Volu 4, Chapter 25 – Repaying Kindness
Dark red-black blood splattered everywhere. Spears ripped open bellies. Severed limbs and torn organs lay strewn about the ground like worthless trash. In this grotesque painting, life was the cheapest commodity; blood nothing more than a common liquid.
Teresa was reminded of a phrase from her previous life: every human organ was worth a fortune, yet in tis of war, when all those organs ca together, they were worth less than a stray dog on the street.
The Beastn hacking each other apart in the sunken ground had gone blood-crazed. They chopped arms when they saw arms, hacked legs when they saw legs, cleaved heads when they saw heads—without the slightest hesitation despite being of the sa race.
Teresa, ever observant, noted how easily distinguishable the two groups were—just like the last ti in the forest.
One side fought shirtless, wearing only strips of cloth for modesty. The other side wore full armor.
The armored Beastn were visibly stronger and clearly more experienced in battle.
And yet, the nearly naked Beastn did not back down. Their weapons were stolen, their armor coverage nearly nonexistent. In wars where Divine Authority and magic weren’t involved, armor still played a crucial role.
Despite their inferior equipnt and combat power, the ragged Beastn fought toe-to-toe with the armored ones—because they possessed sothing the better-equipped didn’t.
A death-defying courage, and a hatred so deep it couldn’t be extinguished.
Fueled by these two forces, the weak surged forward, fearless, desperate to drag down one armored warrior with them—or at least land a few hits before dying.
In war, morale was everything. When one side began to fear the other, the tide would inevitably turn.
Indeed, the ragged Beastn outnumbered the armored ones. But more importantly, they were suicidal in their assault. The armored warriors, in contrast, showed hesitation, unable to et the suicidal fervor head-on.
These slaves were normally slow and useless. Why were they suddenly so vicious in battle??
That was what shocked the armored Beastn.
They didn’t understand—how could a bunch of slaves, looked down on and half-starved daily, go toe-to-toe with their elite troops?
Soon, the armored Beastn couldn’t hold out any longer and began to fall back.
After all, their lives were valuable. How could they trade them one-for-one on such a battlefield??
Overly cautious, overly concerned for their own safety, their hands were tied. Without waiting for orders, the armored Beastn began to rout. The commanding officer stood behind them, waving a command blade, shouting things like “Anyone who retreats will be executed!” but no one listened.
In the end, this officer was trampled by his own retreating troops.
Thanks to a Beastman’s strong vitality, he didn’t die on the spot. But by the ti he realized all his subordinates had fled, he had already been captured by the shirtless Beastn.
The battle was over, leaving behind a ss of dismbered limbs and bloodshed. And yet, such brutal battles would play out countless tis across this savage land.
For Sun-Moon Radiance, there was both bad news and good news.
The bad news: the fight was over, and the victorious Beastn had begun clearing the battlefield—spotting them on the ridge.
The good news: these Beastn weren’t like the ones they’d encountered before. They didn’t imdiately attack at the sight of elves or humans.
Instead, when they noticed outsiders, they looked on with wary eyes, then instinctively ford up around one of their own—shirtless, bald, with a few chicken feathers stuck in his head. This seed to be their leader. After hearing the report, he glanced up and spotted the Sun-Moon Radiance group, then said sothing to his troops.
Soon after, the Beastn hastily cleared the battlefield, collected usable weapons and armor, reford their ranks, and began retreating directly under the group’s watchful eyes.
These Beastn were clearly different. They showed little hostility toward outsiders—possibly to avoid being flanked, or because they didn’t want to provoke a mysterious third party.
Once they determined that the humans and elves posed no real threat and had no intention of fighting, they withdrew while protecting their main force.
Astrid was visibly surprised.
Beastn, upon catching the scent of elves, usually acted on primal impulse—harassing and attacking. Yet these ones didn’t.
Soon, the Beastn had vanished without a trace, leaving only broken corpses and unstripped armor and weapons.
Clearly, they were avoiding further conflict. Fighting the armored Beastn had already depleted their strength—engaging a third faction now would be unwise.
Felicia glanced at Teresa, clearly asking for her opinion.
Teresa’s answer was concise: follow them.
Getting too close could provoke suspicion or conflict. Best to stay at a distance—just enough to keep their tails in sight.
Reckless pursuit would draw attention. Teresa planned to wait until the Beastn were sure they weren’t being chased, until they relaxed and returned to their camp, before moving in.
“W-We’re really going to follow them, ow?” Wenfu asked nervously upon hearing Teresa’s plan.
Though these Beastn weren’t as scary as the armored ones, they were still Beastn.
The idea of chasing them down was sothing Wenfu couldn’t accept. But when she looked at the three elves in the group—none of whom objected—she realized the world had changed.
From being hunted by Beastn, elves had beco the ones doing the hunting.
