The Coming-of-Age Ceremony (1)
The High Priest felt as though the entire world were collapsing around him.
The moment Havel returned alive, his lifespan had effectively reached its end.
Unless Havel was an absolute idiot, there was no way he wouldn't realize who orchestrated the whole scheme. And he hadn't even returned alone—he had brought that horrifying evil spirit back with him.
Just recalling the venomous glare Ivan had leveled at him made the priest's knees turn to water.
If I had known it would turn out like this... I never would have provoked him from the start.
To make matters worse, even the Great Chieftain seemed to have pieced together the truth of the incident. There really was nowhere left to run.
Though breath still faintly lingered in his chest, the High Priest was essentially already a dead man.
A fleeting thought whispered that ending his own life might be better, but he lacked even the courage to do that.
Watching the High Priest slowly wither away in fear, Elena scoffed coldly.
Still, it wouldn't do for him to despair over just this. Her own share of vengeance had not even begun.
A tribal warrior pushed open the door and entered.
"High Priest, please come and examine Havel's condition."
For a split second, a sliver of desperate hope flickered in the priest's eyes.
"...Did he say something is wrong with him?"
"Fortunately, he seems completely fine. Still, one can never be too careful."
Inwardly, the High Priest heaped every conceivable curse upon the fool standing before him.
"...My apologies. My body is rather fatigued today. Could you perhaps come back later?"
That bastard Ivan was bound to be watching over him—did this imbecile want him to walk straight to his death?
If he went there now, it wouldn't be strange in the slightest if Ivan beat him to death the instant their eyes met.
Never expecting a refusal, the warrior wore an awkward expression.
"But..."
"Then I'll go instead."
Elena cut in without hesitation.
"You don't mind, do you?"
Under normal circumstances, he would have flown into a rage, demanding how she dared butt in without permission.
Right now, however, he had neither the presence of mind nor the will for that. If anything, he felt a surge of gratitude toward her for taking the burden off his hands.
"...Do as you please."
The High Priest watched her retreating back, noting a subtle lightness in her step.
Yes... who knows? Maybe he'll fall for a honeypot.
"Well, it's completely healed."
Without any proper medical attention, the bleeding had stopped, and thick scabs had formed in less than a single day.
Even by the hardy standards of northern warriors, Havel was exceptional.
Could this creature even be classified as human? Ivan marveled inwardly.
"...You really are quite the monster."
"I don't think you're in any position to be saying that to me."
"Is that so?"
"Indeed. I had a vague sense you were hiding your true strength, but you're an entirely different person compared to when I last saw you. What on earth happened out there?"
Ivan pondered for a moment just how much he should disclose.
Even if I tell him the honest truth, there's no way he'll believe it...
Well, whatever. Why bother concealing something that actually happened?
He was sick and tired of hiding things anyway. Ivan laid out the entire story in full honesty.
Havel's jaw dropped wide open.
"...So, what you're saying is... Baldr himself taught you... in person?"
"Bottom line, yeah. He gave me this sword before taking off, too."
When Ivan casually thrust the blood-red greatsword forward, Havel nearly had a seizure on the spot.
"Sweet gods above! To think I would behold Hrundal with my own eyes in this lifetime!"
So this sword is called Hrundal? That was an unexpected revelation.
"I wondered why it felt so familiar... Oh, Baldr..."
Choked with emotion, Havel teared up and gripped Ivan's shoulders with crushing force.
"Ivan, no matter what happens, you must hide this from everyone else! Even if they grow suspicious, you have to swear to your grave it's just an ordinary replica!"
"Do I really need to go that far? Who would be reckless enough to try anything funny?"
"Isn't that obvious? If that blade is truly Hrundal, countless warriors would gladly slit your throat just to take it for themselves!"
Ivan considered it for a moment and found himself agreeing.
If it was a weapon once wielded by the God of War in the flesh, practically anyone would covet it.
I guess I got so used to that cranky old man that it still hasn't fully sunk in.
Still unable to shake off his overwhelming awe, Havel beamed with the pure delight of a child.
"I truly have the finest brother a man could ask for. There is no greater honor than this."
Ivan felt a fierce urge to expose the old bastard's wretched, shameless reality in exhaustive detail, but held his tongue.
He was so thrilled—why shatter the poor guy's fantasy?
