035. Iron Bear, Silva 1
Plentel Castle, Bascon family head Moden’s residence.
As Bin pointed at the child with his finger, Moden promptly turned his head. A bent lower back, bruised knees black and blue. The traces of the Grander family’s attempt to turn the children into dwarves were plain to see.
Even the great Moden couldn’t keep silent in the face of such irrational behavior.
“……”
While Moden examined the children, Bin spoke up.
“Just as a family has rules it must uphold, there are minimum rules that humans must follow to live.”
Moden was surprised once again by Bin’s resolute attitude. An unexpected answer. It was hard to believe he was only fifteen. Moden exhaled with an inscrutable expression.
“Hm, minimum rules, you say……”
Soon, Moden let out a chuckle and nodded, agreeing with Bin’s words.
Moden fixed him with a piercing stare.
“Hear me well, Bin Bascon. Your actions as a bearer of Bascon blood are no longer just your own. Remember that a single move from you could cost countless lives.”
Moden and Bin locked eyes. Neither gaze wavered in the slightest. Amid the tense atmosphere, Moden added,
“If this bold action had been for your own sake alone, your head would have rolled by now.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, family head.”
Bin bowed his head to Moden’s admonition. It was somewhat aggressive advice—a warning. And for good reason: Bin’s actions might draw blood from countless others. As the head of a family, that responsibility weighed on him.
In this situation, different from his previous life, a thought crossed Bin’s mind. A sense of responsibility toward the family he hadn’t felt before.
‘My influence is different now from before the regression……’
Bin compared his past life to the present. Before, his actions hadn’t affected many people. But now, the scope was entirely different—a realization that hit him anew.
As Bin sank into thought, Moden’s eyes widened. It wasn’t just Bin’s improved physique; it was the greatsword Luminare slung across his back.
‘That… sword……’
A finely honed blade and hilt. Undoubtedly a superior weapon. Moden compared it mentally to his own.
‘A weapon that rivals Tombstone… Was it hidden in the Royal Tomb?’
Even knowing Bin had talent in crafting, Moden hadn’t imagined he’d reached the level to forge a superior weapon. Puzzled, Moden began piecing together the recent incident.
Now that he’d dealt with the Grander family’s purebloods, conflict with them was inevitable. At present, the general view was that the Bascon family lagged behind in raw power—a fact even Moden couldn’t deny. Yet his expression remained surprisingly calm.
War with the Grander family. It was an inevitable clash anyway. He simply saw this as advancing the timeline a bit.
‘I need to inform the Gana Empire of this and solidify the family’s position as quickly as possible.’
The word “position” brought something to mind: the 7th Division Centurion post. With a now-settled expression, Moden turned to Bin and spoke.
“It seems you gave this more thought because you’re a candidate for Centurion.”
“No, sir. I learned much today as well.”
“That said, do you think you can handle the Centurion candidacy at such a young age?”
“……”
Bin, having gathered his thoughts, replied confidently.
“This is the Bascon family, where only the strong survive. I don’t think age matters.”
Bin stepped forward so boldly because he needed that position. Not for wealth or honor, but for the authority to move freely beyond the castle walls.
“Hahaha!”
Moden threw his head back in hearty laughter, his voice booming through the room. At that moment, a guard’s voice came from outside the family head’s door.
“Family head, Young Master Silva has arrived.”
“Let him in.”
With Moden’s grave command, the door opened, and Bin turned toward it.
‘Silva Bascon.’
Moden’s first wife’s second son. Nicknamed the Iron Bear. A massive build and a fiery temper—apt descriptors. He even held a miraculous 10-0 record against the speed prodigy Willie Bascon.
The man who caught monsters barehanded, Silva, strode in through the door and approached Moden.
Clack, clack.
Codic, hanging at Bin’s waist, fixed his gaze on Silva, eyes gleaming.
‘To think there’s another in the Bascon family with such a frame, besides the family head……’
His black sleeveless uniform revealed bulging arms on either side. Muscles so massive they seemed they’d deflect even a sword thrust. An angular face and extremely short hair evoked the image of a bear.
Silva bowed toward Moden.
“Silva Bascon, come to pay respects to the family head!”
His disciplined posture exuded discipline. Moden smiled warmly at the sight.
“Your sturdy frame is as impressive as ever.”
At the family head’s praise, Silva bowed with restrained movements.
“It’s still lacking compared to Father’s.”
Silva referenced Moden, one of the continent’s top ten powerhouses. It showed the lofty heights of his ambitions. Moden chuckled at the mention.
‘His confidence is a sight to behold.’
