Cultivating Anthro CEO RPG Hero Harem Reincarnation In Another World - Chapter 124

The Bramble Vest held his bow steady for a while, in silence, as Kestrel waited: her eyes closed, chin held high without fear.

“The dragon attack is our tribe’s best shot at taking control of the village—while the cultivator presence in the area is severely weakened,” the Bramble Vest explained. “Today, you will regret turning your back on us.”

Kestrel opened her eyes, wincing in alarm. “You speak with such pride, yet the tribe continues to exist as mere opportunistic scavengers.”

“Be careful with what you say, little bird…”

“Or what?” Kestrel furiously retorted. “You have already made clear your intentions with me, so what have I left to lose by speaking my mind? Life among the Forbidden is no different from slavery, and I am most fortunate to have found a truly kind and generous master to serve instead.”

“Is that so, little bird? And, I suppose you have also forgiven them for the other great loss they incurred on you…?”

Kestrel gave a resentful glare.

“Tell me, why haven’t you killed me yet?”

At this prompting he raised his hand, signalling to the other tribesmen at his back. “By separating yourself from the group, your existence is destined to be a never ending struggle,” he said.

While he spoke, Kestrel watched as the tribesmen that were securing the bear in place with ropes all, one after another, cut through the rope binds with their weapons. Causing the beast to lurch and bray with each tether that was thus undone, and every ounce of freedom restored to its movements—its prior exhaustion quickly giving way into adrenaline-fueled rage.

Soon there was only the tether around its snout remaining: being barely held onto by a dozen or so grunting, struggling tribesman at once; notably endeavoring to ensure that the beast was “pointed” at Kestrel.

Her eyes widened, and she lifted up her fallen axes, as the reason for this at once became abundantly clear. Even before the Bramble Vest ominously declared:

“It is only fitting that I allow you to fight, and therefore suffer, for your right to exist.”

The last tether was undone. And without delay, the bear fell to all fours and charged her—at such a velocity as one would never expect of its enormous size.

With a startled gasp, Kestrel held aloft her twin axes to meet it: cleanly piercing into its chest with their blades, yet failing to halt its bloodthirsty pounce; even as one of the axe heads broke off inside of it.

By contrast, with one swing of its mighty paw it smacked Kestrel away: Sending her rolling across the snow, until she collided with a tree. After which she rose slowly, grunting and huffing from having the wind knocked out of her, as the beast let out what she saw as a victory cry by rearing back on its hind legs with a mighty roar.

Kestrel’s top had been torn, reduced to tatters by its claw, so she tore off what remained of it—spilling out her modest-sized breasts, for all to see. Also bringing to full view the perfectly sculpted abdominal muscles of her torso: the end result of many years of diligent training, all-natural protein dieting, hard work and sweat. Such that, even now, despite standing at a full height of less than four feet tall, she was every bit as sturdy and strong as before her transformation.

She discarded the broken dual axe to instead opt into holding the remaining one in both hands, for a steadier grip: what would seem to be a paltry defense, in the face of such a huge threat. But for her, just as potent a weapon as any other, in the right hands…

‘Only finesse can defeat an overwhelming force,’ she thought to herself. She would have to be quick and intelligent with her strikes, for a single mistake would likely prove lethal.

She watched as the bear was circling, intermittently bobbing its head and letting out a petty grunt, the muscles in her arms tightening in anticipation. Sizing her up, from every angle. As Kestrel, having had plenty of experience with fighting bears in the past, knew it would be pointless to try to run.

The only way out…would be to fight.

Eventually, Kestrel was the one to break the stalemate by rushing forward, with a wide swing of her ax.

The first attack missed as the bear wove out of the way. But then, in maintaining the momentum of the swing, Kestrel surprised it when she brought the axe around for another strike; this one catching it squarely in the side of its jaw.

Its head was turned by the impact, and she thought she could feel a bone shatter. The fur under its chin was stained red, as it let out an astonished groan.

Dazed as it was by the direct blow, it attempted a sluggish swipe that Kestrel ducked under, to avoid with ease. Except to have one of its claws narrowly become caught on her fur skirt.

