Is That Really Enough?
"W-wait, really? That's all it takes?"
"I never said it would be enough. I only said that's what I do."
Of course, Yujun did no such thing. He kept to simple exercise. He had never once trained by locking himself to a rigid count like that.
"Is there some important meaning to a hundred reps?"
"Shamanism… think of it as a superstition with a bit of actual effect. The side effect is that you lose some hair, though… Your head's already shining."
"Huhuhut! Then I don't even have the side effect!"
"Congratulations."
It hardly seemed like something worth celebrating, but Janiz laughed as if he were delighted.
"Then why don't you have the side effect?"
"This is what's left after mine fell out. I used to have more."
"That so?"
Janiz cocked his head, then soon smiled and nodded.
"Thanks. I'll give it a try the way you said. Not a particularly difficult training method, either."
"Yes."
He wouldn't be seeing Janiz for long anyway. Say whatever I like. It won't matter. Not because the man was going to die—this place was an event dungeon, as far as Yujun was concerned.
The barbarians entering the tribal contest alongside him happened, Yujun aside, to be two men and two women, the ratio perfectly even. They kept stealing glances at him, the way one might look at some rare animal. He had been on the receiving end of that look ever since becoming a barbarian—more precisely, ever since his potential was measured—and by now he was as used to it as he was ever going to get.
Barbarians, however, had no such thing as patience. The moment curiosity struck, they asked, without the slightest regard for how the other person might feel. The ones chosen for the tribal contest were no different. Some demanded to know how he had grown so strong. Others accused him of pulling some trick on the Jewel that measured potential and putting a false reading on display.
Yujun saw no need to explain himself one by one, and ignored them with ease.
That must have stoked someone's temper. A barbarian with a vicious scowl bumped his shoulder.
"You think you're something special? I've never seen a scrawny runt like you get rated for high potential."
He had heard that the younger barbarians were full of hot blood and childish bravado. This one seemed the very picture of the type. Boromian, was it? Calling it mere jealousy picking a fight would have been too generous. It was reckless arrogance. He didn't believe the martial strength Yujun was already known for. More likely, just as he claimed, he thought the measurement itself was a fraud.
So Yujun showed him with his body.
Shwick—!
The sword shot out like lightning and stopped a hair's breadth in front of the point between Boromian's eyes. Another three millimeters and it might have punched straight through his face. The weapon he had received from the chieftain was no ordinary blade to begin with; its edge was viciously keen.
Boromian's eyes went wide, and he swallowed hard.
"That's enough."
"Yes, sir!"
Fortunately, a single threat was enough for him to take the hint. Chosen for the tribal contest or not, he wasn't a complete idiot.
"Krahaha!"
Watching the exchange, Janiz burst into a hearty laugh.
"Just as I'd expect from the prospect who beat the chieftain… no. From a great barbarian."
Janiz talked a great deal.
"A barbarian's attack is usually mixed with roughness and savagery, but I didn't see a trace of either. There was even less feeling in that weapon than in the strike of some cold-blooded veteran assassin. Remarkable skill."
Yujun had no idea what he was supposed to do with that, but Janiz kept chattering on behind him.
"And a barbarian who can rein in his emotions even when someone's picking a fight… That's more astonishing than the fact that you beat the chieftain."
"Huh? Is it really that impressive?"
Boromian couldn't hold it in and turned to Janiz.
Janiz nodded as if it were obvious.
"But the chieftain is the strongest in our tribe… and you're saying it's more surprising that there was no emotion in it? Aren't you exaggerating?"
"You talking back to me now, too?"
"Ah—no. I'm sorry."
"Well, you seem curious, so I'll answer. The chieftain is strong, but only within our tribe. You know perfectly well we're a frontier tribe, don't you? A tribe's position isn't decided at random. Tribes fight without end. Win, and you absorb the enemy's tribe. Lose, and they take yours whole. Repeat that long enough, and the tribes that survive the longest draw closer to the choice land—the center of the grassland."
"Why the center? Wouldn't moving inward only draw heavier pressure from the other tribes?"
This time it was Yujun who asked.
"Because a mysterious and powerful energy flows there, and when that energy hardens, it becomes matter. The Jewel that measures potential can only be made if you have that matter."
"Then there must be quite a few tribes that don't possess a Jewel."
"That's right. So tribes without a Jewel choose their contestants by making them fight each other to the death. In a way, it's the most primitive method, and the fairest."
"I have another question. Why hasn't the tribe that seized that matter unified the grassland already? If it's that valuable, shouldn't they have been unified long ago?"
"A good question. The reason is that the matter isn't produced without limit. On top of that, you have to pass a trial that carries considerable danger. I said it isn't produced infinitely—and that trial can be challenged only once per person. The energy you can obtain changes according to the feats you achieve there. Whatever energy you fail to absorb completely, and let spill, becomes the matter that serves as the key material for making a Jewel."
"Does this matter have a name?"
"Every tribe calls it something different, but we call it Jorang. In the tribal tongue, it means the great condensate."
Listening, Yujun got the impression that barbarians were rather fond of the word great. Or perhaps that was only Janiz.
Either way, the matter had caught his interest. More precisely, the energy. He had a feeling it was deeply tied to clearing this event dungeon. If it wasn't, nothing else stood out.
