Crushing the Rebellion: Duel with the Chieftain and an Unexpected Proposal
Bendan Kru, the chieftain of the northern Crui Tribe, found the current situation utterly boring. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. They'd been doing nothing but that for a full two months. It made his skin crawl. A northern people born for battle, forced to loiter near the fortress like this. It tarnished their reputation as a warrior race. He wanted to fight. No, he had to fight. Grumbles were rising among his subordinates.
"Chief! How long do we have to stay like this?"
"Let's see some blood!"
"Let's fight! We could just flip this place upside down and be done with it!"
But Bendan Kru was the chieftain. A seasoned warrior and the leader responsible for his entire tribe. He couldn't think so simply. Even so.
"We can't just sit here like this."
In the end, he strode into Balt Fortress, his white beard fluttering, to meet with the lord.
"What is it?"
The cleanly shaven Lord Balt asked.
"When do you plan to march? How long are we supposed to wait?"
"......Wait."
"We came all this way trusting your promise of land alone. And now, wait? That's an insult to our warriors!"
"Land, you say...... You don't actually believe we'll give you any, do you?"
"What?"
"Promises mean nothing. To think we'd honor one with barbarians like you."
"Are you serious?"
"There's no land for savages."
Bendan Kru bared his sharply pointed fangs.
"Balt! That's dismissing our sacred agreement!"
Despite Bendan Kru's growling threat, Balt didn't flinch. Locking eyes with him, Bendan Kru sensed something off. Those eyes.
They're not looking at me.
Something was wrong. His movements were unnatural. Even the habit of tapping his smooth chin with his fingers while speaking was gone. Especially his eyes—they stared blankly into space, unfocused no matter how hard Bendan glared. Then, a trickle of blood dripped from Balt's nose.
Whatever it was.
That mage who came to the north.
Why make him like this? If he wanted to kill the rebel leader, he could've just done it—no need for this hassle. Whatever the reason, it was time to withdraw. He couldn't let on that he'd noticed. A knight of Balt's caliber in that state? Rushing in recklessly would be suicide.
"Hmph! Whatever you say, our tribe will claim our rightful due!"
"I have only one thing to say. Impossible."
"We'll see about that!"
Bendan Kru fled the audience chamber.
Once the barbarian left.
"Ee, ah, I forgot. Ah. Ah."
"Tch."
I emerged from the shadows. Perhaps due to the mind manipulation, Lord Balt of Balt Fortress began creaking like a broken robot, glitching in every way.
He was ruined. His personality shattered from the excessive tampering with his mind and memories.
That's why I didn't want to use it.
He'd never recover. A capable man responsible for the northern borders, lost. What a waste of talent.
"Tch."
He was a rebel leader who had to die anyway. Just a different method of execution. In this world, clumsy mercy was as good as suicide.
No more of this. This is the last time.
I couldn't cross that line again. Surviving as Morris in this world mattered, but basic human morality mattered more. I wouldn't cross it. Not the line I'd drawn for myself.
"Hoo."
I sighed and put the malfunctioning Lord Balt to sleep. Now, all that remained was.
Waiting for the barbarians to attack Balt Fortress.
I hid in the shadows, awaiting their assault. But.
The barbarians stayed eerily still.
"Hmm."
They'd caught on. The original plan was: 1. Ruin the northern lord's mind, making him declare no promises or land for barbarians. 2. Kill the barbarian chieftain to sow distrust between them. They'd turn on each other, and the protagonist and imperial forces would strike the gap. That was the plan.
The problem? Bendan Kru's keen instincts exceeded expectations. My preconception that barbarians were simpletons led to failure.
So, the backup plan. Kill Chieftain Bendan Kru and fracture them. Without their unifier of countless clans, the barbarians would splinter internally. We'd just mop up the self-destructing savages. The fortress?
I'd open it myself.
I melted into the shadows. Using them, I infiltrated the barbarian camp undetected. The largest tent. I emerged from the shadow draping Bendan Kru's tent.
Shadow Movement—a spell teleporting through shadows, perfect for stealthy short-range travel.
"So you came after all."
Bendan Kru was ready for battle, wielding a greatsword larger than himself in one hand. His body was covered in fresh tattoos drawn in bright red blood—Crui Tribe sorcery to enhance the physique.
"Well prepared, I see."
Of course he'd noticed.
"I figured you'd come if I refused battle."
"If you knew, let's end this quickly."
"Heh, even the empire's top mage challenging this body in close quarters? Not so easy."
"Talkative."
I detonated the spot where Bendan Kru stood.
Boom!
The ground shook and roared, but no one entered the tent.
"You used sorcery."
He growled. As he'd said, I'd cast Silence around the tent—no sound or vibration would escape.
He swung his greatsword.
Thud!
A powerful strike, but it bounced harmlessly off my shield.
