Chapter 351: Samson the Bull Demon and Amisfida the Lionman

After mastering the Dark Breathing Technique and the Black Moon Meditation, Argon departed alone. Charlot Mecklenburg watched as the solitary elephantman's silhouette disappeared beyond the horizon. Charlot had offered him a ship for the journey, but Argon refused—he insisted on using his own means to reach Cappadocia.

Charlot had encountered many beastfolk over the years: Frederica, Tumisan the Leopardman, the assassins who sought his life, and the countless beastfolk armies that overwhelmed the land. Yet none of them were like Argon. Unparalleled in bravery, kind-hearted at his core, fearless in battle, and dedicated to saving his people, Argon's unique qualities destined him for solitude.

Charlot could understand the loneliness of the beastfolk's greatest prodigy, though someone like Tumisan likely never could.

Perhaps…

Only Septimius, the leader of the Orc Assassin Alliance, who advocated the Fleshless Creed, could truly comprehend the young elephantman's isolation.

Nearby, Herolf, the Golden Ram, watched Argon leave with a simmering resentment. He muttered to himself, “Useless Argon. Why couldn’t you just kill Charlot?”

“If you killed Charlot, I’d be free from all this torment!”

“Beastfolk… truly useless.”

Tumisan, meanwhile, couldn’t fathom the exchange between Charlot and Argon. The more he observed Charlot, the more Tumisan felt that Charlot’s actions were incomprehensible, often irrational, yet consistently led to surprising outcomes.

He thought privately, “If he can even convince Argon, maybe following him will bring the beastfolk a better future.”

Charlot's brief conversation with Argon had revealed why the elephantman had brought a group of beastfolk to Dubrovnik. Their camp had completely run out of food, and after much internal conflict, they decided to cull some of their own into provisions.

Displeased with this decision but unable to alter the outcome, Argon had angrily led a group of followers away from the camp, aiming to take them by ship back to the southern mainland.

Argon also disclosed critical information: the beastfolk camp currently housed three Saint-ranked individuals: Amisfida the Lionman, Black Dragon the Lizardman, and Choudrou the Silverback Gorilla. Another Saint-ranked leader, Samson the Bull Demon, had already left the camp with his own followers.

Samson was the most influential leader within the Orc Assassin Alliance, with more followers than the other four leaders combined, none of whom were Saint-ranked themselves. In the beastfolk community, adherents to the Fleshless Creed were a rare minority, seen as fringe deviants.

Rumors held that Samson could devour ten people in a single sitting and had a peculiar preference for "gender-balanced meals," which he deemed particularly delectable.

For Charlot, these revelations were immensely significant. The beastfolk camp housed hundreds of thousands, their strength far surpassing his. Even with the beastfolk defectors he’d converted, Charlot’s forces numbered only 20,000 Labyrinth Guards and 5,000 from the West Wind Knight Order, leaving him at a significant numerical disadvantage. However, with only three Saint-ranked individuals remaining in the camp, and with allies like Herolf and Tumisan, Charlot's high-level combat strength was relatively balanced.

Charlot turned to Tumisan and asked, “In a duel, could you defeat any of the three—Amisfida, Black Dragon, or Choudrou?”

Cold sweat broke out on Tumisan's face. He replied softly, “My speed is unparalleled, and in single combat, none of them could kill me…”

“But I can’t beat any of them either.”

Charlot’s expression darkened, his gaze filled with irritation.

Tumisan immediately reconsidered his stance. Perhaps he should reflect on whether joining Charlot was the right choice. This man…

In many ways, Charlot was no better than a scoundrel.

Tumisan glanced at Herolf, the Golden Ram, who seemed pitifully resigned. As he looked, he noticed Sea Strider, the weapon he had lent Herolf. Tumisan hurriedly snatched it back, carefully tucking it away. Lending the high-grade extraordinary weapon was one thing, but returning it was out of the question—it had cost him a fortune to buy from Charlot in the first place.

Herolf looked longingly at his reclaimed Sea Strider, his heart bleeding. He fantasized bitterly: if he could do it all over again, he’d kill Charlot without hesitation.

Internally, Herolf cursed, “This man is a monster!”

“Bah! Charlot doesn’t deserve to be called human.”

“Even pirates aren’t as ruthless as him.”

“He’s nothing but a wicked god!”

“Even a wicked god is more upright than Charlot.”

Unaware of Herolf’s "high praise," Charlot pressed on, asking, “If you and Herolf worked together, could you kill one of them?”

Tumisan wiped his brow and answered, “I am a beastfolk. I don’t want to kill other beastfolk.”

Charlot quickly clarified, “It’s just a hypothetical. I need to assess their strength.”

Having known Charlot for some time, Tumisan didn’t believe him. Charlot’s "hypotheticals" often preceded meticulously planned ambushes. The man was undoubtedly plotting how to eliminate these three Saints.

Tumisan also knew Charlot had already sent for reinforcements from Menielman Soumet. If Menielman joined forces with Herolf, they wouldn’t even need his help. Tumisan didn’t want to see a Saint-ranked beastfolk fall. He wasn’t a traitor—just someone who followed the Fleshless Creed, holding ideals different from most beastfolk.

Yes, this point needed clarity—no abbreviations! It wouldn’t pass Fars Empire’s publication censors otherwise.

After a long pause, Tumisan finally said, “If we’re speaking purely of strength, Samson the Bull Demon is the strongest. He surpasses both me and Septimius. Even if the two of us worked together, we couldn’t withstand his savage charge.”

Charlot’s assessment of Septimius dropped several notches.

Unaware that he had inadvertently sold out his ally, Tumisan continued, “Samson’s power is comparable to your Fars Empire’s Earl Bretagne.”

Charlot pondered the commanding presence of Earl Bretagne and Viscount Constantine, adjusting his evaluation of Septimius slightly upward while lowering his opinion of Tumisan.

Tumisan added, “Next is Amisfida the Lionman. His strength is only slightly below Samson’s, still beyond what Herolf and I could handle even together.”

Charlot was slightly taken aback. He hadn’t expected the beastfolk Saints to be so formidable. Upon reflection, however, it made sense—those who weren’t strong enough had likely perished during the Battle of Strasbourg.

Looking somewhat ashamed, Tumisan continued, “Black Dragon the Lizardman and Choudrou the Silverback Gorilla are on par with Argon in strength. However, they have trained for decades longer, making their combat experience and tactics far more ruthless.”

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