Trash of the Count’s Family - Chapter 654

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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“Grrr… Tenacious to the point of tedium.”

The Cat Tribe Chief drew ragged breaths, his expression darkening as he regarded Ron.

“Hah.”

Ron exhaled shallowly as well. Despite the composure etched across my face, my back was drenched in perspiration. The Elderly Man’s gaze swept across the berserk chief.

“I’ve heard countless tales of berserk Cat Tribe warriors, but witnessing one firsthand is entirely new to me.”

The beastfolk races exhibited different manifestations of berserk states depending on their species’ characteristics.
Some, like the Tiger Tribe or Wolf Tribe, underwent explosive growth in size and power. Others, like the Whale Tribe, increased their strength through external mediums without altering their appearance.
The Cat Tribe, too, possessed distinctions that set them apart from the rest.

‘First, their entire bodies become covered in fur.’

Unlike the Wolf Tribe, their bodies didn’t expand significantly, though their appearance did change noticeably.

‘Most critically, they become extraordinarily swift and their footfalls make no sound.’

The Cat Tribe’s movement speed accelerated dramatically, and even when their feet touched the ground, they produced no noise. It was a berserk state that perfectly explained why the Cat Tribe was called the race of concealment.
The chief’s lips curved upward as he observed Ron studying him.

“Kekek. Your voice sounds quite exhausted, doesn’t it?”

Ron offered no rebuttal to the chief’s words. They were true, after all.
Ron had barely managed to keep pace with the chief.

“Stubborn. Stubborn old men.”

The chief glanced around before spitting out the words.

“No matter how grievously wounded, not a single groan escapes them. One would think age would drain their venom, yet their eyes still gleam with malice.”

The reason Ron had been able to keep pace with the chief.

“….”
“….”

The members of the Molan Family surrounded the Tribal Chief, targeting him with lethal intent.
Though blood seeped from wounds scattered across their arms and legs, not a single one of them uttered even the faintest groan.

“…Bothersome nuisances.”

Throughout the escape, attacks had erupted across the forest—some halting the Cat Tribe soldiers fleeing alongside the Tribal Chief permanently, others merely slowing them. Every assault had come from the Molan Family.
They clung with such relentless persistence that the Cat Tribe had been forced to scatter, each group fleeing in different directions.

Ron spoke with an expressionless face.
Ron spoke with an indifferent expression.

“Ugh!”
“Ugh!”

The last of the Cat Tribe soldiers who had fled with him had fallen moments ago to Ron’s short blade.
The Cat-Human soldiers fleeing with the Tribal Chief—the one who had just fallen to Ron’s short sword was the last of them.

Ron heard Dodori’s cry from behind his back just before he rushed into the Forest.

“Kale Heniatus collapsed! This is serious!”

On and Hong, who had run ahead first, didn’t hear those words. Ron realized he had little time. He had to defeat the enemy as quickly as possible and return to Rowan.

Ron raised his hand, and at that signal, the members of the Molan Family—who had endured without a single groan until now—vanished into the mist.
Ron raised his hand, and at that signal, the Mollan people who had not let out a single groan until now disappeared into the mist.

“Hmph.”

Unlike the Cat Tribe Chief who snorted derisively, he raised his momentum.

A strange cry echoed as the surrounding mist began to churn violently.
Along with a strange cry, the mist around them began to swirl.

“Grrr. Do you really think you can set foot in my territory and live?”

The Tribal Chief’s fog ability. Combined with the extreme speed and silent movement brought on by his berserk state.
Entering the fog domain unleashed by a berserk Fog Tribe warrior was tantamount to choosing death.
Yet soon his expression twisted.

“…These insane bastards!”

All the Molan Family members who had vanished into the fog—save for Ron—retreated away from the Tribal Chief.
And the Tribal Chief swiftly wielded the short blade gripped in his hand.

Clang!

Ron’s blade and the Tribal Chief’s blade collided, producing a bone-chilling sound.
Within the thick fog the Tribal Chief had conjured. Yet because he was its master, he could see Ron’s face clearly through the murk.
Ron was smiling.

“I told you I’d be the one to kill you, didn’t I?”
“…So you sent your subordinates elsewhere?”
“Exactly.”

The Tribal Chief furrowed his brow.
Surely Ron shouldn’t be able to see his position within this thick fog he’d created. Yet Ron was tracking him with perfect accuracy. How was this possible?

“…!”

Then the Tribal Chief glimpsed a faint crimson light within his own fog and spun around in alarm.
He saw red fog desperately probing its way into the fog domain he’d established.
Portions of it gradually forced their way through into his fog realm.

