309 -303- King of the Barbarians
Sejuani hung up the Hextech phone after speaking.
"Do you need anything else?" Sejuani asked Linwin, looking at him.
"No, thank you for being willing to help me connect with Avarosa," Linwin said.
Sejuani nodded.
"I'll go tell Mel and Silco later. At the latest, in four days, the gift for Avarosa will reach the skies of Freljord."
Looking at Linwin, Sejuani hesitated for a moment and asked, "Linwin, by helping us like this, what do you want?"
"What do you want from me? What do you want from Ashe?"
Looking at Sejuani, Linwin glanced at the ceiling, pondered for a moment, and said, "Let's just say I'm doing charity."
Some things couldn't be said.
Sejuani thought that by helping them like this, Twin Cities was at a loss, but in reality, Twin Cities successfully opened up the route to Freljord.
After befriending Avarosa and the Winter's Claw, Freljord could truly be said to be under the control of the Twin Cities.
After all, Lissandra was now secluded in a castle in the far north.
Moreover, Linwin could also get to know new champions and find ways to increase their favorability towards him.
Speaking of which, if he got to know Ashe and befriended her, then it should be a buy one get three free deal, right?
With this thought, Linwin looked at Sejuani again.
Sejuani was stunned, feeling that something was a bit off in Linwin's gaze.
---
"Vrynna, this Hextech phone is mine now."
"Understood, I heard it all." Vrynna nodded at Ashe, then raised her still bound hands.
"I think you can untie me now" Vrynna chuckled, biting the last two words heavily, as if mocking Ashe.
Ashe looked deeply at Vrynna, raised her hand, and shouted, "Come in."
"Warmother."
FrostStone immediately walked in, still staring tightly at Vrynna standing in the hall as he entered.
"Untie her."
Without asking more, FrostStone approached and untied the rope in Vrynna's hands.
Flexing her wrists, Vrynna shook her head, her lone eye looking at Ashe. She spoke:
"To be honest, I was strongly against allying with Avarosa. But I couldn't resist Sejuani's orders, so here I am."
FrostStone tightened the axe in his hand as he listened.
Ashe watched Vrynna quietly.
"But one thing is certain, cooperating with those Twin Cities, Avarosa will gain a lot of things."
"I look forward to seeing what expression you'll have when you use the water heater. Will you still think it's just a scam, or will you think that everything they send is useless?" Vrynna said, finishing her sentence and turning away.
"Send someone to overwatch her departure," Ashe told Frozen Stone.
---
In the remote north, the night was dark as ink.
In the northern part of Freljord, just below the Frostguard Citadel, was a place that bordered the Frostguard Citadel to the north and the Noxian fort of Delverhold to the south.
The fire in the forest burned all night until morning came.
The destroyed village was full of ashes from the fire, and the heavy snow extinguished the fire from last night, covering the ground with bloodstains.
But those who miraculously survived and crawled up from the ground still smelled the strong scent of blood.
Some young people even vomited on the ground.
It was at this moment that a shout rang out.
"Tryndamere, Tryndamere! Are you there? Are you still alive?"
The old priest of the barbarian tribe shouted anxiously as he ran towards the pile of dead bodies, helping the remaining tribesmen move the bodies.
Until a crimson hand emerged from the pile of bodies.
"Quick, come over! There's someone here!"
A sturdy man shouted loudly.
Soon, the bodies on top were moved away, and a face appeared in front of everyone.
"Tryndamere, it's Tryndamere! By the unyielding spirit of the Boar God, thank the heavens!"
"What happened? Tryndamere, our people... how did they all...." The muscular man climbed onto the pile of corpses with his bare upper body and knelt on the bodies of his tribesmen, looking down at Tryndamere below, roaring in anger.
Tryndamere was a powerful warrior of the tribe, he should have protected the tribe!
But now, the tribe was destroyed, leaving only the wreckage of the remote land.
"Was it the Frost Priests who did this?"