Monts later, the five followed the Beastman force.
The Beastn, burdened with many wounded, moved slowly—even using stretchers to carry the injured—making it easy to catch up.
Once within visual range, the team maintained a safe distance—far enough to avoid being noticed or provoking them.
After tracking them for so ti, from behind a large boulder, Teresa and the others saw the Beastn retreat into a crude wooden fort.
It was hastily constructed, very “Beastman-style.” The walls were patched together with wooden stakes and heaps of random junk—focused solely on defense, not appearance.
After bringing in the wounded, a separate group of Beastn ca out to receive them. They pulled alchemy potions from sacks piled near the edge of the camp and began treating the injured.
“Those potions—they must’ve taken them from other factions. They clearly can’t make them themselves,” Teresa muttered to herself, watching with her keen elven eyes.
“And… they’re the lowest-grade kinds. So are even being used incorrectly.”
“Teresa?” The others waited for her next move—until they saw her rise from behind the rock and walk out into the open.
“What are you doing?”
“Wait here. I’ll go alone.”
“What are you saying?” Seeing her march straight toward the Beastman camp, they were all confused.
“Leave this to .”
“…Alright.” Though unsure what Teresa intended, Astrid chose to trust her, seeing the calm, confident smile on her lips.
Inside the camp, the Beastn were busy. The chicken-feathered leader had gone to report to the main chief, while the rest tended to be wounded and handled loot.
Given their poor equipnt, it was a fight of stone against steel. Their casualties were naturally heavier than the trained, well-equipped army.
One warrior, struck in the artery and losing blood fast, was rushed to the dics. They administered a recovery potion—but it had no effect. The bleeding wouldn’t stop. If not for the Beastman’s tenacity, he might’ve died en route.
The dical team was visibly panicked. Though they often won, their lack of proper dicine and skill ant many wounded were lost.
“Sir Beastman, that won’t work. It’s an external wound. While recovery potions help, they’re not ant for this. You need to stabilize the injury first.”
A voice like a harp playing in the woods gently cut through their panic.
Startled, the Beastn turned to see a golden-haired elf girl standing in their camp.
“Rrragh!!” They growled in fury. Teresa’s uninvited presence had clearly angered them.
Guards arrived with spears, snarling and baring teeth—so frightening that Wenfu would’ve fainted in terror.
“Forgive my intrusion. I an no harm,” Teresa said calmly, hand on her chest, voice serene like heaven’s chorus.
Still, the Beastn surrounded her, weapons raised, shielding their wounded.
They weren’t about to listen to explanations from an intruding foreigner.
Realizing words were useless, Teresa chose action. She glanced down at the wounded warrior groaning near her feet.
Her fingers drew forth a strand of green light.
The Beastn gasped. They recognized Divine Authority. Though unsure what Teresa’s power was, they dared not approach.
She peeled the outer layer off a tender green sprout and placed the core on the Beastman’s wound.
“Rrragh!!” The Beastn roared, thinking she ant to harm their comrade—until a voice barked out from the large central tent.
The shout froze everyone. Heavy footsteps followed.
Out ca a massive green Beastman, taller and more muscular than most. A long scar ran across his face, one eye milky and blind.
He scanned the group with his good eye and barked more orders.
Then, his gaze locked onto Teresa, clearly issuing a command.
Teresa understood.
The peeled green sprout had already begun working.
It grew over the wound, sealing it shut. The bleeding stopped. The Beastman stabilized.
The warriors around him were dumbfounded.
“If you don’t have bandages, use bark or vines instead—but coat them with this alchemy potion first.” Teresa pulled out a clear vial from her storage pouch.
Her [Verdant Fragrance] sprouts had no impurities and even had disinfectant properties. Ordinary vines didn’t and could cause infection.
The chief was silent for a mont, then barked another command. The warriors backed off, lowering their weapons.
Teresa summoned a few more strands of green light.
Soon, the bleeding of the severely wounded was under control. Minor wounds were cleaned and treated.
She even handed out so of her high-grade alchemy potions.
“Elf… I don’t know what your intentions are. But I thank you for what you’ve done.”
“Hm?” Teresa brushed her bangs aside, slightly surprised.
“You… can speak?”
She quickly corrected herself. “Sorry—I an, you speak the human language?”
“I learned a bit. Not fluent. But if you understand, it’s enough.” The chief’s scarred face looked intimidating, but he spoke practically.
He glanced at the wounded being treated with Teresa’s potions.
“You call us ‘Beastn,’ right?”
“We Beastn repay kindness. I don’t care what your goal is. If you ever need help—within reason—I won’t refuse.”
“There’s no such thing as a free al. I know that.”
“I don’t want repaynt, sir Beastman.”
“Oh? Elf lady—are you looking down on , then?” The massive Beastman seed strangely stubborn.
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