Remian's Jealous Gaze
Under the weight of Remian's jealous stare, they reached the village of the Golden Lion Tribe before they knew it.
Janiz stepped forward.
"We're here, so you won't be needing a guide anymore."
"That's right!"
Remian bellowed his answer, as if he had been waiting for the chance. Corshas clicked her tongue, plainly disappointed that she no longer had an excuse to stay glued to Yujun's side, and Janiz, catching their utterly opposite expressions, barely managed to swallow a laugh.
"I'll come find you later! I swear I will!"
They went their separate ways, and Yujun blithely ignored Corshas's voice fading behind him.
"Shin Yujun. Quite the popular one, aren't you."
"It is not welcome in the least."
"Still, I hear she's got top-tier Potential. Doesn't seem like a lie, either. Honestly, even I'm curious what sort of child the two of you would make."
"That will absolutely never happen, so please don't concern yourself."
"Didn't you say nothing is absolute?"
"As of today, there is such a thing."
"Funny."
The Golden Lion Tribe was larger than Yujun had imagined. The place was enormous—so much so that comparing it to the Ledordang Tribe would have been an insult.
"Why are they just sitting still? It isn't as if the barbarians here are lacking."
"I told you I don't know. What the Golden Lion chieftain is thinking, only he himself knows."
"He certainly seems to think differently from ordinary barbarians."
"I think so too."
"Their equipment isn't exactly exceptional, though."
"The better gear has probably been claimed by the higher-ranking barbarians. Even so, they ought to be grateful they get to live this well. Barbarians from the other tribes are scrambling just to get by."
"So even the ones nearest the bottom here still belong to the best-off tribe of all."
"That's right."
"And the Golden Lion chieftain is a man of good character as well?"
"You can't know until you've dealt with him yourself. But if you go by his public image alone, he's a kind barbarian who spreads his good influence far and wide."
That only made Yujun more curious. Strong, kind, and a capable ruler of his own tribe—and considerate enough of the other tribes' circumstances to host a tournament that was practically a festival.
Even if he does have some hidden motive...
A hypocrite dressed in false virtue was better than an open villain. At least the good deeds on display would help someone, and in practice, they were.
Yujun walked slowly, taking in his surroundings. The barbarians in the village were warming up with noisy enthusiasm, vaulting over obstacles of old timber as if they were flying, and the whole place overflowed with energy. They look heavy, but they're incredibly quick. They were simply not in the same league as the athletes back on Earth—the difference between superhumans and ordinary people, if he had to name it. Every player was like that to some degree, but barbarians leaned even harder into physical stats, so in a way it was only natural.
A festival air hung over the village, as if they were gearing up for the Olympics, and the smell of roasting meat drifted from every corner. He had expected a tournament to feel fierce and grim. It was the exact opposite. Most of the barbarians were buzzing with excitement, smiles hung across their faces.
"This is what a tribe ruled by the greatest barbarian looks like."
"You don't call him great simply because he's strong, do you?"
"Strength is part of it. But he's a chieftain who lets his people live happily."
"Exactly what time does it begin?"
"Judging by how busy they are over there, it should start soon."
"It seems some tribes still haven't arrived."
"Sometimes one tribe hunts another. The senior barbarians step in."
"That's bad manners... No. Aren't there rules against that?"
"There is an unspoken rule. Don't touch barbarians entered in the tournament. But there's one infamous tribe that doesn't follow it. If something happens, you can pretty much assume it was them."
"If people know who they are, sanctions ought to follow."
"Difficult, unless the Golden Lion Tribe steps in themselves. Those bastards—the Raccoon Tribe—are large enough to rank among the top five on the plains. They act like they've got nothing left to lose, so if you want to sanction them, you'd have to be prepared for mutual destruction."
"If I had run into them, I would have smashed them flat."
"The problem is what comes after. Right now, there's probably no barbarian in that tribe stronger than you. But if a fight starts, the damage on our side wouldn't be something we could ignore."
"So it's best to stay out of it, as much as we can."
"Yes."
The Raccoon Tribe. Yujun made a point of remembering the name. He had always felt it—types like that almost never failed to pick a fight with him. Especially now, in the middle of a tribal tournament, even a little showing off would make it all too likely he would catch their eye. He knew they would clash, one way or another.
Just one of those feelings.
Aside from the barbarians of the Poison Dagger Tribe, no one knew the extent of Yujun's strength, and so even when he walked openly down the main road, no eyes followed him. It's been a while since something like this. To think his heart could feel this light just because no one was watching him. He almost understood why celebrities ended up with panic disorders. Not that it would ever happen to him. His mind was far too steady for that.
He was wandering the village, taking in the sights, when he ran into the barbarians of the Poison Dagger Tribe.
"We meet again!"
Corshas came over beaming. Boromian furrowed his brow.
"We're not on the same side. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop pretending to be so friendly."
"...Get lost. Weakling."
"Hey—weakling?"
"I have no interest in a pathetic man like you."
"Hey. Let's go a round. Do I look easy to you?"
"You do."
