Chapter 397 - Limit
Chapter 397 Limit
The Lyon Savannah of the Vierlin Plains, the Western Continent.
This place where water and plants once blossomed was now a wasteland.
Overhunting had left the spotted bison and horned gazelle-excellent sources of protein that once could be seen everywhere disappeared from sight. Half-eaten corpses had taken their place, with vultures that were once rarely seen due to lack of food now circling around in the air constantly, their numbers and sizes increasing visibly.
Worse, the milder nonhumans who lived for generations at the Lyon Savannah were displaced, whereas the warmongering and barbaric tribes developed with unprecedented progress.
The herbivores’ disappearance also allowed the unbridled growth of weeds, stubbornly turning the old grasslands into a green ocean of waist-high weeds. Even so, there was no life that grasslands ought to have here, because it was a wildland where only insects cries could be heard, adding a sense of desolation to it.
In fact, right now, every bit of air in the Lyon Savannah was swirling with the stench all carnivores had.
And the cause of it all was undoubtedly because of the change of chiefs at the Grayclaw tribe.
Swordtail Grayclaw, who should have no way of claiming the rank of chief had learned sorcery from an unknown source, easily killing all who resisted him in his bribe. The fate of his brother, Zonyan Grayclaw was unknown after he had fallen off a cliff in the duel against Swordtail.
Since the Grayclaw Tribe had been the undisputed king of all nonhuman tribes since ancient times, Swordtail now ruled over the right to live or die for all those tribes when he became chief.
To strengthen his authority, he rampantly recruited and accommodated the warring tribes while exiling, oppressing or enslaving the tribes that could not resist heir power. The diligent management and balance that generations of Grayclaw chiefs had maintained were therefore utterly destroyed, with all nonhuman tribes living near the Vierlin mountains affected seriously.
The oppressed nonhumans wanted to fight back, but Swordtail Grayclaw proved too powerful after he learned that obscure sorcery of his-not even Zonyan Grayclaw was a match for him, let alone the champions of average tribes. At the same time, his recruitment of the vile, warmongering tribes was too strong for the other nonhuman tribes even if they banded together. Not to mention that they were absolutely vulnerable without anyone taking the lead to unite them, and they were forced to endure alone as separate tribes, attempting to surviving from day after day.
But there was a limit to such situations too.
Rangka, the elder of the Long Ears had believed that when the nonhumans reached their limits, they would be forced to unite in resistance as life became unbearable. As such, he was a little hopeful since after the weird humans called Players set up base at his tribe, their lives had improved. The Players seemed to have extraordinary mobility and would not shy away from responsibility as well, and were the best choice to lead the oppressed nonhumans in mounting a resistance!
And they had shown that their ability to fight far surpassed any nonhuman tribe in the battle at the Tigermen’s fortress.
Although Rangka’s limited knowledge certainly did not recognize what terror the Players’ ‘skills’ could be, he had more experience than the average Long-Ear since he had led merchant groups to foreign lands to sell seafood to human nobles. He understood that the Players’ power came from their god (and was also curious why the Players would worship a ball so fervently), and were much stronger compared to the nonhumans who could only gain strength through awakening ancient bloodlines or through prayers to ancestors.
If they really would fight for the nonhumans, they would definitely ease the oppressed nonhumans even if they can’t overturn Swordtail Grayclaw’s rule.
However, Rangka never expected that the alliance of meat-eating nonhumans was the first to reach their limit.
In the first place, they were a loose alliance dragged along by Swordtail and pieced together by force.
At first, they had plentiful water and food, and would go around bullying little kids (docile nonhumans), and would hunt depending on their mood and leave their prey half-eaten. There was no sense of law-abiding now unlike the rule of the previous Grayclaw Chief, who ensured that food was not wasted as much as possible, which ensured immeasurable happiness and presented no issues.
With the uncontrolled and wasteful lifestyle Swordtail and his ilk, the docile nonhuman tribes who made a living with farming and rearing livestocks were chased away from the Vierlin Plains, their former livestock slaughtered excessively alongside the wildlife of the Lyon Savannah. When they finally realized what was happening, the balance in the grassland’s ecosystem was completely shattered-carnivores on top of the food chain such as the wildlands wolves and the saber-tooth lions were almost hunted to extinction, let alone the herbivores…
Naturally, the carnivorous nonhumans who had lost their food source became very much agitated. Indeed, they would have reached their limit earlier if the equally-voracious Tigermen and the Hyena-men had not been virtually wiped out in the previous battle.
Eventually, the mood discontent of erupted yesterday: a Jackalman attacked the Curly-Horns tribe that had been chased to the edge of the Vierlin Plains, and the Sheeple watch in horror as their clansman was eaten alive.
All at once, the already nervous atmosphere in the Vierlin Plains shot up to its limit.
Even though they had not met and made an alliance, the usually docile herbivorous nonhumans began to band together tacitly to combine and resist against the meat-eating nonhumans that could come for them at any moment.
While the meat-eating nonhumans would more or less listen to Swordtail Grayclaw’s orders, hunger was divesting them from their principles. Major tribes were hence wandering off the main area of the Vierlin Plains in search of herbivorous nonhumans who would be easy prey to them.
As such, the nonhuman communities who stood unified for centuries with much difficulty was now split in two, breaking apart following Swordtail Grayclaw’s promotion and one bloody hunt.
“Now that things had come to this, there is no need to hesitate! I once held my faith in my ancestors in seeking their protection, but they didn’t choose the Long-Ears in the end!”
Rangka exclaimed agitated at his brother, the chief of the Long-Ears tribe. “It is now the best time to present our loyalty to the Church of Games, for they are the true saviors! Only they could save us now!”
“Calm down, Rangka.” The Long-Ears’ chief said. “The saviors you speak off are still in the midst of their three-day feast.”
Why would that bunch always have to hold some feast…?