Chapter 128
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 128
It wasn't just Brunda; the warriors flanking him also had their faces twisted in grotesque expressions.
Rather than being enraged, they seemed as though they hadn't even considered the possibility of Lucian fighting back.
"…Hmph, you certainly have the guts of a true warrior."
Brunda, after agonizing for a moment over how to respond, finally managed to squeeze those words out.
Perhaps because the words were forced, he couldn't quite control his expression, and his lips were still twitching.
However, that lasted only a moment. Regaining his composure, Brunda stepped toward Lucian and extended a hand.
"A pleasure to meet you, warrior. I am Brunda, son of Ivar of the Red Axe. And your name?"
"Lucian. Lucian Asagrim Valdek."
Lucian revealed his name and reached out to meet the hand.
No sooner had their hands locked than Brunda let out a boisterous laugh.
"The names of outlanders are certainly long! It must be a chore to have to mutter such a long name every time!"
"In official settings, my servants speak for me, so it doesn't really matter."
"Ah, so you're a high-and-mighty noble, then? Forgive me for not recognizing you."
"There’s no need to apologize. I intend to be equally ignorant of your statuses."
"Hoh, now that’s a bit problematic…"
Brunda’s voice trailed off as the corners of his mouth curled upward.
Simultaneously, he began to pour strength into the hand gripping Lucian’s.
It wasn't mere physical power, but muscle reinforced to the limit by channeled mana. This wasn't a simple test of strength; he was intent on crushing Lucian's hand.
"This is our land. Even if we fail to recognize you, you must recognize us. Is that not so?"
"I wonder."
Terrifying pressure bore down on his hand, but Lucian’s face remained perfectly serene.
He had already anticipated how his opponent would act the moment the hand was offered.
Lucian even managed a slight smile as he tilted his head.
"I don't quite see it that way. It seems our opinions differ."
"…!?"
Brunda’s eyes widened at the sight of Lucian, whose expression hadn't shifted in the slightest.
But before Brunda could say a word, it was Lucian’s turn to exert force.
Brunda nearly let out a scream.
A hand less than half the size of his own felt as though it were about to tear away everything beneath his thumb.
This crazy bastard…!
Terrified, Brunda resisted with all his might.
At first, he tried to make it look effortless, but it soon became impossible; he was now openly trying to wrench his hand away.
Yet, no matter how hard he struggled, his hand remained locked in Lucian's grip, unable to break free.
After staring at Brunda for a moment, Lucian forced the joined hands downward.
"Guaaaagh!"
Thud.
"Warrior Leader!?"
As a scream escaped Brunda’s lips from the unbearable pain, the warriors behind him stared with bulging eyes.
It seemed they had finally realized something was going terribly wrong.
As the warriors moved to intervene, Brunda, now forced onto one knee, shouted.
"Stop! Stay back!"
"But—!"
"I said stay back!"
Despite the cold sweat pouring down his face from the agony, Brunda refused help to the end.
Lucian let out a short, mocking laugh as he watched the warriors, who were grinding their teeth but dared not interfere.
"You really should accept the help."
"Bullshit!"
"Being one-on-one requires actual ability. If you lack the strength, you should just take the help and survive. Even if it means dropping your prestige in the process."
Brunda glared up at Lucian.
He looked exhausted, but the fire in his eyes had not yet been extinguished.
"I… cannot… do that…!"
"Then you'll die."
"I would… rather die…!"
"Hoh."
Lucian let out a sound of genuine admiration at the unyielding will.
However, despite his words, the eyes looking down at Brunda were chillingly cold.
"Then I shall gladly oblige."
Crunch.
"Kugh!"
Brunda fell to both knees as unbearable pain surged through him.
A force incomparably stronger than before began to crush his bones.
Only then did Brunda realize Lucian’s true intention.
He’s not just trying to cause pain. He’s going to cripple my hand, just like I tried to do to him…!
As the thought took hold, his heart sank.
If he lost the use of his hand, he wouldn't just lose his chance as a successor; he wouldn't even be able to call himself a warrior.
He would fall behind his other brothers and certainly end up beneath Gunstein.
In the moment that fear, arriving a beat later than pride, enveloped his entire body—
"Stop!"
Someone threw back the tent flap and entered.
A warrior who appeared older than Brunda stared at Lucian and spoke.
"That is enough. Do you intend to spill blood at a banquet before even a single piece of meat has been carved?"
"And who are you to say such things?"
"Einar. I am the brother of the fool you are holding. We share a father, though our mothers are different."
"Kh…!"
Brunda’s face flushed red with shame.
He seemed humiliated to have shown such a pathetic sight to his rival, Einar.
Lucian looked at Einar for a moment before speaking.
"It was your brother who sought blood first."
"The weak are always hasty, but the strong are ever composed. Why should the strong feel compelled to mimic the behavior of the weak?"
"Hoh."
A second sound of admiration escaped Lucian’s lips.
If the first had been a mere imitation, this one was sincere.
To think someone who had likely never studied rhetoric in his life could be so eloquent.
"You have a silver tongue."
"I speak with total sincerity."
"Well, if you put it that way."
Lucian released Brunda’s hand as if giving in.
Only then could Brunda pull back his hand, his fingers already riddled with hairline fractures.
Looking at his half-brother, Einar clicked his tongue briefly.
"Sit."
"…."
Brunda trembled with humiliation but sat down without a word.
He realized that saying anything more would only further damage his own reputation.