The man lying in the pile of bodies looked silently at the sky, his lips trembling, a line of blood and tears flowing from his eyes.
Closing his gray-green eyes, he said in a low voice:
"No, it wasn't them."
"It was my incompetence. I was knocked aside by a single swing."
"Who? Who could do such a thing? Tryndamere, you are the strongest warrior of the tribe!"
"The strongest?" Tryndamere reached out his hand, reaching up as if trying to grab something, but soon, his arm became weak and fell down powerless. He muttered:
"That powerful demon, I couldn't even block his sword. I... couldn't block it!"
"They're dead, they're all dead!"
A beast-like roar squeezed out of his throat, Tryndamere's eyes turned blood-red in an instant, and his muscles began to swell.
He remembered something.
That person, he ate the bodies of his people, absorbed their power!
"Tryndamere, calm down, you must calm down now."
The old priest quickly reached out his hand, took out a wild beast bone ash, and put it on Tryndamere's head. The old priest chanted a few short verses in succession.
Then, Tryndamere gradually calmed down.
Crawling out of the pile of bodies, he looked around.
There were still over thirty people left.
His mighty tribe, stationed here, a tribe that could resist all beasts and enemies, collapsed overnight.
Tryndamere closed his eyes and carefully recalled what happened last night.
That figure with horns, wings, speaking a foreign language, and wielding a huge sword.
"I will avenge them..."
Tryndamere opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and sat up straight, then spat out a mouthful of blood.
"Alright, alright," the old priest reached out his hand and placed it on Tryndamere's shoulder, speaking, "You seek revenge, but Tryndamere, how do you plan to do it?"
Another voice chimed in from the side, "Instead of revenge, Tryndamere, you should lead us now."
It was the voice of an old woman.
On the side, the hunting group of four, four strong warriors, fell silent at the sound, quietly looking at Tryndamere.
Children also gathered around, a few of them huddling together, timidly looking at Tryndamere sitting on the pile of corpses.
Tryndamere was stunned. His powerful tribe had turned into what it was now, and sadness welled up in his heart.
But he knew he didn't have time to grieve now.
He had to find a way for the remaining tribe members to survive.
With that in mind, Tryndamere said, "We head south."
Tryndamere stood up, and at that moment, everyone saw the huge scar on his side. The wound had healed, but the scar was like a black fire, twisting with Tryndamere's muscles, as if gnawing on his flesh.
"South?" the old priest looked at Tryndamere in confusion.
"Priest, we need to find a way to survive," Tryndamere drew his weapon, a long blade shimmering with black light.
"We can't survive here."
"We have to go south. In the north, there are the Frost Priests; in the south, there are the Noxians; to the east, there's that demon. No one knows when he might return."
"Go south, to that valley. From now on, Priest, the barbarian tribe in no more. We must rely on the protection of the Avarosa, so that we can survive."
Five warriors and a group of elderly, weak, and sick.
Without mentioning when the enemy might come, hunting had become a problem even for the current barbarian tribe, so they had to find a powerful entity to depend on.
The Winter's Claw wouldn't accept useless burden, so only Avarosa remained. Tryndamere used to not believe in this rumor, but now, he had no choice. He could only hope that the rumor was true, that the legendary Avarosa had indeed been reincarnated.
Otherwise, besides himself and these warriors, the old priest and the children would eventually starve or freeze to death.
Tryndamere walked down from the pile of corpses, opened his mouth, and let out a roar.
A venting roar, like a beast that had lost everything.
Unparalleled anger.
The old priest stood by, holding a long staff, looking in horror at the back of the strongest young warrior in the tribe.
He watched as Tryndamere raised his sword and roared at the sky.
He could sense it, Tryndamere had changed.
He had become even stronger, his voice filled with a deeper rage than the roots of the mountains, his eyes shimmering with the red light of the Boar God.
He was roaring, becoming the king of the barbarian tribe.
A leader of a broken tribe.
---
"I will have my revenge!"