‘Damn these mutant freaks!’

It had to be the fog of On and Hong.
And not ordinary fog either—poison fog.
That crimson fog must be revealing his position to the Molan Patriarch.

The Tribal Chief felt cold sweat break across his skin.
During his retreat, he had witnessed fog that covered half a mountain.

‘…How is a twelve-year-old producing such fog? How could he possibly resemble his father so closely—!’

The Previous Fog Tribe Chief, father to On and Hong, had never undergone the berserk transformation, leaving his physical abilities pathetically inferior compared to other Cat-Human Race members.
The Cat-Human Race were ultimately a species that had to engage in combat. In assassination, concealment and mobility were paramount.
However, the Previous Fog Tribe Chief possessed fog abilities that far surpassed those of Cat-Human Race members his age.

“Hmph! You think the fog of an inferior wretch could surpass mine?”

Whoooosh—whoosh—
The fog surged forth once more. Befitting his title as the current Tribal Chief, the mist was remarkably dense, obscuring even the grass beneath the ground.
Naturally, not even the faintest crimson fog, let alone dust, could penetrate its depths.

The Tribal Chief moved through that fog, perceiving the world with crystalline clarity while shrouded in obscurity.
His feet pressed against the grass without producing a single sound.

Shhwack—!
Yet a blade came slicing toward him despite his silent, swift movements.

‘How does he know my location!’

Ron’s short sword came directly at him, moving precisely in the direction the Tribal Chief had been heading. The Tribal Chief’s eyes widened as he saw it.
The Tribal Chief hastily blocked Ron’s blade.

‘Damn it!’

Without uttering a word, the Tribal Chief quickly shifted direction, aiming for Ron’s flank where he couldn’t possibly see him.

Boom!
Yet Ron twisted his body and blocked the attack with a short sword in his other hand.
Immediately after, the blade in his other hand thrust toward the Tribal Chief’s throat.

Crash! Boom!
Within the dense fog, the Tribal Chief and Ron exchanged blows relentlessly.

‘This is unbelievable!’

The Tribal Chief was astounded. While he could see clearly through the fog, Ron—who should have been blind in this darkness—was defending against his attacks with perfect precision and launching counterattacks of his own.

‘Insane, how is this possible!’

Ron relentlessly pursued the Tribal Chief’s life.

‘This fog is mine and mine alone!’

It was his pure domain, untainted by the fog of the mutants.
Yet how was that old man moving as though he could see through it?

The Tribal Chief could not flee from the dagger pursuing him. His concentration had already been entirely consumed by Ron, whose attacks grew sharper with each passing moment.

Clang! Crash! Clang!
The endless collision of blades tore through the forest like a violent scream.

‘Insane! Why is this old man so strong!’

Sweat streamed down the Tribal Chief’s forehead.

Dagger technique. Raw strength.
In every aspect, Ron was gradually pulling ahead of the Tribal Chief.
The Cat-Human Race did not gain increased strength from their berserk state. Thus, he possessed only his natural physical power.

‘This cannot be!’

The Tribal Chief’s grip on the dagger burned with pain.
Yet he had no time to dwell on it.

‘How—how can he possibly attack me when I cannot be seen—!’

Swift mobility and silent footsteps. Combined with the fog unique to the Fog Tribe. These three elements had allowed the Tribal Chief to rob his enemies of sight and seize victory.
But now that these three were rendered useless, he could find no answer.

Clang!
“Ugh!”

In the end, he was forced to cry out as he deflected the dagger coming toward him.
It was the moment silence shattered.

“How—!”

He cried out, staring at Ron.

“How did you do this? Can you see me? What sorcery are you using!”

At that moment, the Tribal Chief caught sight of Ron’s lips curling upward. The Elderly Man’s entire body was drenched in sweat, yet his face remained composed as he uttered a single word.

“Breath.”
“What?”

Ron paid no heed to the Tribal Chief’s question and immediately resumed his assault.

“Ugh!”
Clang! Clang! Bang!

The exchange of blows continued anew. Ron drew upon his concentration within that rhythm of combat.

The battle against the Cat Tribe Soldiers that had unfolded at Sherit’s Light Castle in the past.
Ever since that encounter with the Fog Tribe, I had trained in preparation for them.

My training was simple.

‘Find the enemy’s opening.’

I had grown stronger in a manner entirely different from Choi Han, Rosalind, and Vicross.
For an Assassin, being stronger than the enemy was not what mattered most.

