Chapter 97 - Barbarian Trophy (4)

Using [Wild Outburst] increases my Threat stat. Against people rather than monsters, however, that stat doesn't trigger a “taunt.” As Dwalki once put it:

["Hmm... It felt v-very strange. My head knew there was no danger at all, but my body seemed to be telling me to run..."]

The timid shrink back in fear, while the brave instead display their eagerness to fight.

So which was this guy?

“Hah!”

The latter. He flinched briefly at the roar I unleashed in his face, but immediately recovered and followed through with his sword.

If I'd had my shield in my left hand as usual, I could have simply deflected it...

'At this point, it shouldn't make much difference.'

It was all the same anyway. Once a tank came into his own, his body existed solely to withstand enemy attacks.

I smoothly took one hand off the axe and moved it into the path of the swinging sword. A dull scraping sound followed.

KRRK

At that sound, confusion crept into the eyes of the man who'd thought victory was his.

Well, of course he was curious. A sharp blade and a bare arm—when would he ever have heard a sound like that when the two met?

“...?”

His gaze shifted in search of an answer, then reached its destination.

“Don't understand?”

He nodded blankly at my question.

Why had his sword cut through my skin but failed to cut through the bone? There were plenty of reasons. Bone Hardness, Physical Resistance, a naturally large and sturdy skeletal frame, the Physical stats boosted by [Wild Outburst], and so on.

In fact, it would have been far more absurd if he'd severed my wrist in one stroke.

But...

'No need to spell all that out.'

I was a barbarian, after all.

“You are—”

One word would suffice.

“Weak.”

Once I'd said it, I had to admit it was a pretty cringeworthy line, but it worked remarkably well.

As though he'd suffered the greatest insult imaginable, Syl-whatever yanked the sword out of my arm.

That was a bad choice.

SPLASH!

Fresh blood sprayed as the blade came free.

SSSSSS!

Then came the hiss of corrosion.

And...

“Aaaaaaagh!!!”

A cry of pain.

“Such a dirty trick...”

What was he on about? I'd just stood there.

Clearly, something really was wrong with his head, so I reached out and seized him by the neck. After all, it would be a pain if he ran away.

“Gah!”

With the blood supply to his brain cut off, Syl-whatever began to struggle. He was practically a meal already laid out before me. One twist of his neck, and he'd surely die with a squawk.

But...

「Equipment unequipped.」

「Total Item Level decreases by -495.」

I dropped the weapon in my hand. The reason was simple.

CLATTER!

The double-bladed battle-axe the butler had supposedly paid a fortune for just for today—if I brought that down on his skull, I couldn't even claim I hadn't intended to kill him. Besides...

'I made a promise.'

I'd promised the three knight stooges that the next time we met, I'd be sure to fix whatever was wrong with their heads.

And so...

I clenched my watermelon-sized fist and slammed it into his temple with all my might.

THWAAACK!!!

If something was wrong with his head...

“VEHELLLAAAAAA!!!!”

Just get rid of the head.

Yes, that was surely how a barbarian would think.

Or not. Whatever.

* * *

Silence.

A state in which there is little or no sound nearby.

That state persisted for a little while.

“...”

It was an incredibly incongruous scene. So many people had gathered here, and a celebration had been in full swing. How often did hundreds of people fall silent without even a tacit agreement?

“Wh-where is the priest?!”

The silence ended as a knight ran off with Syl-whatever, whose head was half crushed, on his back.

I went over to the referee, too.

“Shouldn't you announce the winner?”

He looked flustered at my question, then shouted to the crowd.

“Th-the winner is Bjorn Jandel of Baron Martoin's Family!”

At first, I'd wondered if he was discriminating against me for being a barbarian. But judging by the crowd's response, that didn't seem to be it.

“Waaaaah!”

“Barbarians! Barbarians are the best!”

“I've never seen such an exhilarating duel in my life! That really cleared my head!”

“But isn't that knight dead?”

“Th-that was so brutal. Here, feel this. Can you feel my heart pounding?”

“Uh, um... I-I think I can...”

“People die in duels all the time, don't they? And the priest will surely be able to heal an injury like that.”

The reception was even more enthusiastic than it had been for the first duel.

“VEHELLLAAAAAA!!”