Bin, meanwhile, scowled at Silva.
‘Iron Bear… This time, you won’t have your way.’
A chilling glare, enough to raise goosebumps just from looking. Bin had good reason to stare daggers at Silva.
It was a memory from before his regression.
A territory filled with dirt. Young Bin crouched, using his one arm to pat the soil, shaping something.
After hours of sweating and intense focus, he completed a three-dimensional statue of a woman. Beside her stood a child made of dirt, missing one arm, holding her hand.
Even at his young age, it was astonishing craftsmanship. Bin wiped the sweat from his brow, beaming with satisfaction.
“Whoa! It’s done. But why’s my head so big?”
Bin grumbled briefly before raising his one arm triumphantly, thrilled. He couldn’t wait to show his mother.
That was when footsteps reached his ears.
Thud. Thud. Someone was approaching.
A massive build, ferocious eyes. It was Silva, who’d always been unusually developed even as a child.
Stoic-faced, he pointed at the dirt piles one by one.
“Is this you? And this your mother?”
Bin smiled at Silva recognizing his creation at a glance, opening his mouth wide in a bright expression.
“Hah, you got it. What do you think? Identical, right?”
His eyes sparkled with anticipation. But the response was brutal.
“Nah, it’s shit.”
Silva trampled the dirt mound Bin had made with a dissatisfied glare.
Splat!!
As his dirt mother crumbled underfoot, tears welled in Bin’s eyes. It was just dirt. Yet tears flowed.
The woman of dirt collapsing tightened his chest.
“Ah… No!”
Bin tried to shield the mound with his small body. But Silva ruthlessly stomped him down.
Splat! Splat! Splat!
“Ugh! Ugh……!”
In the end, the dirt mound collapsed along with Bin. As tears streamed down his fallen face, Silva declared coldly,
“Disgrace to the family—act worthy of the Bascon name! If you keep this up until I become family head, then……”
Silva raised his massive foot and stomped down hard on Bin.
Crack!!
“……”
Looking at Bin with eyes rolled back, Silva continued.
“I’ll take your head.”
Clothes caked in dirt, Bin lay sprawled in a spread-eagle position.
Recalling that memory, Bin glared at Silva even harder. But the guy didn’t even glance his way, treating him like he was invisible.
Perhaps due to their eight-year age gap? He acted as if Bin wasn’t even a rival.
Silva only looked upward, toward higher peaks.
Silva had his reasons for behaving this way. His innate, extraordinary physique. They said he’d caught a rat monster the size of himself as a baby—grabbing its tail and slamming it into the ground. Impossible without heaven-given strength.
From childhood, his muscle mass and size overwhelmed his peers. He’d never lost to anyone younger, which was why he didn’t even see Bin as Centurion material.
Bin scowled, thinking as he watched him.
‘How long can you keep up that reaction?’
Confidence filled Bin’s expression. After all, a superior weapon, Luminare, was bound to his back.
As expected, Silva turned to Bin and paused.
‘What’s… that……’
An extraordinary aura from the blade. Undoubtedly a superior weapon.
Silva’s pupils dilated. A 3rd Class knight like himself didn’t possess one, yet a 4th Class like Bin did. It made no sense.
He’d heard Bin had beaten the Erymanthian Boar and Willie, but this growth exceeded expectations, prompting his reaction.
‘Not bad. But claiming the Centurion seat will be tough, I wager.’
Silva stared at Bin with fierce eyes. Sensing the gaze, Bin met it with utter composure. Despite the size difference, he showed no intimidation.
As their staring contest intensified, the guard’s voice came from the door again.
“Family head, Young Master Willie has arrived.”
“The final candidate is here. Let him in.”
Moments later, Silva, Willie, and Bin faced Moden.
The solemn air felt frigid. They were measuring each other with eyes like weapons.
In the tense silence, Bin eyed the venomous Willie.
‘He’s stronger than before.’
A massive ‘X’ scar on his forehead—from his past clash with Bin, no doubt, thanks to Moden’s fury.
Willie, with his long silver hair, had advanced from 4th Class to 3rd Class knight. He turned right, glaring at Silva.
‘Silva, let’s finally clash on equal footing.’
Then he scanned Bin to the left.
‘I’ll settle the debt I owe you too.’
Moden smiled at his three sons’ charged atmosphere.
‘This is getting interesting.’
Moden addressed them.
“Now that the three candidates for 7th Division Centurion are gathered, let’s begin in earnest.”
In the solemn mood, the three candidates knelt on one knee as one.
“Yes, family head!”