Chapter 373: The Hunt in Darkness (1)

When Eugene returned to the restricted area on the first floor, he found the bones and hide cleanly stripped of flesh.

“It wasn’t just the blood. The whole body was dangerous.”

Eugene had expected two days, but it took three for the Moving Castle to consume the dragon entirely. The reason was the curse and toxins embedded in its flesh.

The meat was even more poisonous than the blood, and the womb, internal organs, and even the brain were extremely dangerous. In some ways, it was similar to a puffer fish.

This explained why scavengers like flies hadn’t even approached the dead dragon—not just because of the magma-infused blood.

But resistance to heat and malice was a field in which the Moving Castle excelled. Like a honey badger that could continue eating after being bitten by a cobra, merely stunned for a moment.

The Moving Castle neutralized the dragon meat’s lethality to something like spiciness and continued consuming. Abandoning flesh so concentrated with nature’s power would be absurd.

The liver and brain were particularly toxic, requiring an extra day to build new immune capabilities.

“You actually stripped it clean?”

“This is absurd. Only three days? Even a smaller whale would take at least a week to butcher.”

The butchers and workers who followed Eugene gaped in astonishment. That wonder soon transformeded into fear of the unknown.

A room that could reduce a creature of the dragon’s size and lethality to bare bones in three days. Everyone realized just how terrifying this restricted area was.

‘What exactly does His Majesty do in here?’

All eyes turned to their king. Respect and loyalty remained, but the fear that had receded through his casual conduct now resurged. The kind of feeling the weak harbor toward the powerful.

This was also what Eugene had intended. Getting along informally with subordinates wasn’t the only way.

-Right now you’re doing volunteer work in the boondocks, but your life won’t end like this. If things don’t go well, you’ll be at least a mercenary captain. If you’re lucky, lord of a decent village.

The words Gofri had spoken during their time at Kingdom’s End.

-Aren’t you overestimating me?

-No. You can definitely do it. So let me give you one piece of advice for that time.

-I’m listening.

-People respond more to frequency than intensity. So be casually kind most of the time, but when you need to be harsh, bundle it all into one decisive strike. There are plenty of guys who did the opposite and got overthrown by rebellion.

-What if there’s no opportunity to be harsh?

-Then create fear. Remind the underlings not to take you lightly by occasionally refreshing the atmosphere. Crushing enemies brutally is simple yet effective. But there’s something better.

-What’s that?

-Show them something beyond human comprehension to inspire awe. Humans fear what they can’t understand while simultaneously being fascinated by it. Fear and loyalty are two sides of the same coin.

Gofri pointed to his closed eyes and ears in alternation.

-In my case, I could predict enemy raids and ambushes, earning the title ‘prophet,’ and sometimes I’d catch subordinates’ lies through spikes in heartbeat.

-For those working below, that would be scarier than enemies dying brutally. Understood.

Gofri’s lesson ended when Homi brought beer. The snack was dried fish she had caught and dried herself.

-Of course, this lovely creature is an exception to everything just discussed. Even if you do nothing but breathe, she’ll serve you with lifelong loyalty.

-???

Homi tilted her head cutely at the sudden praise.

“Heh heh.”

Eugene chuckled at the sudden memory of the past.

Come to think of it, where was his master now and what was he doing? He probably had no idea his face was on coins as regional currency.

Eugene shook his head and focused on the present.

“Load the bones and hide. They’ve been stripped as cleanly as possible, but accidents happen. Be careful with the blood. Never work with bare hands.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

The workers answered in unison and filed in. As the dragon’s bones and hide were stacked on large carts, Eugene remained on guard.

Had Gofri been here, he would have chuckled in multiple ways. Teaching this madman anything, only for him to exceed all expectations.

*

The queen and princess’s standoff ended in the queen’s victory. The dragon’s bones were moved to another venue within the Moving Castle—the Bone Museum.

“With these big frames in place, the weight feels different. More substantial than when they were all in the lobby.”

Eugene nodded at the dragon’s completed display. When only the Hydra bones were there, it felt somewhat empty, but now the entrance greeted visitors with a massive theropod skeleton.

“This is really… ‘insane’ is the only word for it.”

“I actually agreed with Cassandra’s position. Having the dragon head greet you immediately upon entering the lobby would have incredible psychological impact. But seeing the complete form like this is also impressive.”

Those who gathered upon hearing the news stared at the dragon’s form with mouths agape.

“Damn. With bones this thick, it’s no wonder it withstood the golem’s punches.”

The knights who participated in the hunt marveled at the theropod’s incredible bone density. Eugene shared their sentiment.

‘Stripped down, dinosaurs do have their own kind of magnificence.’

Such a massive creature—even the eye sockets were large enough to fit an entire cow. A child peering into that dark hollow would burst into tears.

