<h4>Chapter 47: Viin Simtor, Ch 47</h4>


    After eating and drinking her fill, the female chieftain suddenly stood up, pped her hands, and shouted, "Everyone! Let''s dance!"


    Dance?


    Right after eating? Aren''t they worried about indigestion?


    All the Hilichurls immediately stood up and began dancing along with the chieftain in a series of strange, rhythmic movements.


    It seemed that even after transforming into humanoid forms, they retained many of their Hilichurl habits.


    "W-what should we do?" Fischl asked nervously. "I-I don''t know how to dance!"


    "It''s fine. Just jump around randomly," Lucas said, pulling her to her feet. "If we don''t join in, they''ll definitely suspect something. Hang in there, the medicine should kick in soon."


    "Ugh, this is so embarrassing!" Fischl groaned as she reluctantly followed the strange dance moves of the Hilichurls. "If anyone ever dares to record this in the chronicles of the Prinzessin der Verurteilung, I swear I''ll personally smite them!"


    Meanwhile, the chieftain continued dancing while chanting strange lyrics in rhythm:


    "I am a Hilichurl! We need to reproduce! Reproduction needs men! Weak men won''t do! Our offspring won''t be strong! Where are the strong men? Where, where, where?"


    For some reason, as the chieftain sang, Lucas couldn''t help but think of the tune of a folk song about Yunnan Province...


    But from the lyrics, it became clear—the reason they were capturing men was for reproduction.


    Survival and reproduction are basic instincts for nearly all living creatures, and monsters are no exception.


    After transforming into humanoid forms, these Hilichurls naturally developed a reproductive instinct. However, since there were no males in their tribe, they resorted to kidnapping human men.


    But even in choosing mates, the Hilichurls maintained their monstrous instincts of natural selection. They sought strong mates, believing that only strong fathers could pass on strong genes, which exined why they had no interest in weaker men.


    Of course, for these powerful Hilichurls, ordinary humans likely wouldn''t meet their standards.


    "I-I can''t take this anymore..." Fischl panted, struggling to keep up with the bizarre dance. "I-I can''t keep dancing!"


    Perhaps because of her petite figure, or maybe due to the reduced friction from her sweat, there was a sudden snap, and the chest wrap that had been barely holding on slipped from her body and fell to the ground.


    Normally, such a thing wouldn''t matter much to the free-spirited Hilichurls—many of them had already discarded their clothes in the heat of the dance. But because Fischl had only applied camouge paint to the skin outside her chest wrap, the stark contrast between her pale and painted skin immediately caught everyone''s attention.


    Luckily, there were no males in the tribe, or else Fischl might have faced a different kind of embarrassment.


    "You!"


    The chieftain pointed at Fischl and shouted angrily, "You''re not one of us!"


    "W-wait!" Fischl hastily covered herself and stammered, "I-I just have lighter skin!"


    "It''s not about your skin color," the chieftain said, shaking her head and pointing at Fischl''s chest. "In our tribe, no one is... that small."


    Lucas could almost hear the sound of something shattering. It was probably Fischl''s pride.


    Thankfully, she was still wearing a mask, so no one could see her likely mortified expression.


    "You''re a human! A liar! A bad person!" the chieftain growled, clearly hating deception. "Take her away and punish her!"


    Things were falling apart just when the knockout powder was about to take effect.


    As the Hilichurls approached to grab Fischl, Lucas could no longer stand by. He stepped in front of her, removed his mask, and shouted, "Stop!"


    "Don''t move!"


    The moment the chieftain saw Lucas, her eyes lit up with interest. She clenched her fists excitedly and said, "A man, not like the others."


    "That''s right, I am a man," Lucas said, trying to buy time. "You said earlier that if we defeat you, we can leave, correct?"


    "Correct!" The chieftain nodded. "Hilichurls don''t lie. Unlike humans, who are deceitful."


    "Hey!" Fischl whispered urgently from behind him. "Are you really going to fight this monster?"


    Fischl had initially thought little of the Hilichurls, but after witnessing the strength of the chieftain—who was far stronger than a Hilichurl Berserker—she was concerned. The group of men who had fought her together couldn''t win, so what chance did Lucas have alone?


