Chapter 19
Ivan took a cursory look around and quickly came to a conclusion.
‘They’re all weaklings.’
Of course, he hadn't expected them to be on the former great chieftain's level, but even compared to Havel, they were far inferior.
Could men leading entire tribes really be this weak?
Yet despite that, the atmosphere was ominous enough to suggest they might even be plotting a rebellion.
Naturally, that wasn't going to happen. Even if they had such a plan, they wouldn't dare act on it.
Ivar, the tribal chief, eyed Ivan suspiciously.
‘He’s that young?’
He'd been a little tense, but this was merely a kid barely in his twenties.
There were rumors that he was an incarnation of Valdor, but countless men in the North had claimed such a title.
He looked like he had some strength, but that was all. If he overwhelmed the kid with experience, the brat wouldn't even be able to use his strength properly.
Having finished his calculations, Ivar adopted a high-handed attitude.
“I am Ivar. Are you the new great chieftain?”
“···What?”
Ivan briefly doubted his ears.
‘This bastard is speaking casually to me on our first meeting?’
It was obvious he was trying to establish dominance. Still, was this really acceptable?
“Why aren't you answering? You're not pretending to be the great chieftain, are you?”
“···As if. My name is Ivan.”
He wanted to turn everything upside down in a fit of temper, but there was no need to play along with the other man's intentions.
‘I remember your name. I'll deal with you later.’
Ivan calmed his anger and took the seat of honor at the round table the tribal chiefs had left vacant.
‘So he really is just an unremarkable youngster. Some monster.’
Ivar snorted inwardly. At this level, it looked like the matter could be settled by intimidation alone without even needing to kill him.
The tribal chiefs exchanged glances and reached a silent agreement.
‘Well, look at that. Now they're openly pulling this shit.’
It was a complete shitshow. Ivan watched them with an uninterested expression.
Soon, the meeting began, and meaningless greetings and complaints were exchanged.
Ivan quietly held his seat, suppressing a yawn. Sure enough, the main point emerged before long.
Ivar glanced at the other tribal chiefs and raised his voice.
“I speak on behalf of everyone gathered here. What the North needs is not a king. What we want is freedom···.”
The pretext he needed had appeared. Ivan cut him off and erupted in anger.
“Cut the bullshit!!”
Crack—his enraged fist slammed down, splitting the round table in half with a savage report.
“······!!”
The tribal chiefs were so shocked that they froze, unable to say a word.
He had shattered a round table carved from stone with a single punch. Could that really be a human being?
Rumors were usually exaggerated, but···seeing him in person drove such thoughts away. That was a monster wearing human skin.
Awe, respect, and fear mingled in the tribal chiefs' gazes as they looked at Ivan.
“Ah, I didn't mean to break it. I got a little carried away. My apologies.”
It was an obvious lie, but no one there was stupid enough to point that out.
Having seized control of the room in an instant, Ivan stared at Ivar.
“By the way, did you say freedom?”
“Ah, no···I···.”
Ivar stammered, cold sweat breaking out across his body.
No one anywhere valued individual martial prowess as highly as the warriors of the North.
Hadn't Valdor himself, whom they worshiped, ascended to godhood through his own martial prowess alone?
Of course, strength couldn't solve everything, but the superhuman might Ivan had just displayed was worthy of the claim that he was Valdor's incarnation.
Power beyond common sense stood above reason.
The embers that had taken root in the tribal chiefs' hearts were completely extinguished the moment Ivan smashed the round table.
“You were speaking so eloquently just a moment ago. Why are you suddenly stammering?”
“···I made an insolent remark to the great chieftain. I sincerely apologize.”
Knowing full well the gap between oneself and one's opponent, picking a fight was not courage but recklessness. Ivar bowed his head deeply.
“Well, looking at you now, I'm worried. All my friends are so weak. It must be hard serving as tribal chiefs with such unimpressive skills.”
“······.”
“Train hard, and next time, let's have a sparring match for fun.”
The words had no real meaning. After all, there wouldn't be another meeting anyway.
Just then, a commotion arose outside. It seemed some of the warriors waiting outside had picked a fight with each other.
When Ivan lifted the tent flap and went outside, things had unfolded just as expected.
Havel was taking on several warriors from another tribe by himself.
Since no one was trying to stop them, it seemed to be a duel by mutual agreement rather than a spontaneous brawl.