“The teeth were this big?!”

Moreover, with lips and gums gone, the seventy-plus teeth appeared much longer than in life.

The dragon’s skeleton was mounted in a charging pose using steel cables attached to the ceiling.

Unlike typical reptile-type monsters, its well-developed forelimbs reached forward, with vicious claws threatening to tear apart anything in their path.

“That tail! Every time it swung, houses shattered and storms raged!”

“We saw it too. The first time His Majesty’s Might was overwhelmed and knocked down.”

The elves and accompanying knights who had been struck by the dragon’s assault gathered. The tail, with what looked like a massive boulder at its end, rested on the ground.

Beneath it lay a shattered Basilisk skull.

-During perimeter reconnaissance, we discovered Basilisk remains. Judging by the battle damage and broken bones, the dragon killed it.

-Scavengers had stripped it clean.

The Basilisk bones reported by elf patrols were also moved to the Moving Castle. A guest appearance to enhance the dragon’s majesty.

Though only three creatures, each was enormous—the visual impact was already overwhelming.

As they were posed in the moment of pouncing on prey, viewers standing before them could see inside the wide-open maws in detail.

“Once bitten, no entity—not even a god—can escape. It’s truly a death trap.”

“Feel the magical aura emanating from those teeth. It explains why Mandrakes fell like flies every time a golem took a bite.”

The summoners were mostly clustered around the head, captivated by the teeth that still radiated mystic energy like magic swords even in death.

“Was the tooth Marbas received from a much younger specimen? Or a different subspecies? Comparing the size and thickness, it’s nothing compared to this one’s.”

“Naturally. A mere barbarian king couldn’t have truly slain a real dragon.”

“With so many teeth, what if we asked for just one for research?”

“Talk sense!”

In an era lacking entertainment, this spectacular sight drew enormous attention. It would likely become a mandatory stop for future Moving Castle visitors.

“See that hole? When the dragon created storms that blew away even warhorses, my king hung on for dear life. That sword his father once forged to protect the elves! He drove it in with the Last Autumn.”

Valda, chin raised, was declaiming before the audience like a public speaker. She pointed to the dragon’s claws.

“He did not dodge those fearsome downward strikes. Instead, he stood his ground, raising the great axe-blade to meet them. The arrogant dragon screamed as blood streamed from its hands—you all saw it.”

At Valda’s words, everyone rushed to the hand bones.

“Heavens! There’s a clear straight cut mark on the hand bone. The beast that dared underestimate the greatest of knights got what it deserved!”

“Indeed. After that, the fleeing dragon tried to retaliate against the pursuit squad, but upon seeing the king, it fled again.”

Applause and laughter erupted from all sides. This was unlike the usually reserved Valda, but no one found it strange.

Humility wasn’t a virtue in this age. If a husband achieved such greatness, it was the wife’s duty to embellish it.

“…”

While everyone enjoyed themselves, one person wore a downcast expression.

“Cassandra. Honestly, I agreed with you too. The dragon head greeting you the moment you enter the lobby would have overwhelming psychological impact.”

“What is ‘ttttt’ supposed to mean?”

Cassandra answered with a smile.

“Well, seeing it like this, having it whole does look magnificent. The synergy with those grasping claws, you could say. A predator is most beautiful when setting out to hunt.”

All eyes were on the dragon, with no one behind the two of them. Cassandra’s silvery-gray hand slipped into Eugene’s grasp, their fingers intertwining.

As the Moving Castle buzzed with wonder and delight, Homi’s familiar returned covertly.

‘I found the target.’

A brief note and map were attached to the familiar’s leg.

The “target” referred to Ostyre with a code name. Originally “High Value Target,” it had been shortened to “Target” at some point. Not entirely inaccurate.

“Good thing you slept well.”

On the Might’s legs, reaching the destination wouldn’t take a single day.

*

With the rampaging dragon gone, many in the Great Forest rejoiced.

The elves who built villages, farmed, and lived were obvious, but so were the monsters and herbivores who had claimed parts of the forest as territory and fed stably.

However, there were also disgruntled groups—those who had scavenged from the dragon’s destruction. For them, the free feast was over. The two orc factions that had kidnapped Ostyre were among them.

“Where’s the meat you promised?”

“Idiots. The dragon is dead. What meat?”

Having expelled rivals, they had gathered several additional tribes into a large group. Now, with the dragon gone, they faced food shortages.

“I’m starving to death! How many days have we been eating this shitty gruel?”

An orc warrior threw down his wooden bowl. The “shitty gruel” was no mere metaphor.

With food scarce, they boiled whatever they could find into a hodgepodge, which included large intestines.

