Chapter 154 - Barbarian Lord (6)

The chieftain held an axe in his hand. The very axe he had used to behead the man beside me at the coming-of-age ceremony.

“Earn money by killing people instead of monsters? Do you think that is proper conduct for a warrior?”

My heated mind went cold.

An unexpected situation. No, one I had known I would face eventually, but never imagined would come today.

I steadied my breathing and quickly assessed my options.

And...

1. Apologize and admit I was wrong.

2. Smooth things over with excuses.

I immediately struck both options from my mind.

Because I knew what barbarians were like. Those approaches might seem easier and more reasonable to an ordinary person, but I couldn't afford that mistake.

There was only one way through.

“Chieftain, this was your job to begin with.”

Charge straight at him like a barbarian.

“... An interesting thing to say.”

The chieftain's mouth twisted.

“Tell me. What do you mean by that?”

I felt as though that axe would swing the moment I opened my mouth. Still, I squared my shoulders without shame.

A wrong became a wrong when you admitted it.

And if you refused to admit it?

It became a conviction. Whatever its true nature, there was at least a chance of dressing it up that way.

That was exactly what I needed to do now.

“Exactly what I said. What I did today was something you should have done long ago!”

For a greater cause, not personal gain.

I raised my voice, refusing to back down before the chieftain.

“Chieftain! Do you even know how many of us die in the Labyrinth every month?”

“You cannot become a warrior if you fear death.”

A clash of convictions.

I would be a young warrior who cared for his people, venting his anger and pleading for the tribe's future. I judged that to be the safer approach.

The chieftain valued his warriors, after all.

“Bjorn, son of Jandel, surely you know this. Only warriors who survive become strong warriors.”

Perhaps he believed I had truly acted for the tribe's sake, because his voice softened a little.

But stopping here would accomplish nothing. I challenged him in return.

“Only warriors who survive grow strong?”

“You are proof of that!”

He certainly wasn't wrong.

Half died on their first trip. Half of the remainder died on the next. By six months after the coming-of-age ceremony, ninety percent were dead.

It was such a warped system that it barely deserved to be called survival of the fittest. To survive it, you had no choice but to grow stronger, whether you wanted to or not.

But...

“Chieftain, did this many die when you first became a warrior?”

“No.”

That was the answer I expected. I hadn't studied historical records or anything, but if this damn system had continued for even another ten years, the barbarians wouldn't have been able to hand out weapons at their coming-of-age ceremonies.

“Then are so many of us dying because we're weaker than they were? Chieftain, is that what you truly believe?”

“That, too... is not the case.”

He could have avoided making admissions that hurt his position, but he answered my questions honestly.

Well, he must have known. He knew the decisive reason things had gotten this bad.

“There are monsters wearing human faces in the Labyrinth. They treat us like goblins. Why do you think that is?”

“The mages want our hearts—”

The chieftain began to answer, but I cut him off with a firm shout.

“No! It's because you did nothing!”

Any other race would have petitioned the royal family to pass a law banning the trade in their hearts.

But our chieftain hadn't made even the barest effort. Using the tradition of survival of the fittest as a shield, he had merely watched his people decline.

“You should at least have warned us of the danger! You should have told us what monsters lurk in the Labyrinth, taught us how to deal with them, and prepared us!”

“It is a tradition passed down from our distant ancestors. I cannot change—”

“Our ancestors wanted us to grow strong!!”

You couldn't even say his decision followed the natural order. Nowhere in the vastness of nature did animals choose death of their own accord.

They all evolved to adapt to new environments.

But the chieftain had failed to do even that obvious thing.

“Chieftain! Look at us now! In the Labyrinth, we're prey as easy as goblins. Because we were taught that monsters were our only enemies! And you think our ancestors wanted this?”

“... Calm yourself.”

“If I were you, I would at least have sent them out in leather boots. I would have given them pouches for their magic crystals. I would have taught them how to use a compass before—”

“I told you to calm down!!!”

Ah. Had I gone a little too far?

Battered by facts from a warrior with less than a year's experience, the chieftain let out a roar that shook the forest.

“Speak plainly! What exactly are you trying to tell me?”

He couldn't refute my logic, but listening quietly was apparently making his blood boil.

“If you won't do it properly...”

I swallowed hard and delivered my final line.

“Then I will, Chieftain.”

For myself.

And for our barbarian people.

* * *

After I boldly declared my ambition, the chieftain remained silent for a while. He simply stared at me, as though collecting his thoughts.

And then...

'He suddenly swung his axe.'

First, I stepped back and dodged the axe. Then, with [Gigantification] active, I reached out and grabbed its haft, beginning a contest of strength.

The chieftain won by a landslide.

My enormous body, well over three meters tall, rose into the air, dangling from the axe.

So I let go and charged him.