"Now it all makes sense. If Baldr himself imparted his teachings, it's no wonder you became so strong. Did anything else happen out there?"
Ivan put on a sly grin and leaned in, whispering conspiratorially.
"Keep this strictly between us, but... you're about to get a sister-in-law."
"...Even coming from you, that's hard to believe. You were holed up in the depths of a frozen forest—how could you possibly meet a woman?"
"Hey, that's light work. When a guy's got my level of charm, women just naturally flock to him."
Ivan bragged shamelessly without batting an eye.
Havel desperately wanted to shoot back a retort, but couldn't find the words, which only annoyed him further.
"...Fine. If you say so, then so be it. Not like anything should surprise me at this point."
"Wonder what she's up to right now. Man, she was so hopelessly crazy about me, it was practically a frenzy—"
Before the words even finished leaving his mouth, the door swung open with a sharp creak.
"Really? When did I ever do that?"
Elena looked down at Ivan with an icy smile.
What is this? Am I on some hidden camera prank show?
His brain ground to an absolute halt. Anyone caught in his shoes would have suffered the exact same freeze.
Ivan's eyelid twitched violently.
"...This isn't a dream, is it?"
"Who knows? Would you prefer this moment to be a dream?"
Chilling. A phantom dagger plunged straight through his chest.
Right now, no excuse would save him. Ivan dropped to his knees with lightning speed.
"I was wrong."
"Wrong about what, exactly?"
"...Please spare my life."
"I'll let it slide this once. There won't be a next time."
Having witnessed the entire spectacle from the front row, Havel stared in utter bewilderment.
"...Wait, don't tell me the sister-in-law is... No, before that, when did you two even get to know each other?"
Burning with deep shame and humiliation, Ivan hung his head low. Damn this running mouth of mine.
"Fine! It was love at first sight, and I was the one begging and clinging to her!"
"That's more like it."
Elena nodded in satisfaction.
"In any case, we can discuss such trivial matters later. I came because there is something we must discuss."
"Something to discuss? What is it?"
"The High Priest. What do you intend to do with him?"
Ivan replied without a second thought.
"Obviously, toy with the bastard until I'm thoroughly satisfied, then slaughter him. Why bring that up all of a su—wait, what's your relationship with him anyway?"
"Strictly speaking, he's my father."
"...It seems there has been a minor misunderstanding with my dear father-in-law. After all, isn't true vengeance found in forgiveness?"
Elena let out a soft snort of amusement.
"Just a joke. We aren't related by blood anyway, and I have a bit of a grudge against him myself."
Ivan exhaled a long breath of relief. Tumbling between heaven and hell in a matter of seconds had left him downright dizzy.
"As it happens, I have a good plan. Care to hear it?"
"Sure. You know the layout around here way better than I do."
"Since you've been recognized as a member of the tribe once more, you will soon undergo the Coming-of-Age Ceremony."
"The Coming-of-Age Ceremony?"
As Ivan blinked in confusion, Havel stepped in to explain.
"The Coming-of-Age Ceremony is the sacred rite to be acknowledged as a full-fledged warrior of the tribe. It is a ceremony commemorating how the young Baldr beat a hundred enemies to death with his bare fists."
"Ah, that old man did..."
"...The youth undergoing the ceremony faces one hundred warriors in succession. The more victories you claim, the greater your renown as an elite warrior. I brought down fifty myself."
Hearing the conditions, Ivan thought it sounded utterly preposterous.
Defeating a hundred men all by oneself—and seasoned warriors at that—was that even a realistic objective?
"That makes no sense. Has anyone actually won all hundred bouts?"
"Throughout the long history of the North, exactly two men have achieved it."
"There are two?"
"Indeed. One was the great Baldr. And the other was Eirik, Great Chieftain of the North and my father."
"Then there's about to be three."
Anyone else listening would have scoffed at such outrageous bravado, but Ivan was dead serious.
And of course, neither Havel nor Elena doubted his victory for a single moment.
"It won't be difficult for you. First, winning the Coming-of-Age Ceremony is the opening move. I'll tell you the rest after that."
"Why? You could just tell me right now."
"Where's the fun in that? I'm heading out, so see you next time."
Elena offered a light, playful wave of her hand as a parting gesture.
Just what kind of plan does she have cooked up?
A strange foreboding tickled the back of Ivan's neck, but he brushed it aside.
Surely nothing bad could come of it.