Chapter 136
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 136
Lucian’s relaxed demeanor made something boil up inside Einar.
“I’m not done yet!”
Einar pulled back his blocked axe, recovering his stance.
If his previous strike had prioritized speed, this next one was intended to pour every ounce of his strength into a single blow. Naturally, this left his posture riddled with openings, but Lucian waited patiently, as if daring him to try.
“Hmph!”
Whoosh!
The moment the muscles in his forearms bulged as if they might burst, Einar’s axe swung toward the crown of Lucian’s head. He struck with such ferocity that the sound of the air tearing reached the ears of everyone nearby.
Yet, Lucian didn't even bother to block with his hand this time. He simply tilted his head slightly.
Clang!
“Urgh!”
Einar suppressed a groan as the rebound traveled from his palms up to his forearms. It felt as though he had struck a solid block of iron rather than a human body.
Though his eyes crinkled in pain, a faint smile played on his lips.
Even so, he couldn't have come out of that unscathed.
A powerful rebound meant the attack itself was just as devastating. No matter how strong Lucian was, he wouldn't be able to laugh off a strike like that.
With that thought, Einar looked up, only for his eyes to widen in shock. Lucian, whose nape was currently pressed against the blade of the axe, wore an utterly bored expression.
“Is this all?”
“What in the…!”
Einar was so flabbergasted he couldn't find the words.
The nape of the neck is far weaker and easier to cut than the crown of the head, where the skull is thickest. To think that Lucian had taken an axe to the neck and showed no sign of pain, let alone a wound.
“If you’re finished, it’s my turn.”
Fwoosh!
As if to signal there would be no third chance, mana erupted from Lucian’s body. Simultaneously, a searing heat wave—the likes of which had never been felt on the snowfields—slammed into Einar.
Einar barely managed to hold his ground against the wind, but that was the extent of his resistance. He had no way to block the sword that followed.
Boom!
“…!”
Struck by something incredibly heavy, Einar was sent flying into the air. Then, hit in the forehead by another following blow, he crashed into the ground.
The sequence of events happened so quickly that no one watching from within the heat wave could tell exactly what had occurred.
Thud.
“Wh-what?”
“What just happened?”
As the heat wave subsided and the tribespeople saw Einar collapsed on the ground, they stared at one another in a daze. They had closed their eyes for a moment because of the wind, heard a single thunderous roar, and then it was all over.
Lucian scanned the bewildered tribespeople once before sheathing his sword.
“Next.”
*
Ivar felt the strength leaving his legs.
The scene was identical to the first trial, but the sense of despair was even greater.
How are we supposed to defeat an opponent who is immune to weapons?
The warrior from the first trial—the woman who had reached the pinnacle of martial arts—at least possessed human skin. Though no one had managed to land a scratch on her, it was clear that if a blade had luckily connected, her flesh would have torn and blood would have spilled.
But Lucian went beyond mere immunity to blades; he didn't even seem to feel the impact.
“Father, it is not yet time for despair.”
Brunda’s whisper reached Ivar’s ears. Turning his head, Ivar saw Brunda wearing a smirk, his eyes still burning with ambition.
“No matter what authority he has obtained, it is undeniable that his power originates from the Dragon, just like ours. Since we possess the same power, how could we possibly lack the means to deal with him?”
“Have you found a way?”
“Rather than a tedious explanation, I shall show you myself.”
Leaving those words behind, Brunda strode boldly toward Lucian. Ivar marveled at Brunda’s bravery, seeing him undeterred even after witnessing such an overwhelming gap in power. He had always thought his son was merely a reckless and violent brute, but it seemed he possessed a remarkably strong will.
Perhaps I was wrong about him.
He had believed Einar was the true successor, possessing both wisdom and valor. But looking at them now, Brunda seemed far better suited for the position of Chieftain.
Stepping forward under his father’s expectant gaze, Brunda drew his weapon—a greatsword.
“I am your second opponent.”
“Hmm.”
Lucian looked Brunda over. Despite having witnessed Lucian’s power multiple times, there wasn't a hint of despair in the man's eyes. To put it kindly, he was overflowing with confidence; to put it bluntly, he was delusional.
This one is useless.
Even if Lucian spared him, he was the type who would wait for a chance to stab him in the back, believing he could eventually overcome Lucian. It was better to deal with him now rather than risk trouble later for Einar’s sake.
Unaware that Lucian had already decided his fate, Brunda grinned.
“I must admit, I’m impressed. To think you could use the Dragon’s power in such a way. The authority of our great ancestors truly knows no bounds.”
“…”
“However, if the source is the same, then the same power can neutralize it. For example, like this!”
Hummmm!
“Dragon’s Blessing!”
“Since when…!”
The tribespeople cried out in shock as they saw the mana swirling around Brunda’s greatsword. To manifest mana and coat a weapon with it required reaching a certain level of mastery, independent of the heart's power. In other words, Brunda’s cultivation had reached an impressively high level.
However, Lucian merely scoffed at the sight of the manifested mana.