Hmm. After that...

'My fist.'

Right. I drove my fist into the chieftain's face.

But I hadn't felt the usual solid impact. By the time I gathered my wits, his huge fist was right in front of my eyes.

That was the last thing I remembered.

'... Then this must be the chieftain's tent.'

Having calmly pieced the situation together, I slowly opened my eyes. As expected, I was in a tent, and the chieftain was there.

“You woke up early.”

“... Chieftain, your nose is caved in.”

“So is yours.”

Was it? No wonder I was having trouble breathing. I thought I could taste blood when I swallowed, too.

I opened my backpack beside the bed, took out a potion, and drank a few mouthfuls. Then I offered the rest to the chieftain.

“You should have some too.”

“... No need. Why waste a potion? Leave it alone and it'll heal by tomorrow.”

Well, if that was what he wanted.

I roughly set my broken nose with my hands, cleared out the pooled blood as though blowing my nose, and wiped it off on the bed.

Then I got down to business. This was the first thing I needed to check.

“Are you done being angry?”

“... I was never angry.”

“Then why?”

“You were a little insolent. I simply felt like hitting you.”

In any case, his anger seemed to have passed, so I didn't bother commenting. Something else mattered more.

'Luckily, that worked out.'

I had declared my intent to become chieftain right in front of the current one. It wasn't that I'd gotten worked up and blurted out whatever came to mind.

I had simply judged that he wouldn't kill me over it.

“Do you covet my position that much?”

“Yes.”

To barbarians, ambition and aspiration were nothing to be ashamed of. All the more so when conviction and a greater cause were involved.

“You truly are different from the other warriors.”

“What do you mean?”

“Other warriors wanted to become chieftain for the honor. But you seek it only for our tribe.”

Luckily, he didn't seem to suspect I was an evil spirit. He didn't seem to find this side of me entirely disagreeable, either. If I'd gone just a little easier with the brutal truths, I probably wouldn't have gotten my ass kicked.

Anyway, did the chieftain have an excuse of his own?

He brought up something rather unexpected.

“If anything, the previous chieftain was like you. Whenever our tribe was involved, he charged in without considering the consequences. Do you know how that ended?”

“You mean the Sacred Relic War?”

“Yes.”

The Sacred Relic War.

That was the name given to the war against the elves ten years ago. A tragedy that began when a barbarian happened to find an elven sacred relic in the Labyrinth.

The elves bound and interrogated the barbarian who held it. The barbarian resisted fiercely.

And died.

“We fought the elves for over a year before the royal family intervened. The previous chieftain died in that fighting, too.”

The Sacred Relic War was the single greatest reason the barbarians' strength had dwindled so badly. Countless warriors who should have led the next generation had died.

Amid all that, the Magic Tower announced that barbarian hearts were valuable magical ingredients.

“I met with the Tower Master, but those bastards asked why they should give up a magical ingredient for our sake.”

Hmm. So it wasn't that he had made no effort at all.

“But we could not go to war with the Magic Tower.”

“That's why, like I said—”

“Yes. As you said, things would certainly be better now if I had warned the young warriors of the dangers and taught them.”

“What?”

I flinched, as though I'd heard something impossible, and the chieftain chuckled.

“You are still young, warrior. What you did was plant hatred of humans in the warriors' hearts.”

“Not humans. Plunderers.”

“If you truly believe they will distinguish between the two, I have misjudged you.”

“... But why shouldn't we hate humans?”

I asked out of genuine curiosity. After a pause, he answered.

“Because if we hate them, there will be nowhere for us to live.”

“So you were afraid of Raphdonia's royal family.”

It wasn't incomprehensible. I knew very well how immense the royal family's power was.

But the chieftain murmured bitterly,

“Who in this world would not fear that man? If the day ever comes when you meet him, you will understand me.”

As though it wasn't the royal family's armies he feared.

But the king himself.

* * *

Our conversation ended shortly after that.

[“I will turn a blind eye to you teaching the warriors about plunderers. But if you go further, I will not stand idly by. Do not let the warriors develop a deep hatred of humans.”]

He hadn't chosen me as his successor, but he was acknowledging my ambition and saying he would tolerate my growing influence within the tribe.

Sure, he'd warned me not to cross the line...

But this was a reward I could never have earned by admitting fault or scrambling for excuses.

[“If you covet my position, grow stronger, warrior. Prove that you are worthy. I will be watching you.”]

[“Ah, one more thing.”]

[“You pack quite a punch.”]

Look who was talking.

With that backhanded compliment, I left the chieftain's tent.

The sun was setting beyond the city walls. Barbarians crowded around the tent, all staring at me, from the baby barbarians to elders who must have been quite formidable in their youth.

“He's unhurt.”

“I heard the chieftain's nose was bleeding...”

“Then he really...”

