Wolf Blade (4)
Honestly, I wasn't all that thrilled with Reinforcement Technique. But I practiced my mana circulation method every single day without fail because it was the only key available to me right now.
The key to getting stronger, that is.
It was the only ability I had to stand against superhumans wielding magic or auras, so even if I didn't like it, I trained daily. But now, for some reason, this power was starting to grow on me.
It had to. I mean, how could ripping chainmail apart with my bare hands not impress me?
Reinforcement Technique... way better than I thought.
I reflected on my past self, full of complaints. If I could produce this kind of monstrous strength, that changed everything.
Sure, I couldn't swing a flashy light saber like others or lob magic barrages from afar while posing. But at least I could tear through iron armor.
I knew full well how useless blades become against solid defenses. I'd learned it from Earth's history, and I'd experienced it firsthand fighting that rock crevice troll.
That thing's skin was like iron plate. My axe barely sank in, and I struggled so much. Even when I lodged it deep and drew blood, it regenerated right away.
But with this power now? I could probably shred that tough, leathery troll hide.
With strength like that, I wouldn't have needed to fight so desperately.
Yeah. So what if I can't use magic? I can rip iron armor like paper.
My thoughts shattered in an instant. Something blade-like glinted.
I reflexively kicked Philip square in the chest and twisted my waist. A razor-sharp edge whistled past my neck.
Somehow, he'd pulled out a dagger and lunged. If I hadn't kicked him away in time, my throat would've been slit.
"Nimble for trash. Barbarian."
"Another weapon, huh."
"Knights always carry spares."
Philip rose with a grin, but it wasn't relaxed. I could see him suppressing his shock. Even pretending otherwise, the freak strength that tore his armor barehanded had rattled him.
"Mind if I ask something?"
"What?"
"One of your parents an ogre, by chance?"
"What?"
"No other explanation for that brute force."
I let out a hollow chuckle. This guy dished family jabs without blinking.
Too bad for him, I was immune. Back in my past life as a K-gamer, I'd defended my parents countless times online. Some snide remark gonna faze me?
"My parents are human."
"I see."
"My turn to ask."
"Shoot."
"If one parent's an ogre, the other's human?"
"Probably."
"That even possible?"
"What?"
"Physically possible?"
Philip's eyes narrowed. I'd said it to piss him off, but he throws it back? What a weird barbarian, he thought. Normally, they'd rage about the insult. But this guy? No anger, just weird curiosity.
"Really possible? Size difference too huge. Genes different. No way it'd work. Pregnancy impossible..."
"What're you on about? Ge... genes?"
"That's the thing. Anyway, does it work or not?"
"No idea. But half-elves and half-dwarves exist, so half-ogres probably do too."
"Huh?"
"Curious? Catch a female ogre and test it yourself. Satisfy that itch."
Laughter rippled around at Philip's sarcasm. But my face didn't change. I was deep in thought.
Half-elves, half-dwarves? For real?
That meant humans breeding with elves or dwarves. Shocking to me. Way outside common sense.
Different species? How?
Genes mismatch, no fertilization. Pregnancy impossible, obviously.
No half-chimps in the world, right? So maybe dwarves and elves are human subspecies? Same genes, so breeding works.
Wait.
This means...?
"Balun! Figured out something huge!"
"What?"
"Elves and dwarves? They're human!"
Philip's eyes filled with disbelief. Everyone's did. What nonsense was this? Elves and dwarves human?
"Elves, dwarves—just races like black, white, yellow! Human varieties!"
"What bullshit! Duel ain't over!"
Philip snatched his dropped sword and charged. Afraid he'd get tangled in this big barbarian's bizarre logic.
I ducked low, grumbling. These rude bastards. Moment of huge revelation, and they interrupt.
"No armor? Doesn't matter! Won't hold back now. One hit and you're—"
Thwack!
"Guhk!"
Philip's eyes bulged. Massive impact to his gut. Like a boxer, I'd slipped inside and unleashed a one-two punch. Powered by Reinforcement Technique.
"H-how."
"Your moves too big. Easy to counter."
"N-no way."
"You're sluggish. No armor."