    "Don''t worry," Lucas said, turning slightly to give her a reassuring smile. "I''ll protect you."


    "Protect me...?" Fischl''s face turned red as she bit her lip. "W-who asked you to protect me? I am the Prinzessin der Verurteilung, ruler of the Immernachtreich..."


    "Yes, yes," Lucas chuckled softly. "But protecting you is the duty of a familiar, isn''t it?"


    "Familiar''s duty...?" Watching Lucas walk toward the chieftain, Fischl steadied her breath, muttering to herself, "Saying such unfair things... I guess I have no choice but to promote you."


    "Choose your weapon," the chieftain said confidently, gesturing to the weapon rack like she had done before.


    There was something different about this man. He had an unusual aura, unlike any of the other captured men. But the chieftain was confident in her strength and had no intention of holding back.


    She wanted to meet a man strong enough to defeat her, but she would never go easy on anyone.


    "No need, I have my own."


    Lucas reached into the void and pulled out the sword Keqing had gifted him, the Lion''s Roar. As he drew the de, it let out a clear, ringing sound.


    "Don''t disappoint me!"


    The chieftain charged forward with her spiked club, moving with the force of a tank. Though she was tall and well-built, her speed and power were overwhelming.


    "Vine Snare!"


    Lucas extended his hand toward the ground, and suddenly, a thick vine shot up from the earth, tripping the chieftain.


    This was a move Lucas had developed by mastering his ability to control nts—using vines to trip up enemies.


    Of course, this technique had its limitations. It only worked on nt-filled terrain, and it wasn''t effective against agile opponents.


    However, the straightforward chieftain had no idea how to counter such a tactic. With a loud crash, she tripped over the vine and fell t on her face.


    Fortunately for her, she was naturally well-padded(th), so the fall didn''t cause much harm.


    Seeing his opportunity, Lucas didn''t hesitate. He gripped the Lion''s Roar and shed at the chieftain.


    The swordsmanship he used was the Favonius Swordmanship: Wolf''s Fang, a skill he had learned in the simtor. Though he had only mastered its form and not its true essence, even the form alone was enough to rank him among the top swordsmen.


    The chieftain, who relied solely on brute strength and reckless charges, had never encountered such refined and elusive swordy. She found herself unable tond a single blow, being forced back step by step by Lucas''s precise strikes.


    Yet, instead of feeling frustrated, a glimmer of excitement appeared in her eyes.


    Finally, after so long, she had found a male who could fight her. How could she not be thrilled?


    Her n for reproduction would begin today!


    For some reason, when Lucas looked into the fiery eyes of the female chieftain, he felt less like her opponent and more like a piece of meat on a chopping block.


    To be fair, the chieftain''s exotic features held a certain allure, but the savage, crazed grin on her face made her seem ferociously dangerous.


    "My blood... is burning!!"


    Like a character straight out of JoJo, the chieftain reached her peak of excitement, her body emanating a crimson aura akin to battle energy. The veins on her skin bulged, and her strength and speed skyrocketed.


    Each time Lucas blocked the spiked club, the impact sent painful shocks through his arms.


    "Come on! Show me! Just how strong you really are!" The chieftain, now in a frenzied state, attacked Lucas with a relentless storm of strikes, yelling wildly, "Don''t stop! I need more!"


    Not only was the chieftain getting hyped, but the surrounding Hilichurls were also growing increasingly excited.


    In truth, many of them had been waiting for someone to defeat their leader. If the chieftain fell, they might get a piece of the rewards themselves. The chieftain had long enforced a rule that only strong men could be used for reproduction, not weaklings.


    Lucas found himself on the defensive, forced back by the chieftain''s fierce barrage of attacks.


    Nearby, Fischl, growing concerned, shouted, "If you can''t win, just give up! After all—"


    After all, once the drug kicked in, the Hilichurls would all pass out.


    Of course, even Fischl knew better than to shout out this n.


    Lucas had no desire to prolong the fight, but the relentless attacks from the raging chieftain left him no chance to catch his breath.


    The chieftain swung her spiked club high, and when she mmed it down, though Lucas blocked the attack with his sword, the immense force drove his feet deep into the ground.