The conditions were harsh, and orcs certainly didn’t prepare food cleanly. Fecal residue inevitably mixed into the broth.

This was the survival instinct that allowed them to function as an army with minimal resources—why orcs, despite failing to form major civilizations, persisted and threatened humans.

“Hey! Where did you get that weapon?”

A commotion arose during the meal. An orc was wielding an elven silver sword, and the orc warrior Groobee claimed ownership.

The Great Forest’s mysticism meant that being cautious of predators’ teeth and claws wasn’t enough. Sometimes one faced situations physical strength couldn’t handle—including encounters with the undead.

In such cases, silver weapons blessed with Pama’s power were preferred by humans and monsters alike. Even without wielding them, they served as talismans.

“Get lost! It’s mine!”

The orc showed no intimidation from the larger Groobee.

“You little runt, daring to talk back to a warrior?”

“Our contract is about meat distribution. We agreed not to touch each other’s spoils.”

“Shut up!”

The fight erupted instantly. Both were mid-meal, so they fought hand-to-hand with bowls still in hand. This gave the physically superior orc warrior the advantage.

But the orc, though smaller, was a survivor of the Great Forest’s brutal competition.

“I’ll kill you!”

“Eat this!”

When Groobee threw his bowl and charged, the orc threw his own bowl in Groobee’s face.

“Kraaah!”

Groobee screamed, clutching his scalded face. The orc charged and delivered a dropkick with his massive chest.

Thwack!

The powerful impact sent Groobee sliding backward, landing right where others were eating.

“Kuaaah!”

“My food!”

“What the hell?!”

The orc warriors, already short on precious food, roared with fury.

“That guy!”

Groobee, reeling from the dropkick, grinned maliciously and pointed at the orc.

“He pushed me and ruined your food!”

“You little rat!”

“Kill him! Kill him!”

Suddenly, five or six orc warriors charged, and their tribal companions joined, turning it into an all-out brawl.

“Come here!”

Gauntleted fists shattered the orc’s teeth.

“Kraak!”

The orc on the ground drove a dagger into the warrior’s ankle tendon.

“Let go! Let gooo!”

The mounted orc warrior drove both thumbs into the orc’s eye sockets. Thin legs kicked wildly.

Crack!

The expression of the orc warrior gouging eyes turned to one of bliss—another orc had smashed the back of his head with a camp construction hammer.

“Ha ha ha!”

“Fight more! All of you, die!”

Spectators had already formed a circle around the scene. They stomped their feet, excited by the smell of blood and the noise of violence.

Dissatisfaction had erupted into fatal internal strife. Yet surprisingly, cohesion held.

Unlike humans, orcs paradoxically maintained group cohesion when internal conflict arose. It wasn’t merely stress relief.

“Uuugh…”

“Cough.”

When the fighting subsided, groaning wounded lay scattered across the ground. Among them was Groobee, who had started the fight by claiming the silver sword.

“Oh! Groobee. Quite the fighter.”

The shadows of spectators fell over the wounded.

“Your intestines are spilling out.”

“Get… away… take your dirty hands off…”

“What a lovely scent. Mmm!”

The dead from internal strife made excellent food. Fresh meat from watching a fight—who could refuse?

“Kraaah!”

The wounded screamed as teeth sank into flesh and innards.

*

Night fell. Having finally chewed meat, the orcs went to sleep with satisfied expressions.

In the darkness, silver-white eyes watched them. With many tribes combined, their numbers were considerable, but Homi felt no fear.

“Hello.”

Moreover, she wasn’t alone.

“O-older brother?”

Eugene emerged from the darkness.

“I could have handled this alone.”

“I couldn’t allow that.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Homi, but this wasn’t exactly a righteous endeavor. He wanted to finish it himself, keeping her hands as clean as possible.

Homi’s expression brightened as she clenched her fist.

Hunting!

Her favorite activity, shared with Eugene—there was no greater joy.

“How did you find me?”

Homi had erased all trace of herself, hidden perfectly.

“Your body is too warm to hide.”

Eugene stroked Homi’s cheek. She could conceal everything except this body temperature.

“Did you find Ostyre’s location?”

“There. In the largest tent where the orc warrior chief stays.”

Homi pointed to the massive tent at the camp’s center.

“From my surveillance during the day, the chief kept it well guarded. But with orcs secretly gnawing bits off, he moved it to his own barracks.”

“Poor thing. The suffering must be terrible.”

“Yes. We need to relieve that suffering quickly.”

Homi wore a wicked smile that didn’t match her lovely face.

‘What convenient vision.’

The dragon’s eyes clearly showed the scattered red and yellow dots in the darkness. Though Eugene had led countless ambushes as both commander and hunter, the battlefield seen through dragon eyes felt entirely new.

And so, the midnight hunt began.