Chapter 7
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: How Barbarians Get Stronger
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"What now?"
Magra answered my question.
"Go to their village, declare victory, and absorb the villagers, kill them, or send them away."
"Sounds simple. Let's go."
The next day dawned.
The post-war cleanup was simpler than expected.
I immediately took over their village and made the declaration.
"As of today, the Yagur tribe is absorbed into the Grom Kel tribe. Those who don't want to join, leave now. But leave your weapons behind."
A fair number packed their things and rode off on Dromas, while a good many chose to stay.
'Interesting culture.'
On the Central Continent, you'd never just let war prisoners go free.
Sell them as slaves, lock them in prison, or dry up their seed entirely.
All to leave no future troubles.
But not here.
Ultimately, it might be because all descendants of the southern lands believe they're children of their god, 'Turlkaron'.
'Hmm. If these guys ever united to build a nation, even the Empire would have to get nervous.'
Of course, no barbarian in history had ever achieved such a feat.
Not yet, anyway.
In the end, we absorbed about a hundred warriors and two hundred regular tribesfolk into Grom Kel.
Our forces had doubled in an instant.
I dumped all the headache-inducing admin work on Magra and Aila, then wandered around the oasis with my hands clasped behind my back.
With everyone busy hauling goods from that stone fortress over here, the whole tribe would be rushed off their feet today.
I'm the king, right? Skipping grunt work is only natural.
'Nice. Real nice.'
An oasis with an inexhaustible supply of water.
Palm trees and thick bushes sprouting everywhere around it.
Finally feels like a place where people live.
Guess I'll wash the blankets today.
As I approached the clear water with a satisfied smile...
My brow furrowed deeply.
"...Hey."
A barbarian warrior was scooping and guzzling oasis water with hands caked in bright red blood and dirt.
And right beside him, another was dunking his filthy bear-paw feet in the water and splashing around.
"What the hell are you doing?"
The warriors flinched at my icy tone and turned to look.
"K-Kel Bark! We were just taking a drink!"
"Drink, fine. Why the feet?"
"Uh, it feels cool and nice..."
I couldn't hold back and bellowed.
"Have you ever seen such primitive bastards!"
The warriors jumped, staring at me blankly.
"Pull those feet out right now! Your comrades, your family drink that water! You thick-skulled idiots!"
"?? What's the problem with that?"
They looked genuinely puzzled.
Haa... damn...
My hand went straight to my forehead.
Yeah, I'm the fool for expecting modern hygiene concepts in this barbaric wasteland.
But this is directly tied to survival.
If a waterborne disease spreads from this stagnant pool, the whole tribe wiping out from diarrhea and dehydration is just a matter of time.
"New law, effective immediately."
I gathered the warriors nearby.
"Listen up. From now on, anyone who dips hands or feet in the upstream oasis water source gets them chopped off on the spot. All water from downstream only. Got it?"
"Hiiik!"
"And wash your hands before every meal. Scrub them raw."
Then a burly warrior hesitantly spoke up, looking wronged.
"B-But Kel Bark. Washing hands ruins the taste of meat."
"What?"
"The salty sweat and dirt on your hands bring out the flavor..."
"...Want me to make you salty? Blood's salty too."
I placed my hand on Kel Kar's hilt.
"N-No! I'll wash! Till the calluses peel off!"
From that day on, I wasn't the king of wolves anymore—I was the barbarian hygiene nag.
Guys not washing after shitting, smearing shit on wounds... fuck...
Scavenging rotten meat.
I chased them down one by one, smacked their backs, and set them straight.
Didn't even need the advanced hygiene from ducal servant training.
This is basic common sense if you're wearing human skin, you primitives.
A few days later, evening.
Campfires blazed around the oasis, the air thick with the savory smell of roasting meat.
The tribesfolk, stuffed full and sprawled out, had lost their ingrained grime and fear—replaced by glistening oil.
'Not bad at all.'
As I sat in front of my tent watching the peaceful scene...
I sensed a timid presence.
Turning, I saw a grubby little kid peeking at me.
Maybe seven or eight years old.
"What is it, kid? Got something to say?"
The child fidgeted, then shyly pulled something from behind their back and held it out.
A plump, ripe red fruit.
"Here... for Kel Bark."
"Bribe? What do you want?"
"Mom said... thanks to Kel Bark, we can eat our fill now. The best one goes to Kel Bark."
I chuckled and took the fruit.
"Fine home training. I'll enjoy it."
But the kid didn't leave—instead, they looked up at me with sparkling eyes.
"Hey, Kel Bark."
"Yeah."
"When I grow up, I'll be just like Kel Bark!"
"Like me? That won't be easy."