Once the commotion settled, another group led by yet another individual entered the tent.
Unlike Einar, who had intervened out of a sense of brotherhood despite their rivalry, this newcomer seemed to have been waiting to profit from the chaos.
As the four successors gathered in one place, an awkward silence lingered for a time.
"It seems everyone has arrived."
With a heavy voice, the final participant made his appearance.
Seeing the old warrior with a half-severed left ear and a single eye, Lucian knew immediately who he was.
Gunstein’s father, the Chieftain of the Blue Dragon Tribe who stood in opposition to Marius.
And the man who guarded the Dragon's Heart that Lucian needed to obtain.
Ivar of the Red Axe.
Ivar strode through the banquet hall and took the seat of honor.
At that moment, everyone except Lucian sprang to their feet and shouted.
"The humble descendants of the Dragon pay their respects to the Great Blue Dragon!"
"…."
"…."
Following the thunderous shout, the banquet hall fell into a heavy silence.
Gazes from all directions converged on Lucian, who remained seated.
It was a silent pressure, demanding that he too stand and pay his respects.
However, Lucian simply leaned his chin on his hand with a brazen expression and spoke.
"How long do you intend to keep them standing? Their legs must be aching, so please, accept their greetings already."
"…!?"
The successors were aghast at his attitude, which suggested he had absolutely nothing to do with the situation.
Even Ivar, who had maintained an indifferent expression until now, narrowed his eye slightly.
Unable to contain himself, Brunda spoke up to clarify the situation for Lucian.
"Everyone is waiting for you to pay your respects to the Chieftain."
"Respects? Me, to the Chieftain?"
Lucian let out a snort and tilted his head.
"How amusing. Why should I?"
"You damn bastard!"
One enraged warrior jumped to his feet and shouted.
He was one of those who had stood outside watching idly while Lucian and Brunda were clashing.
"You stand in this place in Gunstein's stead! Therefore, it is only right that you offer the reverence that Gunstein owes!"
"Strange logic. I have never stood in Gunstein's stead. I merely took the rights he possessed."
"Is that not the same thing!?"
"It is different. Gunstein offered reverence to the Chieftain because he is his father and the ruler of this tribe. But I am neither his son nor a member of this tribe, so why should I?"
"…."
The warrior’s mouth hung open, speechless.
When he thought about it, Lucian wasn't wrong.
What one gained by defeating a warrior was merely the status that warrior enjoyed.
A tribe could not arbitrarily force the duties previously owed by a defeated warrior onto the victor.
It was a simple fact, but the unprecedented situation of a successor refusing to show respect to the Chieftain had made his mind go blank.
"No, even so…!"
"Enough."
Ivar’s mouth, which had remained shut since he sat down, finally opened.
At that chilling voice, the warrior shut his mouth and returned to his seat.
After a moment, Ivar looked at Lucian and spoke.
"Indeed, you are not wrong. You have no need to show me reverence."
"I appreciate your understanding."
"However, before we proceed, know this. I, too, am turning a blind eye to your many transgressions. Should you fail to show even the minimum level of courtesy, my mercy will run dry."
"Transgressions? What transgressions have I committed?"
Lucian shrugged his shoulders as if he truly didn't know.
Without a moment's hesitation, Ivar pointed behind Lucian.
"There are many, but the most absurd is bringing a concubine to this place."
At the word 'concubine,' Lucian’s party jerked their heads around.
Sure enough, Ivar’s finger was pointing directly at Felicia.
"I know not how debauched your homeland may be, but none save warriors may enter this place. Unless you intend to insult us, send your concubine out."
"Then there is no problem. She is not my concubine, but a warrior."
"…What?"
Ivar asked back, his face twisting into a bizarre expression.
He seemed so dumbfounded that he couldn't even maintain his composure.
The other successors and their subordinate warriors reacted similarly.
"Did I hear that correctly? A woman is a warrior?"
"You heard correctly. She is a warrior and my guard."
"Pfft! What an excuse!"
"A woman as a guard!"
"Now this is a rare sight indeed!"
"Hahaha!"
At Lucian’s confirmation, boisterous laughter erupted from all sides.
Everyone seemed to think Lucian was making up a ridiculous excuse just to keep Felicia by his side.
Especially since he hadn't just called her a warrior, but his guard.
"So, you are under the protection of a woman? You put a sword in a woman's hand and tell her to protect you?"
"Well, we fight together, but you're not entirely wrong. If I were to trust anyone with my back, it would be her."
"This is a masterpiece. Truly a masterpiece."
A deep smile formed on Ivar’s lips.
He had been wondering how to deal with this troublesome brat.
To think he would ruin his own reputation like this.
Inwardly mocking Lucian’s stupidity, Ivar asked with a mix of jest and seriousness.
"Tell me, then, how strong is this woman? Is she stronger than you?"
"She is stronger than you."
"What?"
"I said she is much stronger than you. To be precise, I should say she is stronger than everyone in this room."
The laughter cut off abruptly.
The warriors’ faces contorted as if they had been gravely insulted, and their hands moved toward their waists.
Since they couldn't bring weapons to the banquet, their hands grasped at empty air, but they looked ready to draw steel if they had it.
In the suffocating atmosphere, Ivar glared at Lucian with eyes full of murderous intent.
"Can you take responsibility for those words?"
Lucian answered immediately, without a second of hesitation.
"If there is even a single warrior in this hall who can withstand a single strike of her blade, I shall offer up my head."