Simple reason. Without his protective gear, Philip instinctively hunched. A split-second flinch, but that's all it takes to decide fights.
I exploited it smartly.
"My win."
I threw an uppercut. Jaw smashed, Philip flew skyward, then crashed limp. Out cold.
"......"
Silence fell. The jeers vanished.
In the center, I shouted.
"Duel winner: Balun!"
No cheers. They stared in disbelief, eyeing each other.
Then, one by one, swords drawn. Tips aimed at me.
I chuckled dryly.
"Gonna attack? Then why duel? To decide winner, right?"
"......"
"Balun won. You lost. Losers shut up."
Shut up they didn't. Just glared. Like they might strike. Grips tight on hilts.
I smirked, bending for Philip's dropped sword—
"Everyone, stand down. He's right. I'm the witness."
A voice cut in.
"Fair duel. Winner decided. No more meddling, no matter what happened before."
A blue-robed mage with a curved staff: Banet. He parted the crowd, strolling center.
"Mage Banet!"
"But this—!"
"Let that monster go?!"
Protests poured. Banet took them with a slight smile.
"Let him. Your master would want that."
"Want? Master sought revenge!"
"Really think so? Wanna bet?"
Banet eyed the speaking swordsman. He looked away, head bowed.
"Draw swords here? Philip gets dishonor. Rumors of revenge after duel loss. Wolf Blade's rep tanks. Philip ignores you forever. That okay?"
"......"
"Life's long, grudges short. Choose wisely: enjoy long life, or vent and burn out."
Oho. Nice.
I admired watching. Smooth talker. Mage thing?
But where'd he pop from? Wasn't there before.
Swordsmen hesitated, sheathed blades. Banet nodded satisfied, approached, offered hand.
"Blue Tower's Banet. Your name?"
"Tower?"
"Yes."
My face soured. Blue Tower? Felt stabbed. I'd killed a tower mage. Couldn't ignore.
That guy threatened big before dying. Tower wouldn't sit idle.
"Red Fang Tribe warrior, Balun."
I eyed Banet warily.
Doesn't know me? No revenge?
Seemed clueless. Hope it stayed that way.
"Balun. Wolf's fang. Fierce name. Matches your skill. Fine warrior."
"You know our tongue?"
"Studied barbarian language. Just a bit."
"I see."
Other barbarians would've warmed instantly. Me? Suspicion spiked.
Why learn our language? Experiment on us?
Grateful for mediating, sure. But trust? Gotta check.
Guy seemed decent, but tower origin and that sneaky mustache nagged.
"Speaking for all, thanks."
"Thanks?"
"Yes. Spared Philip."
"Did."
"Know barbarians don't spare foes. Ultimate mercy from you. I know how huge."
I blinked. Out of left field.
What? Mercy? Self-preservation, dude.
Of course I spared. Crazy to kill, buy endless hate.
"Thanks to you, Wolf Blade keeps its core. Their livelihoods safe. They'll thank you. Remember as honor-bound warrior."
More baffling. Some nodded.
Why agree? Stockholm syndrome? Hate the guy who wasted your pals?
"Alright! Clean up! Corpses, master too. Back to work."
Banet bossed like superior. Swordsmen dispersed.
Left: me and Banet.
"Wanna chat? Spare time?"
"Won't kill me?"
"Why would I? No reason. No grudge."
I flinched. Sounded like "grudge exists, then kill."
Malik kill exposed? Disaster.
Bolt if needed. Tower too big, no beef wanted.
"Agree?"
"......Yeah."
"Good. Inside."
I hesitated. Inside there? Wolf Blade HQ.
"There?"
"Obviously. Tea, talk."
I followed, head tilted. This okay? Killed their guys, floored boss, now tea in lair?
Poison in tea?
* * *
Thankfully, no poison. Plain milk tea.
In guild HQ reception. Sinking into plush sofa, savoring sweet-bitter milk tea, Banet marveled.
"You're odd. Barbarian liking tea."
"Kinda."
Third time hearing that. Get old soon.
"Much to say, but main point first."
"What?"
"Invite you to our Blue Tower."
"......?"
"Accept?"
"????"