The child nodded vigorously.
"Yes! Strong like Kel Bark... and super naggy warrior!"
"......"
My hand paused mid-bite.
"I'm... super naggy?"
"Yes! Mom said Kel Bark nags so much your ears bleed—the scariest warriors can't even move! I'll nag warriors like slaves too!"
"......"
I wasn't that bad...
But those pure eyes made it impossible to get mad.
I gave a wry smile and patted the kid's head.
"Yeah. Big dreams. Skip the nagging part—just get strong. That's how you survive."
"Yes!"
The child beamed brightly and scampered off.
As I watched their receding back, I took a bite of the fruit.
It was sweet.
And refreshing.
The heavy taste of responsibility—something I'd never known back in my alley trash-bin days.
'Responsibility, huh...'
A pretty weighty word, but it didn't feel half bad.
Someday I'll have to go back...
Till then, playing along isn't so bad.
Night deepened.
Alone in my tent, I polished Kel Kar while lost in thought.
The thrill of victory had faded long ago.
Cold reality had returned.
'Honestly, I got lucky.'
This win was a miraculous fluke from the 'padrip' taunt, Kel Kar's special ability, and the 1v1 setup.
If it had been all-out war?
I'd be desert fertilizer without question.
'My physical specs are still below your average warrior here.'
The first-stage tattoo gave me some strength, but compared to physical monsters like Karack or the late Morkun, I'm a child.
Traps and trash talk have their limits too.
Eventually, overwhelming force crushes any clever tricks.
"I need to get stronger."
If my head flies off before I can open my mouth, it's game over.
I needed real power.
I immediately summoned Karack.
"You called! Kel Bark!"
Karack burst in with his usual tent-shaking roar.
A full loyalist now.
"Karack. Got a question."
"Ask anything! Karack's surprisingly smart!"
"...Confidence is good and all."
I cleared my throat and got to the point.
"How do you—no, Grom Kel—get stronger? Any special training methods? Like the Empire's aura cultivation or mana breathing techniques."
"Au...ra... culti... what?"
Karack tilted his head with a blank look.
As expected. No way they'd have anything systematic.
But still, weird. Fighting knights with no cultivation methods?
There had to be some other secret.
"Never mind. I mean, how do you get strong? What to do to be as tough as you?"
"Ah! That's super simple!"
Karack clenched his fist.
"Fight!"
"...That's it?"
"Yep! Hunt, kill, survive! Every time you slay earth's parasites, the earth's power builds up in your body. Widen your vessel like that, then tattoo to unlock the strength! That's the warrior way!"
Pure, brute simplicity.
But the undeniable truth of barbarism.
Nothing grows you like real combat.
Hold on.
"Earth's power builds up in the body?"
"Yep!"
No way...? This is...?
I shot to my feet.
"Get ready. We're hunting."
"Ooh! Finally, Kel Bark joins the hunt?! What're we after? More gene? Rock troll? Or wyvern?"
Karack's eyes gleamed as he rattled off nightmare monster names just from hearing them.
"...Not that."
At my level, I'd be lucky to scrape bones.
I put on my most dignified face and issued a very modest order.
"Haven't loosened up in ages. Need to get the feel back. Something super weak, easy, no sweat. Take me where they live."
Slimes or rabbits. Perfect if they exist.
But.
Karack's eyes filled with admiration at my words.
"Aah... worthy of Kel Bark! Where the weaklings swarm in hordes! Karack knows just the spot! Those bastards are a real pain!"
"Yeah, hordes are fine as long as they're weak. Let's go!"
And so, with chief hunter Batu and Karack in tow, I set out on a majestic monster hunt.
Hours later.
I couldn't hide my shock at the scene before me.
"...So... these are all monsters?"
"Yep! All earth's parasites! Total pests. And they taste awful—no one eats 'em!"
I stared at the horrific swarm blanketing the southern lands in black.
"How many are there...?"
The monsters were 'desert ants'—giant ants native to the south.
Nearly a meter long, thousands—no, tens of thousands—tearing up the ground.
Weak one-on-one, but that overwhelming numbers spelled pure disaster.
The south isn't that barren, really.
Deserts, plains, forests, mountains—you name it.
But these damn ant bastards devour everything, turning the south into a wasteland.
"We don't have to kill all of them, right?"
"Kill one, and the horde swarms! Gotta take out a ton!"
Karack looked at me with eyes full of expectation.
Batu already had his dagger out, awaiting orders.
I gripped Kel Kar tight and swallowed dry.
"Haa... fine. Let's do it."
With Dromas, I can always bolt.
I drew my sword with grim resolve.
"Yeah. Today, we raid an anthill for real."