I threw out a casual roar for the crowd, stepped off the platform, and headed for a tent.

Not the one where the baron would be waiting, but the one where Syl-whatever had been taken for treatment.

“Y-you bastard! How dare you come here!”

The moment I entered the tent, an angry shout erupted from the remaining two of the three knight stooges.

Without replying, I approached the priest administering treatment.

“Is he dead?”

“... His life should not be in danger.”

The priest answered, but shot me a disapproving look.

“Couldn't you have shown a little restraint?”

Even I felt a little guilty hearing that from a servant of a god, but I had plenty of excuses.

“I didn't know this would happen either.”

“...?”

“He's a knight, isn't he! I even put down my axe and only punched him! How was I supposed to know one punch would knock him out?”

At my unabashed reply, the knight stooges flushed with humiliation, while the priest's mouth fell open in disbelief.

“Knocked... out? His injuries were so severe that brain matter was leaking out, and you call that being knocked—”

“If he's alive, he's just knocked out!”

Even Aynar, who'd taught me the barbarian way of life, would have had to concede defeat to that choice of words.

At last, the priest shut up, having decided there was no point in talking to me.

“...”

An awkward silence settled over the tent. I considered simply leaving, but just then, Syl-whatever regained consciousness.

“Uh, um... Where am I...?”

Syl-whatever muttered with a vacant look in his eyes. The Divine Power released by the high-ranking priest had already restored his crushed head completely, but it wasn't an all-purpose cheat code.

“I was just stepping onto the dueling platform...”

In response to his muttering, the priest explained the situation. He'd fought a match and suffered a serious brain injury, but since he'd received prompt treatment, his memory would return with time.

“I-I see. Thank you for your hel—”

As he thanked the priest for the kind explanation, he spotted me and froze.

“Wh-why are you here...?”

His eyes held something closer to fear than bewilderment.

I was a little puzzled. If he'd lost his memories of the duel, how could he react like that?

“Hmm. You really don't remember a thing?”

“N-no. S-so please leave.”

Hmm, he didn't seem to be lying...

Still, since I was here, I ought to check what I'd come to check.

“Do one thing for me, and I'll leave right away.”

“...?”

“It's nothing much. Just repeat after me.”

I recited exactly what he'd said to me before and asked him to repeat it.

“Y-you'll leave if I do that...?”

“Of course.”

When I nodded, Syl-whatever swallowed hard. Then he repeated the words I'd given him.

But...

“Y-you got that name because it's s-small down there in the first... Uh, ugh...”

Suddenly, he began to tremble like a leaf and clutched his head.

“Aah...! I-I remember...!”

Apparently, recalling the past had brought back his temporarily lost memories.

“Good. Keep going.”

At my urging, Syl-whatever went rigid as a statue, then began to convulse.

“S-stop... I-I was wrong about everything. So please...”

An apology?

That was an attitude his former self could never have imagined taking.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Fortunately, it seems the problem with your head is gone.”

“Yes. Now please leave. The patient needs rest.”

“All right.”

At the priest's request, I left the tent without any further reluctance.

“I-I'm leaving this place. I-I have to get away, now...!”

A faint commotion reached me from inside the tent. Listening to it, I finally felt it sink in.

I wasn't a doctor, or a priest with Divine Power. I was just one barbarian living in this savage world.

But so what?

'Barbarians really are overpowered.'

Today, I'd solved a problem that even a priest couldn't cure.

* * *

“Well done. I really didn't expect you to finish it so quickly... But where have you been?”

The baron greeted me when I returned to the waiting tent. When I explained that I'd gone to check on Syl-whatever because I was curious about his condition, he chuckled.

“You really are an odd fellow. You worry about that, yet attack so mercilessly.”

Mercilessly? That was a bit harsh.

“If we'd been in the Labyrinth, I'd have used the axe.”

“Well, I suppose you would have...”

“Honestly, I didn't expect him to be that weak. He moved so slowly, I thought he'd at least be sturdy.”

It was an answer I'd prepared in advance in case this caused trouble. For some reason, the baron burst out laughing.

“Indeed, how could any of this be your fault? It's their fault for neglecting their training.”

“But is it all right to keep doing this? They may be apprentice knights, but they're still nobles, aren't they?”