“What the···!!”
The tribal chiefs who belatedly followed Ivan out were aghast.
What good could come from needlessly provoking them now that everything had been settled?
Just as they were about to intervene, Ivan raised a hand to stop them.
“I was getting bored, so this is perfect. Let's watch.”
At a single word from Ivan, the tribal chiefs became as docile as lambs.
As long as they didn't incur the great chieftain's displeasure, what better entertainment could there be than watching a fight?
They watched with keen interest for a while, but soon the tribal chiefs had no choice but to be surprised once again.
Havel was thoroughly thrashing the warriors of the opposing tribe.
Normally, fighting multiple opponents alone was no easy task. To top it off, the warriors brought to this meeting were the elite of the elite.
And yet they weren't even a match for him. Who would have thought there were more monsters like that?
Before long, Havel knocked down every opponent who had attacked him, then raised his head and looked at Ivan.
“Ivan, you look rather cheerful. I take it the meeting went well.”
“Yeah, more or less. But how did you end up picking a fight with those guys?”
“They insulted your honor. As your brother, I couldn't just let that slide.”
“Then it couldn't be helped. Good job.”
The warriors from the other tribe could not hide their awe at Havel's prowess.
He had achieved his goal of crushing their spirit so they wouldn't dare pick a fight again.
They had taken another step toward peaceful everyday life. Ivan smiled and held out his hand to Ivar.
“Let's shake hands one last time. Parting like this would feel too cold.”
“···It would be an honor.”
He had no choice in the matter anyway. Ivar took Ivan's hand with an anxious look.
When Ivan applied a little pressure to their joined hands, Ivar's eyes flew open and he desperately suppressed a scream. It was the last scrap of pride he had left as a tribal chief.
“You really are frail. Get some training in when you get back.”
“···I'll keep that in mind.”
Having gotten in one last parting jab, Ivan laughed heartily and headed home.
It was all over now. Truly.
***
Red flags filled the horizon.
The enemy's war cries reached the heavens, and their footsteps shook the earth.
Their armor gleamed with a holy radiance as it reflected the sunlight.
Trumpets blared, and arrows poured down like rain, blanketing the sky. An artificial darkness descended.
He did not flee. He charged toward the enemy at the very front.
He swung his sword to knock them away and twisted aside to evade them. The stray arrows he failed to dodge lodged in his body.
It didn't matter. He kept charging forward.
The soldiers at the front thrust their long spears at him. He leaped high to evade them and swung his sword.
The enemies' bodies split in two. Hrundal, drenched in blood, emitted a menacing radiance.
He did not stop. He plunged into the enemy formation and swung his sword like a madman. Warriors poured through the gaps in the shattered ranks.
Hot blood soaked his body. Madness surged through his veins.
Clinging desperately to a single thread of reason, he continued forward. There were still too many enemies.
Did any of this mean anything? He didn't know. Even so, he couldn't stop.
He simply moved forward. Onward. And onward.
He couldn't remember much of what happened next.
He was out of breath. When he lifted his head, panting, the setting sun had stained the sky crimson.
Broken flags lay strewn across the ground like garbage.
Corpses were piled up like mountains, and blood formed a river. If hell existed, it probably looked like this.
He walked blankly through it all.
He spotted Havel's corpse, still standing.
Even though his entire body had been hacked to pieces, not a trace of fear showed on his face.
An arrow protruded from Elena's chest.
He had told her to run because it was dangerous, but it seemed she had gone into battle anyway and died.
There were no survivors. Death filled everything before his eyes.
Why had this happened? He didn't know. It wasn't an important question anymore.
His footsteps echoed emptily as he cursed the world.
As he continued walking, someone stood ahead of him. Someone who had walked this road before him and had finally seen its end.
His teacher spoke to him.
-Do as you wish.
His vision swam.
***
Ivan awoke from his dream drenched in sweat. The moment he came to his senses, he turned to look beside him.
Elena was sleeping soundly, breathing softly with a faint wheeze. There was no arrow embedded in her chest.
His first reaction was a sigh of relief.
It had all been nothing more than a nightmare. So far.
Yet he knew instinctively. It was a damn premonition—and his fate.
The last words his teacher had left him continued to echo in his mind.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Ivan clutched his head and groaned. Darkness filled his vision.