[No title provided]
Barkan was getting his ass handed to him. "Retard...fake-ass bitch...pussy?" Even a moron hears insults about himself like a goddamn ghost. Kamara reacted to Barkan's unfiltered barrage of curses, and she didn't hold back her rage. She'd already requested reinforcements and blown the roof off the imperial palace—no way was she gonna tiptoe around some barbarian king's feelings.
"Die!"
"What the—?"
Red flames symbolizing her erupted from Kamara's body, and Barkan frantically swung his hand at the blaze hurtling toward him.
Boom!
The clash of fist and tiny flame produced a deafening roar that beggared belief. Barkan's tribesmen recoiled in shock, drawing weapons as they widened the gap, but Kamara's eyes—boiling with fury—took in nothing.
"Blocked that? Try this on for size!"
Dozens of small flames began rising from Kamara's body, and Barkan gulped hard.
"Th-there's some misunderstanding here. I don't fight women."
"Don't need to fight. Just die already."
Kamara shot back at Barkan like that, hurling the flames she'd conjured. The little fireballs swarmed toward him, and he started swatting away the ones closing in with wild punches.
Kwang—boom.
Every impact unleashed massive explosions and shockwaves, and as Barkan deflected the flames, red tattoos began spreading across his entire body.
Ah, it's been a while.
I felt a twinge of nostalgia at the tattoos blanketing Barkan's frame. The goddess who ruled the continent—no, the whole world—was a hardcore balance nut, naturally gifting every creature on the continent a special power for self-defense. And the barbarians' gift? Those unique tattoos. Like shamanistic juju, they amplified their innate tough-as-nails vitality—the very reason they could scrape by in the brutal desert.
"Urgh! St-stop! I don't... fight women..."
"Crazy fuck? Still flapping your gums while getting your shit rocked?"
Of course, that "balance" was kinda vague—not everyone got equal power. The Empire alone could wipe out other kingdoms if it felt like it. Meaning Barkan's tribal mumbo-jumbo was woefully outmatched against a berserk red dragon.
"Chief!"
Barkan blocked Kamara's onslaught with everything he had, but he hit his limit fast. Kamara started picking him off one by one, toying with him like a cat batting a mouse. His muscular brown skin scorched in spots, and his bearish bulk got shoved back—until he finally dropped to one knee.
His tribesmen couldn't take it anymore and activated their own tattoos, gearing up for battle, but Barkan yelled desperately at the sight.
"Stand down! This was a fair duel."
The tribesmen froze at his words, and in that moment, Barkan fixed Kamara with a grim, resolute gaze.
"I... lost. Please spare my tribesmen."
I scratched the back of my head at Barkan's sudden shift to formal speech. His tone had lightened up from the first timeline, but now it matched the Barkan from my memories, leaving a bitter taste.
This asshole... so that was his schtick?
I was disappointed by the reality of Barkan, whom I'd assumed died heroically in solemn pose. If it was just youthful bravado, I'd have cut him slack, but after getting thrashed by a red dragon, he was pulling the exact same grave expression as when he died to me.
"Cut the crap and take more."
But Kamara was a different story. Unlike me, who'd bought into the drama and honored his "last stand," she gave zero fucks and started kicking his ass raw.
"Guhk!"
Barkan let out a pained grunt from the unexpected boot to his solar plexus. But Kamara didn't let up—she straight-up started stomping the downed man into the dirt.
The notion that dragons only fight with magic is bullshit. They had tougher bodies than anything on the continent, and as a race with nothing but time on their hands, they mastered close-quarters brawling. Especially Kamara, whose brains had been scrambled by the goddess—she loved a good scrap. Magic or fisticuffs both came instinctively, but pounding flesh felt more satisfying, or so she claimed.
Anyway, Kamara's feet ground Barkan like so much gravel, and the tribesmen went from furious to trembling at the brutality.
Didn't mean their loyalty wavered, though. First reason they held back: Kamara clearly had no intent to kill him for real.
"Gack, ugh! St-stop... my bad."
"Shut it. What? Retard? Spit it again."
"Guhk! When'd I call you a retard?"
"Earlier—you said anyone who can't teleport right is a pussy halfwit?"
"That was 'cause that guy spewed nonsense. No way some teleport-using moron can't even calc coords exists in this world... guhk!"
Second reason: Barkan was digging his own grave, hard.
Anyone could see why Kamara was pissed—it was obvious as day. She'd botched that idiotic spell herself.
But Barkan, with his half-decent brains, acted oblivious and kept running his mouth.
"This mangy dog? You know you're pissing me off, right? Huh? You know magic—so how much, big shot?"
"Self-taught, but I studied my ass off. No mage that stupid exists... kuhk!"
I let out a hollow chuckle watching Barkan stubbornly defend his point even under Kamara's boots.
That's why self-proclaimed smartasses are trouble.
Even average tribesmen had clocked it, but Barkan hadn't because he overtrusted his book-smarts and refused anything outside his worldview.
"Tough bastard, huh?"
"Ugh... my durability... kuhk!"
No, by the end, as he kept sassing back, I started suspecting the guy might actually like getting pounded.
* * *
After Kamara's one-sided beatdown wrapped up, Barkan turned to me.
"You're the Hero?"
He tried for gravitas, but with a black eye, it just looked pathetic.
"Yeah. Like I said, bit of a mix-up landed us here. No ulterior motives."
I tamped down my disappointment and answered straight. Pissed as I was about getting played, no point kicking him after Kamara's workout.
"Ah, you here for Lilite?"
"Huh?"
I eyed him curiously. No way I'd expected her name from Barkan's lips.
"Why so shocked? Heard you told her to fake a war with us."
"...You met Lilite?"
I asked, and he nodded right away.
"Yeah. Monsters kept popping up near the tribe, so we raided—and she spilled some wild shit."
His answer pieced it together. Lilite was play-acting war with his tribe like I'd suggested, and when friction hit, she'd come clean.
No biggie that she'd blabbed our deal. Keeping my secret ties to Demon Army exec Lilite under wraps was ideal, but better she spill than spark a pointless war.
"I'll fetch her for you tomorrow."
"Ah, much obliged."
I nodded, pleased at the unexpected assist. His faux-solemn tone grated, but whatever.
That's when Barkan, who'd been gauging my mood, glanced warily at Kamara and asked,
"So... who's the lady?"
"You'd know her. Kamara, Carshian Kingdom's dragon."
At my words, Barkan gawked at her in total shock.
"Dra...gon?"
He enunciated each syllable like it burned his tongue, his flushed face setting off alarm bells in my gut.