    "You''re not strong enough," the chieftain said, shaking her head. "It''s a shame. Surrender."


    "Watch closely, I''ve still got..." Lucas suddenly raised his left hand, revealing the Giant''s Gauntlet. All the damage he had blocked earlier had been absorbed into the gauntlet''s power through Charging Fist. "...another hand!"


    His fist rapidly swelled in size like an inted balloon. Before the chieftain could react, Lucas unleashed all the stored-up energy in a devastating blow.


    Thud!


    The thick spiked club shattered on impact, and the chieftain herself wasunched backward, crashing to the ground.


    The power of Charging Fist was simple—the more damage the user took, the more devastating the counterattack. Lucas had just returned all the umted damage to the chieftain in a single hit.


    "Urgh!"


    The chieftain coughed up blood, using the broken club as a crutch to help herself up. But instead of anger, she smiled. "I lost. You''re big. I like that."


    Of course, she was talking about his fist.


    But ording to the straightforward logic of the Hilichurls, a big fist meant everything else was big too.


    "I apologize," Lucas said, massaging his sore hand. "I trust you''ll keep your word and let us go. Also, I''m taking the others with me."


    "Of course," the chieftain replied, nodding. "Hilichurls don''t lie. With you here, the others don''t matter."


    She then stepped forward and grabbed Lucas''s wrist,ughing heartily. "The ceremony isplete. You may leave."


    "Ceremony?" Lucas asked, puzzled. "What ceremony?"


    "The ceremony... for reproduction. You''re strong, so your offspring will be strong too!" The chieftain said, pulling Lucas toward her tent. "Come! Into the hut with me!"


    "Wait! This wasn''t part of the deal!" Lucas eximed, halfughing, half-panicking. "Is it really necessary to go this far for reproduction?"


    Around them, the other Hilichurls began chanting in unison: "Let us have a child! Let us have a child! Let us have a child!"


    "Patience!" the chieftain dered righteously. "Everyone will get a child! One by one!"


    One by one?!


    In the simtor, this might have been doable.


    But in real life? Not a chance.


    Lucas nced desperately at Fischl, hoping for help, but her expression was filled with amusement. Her eyes practically said it all:


    "Why not just sacrifice yourself for the greater good?"


    Just as Lucas was torn between self-sacrifice and survival, the chieftain suddenly staggered and copsed, falling asleep on the ground.


    The effects of the knockout powder had finally kicked in. The other Hilichurls also began swaying, eventually dropping to the ground, one after another.


    "They''re down! They''re down!"


    With Lucas''s call, the once-rowdy Hilichurl camp instantly fell silent.


    It was undeniable that these Hilichurls had incredible endurance. If an ordinary human had consumed that amount of Monghan Medicine, they would have been unconscious in minutes, but these Hilichurls had managed to hold out much longer.


    "Finally, it''s over," Fischl said, letting out a sigh of relief. "As the Prinzessin der Verurteilung, I sentence you all to—wait, what exactly is the crime?"


    "Uh... attempted something," Lucas replied casually. "Anyway, let''s free the captives and find your bird."


    "Oh right, my bird..." Fischl suddenly corrected herself, looking flustered. "It''s not a bird! It''s my familiar!"


    At that moment, the sound of footsteps approached from the camp''s entrance. Lucas turned to see a group of about ten people, all dressed as adventurers, entering the camp.


    The man at the front, who appeared to be their leader, was a brown-haired man in his thirties. His face showed a brief sh of surprise upon seeing the scene, but he quicklyposed himself. Looking at Lucas, he said, "We''re from the Adventurers'' Guild, here to deal with the mutated Hilichurls. Leave these Hilichurls to us."


    "I..."


    Just as Lucas was about to respond, the system notification appeared suddenly:


    [Liar''s Bane activated. Target''s statement detected as false.]


    "You guys arrived prettyte!" Fischl remarked, unaware of the lie, and asked, "Which guild are you with, anyway? I don''t seem to recall seeing you before."


    Though Fischl was young, she had worked with the Adventurers'' Guild for quite some time. Despite her entric behavior, she was well-acquainted with many adventurers, even though she only had a few friends.


    ----


    Author''s Note: Guess who they are?