“Oh? Are you worried about the repercussions? Then don't give it another thought. It happened during a match, didn't it?”

“But knights are assets of their houses. What if the titled nobles they've sworn loyalty to try to harm me?”

“Come now, I told you not to worry. Why do you think apprentices enter these entertainments rather than full-fledged knights? Because even if they die, it isn't a major problem.”

The baron went on to assure me that no one would pick a quarrel with him over something so trivial, and that even if they did, he would protect me.

That was exactly what I'd wanted to hear.

“So just concentrate on winning. The crowd seemed quite pleased earlier. The more you rampage, the more delighted our host, the count, will be.”

Hmm, in that case...

I supposed I could smash all their skulls without worrying. From what I'd seen earlier, the priest's abilities were no joke, either.

“The winner is Sir Tillien of Viscount Hennsylvania's house!”

After that, I watched the duels with the baron while waiting for my turn. They were fairly entertaining at first, but I soon lost interest.

How should I put it? Their fighting styles were all too similar.

I thought I understood why everyone had been so excited during my turn.

'Even if they're from collateral branches, they're still nobles, huh? No showmanship.'

Feeling a little tired, I excused myself to the baron and took a short nap in a corner.

How much time had passed?

The butler woke me very cautiously.

“... H-hey, s-someone is asking for you.”

“Asking for me?”

It was rather unexpected, but before I could ask anything else, the butler said his piece and disappeared.

So I went outside to check.

Now what was this?

'The knight stooges?'

Two members of that trio were standing there. Before I could even ask what they wanted, one reached out to grab me by the collar.

I didn't know his name. He was the one who'd insulted me with that nonsense about a little clown.

“You bas—!”

I stepped back slightly to avoid his hand. The little clown froze in embarrassment, then continued.

“A-ahem. You bastard! What have you done to Sir Sylvania?!”

“Sir Sylvania?”

When I tilted my head and picked at my ear, he flew into a rage.

“You don't even know the name of the man you dueled?!”

So that was his name after all.

Right, his name was...

“Syl... meria...”

“It's Sir Sylvania!!”

“Right. Has something happened to him?”

At my question, the pair began to tremble.

“How can you even ask...! Whenever anyone so much as mentions you, he loses his mind and goes berserk!”

“How can you be so vicious? No matter what grudge you bore him, to reduce a man to that state... Have you no mercy or honor?”

Mercy and honor?

Not something the bastard who'd threatened to cut off my head in ten seconds had any right to say.

I delivered my final diagnosis.

“... I never imagined your condition was this serious.”

This problem needed a swift solution.

* * *

“What are you doing out here?”

The commotion ended when Baron Martoin poked his head out of the tent. Perhaps they had guilty consciences, because the pair fled the moment they saw his face.

“... What was that about?”

“Nothing important.”

“Well, come over here anyway. I've had a good idea, and I'm curious whether it's actually possible.”

I returned to the tent and killed time chatting about trivial things with the baron. Before long, the first round was over, and the quarterfinals began.

But was this what the shaman had called a “hero's destiny”?

“Sir Quartain of Baron Serphia's house and Bjorn Jandel of Baron Martoin's Family, take your places!”

Amazingly, I faced one of the three knight stooges in the second round. It was the pompous blowhard.

“Don't expect things to go as they did before.”

Even though the duel had begun, he kept flapping his lips, spouting some line.

“I hate to say it myself, but Sir Sylvania is the weakest among—”

This was even easier than the first time.

While he was babbling, I dashed forward.

And...

“Uh, wha...?”

Ignoring his startled sword swing, I reached out and grabbed his neck. Then I delivered a full-power punch to his temple.

THWACK!

With the flesh and bone of his skull crushed, he collapsed limply to the ground. It had taken just three seconds from the start of the duel.

And yet...

“Waaaaah!”

“Crush the next one like that, too!!”

“Knight Crusher! He's the Knight Crusher!!”

Despite the duel ending in an instant, the spectators erupted in enthusiastic cheers.

It was truly ironic.

'They're this delighted to watch someone's skull get smashed.'

At this rate, who could tell which of us was the savage?

* * *

「The character's Fame has increased by +10.」

「The character's Fame has increased by +10...」

「...」