What mattered was how well one could exploit the enemy’s weakness.
That was the crucial point.

And I had found the Cat Tribe Chief’s weakness.

A rustling sound.
When I stepped forward, an unavoidable noise escaped. But the Cat Tribe Chief made none.
However, the Cat Tribe Chief invariably produced one sound.

That sound was breathing.
The inhalation and exhalation of breath. I moved my dagger in rhythm with that sound.

‘The breathing is growing more ragged by the moment.’

Every single day, I would polish my dagger and sharpen my senses. My aging body would naturally succumb to decline, yet my hearing—which should have deteriorated with age—suddenly became razor-keen the moment I recalled a particular point in my past.

Ron recalled a memory from his past.
It was a moment when he had been fleeing with the young Vicross in tow.

To survive, to keep his son alive.
He had become a fugitive, desperately evading the enemy’s gaze. The most terrifying sound back then was the breathing of another person.
It was the sound of enemies drawing near, enemies who might kill him and his son.

Those days of covering his own gasping mouth and his son’s with trembling hands, tensing at every footstep and breath of another.
Finally, Ron had managed to fully awaken those sensations within his body once more.

Roooaaar!
“This damned old fool!”

Drip. Drip.
Beads of sweat rolled down Ron’s face and fell beneath his chin.
It was the result of consuming considerable concentration.
Even so, he lifted the corners of his mouth toward the Tribal Chief who was watching him.

“If your strength had increased through that berserk state, I might have struggled at my age. Fortunately, only your speed has improved. Thanks to that, I’ll kill you easily.”

Anger flickered in the Tribal Chief’s eyes.
He acknowledged that escape and concealment within the fog were impossible, and so he committed everything to his assault.

“I will end you!”

He poured all his strength into his body and began his attack on Ron.

Clang! Bang! Crash!
The attacks continued once more. The Tribal Chief watched Ron’s exhausted appearance and let out a cruel laugh.

“Kekeke. Yes, let us clash like this! In the end, you Molan Patriarch will die first!”

The Tribal Chief saw the Tree positioned behind Ron.
He lifted his foot and launched a kick toward Ron.

Thud!
The moment Ron raised both arms to block the kick, the Tribal Chief swung his short sword, and Ron barely blocked it while colliding with the Tree behind him.

Thud!
A dull sound echoed out, and the Tribal Chief, noticing Ron’s face stiffen ever so slightly, immediately drove his dagger toward the man’s throat.

“I’ll end this!”

In that moment, a benevolent smile bloomed across Ron’s face as he heard the Tribal Chief’s words.

“Is that so?”

The Tribal Chief found himself bewildered by such a gentle expression—what could this mean?—when Ron spoke softly.

“There are children learning everything I know.”

Ron had taught those children—who, like himself, had lived as fugitives—everything he possessed except assassination: concealment and all his other skills.

Rustle.
A faint sound reached the Tribal Chief’s ears.

Above his head.
The sound came from between the leaves of the trees.

The clashing of daggers had been so thunderous as he evaded Ron’s attacks that surpassed his imagination—he had failed to notice someone far more stealthy than any assassin slipping into the fog.

‘An intruder!’

Only now did the Tribal Chief realize that someone had entered his domain.
And the moment he saw with his own eyes the intruder move the instant they touched down at their target location.

Shhhhwing—!

The sound of something being sliced through rang out.
The Tribal Chief could not move, his gaze locked downward at the sound that pierced his ears.

“I—I—”

His ankle had been cut by something sharp, the flesh beneath now exposed.

“You should always watch your footing.”

The Tribal Chief heard the voice of something younger among the inferior creatures.
Hong, who had approached stealthily by weaving through the trees, smiled at the Tribal Chief just as Kale did.
Small but razor-sharp claws, dripping with venom, carved a wound into the Tribal Chief’s ankle—neither deep nor shallow.

Thud. Drip.
And from those claws, black poison flowed downward.

“These creatures-, cough!”

The Tribal Chief, who had been about to swing his dagger at Hong, staggered as dizziness overtook him.
Hong moved her claws once more.

Shhhhk—
The wound tore wider, and black poison seeped deep within.

“I-, I—!”

The Tribal Chief collapsed to his knees, his breath catching as he glimpsed the black poison through his spinning vision.
Black poison.
Surely a deadly toxin.
Then, from within the fog, On’s composed voice reached him. Rustle. Rustle. She approached the Tribal Chief without hesitation.

“Ten minutes. If you don’t find an antidote within that time, you die.”

What?
The Tribal Chief lifted his head, grasping at his vision as it twisted with vertigo.
Before him, Ron crouched down.