“Crude. Why don't you stop pretending to be strong? It doesn't suit you. It must be exhausting just trying to hold that shape together.”
Brunda’s face contorted at the cold assessment. Just as Lucian said, the mana coating his greatsword wasn't the result of true enlightenment. He was forcibly cramming the Dragon’s power he had recently acquired into the blade and desperately trying to replenish the mana that was constantly leaking out.
To use a metaphor, it was like trying to keep a cracked jar full by pouring water in faster than it could leak out.
“You won't be able to maintain that facade for long. Why don't you quit before you collapse from exhaustion?”
“No, a temporary imitation is more than enough to deal with you.”
Perhaps due to the strain of forcing the power, beads of sweat formed on Brunda’s forehead. Even though his stamina was visibly draining in real-time, Brunda continued to bluster.
“You’re clearly using the Dragon’s power to harden your body. But what happens when the Dragon’s power clashes with itself?”
“Ho.”
Lucian let out a small sound of admiration at Brunda’s reasoning. It was true that if identical powers collided, there was a possibility that even a Dragon’s Scale could be neutralized. While Einar’s pure physical reinforcement had been meaningless, a clash of pure mana might yield different results.
“Do you understand now? Even if it’s an imitation, once this power touches your body, you’ll—!”
Flash!
Brunda lunged at Lucian mid-sentence. Given his explosive speed, it seemed he had been talking specifically to lower Lucian’s guard for a surprise attack.
So that’s why he was wasting mana and rambling.
Lucian smirked as he watched Brunda fly toward him. Since he didn't know what would happen if their mana collided, he couldn't rely solely on his defense.
So, what was the solution?
The answer was simple.
Zip!
“Huh?”
With a sound like a sharp whistle, Lucian vanished from Brunda’s sight. Having swung at empty air, Brunda tried to look around in shock. But before he could even turn his head, his vision tilted downward.
“Wh-why…?”
Splat.
With those final words, Brunda’s head fell to the ground. A moment later, his masterless body tumbled onto the snow.
Having severed the neck in a single stroke, Lucian clicked his tongue and muttered.
“The idea was good. But only the idea.”
No matter how effective an attack might be, it was meaningless if it didn't hit. There was no way Brunda, who had absorbed only a minuscule amount of the Dragon’s mana, could compare to Lucian, who had absorbed more than half of it. If he had waited for a moment when Lucian intentionally took the hit—like he did with Einar—it might have been different. But there was no reason for Lucian to stand there and take a hit from someone who was openly flaunting their mana.
He probably realized he couldn't manifest that power instantaneously because it was forced, so he tried to create an opening. But when the gap in skill is this large, such tactics are pointless.
Well, if Brunda had understood the gap in their levels, he wouldn't have come up with such a plan in the first place.
Turning his gaze away from Brunda’s corpse, Lucian spoke to Ivar.
“Come out, third.”
“…”
Faced with Lucian’s drop of all formalities, Ivar stepped forward silently. Some might have called his demeanor dignified, but Lucian could see it for what it was: despair and resignation. Those who realized there was no escape and accepted their death usually wore that exact expression.
Ivar stared at his son’s severed head for a moment before speaking in a trembling voice.
“Do not be so arrogant just because you have stolen the position of Chieftain. One day, you too will fall and end up just like us.”
“Do you truly believe that?”
“You are but a child; you do not yet understand the ways of the world.”
“I asked what you think.”
“…”
“Do you really think I’ll fail? Can you actually envision such a future?”
Ivar gritted his teeth at Lucian’s cold smile. He had spat out the curse in a fit of rage, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see a future where Lucian fell. That realization pierced his heart even more painfully.
“You bastard.”
Lucian laughed softly at Ivar’s lack of a retort. To a winner, the insults of a loser were the highest form of praise.
Click, thud.
Lucian flicked the blood off his blade and returned it to its sheath. Simultaneously, the second headless body—the father’s—collapsed to the ground.
With the heads of the father and son lying side-by-side on the snow, Lucian turned to the tribespeople and made his declaration.
“From this moment forward, I am your King.”
“…”
“…”
The tribespeople fell into a collective silence. They did not cheer for Lucian’s declaration, nor did they mourn the death of their former Chieftain. The battle Lucian had displayed was simply too far beyond their common sense for them to process any emotion.
He hadn't shown them the pinnacle of martial arts like the female warrior before him, nor had he fought gallantly like a hero of legend. He had taken every attack as if watching the struggles of an insect, then crushed them with overwhelming power as if they were a nuisance.
To them, it didn't look like a warrior’s duel; it looked like a god descending to earth to punish the arrogant. Naturally, the looks they directed at Lucian were less of the respect given to a great warrior and more of the dread and awe reserved for a deity.
“K-King…”
“My King…!”
As one trembling old man knelt, the others began to bow in unison. Lucian had seen this sight several times before, but the atmosphere was distinctly different. Previously, their bows had contained hope for a new ruler; now, they were the desperate acts of those trying not to incur the wrath of a god.
Feeling the fear of the tribespeople, Lucian gave a bitter smile.
I was aiming for this effect… but did I overdo it?