him for a favor to build a funeral pyre for his dead brethren touched his heart.
He didn’t need to do such a thing. However, he still did it not because he wanted to shove their loss to their faces, but because he was being humane, which was very rare in the Borderlands.
Malcolm thought that if it was Leone... if it was him whom he had to serve with his life, he might not regret dying for his cause.
He wasn’t aware that he wasn’t alone in this line of thought.
The seventy-seven people that had stayed behind to listen to Leone’s favor were also thinking of the sa thing.
They were also planning to take their families with them to seek asylum in Grimjaw Mountain.
They intended to serve the person who had given their dead chieftain and tribe mbers the honor and dignity that they deserved.
Three days later, they finally arrived at their destination.
Just like they expected, the people gathered on the streets. So of them even cheered, thinking that they were the advance party that their chieftain had sent to announce their victory over the Aslan Tribe.
The cheers of the crowd felt like a rain of stones being thrown in their direction.
None of them found the courage to say anything. In fact, they were at a loss at what to do.
They followed behind Malcolm as he made his way toward the house of their chieftain, where his family mbers were waiting for the news of their victory.
When the warriors arrived at their destination, Ross’ son, Harold, greeted them with a smile.
However, after seeing the solemn expressions of the warriors, Harold’s smile disappeared and was replaced with a frown.
"What happened?" Harold asked. "Where is my father?"
"The chieftain... is dead," Malcolm forced himself to answer Harold’s question.
"Dead?" Harold’s frown deepened. "How could he possibly die against a low-ranking tribe? Did he get hit by a stray arrow?"
Malcolm took a deep breath in order to calm his senses. When he finally regained his composure, he told Harold everything that had happened, including the part where he surrendered his own chieftain to the enemy in order to save their own lives.
Harold’s face twisted in anger as he drew his sword and charged at the traitor who had betrayed his father in battle.
Malcolm didn’t even try to defend himself because the guilt he felt was so strong. He even believed that dying by Harold’s hand might give him redemption.
But when the face of his wife and children appeared inside his head, he knew that he couldn’t die.
If he did, they would surely suffer. There was even a chance that Harold would vent his anger and frustration at them, which was sothing Malcolm couldn’t ever accept, even in death!
With that, the veteran warrior tried to draw his weapon in order to block Harold’s attack, but his mont of hesitation earlier made him a second too slow.
But just before Harold’s sword was about to slash his body, the Forest Raptor made its move.
It lunged at Harold, bit his neck, and crushed it with its jaw.
Everything happened so fast that Malcolm, Harold, and the warriors around them weren’t able to do anything.
"Y-You... traitorrggh..."
Blood spilled from Harold’s lips before the light in his eyes faded away.
The Raptor’s great behavior during their journey made them completely forget that it was a ferocious monster that could kill a warrior as it wished.
After making sure that the man was dead, the raptor tossed its body on the ground before turning away to face the other warriors.
It then gave a loud and mighty roar, which spooked the horses, making them run away in panic.
Using this opportunity, the raptor charged forward, leaving the cri scene behind.
Daedalus had given it an order to save Malcolm, and it obeyed.
Malcolm clung tightly to the Raptor’s reins as the wind howled past his ears, his heart pounding wildly inside his chest.
He didn’t dare look back, but he could already hear the distant shouts behind him. All of them were filled with confusion, fear, and fury.
"Catch him!" soone roared. "Don’t let the traitor escape!"
The veteran warrior gritted his teeth.
Traitor.
The word echoed in his mind like a curse he could never wash away.
But this ti... he didn’t deny it.
"If being a traitor is what it takes to protect them..." Malcolm muttered under his breath, his grip on the reins tightening. "Then so be it."
The raptor sprinted through the narrow paths of the settlent, which was a shortcut Malcolm had chosen to use. Chaos erupted behind them, but none could match the monster’s speed.
Malcolm then led the monster to his ho so that he could take his family and escape. At that mont, he no longer cared about the Bloodtusk Tribe.
All that mattered to him now was to bring his loved ones to safety, even if it ant he would be branded as a traitor for life.
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