“You’ll be dead soon.”

At his matter-of-fact tone, the Tribal Chief’s face contorted.

‘Dead? From the poison of this inferior creature?’

It wasn’t even a major attack. Merely a scratch to the ankle with venom.
Yet he could not dismiss those words.
The moment the poison seeped in, dizziness flooded through him—a deadly toxin that robbed him of bodily control.
The Tribal Chief trembled violently, his entire body shaking.

“Why? Do you hope I’ll spare your life?”

At Ron’s indifferent voice, the Tribal Chief cried out, consumed by rage.

“Do I look like I would beg for my life? I will never bow to that inferior creature!”

The Tribal Chief’s vision grew darker by the moment. Dizziness overwhelmed him as his eyes began to close.
He thought this was how he would die.
Through the narrowing edges of his fading sight, a silver-furred cat approached.

“What does it matter if you can’t go berserk?”

On spoke to the Tribal Chief, who lay collapsed and struggled desperately to keep his eyes open.

“In the end, we won.”
“Kugh!”

The Tribal Chief let out a bitter laugh at the child’s claim of victory.

“Won? Kekuk. Kehaha! You won?”

He realized he could no longer fight against his closing eyelids, could not overcome this dizziness.

“Yeah. We won. Jealous?”

The cat’s lips curled upward as she flashed a mocking grin.
Rage ignited within the Tribal Chief at that sight.

‘I cannot die like this, I cannot!’

He could not accept dying while watching their laughing faces. His mouth opened. The Tribal Chief squeezed out his last remaining strength and roared.

“You will all die in the end! When the Temple’s gates open, you will die like-”

But he could not finish his words.
Complete darkness engulfed his vision, and the Tribal Chief could not open his eyes again. His entire body went limp.

On, Hong, and Ron gazed down at his motionless form in silence.

Shrieeeeek—
The Tribal Chief’s fog dissipated entirely.
And On and Hong’s crimson mist devoured the last remaining fog of the Sez Mountain Fog Tribe.

“Ah.”
“…Oh dear.”

The Cat Tribe Soldiers who had been fleeing until the very end lost their strength and collapsed.
The disappearance of the Tribal Chief’s fog meant he had been defeated, that he was dead.

Hong opened his mouth as he gazed at the Tribal Chief with his eyes closed.

“He fell asleep right away?”

Wheeze. Wheeze.
The Tribal Chief had fallen into a deep sleep.
Hong’s black poison was a sleeping toxin.

“The more exhausted you are, the faster you fall asleep! This damned Tribal Chief must have been utterly drained!”

Hong, who had described the Tribal Chief in language that would horrify Kale Heniatus, turned his gaze toward On and Ron with delight.
Just as Hong was about to suggest they bind the Tribal Chief and take him away, he froze at the sight of the two.

“…The Temple?”

On tilted his head and murmured, while Ron urgently seized the Tribal Chief by the collar and began sprinting toward their allies.
On and Hong were startled by his sudden action and hurried after him, but Ron could not afford to wait for them.

‘If it’s the Temple!’

A single word the Tribal Chief had left as his final message, knowing he would die: “Temple.”
For the Cat Tribe, there was only one door to the ten temples on the White Star’s side.

‘The Sealed God!’

The God of Despair, or the Sealed God.
Our allies still did not know where that god was sealed.
Ron’s mind began racing rapidly.

‘The summoning is supposed to take place in Pursulsi.’

He gathered the information at hand and arrived at a single hypothesis.

‘Is the temple door of the Sealed God in Pursulsi about to open?’

Ron began to sweat for an entirely different reason.

“I have to inform them.”

He needed to relay this news to his allies immediately, especially to those who were in Pursulsi.

* * *

At that very moment.

“Hah. Quite the sturdy shield, isn’t it?”

Ancient Dragon Erhafen gazed down at his front claws with a somewhat weary expression.
Fine cracks were beginning to spread across his golden, gleaming hide. He observed his own condition in silence before fixing his gaze forward.

“…Kill… The powerful intruder must be killed….”

The Monster Lion Beast charged at Erhafen once more, its shield unmarred by a single dent.

‘It keeps saying the same thing. Is this really a guardian?’

Erhafen paused briefly in thought before evading the shield being swung toward him and aimed his claws at the lion beast.
Holding his ground alone against the monster.
This was the best Erhafen could manage right now.
Crack. Crack.
Even in that moment, the cracks spreading across Erhafen’s hide were expanding from his front claws across his entire body.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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