"If someone posts a good result in the tribal contest…"
"Right. They give you the chance to challenge that trial."
"From the tribe at the center?"
"Yes. The one hosting the contest this time is the tribe that holds the center. The Golden Lion Tribe has monopolized that middle ground for over four years. As far as I know, they're the tribe that's endured there the longest. Usually, once a tribe takes the choice seat at the center, it collapses from infighting. They didn't."
"The Golden Lion…?"
"What about it?"
"Nothing."
The name overlapping with the Golden Lion Guild on the Continent is just a coincidence, right? Same name, and no connection at all.
The players he had met as enemies in the dungeon where he found Paranet. They had tried to intimidate him by claiming they belonged to the Golden Lion Guild. He had killed every last one of them and shut their mouths properly. It had been the first time he killed people, and he remembered thinking he had managed it well enough. He had also gone numb to that first killing rather quickly. Part of him feared that Equanimity was doing something to his character. The other part knew that without the trait, he would have died long ago.
"Aren't you curious how the Golden Lion lasted so long?"
"What is it?"
"Because a barbarian so powerful that no barbarian can defy him reigns over them."
"Strange. If I were him, I would have tried to unify the grassland. Is there a reason he doesn't?"
"How would I know? But he didn't seem particularly interested in unifying the grassland. He was far more interested in fights that seized territory from other tribes. The Golden Lion tribesmen seemed a little dissatisfied with that, too, but as I said, the chieftain is absurdly strong, so they have no way to show it."
Just how strong is he?
Yujun felt his fighting spirit begin to boil. A surge of heightened emotion rose without restraint, ready to spill over. Even meeting a foe worthy of being called a true rival had never stirred him like this. Becoming a barbarian, if only for a time, seemed to be weighing heavily on his mind.
"And since we were talking about the trial earlier—the grassland is vast. The tribal contest will be on a far larger scale than you think. That means a great many strong barbarians will be coming. I was going to say that if you want the right to challenge the trial, you can't afford to grow complacent… but honestly, I doubt barbarians who haven't even held their coming-of-age ceremony could handle you, the one who beat our chieftain."
"Do you think I can win?"
"No. Winning will be difficult. The contest isn't something you do alone. Five of you do it together. There will be events you can't handle by yourself. You'll have no choice but to swallow the point deductions there. This isn't just my thought—it's what every barbarian expects. The Golden Lion is likely to take first again this time."
"From what place can you earn the right to challenge the trial?"
"Down to third."
"Then fifteen barbarians in total would qualify."
"Not quite. People can die along the way, so it'll be fewer than that. There has never been a contest where all fifteen barbarians survived."
"Then eliminating the other barbarians would put us ahead in the competition, wouldn't it?"
"That's right. Better still if you make it look like an accident."
"…I'll keep that in mind."
Janiz was the sort who loved to talk, so he answered everything Yujun wanted to know without a hint of annoyance, and kindly at that.
"I believe that if you, Shin Yujun, can just earn the right to challenge the trial, you'll achieve tremendous feats and pass it. So rather than getting too greedy, you'd do well to aim for a place inside the top three."
"Understood."
"If you get too absorbed in removing rivals, the Golden Lion is likely to take a dim view of it. You'd best be careful."
From the sound of it, the Golden Lion Tribe had little interest even in unifying the grassland, and was kind enough to hold a contest so that other tribes could obtain the matter called Jorang. Of course, what showed on the surface was unlikely to be the whole of it. There was a good chance some other intent lay hidden underneath. Even so, Yujun had no need to concern himself with that. He only had to take what there was to take.
What matters is after I enter the trial. Pass that, and I'll probably leave the event dungeon.
Even if that wasn't the case, it didn't matter. However long he stayed here, all he had to do was keep growing. Having achieved another stage of growth in Swordsmanship at dawn, Yujun was in a thoroughly relaxed mood. The barbarians' tournament had begun to interest him as well. The tribal contest was, in a sense, the opening of a perfectly pure arena of combat. Wasn't that exactly what he had always wanted?
He was sorting through what he had heard from Janiz when it happened.
Clang—! Kang! Kwaaang—!
"Aaaagh!"
A scream carried from somewhere not far off. The eight barbarians stopped in their tracks.
Once again, Janiz spoke first.
"They're fighting Tyragos."
"Then, like we did, a test…"
"That's not it."
"Pardon?"
"There are more than six Tyragos."
"…"
"Don't they normally refuse to pack together?"
"That's the problem. No barbarian has ever faced that many Tyragos at once."
"Who's fighting them?"
At Boromian's question, Janiz sank briefly into thought.
"…Another tribe participating in the contest, I'd wager. They wouldn't have come all the way out to neutral ground like this just to hunt Tyragos. Dangerous. They won't last long."
"There should be barbarians of age with them. They still can't hold?"
"Two or three Tyragos, maybe. Against more than six, while also protecting barbarians who haven't come of age, there's hardly a barbarian who can fight properly. I'm no exception. But if we join in, that's a different story."
Janiz looked at Yujun.
"What do you say?"
"About what?"
"Feel like helping them? Personally, I'd like to see the skill you showed hunting Tyragos with my own eyes."