They watched with intense curiosity as I emerged alive and in one piece. I adjusted my backpack and walked through the crowd.

They only watched, never approaching. Apparently, they thought I'd fallen out of favor with the chieftain.

I had taken a few more steps when I heard a shout.

“Bjorn!!”

Aynar approached me.

“Are you all right? I heard you fought the chieftain!”

“Ah, I'm fine.”

“So what happened? I heard you declared you would become chieftain?”

The instant Aynar asked her blunt question, the ears of nearly a hundred barbarians perked up at once.

It would be cruel to simply walk away now. With a chuckle, I answered.

“He told me to grow stronger and prove I'm worthy.”

Immediately, murmurs rose all around us.

Some were surprised. Others said even I couldn't do it. A few offered surprisingly realistic reasons why it would take at least several years.

The chieftain probably thought much the same.

But...

“And? Bjorn, what did you say?”

Back then, I had answered him.

“That it wouldn't take long.”

Yes. That was what I'd said.

* * *

On my way back to the city with Aynar, I ran into Karon. I made one thing absolutely clear: when he taught the baby barbarians, he was to make sure they didn't hate humans too much.

“B-but! Didn't you say humans were the enemy?”

“Not all of them.”

It amounted to changing my tune at this late stage, but once I told him about Dwalki, Karon accepted it.

“I see. So even among humans, there are men so noble... May I tell the other warriors this story?”

“The story about Dwalki?”

“He will make an excellent example! We love warriors like him!”

“Didn't you hear me? He wasn't a warrior. He was a mage.”

“Haha! What a strange thing to say. He gave his life fighting to protect his companions. How is he not a warrior?”

Uh. When he put it that way, I had no comeback...

I left the argument there and wrapped up our conversation.

“We'll be going, then.”

“All right! See you next time, Bjorn, son of Jandel! Great warrior who will one day lead us!”

Somehow, my string of titles seemed to have gotten longer again...

'Still, I guess it ended well.'

For the record, I left the money-duplication exploit alone. The chieftain was only worried about hatred growing deeper; he'd said this much was acceptable.

Besides, the exploit would be patched out in a few months anyway. Plunderers targeted barbarians so eagerly because we offered low risk and high returns.

'Once word gets around that we've changed, those bastards will stop risking their lives to attack us.'

But what if it were a rank-three monster?

Any bastard with half a brain would run the moment they saw it.

RATTLE!

After leaving the sanctuary, I brought Aynar to my lodgings. Once we'd finished a tearful meal on the first floor, I rented her the room next to mine, which had just become vacant.

“C-can I really sleep somewhere like this...?”

“Of course. You don't have to pay me back. This much is nothing to me now—”

“Bjo-o-o-o-orn!!! I'll follow you for the rest of my life!!”

“... Keep your voice down. This isn't the sanctuary.”

“Oh, right!”

Just as I was warning Aynar, the door to my supposedly empty room opened from inside.

“... Bjorn? Who's that woman beside you, nyah?”

“Oh, you're here?”

Since they would be teammates from now on, I gave them a brief introduction. I'd told each of them about the other a few times before, so there was no need for a long explanation.

“Good to meet you, Misha Karlstein!! I've heard a lot about you! Bjorn's companion is my companion!! I look forward to fighting alongside you!”

Perhaps nervous about meeting her teammate for the first time, Aynar thrust out her hand, practically shouting at the top of her lungs.

Misha was just as flustered.

“Ah, uh... Nice to meet you, nyah...”

After shaking Aynar's hand in an almost hypnotized daze, Misha came to her senses and approached me. Then she whispered into my ear.

“I-is she really the Aynar you told me about, nyah? You definitely said she was a barbarian, nyah!!”

“And?”

“How does she look anything like a barbarian, nyah?!”

Wasn't she obviously a barbarian?

At first I didn't understand, but on reflection, I could see why Misha was surprised. When people heard the word barbarian, they usually pictured someone at least two meters tall.

The problem was that Aynar had heard her.

“Misha Karlstein!! A-are you insulting me because I'm short?! I truly thought of you as a precious companion...!!”

“Aah! No, you misheard me, nyah!”

“I have good ears!!”

“S-sorry! Th-that's not what I meant, nyah. Okay? It's just that you're so pretty, nyah... Yes! That's why I said—”

“Whaaat?! Misha Karlstein, how much more do you intend to insult me? A duel! I challenge you to a duel!!”

Aynar started shouting the moment her trauma button was pressed, and Misha tried to calm her down.

Watching them, I felt a fierce headache coming on.

“Ugh... My head...”

My head clearly hadn't healed completely from the chieftain's punch.

Hmm. Of course.

There was no other explanation. We hadn't even gathered all five teammates yet. Surely I couldn't already be seeing a thorn-strewn road stretching out before me.