"Damn, impressive sorcery."
Even as his attack failed, his face lit up. The face of a battle-mad barbarian. Sword or magic—it didn't matter. The fight continued. We traded blows—attacks and defenses repeatedly—and Bendan Kru's face filled with ever-growing ecstasy.
I snapped my fingers, triggering an explosion in the greatsword's path.
"Gah!"
He staggered back from the sudden blast.
"Hoo, full of tricks."
Instead of replying, I unleashed magic. Vines erupted from the ground, binding his legs; multi-attribute spells fired from the air—Fireball, Magic Missile, Wind Cutter, Ice Arrow, and more. All mere 3rd-circle spells, but their power far surpassed that tier.
The reason I was the top combat mage: mastery of low-tier magic beyond anyone else.
"Hup!"
Bendan Kru slammed his sword into the ground as a shield, blocking my barrage. But.
"Gaaah!"
Too much for one sword.
"Cough!"
He spat a mouthful of blood. His sword hand trembled.
"Hah, hah."
He lowered his sword.
"That's enough."
"Enough of what?"
"It means we can't invade the south while you live."
"You know it well."
Even reborn a thousand times, Bendan Kru couldn't beat me. The Crui Tribe lacked resistance to magic compared to other races.
"I surrender. Never thought I'd say that in my life. Can't face my tribesmen."
Bendan Kru gave a bitter smile.
"Planning to meet death like this?"
"No. Let's negotiate."
"Negotiate?"
"You're protecting imperial citizens, aren't you?"
Not entirely wrong. But self-preservation outweighed it. Did he take my silence as assent?
"Rumors aren't all true, then. The empire's cold-blooded mage striving to save citizens. Amusing."
I didn't correct the misunderstanding.
"A defeated warrior speaks plainly. I'll withdraw my forces—all back north."
"Why?"
"I lost a sacred duel."
Bendan Kru laughed, spitting blood from his mouth.
"But! I'll give you my daughter."
What?
"Proof of my word. The victor takes the most precious. That's our way."
The sudden turn left me reeling.
"You want me as a barbarian son-in-law?"
He chuckled lightly.
"No need for that. A concubine suffices. The key is receiving your strong seed."
"If I refuse and kill you?"
"I've ordered a southbound charge upon my death. Reject me, and I'll suicide here—triggering the advance."
Refusal meant war.
"Think how to save more imperial lives."
This guy knew how to take hostages. Killing one wouldn't solve it. Twenty thousand cavalry—not on horses, but werewolves. Wolf Riders, they called them. Immensely powerful. Not to be taken lightly.
"Hoo. What a hassle."
"I'll take that as acceptance."
I clutched my throbbing head and nodded.
"Fine."
"Kahaha! Good. Excellent!"
"Withdraw your forces, and I'll visit later."
"Understood."
I dispelled the Silence and slipped into the shadows.
Before I even reached headquarters, the barbarians retreated.
"Minister, they're withdrawing!"
"I see."
"How did you do it?"
"Nothing special."
I didn't mention the pact with Bendan Kru.
With the main barbarian force gone and the commander a wreck, Balt Fortress fell easily.
"An incredible strategy. Surrender without a fight."
The soldiers who'd retaken Balt cheered my name.
"Long live Minister Morris!"
"Long live Morris Dmitry!"
The already deranged Balt was captured effortlessly.
"Heh, hehe. Ya, promise... withdrawn......"
Seeing the utterly broken Balt, Marquis Romero paled. He glanced at me.
"Treason demands three generations' punishment—a grave crime. Punish severely per imperial law."
"Understood."
I overheard Romero whispering to his men as he left.
"The master torturer indeed. How'd he turn that tough guy into this......"
Another evil deed added. I barely cared anymore.
"I'll handle some business and return."
Confirming full occupation of Balt Fortress, I soared high into the sky. I flew north, pursuing the Crui Tribe across the border.
The cavalry crossing the border pointed at me. The Crui eyed me warily, but.
"What are you doing to our precious guest!"
Bendan Kru's thunderous voice rang out; they lowered their spears.
"He's to be my daughter's husband. Treat him with honor."
Ignoring his wounds, Bendan Kru strode forward boldly.
"Before the feast, you should see her face. Let me introduce my daughter."
To be honest, why I'd resented Bendan Kru's proposal. His ugly mug and burly build. Hulk-like. A gorilla come to life. His daughter must take after him—troublesome baggage for home.
So I thought. Then, escorted by soldiers, a woman approached. Fur clothes, face veiled.
Smaller than expected.
The opposite of Bendan Kru. Barely over 160 cm, snow-white hair. Face hidden, but glimpses of skin through her clothes were pale and luminous.
"Daughter, show your face to your husband."
Unveiled, she resembled a snow spirit. White hair—even eyelashes snow-white.
"Greetings. This girl is called Baekseol."