Consequently, her skirt was ripped completely off, to thus expose her fully naked body, as she deftly moved behind a tree to shelter against its ensuing flurry of flailing, irritated attacks: her number one priority being to find herself in a position where she could keep up her attacks, while also being protected from those deadly claws and gnashing, brutal teeth.

Taking advantage of the beast’s momentary loss of sense, she swiftly maneuvered behind it. Where she then, after taking a deep breath, made a daring jump onto its back.

Adrenaline pumping, she buried her face into its stinking fur, straddling the rampaging beast with her powerful legs to hang on, as though it were a bucking steer.

‘My former brothers and sisters: I shall prove my conviction!’

Steadying herself, she sat up to deliver the coup de grace: Holding the axe in both hands, rearing back all the way with each swing as she repeatedly drove it into the back of the bear’s skull with the same technique one would use to chop firewood—one hand on the handle, one hand on the head—cleaving through bone and muscle to access the sensitive gore of its brain within like the gooey peanut butter center of a delicious fur-coated chocolate bar.

Blood matted its fur. Flicked across Kestrel’s face. Painted the snowy ground.

It roared in pain, shaking viciously to rid itself of her. But still, she held on, and kept up her lethal tempo without pause. Hitting it until well beyond the point that its skull had cracked, caved in, and kept on hitting some more. Pulverizing the back of its head into mush.

‘Even if I am still a slave: If it is with Him, I may at least keep my dignity!’

The bear let out one final howl of anguish, its eyes rolling into the back of its head before finally collapsing, landing flat on its stomach. Dead.

Kestrel was shaking, panting. In a blurry haze her head spinning as she dismounted from its back, feeling something warm trickle down her limber belly: warmer, and more substantial than the obvious sweat. And upon looking down, she saw there was a great bloody gash where the bear’s claw had torn into her flesh.

“Kestrel-san!” Vash called, emerging from a nearby bush. Freezing in his tracks when he saw the full extent of her injuries. “You’re hurt.”

Looking around, Kestrel saw that, aside from Vash, there was no else around in the frozen forest glade.

‘The Bramble Vest…the tribe is gone.’

Did they not even stay long enough to watch her fight? She could only wonder; having not realized, until that very moment, that in the midst of the heated battle all the Forbidden tribesmen had slipped away, unnoticed…

“I came out here looking for you, when I saw you’d disappeared.” Vash said.

Drawing closer, he then uttered a gasp upon realizing that what he had first presumed to be a mere pile of dirt, or a large rock underneath her, was actually the slain bear. “Don’t tell me, you killed that huge thing—all by yourself?!”

Though she was in severe pain, Kestrel mustered a faint smile. “Aren’t you going to praise me, master…?”

“Is that why you went—” he paused briefly, with an incredulous look—”bear hunting…all by yourself?’ He shook his head, blushing, as he proceeded to lay her down on top of the bear, rather than the cold ground, to cast the default [Healing] spell on her.

“I tried to…track Akira,” Kestrel said, wincing and writhing in pain as Vash touched her bare shoulders. “Then, I found a bear trail.” She briefly smiled. “Had to…prove…my worth as a worthy wife.”

“By risking your life to kill a bear?!”

“Tribe…custom. Old tradition. Couldn’t think of any other way.”

Now, Vash was sure he understood.

Nodding slowly, with a contemplative gaze, as he leaned his face close to hers. Whispering softly, “you’re jealous of Bridget, aren’t you?”

She glanced at him sharply. “You knew?”

“Yeah. I’ve been there before, so I know exactly what it’s like.” Vash smiled. “That feeling of being overshadowed by someone, and having to constantly fight with them for attention.”

Kestrel was silently in awe. “Akira…?”

To which Vash gave a nervous laugh, rubbing his hand across the underside of his nose. “Well, I won’t deny that’s who it was—even though it’s pretty pathetic. But that was…err, feels like a long time ago.”

“No, Master: look behind you!”

Confused, Vash peered over his shoulder…

To see none other than Akira Maximilian, sheepishly standing there!.