Corshas said it with her voice thick with mockery. As Boromian shook with rage, Yujun caught him by the shoulder and pulled him back.
"Don't make a scene. It's not the time. And stay put—you'd get wrecked. Unless you want your ass handed to you."
"...Yes, sir!"
Boromian decided that listening to Yujun was the wiser course. And so they passed Corshas, Remian, and the rest without another word. There was nothing to gain from getting chummy with them now. They might have to fight for their lives before long; this was no time for bonding.
The sky had thickened with cloud, and a pale gray light lay dim across the distant fields. The barbarians of the tribes that had agreed to join the tournament had taken their places as well. Two tribes had neither appeared nor sent word, but that happened every year. People only stole furtive glances at the Raccoon Tribe's barbarians.
There was suspicion, but no proof—and above all, the martial power of the Raccoon barbarians entered in the tournament was anything but ordinary. The senior barbarians were the same, and so were the ones competing. Since retaliation might come later, even criticizing them had to be done in whispers.
At the heart of the Golden Lion Tribe, surprisingly, stood a building resembling the Colosseum. It rose alone, towering over the village, and felt deeply out of place. Perhaps because barbarian aesthetics had been mixed in, it was not identical to the Colosseum Yujun had seen in photographs, but the form was similar, and it was large enough to hold a great many barbarians. The massive stage, as if piled from boulders, was impressive in its own right. It did not look thrown together at random. It felt meticulously built to a blueprint.
Are there architects and artists among barbarians, too?
The building and the stage were alien enough to make him wonder. This was not a structure that belonged on a plain that was wilderness itself.
Then, from the packed arena, the barbarians' cheers erupted. The chieftain of the Golden Lion Tribe had appeared upon the stage.
Yujun narrowed his eyes and studied him. He looked quite old, and yet he was a barbarian of sturdy build and great height. On that alone, he was not much different from any ordinary barbarian. But the Golden Lion chieftain was wearing Legendary-grade equipment on top of it.
That's the Noble Lion Set. He even matched the weapon to it.
Yujun knew those items' names and options inside and out. They were pieces sitting in his own inventory; there was no way he would fail to recognize them. As he recalled, they required level 340 or higher to equip, which meant the Golden Lion chieftain was at least past level 340. Set against the levels of the other barbarians, the gap was staggering.
Then Yujun caught sight of a cloak fluttering in the wind, and his eyes went wide.
Huh? That cloak can only be worn at level 400 or above.
So he was level 400 or higher.
The chieftain finished a brief speech and stepped down from the stage. That alone seemed to have landed with considerable force; the barbarians' faces were bright. The tribal tournament began. The barbarians of each tribe ascended the stage to a grand welcome and introduced themselves. It would not affect the results, but it left each of their images stamped firmly in the mind.
"There really are tribes with all kinds of ridiculous names."
At Yujun's remark, Janiz gave an awkward laugh.
"I don't think our tribe's name is ordinary, either."
"Ledordang has a soft, round sound to it. Not unpleasant."
"If the great barbarian says so, that's a relief."
"And why are there so many of these so-called great barbarians?"
"I don't know your character well. But looking at your strength alone, it's no exaggeration to call you a great barbarian in your own right."
"We'll see."
Yujun wore a meaningful smile. No matter how strong he became, he was someone who would vanish eventually anyway. If he up and left one day, what would Janiz think?
The first event of the tribal tournament was very simple, and very primitive. A massive chunk of ore was set upright and fixed in place, and they were to strike it with their weapons. Even leaving a scratch, they said, would earn a high score.
Nearby, a pair of barbarians were talking.
"This again, huh."
"Just as I expected. I knew it'd be like this, so I came fully prepared."
"Does preparing make you stronger?"
"You idiot. Raw strength isn't everything. You need technique. Technique."
"Quit harping on about your technique. Our great warrior doesn't stoop to cheap tricks like that."
"You don't know a thing. Forget it. Why would I even bother talking to someone like you..."
Overhearing them, Yujun couldn't help a quiet snort. Cute.
The ore called Retein was so hard, they said, that most barbarians could not even scratch it. The organizers were not even considering the possibility that someone might break it.
"First, the Raccoon Tribe! Come up onto the stage!"
A booming barbarian from the organizers shouted. The Raccoon Tribe's barbarians climbed the stage, every one of them wearing a face full of confidence. Even their footsteps were different from those of ordinary barbarians.
"You may begin right away."
"We will. You won't be disappointed."
The largest barbarian among the Raccoon Tribe stepped forward first. His forearms were so massive that the mere sight of them inspired awe. Those arms could slap an orc across the face. Even Yujun was impressed.
Kraaang—!
The result, however, was disappointing. The barbarian had brought a massive two-handed greatsword down on the ore with all his might. A small groove was gouged into the stone, but the blade bit no deeper, stopping with a grating shriek of metal.
Then the barbarians' cheers rang out. Most of them were shouting about how amazing it was, or gaping in astonishment.
What is this... Are they in a league of their own?
Yujun was so bewildered he lost his words.