Make the Barbarians Great Again

Chapter 5: The Life of a Warrior (3)

“Quite a fine spot to settle.”

That was Hindir’s commentary upon seeing the place at the end of his slow walk following the bloodstains.

In fact, Snow Dragon Valley offered many good hiding spots if the sole purpose was concealment.

The problem was that none of those places were fit for a long stay.

But this spot was unusually excellent.

A frozen ravine cutting across the valley, and beyond it a cliff bathed in sunlight, with trees crowded densely even in the bitter cold.

To survive in this place, one could solve both water and firewood issues at once—if this wasn’t a prime location, then where would be?

Food wasn’t an issue… well, people could also be eaten.

“Um… Lord Hindir. Are you really planning to go straight ahead?”

“Look there. They all came out to greet us; it wouldn’t be polite to sneak in stealthily.”

True to Hindir’s words, Artez had already sensed their approach and had gathered together all of the Snow Fiends’s ronin.

“So, maybe it’s better to turn back now… No, but why are there so many of those cannibals? Is this world really like this? So many people who eat others?”

“That’s what I’m saying. Now, think about it. A moment ago, if I hadn’t been there or if I’d been weaker than you expected, you’d likely be their drinking snack by now.”

“Probably, yes?”

“Certainly. You’re a man who carries a blade nevertheless. If you’re going to die anyway, would you choose a dignified and honorable death? Or would you choose to be butchered as a corpse, ridiculed, and then swallowed into their bellies?”

“If you put it that way, I’d naturally choose the former.”

“Exactly—of course you would. That is exactly why I’m going into the mouths of those beasts with dignity.”

“…….”

Duar, who had that thought lodged in his throat, eventually straightened his chest and followed Hindir.

His belly did stick out a little more, but after all, isn’t it good for a man to have at least one thing bigger than others?

“Damn it. Let’s go.”

“Right. Now that’s more like a warrior.”

“Why did you change from ‘man’ to ‘warrior’?”

“Because ‘warrior’ sounds better, so it’s fine.”

“...I’ll just stick with ‘man.’ If I say ‘warrior,’ it sounds like I have to fight. I’m just planning to puff myself up in the back.”

“Hahaha!”

Hindir broke into a hearty laugh and began striding toward the Snow Fiends.

Duar also walked with exaggerated movements, his guts filled to the brim with bravado.

Their figures seemed to instill some kind of terror in the opponents.

Although the Snowy Mountains devourers ate people, it was natural that they would shrink back before the real death‑messenger and the fool who had returned from death.

“Where did you tumble in from?!”

Artez stepped forward as their representative and shouted at Hindir.

In skill, there wasn’t much difference between Artez and Krian, but since Artez was older and a mage, he naturally took the lead.

“Hey you! I’m asking, so why aren’t you answering? You look like someone who never learned manners!”

He deliberately uttered provocative words.

He intended to provoke them into rushing forward… but then—

“You parents of yours… huh?”

With a thunderous boom, Hindir suddenly sprang upward.

The moment Artez saw that, his face instantly contorted.

If Hindir had come just a bit closer, he would’ve fallen into the trap‑spell Artez had set—but Hindir had somehow noticed it and leapt over it in an instant.

“Shoot!”

At Artez’s cry, those with bows raised their weapons, drew the strings, and let them fly.

Several arrows shot up vigorously.

But since they weren’t true archers, all of them went astray.

A few lucky shots aimed at Hindir were lightly knocked away with a gesture, and one even bounced back to prick someone with the arrow that fell downward.

“Damn it!”

Boom—!

Hindir landed smack in the middle.

Dust billowed up around him, obscuring Artez’s vision.

But from the sound alone, one could tell what was happening inside.

Crack—Bang!

Crunch—

The chilling, flesh‑tearing noises that made one’s body tremble just by hearing them.

Oddly, not a single scream was heard.

Only occasional voices shouting in despair—but those too were short.

Every time a thunderous noise burst forth, the voices abruptly disappeared…

Instinctively, everyone clenched their teeth and fell silent, making the eerie stillness even more profound.

Who would think this place was a battlefield?

Thud—

After another thunderous noise, the sounds ceased, and silence settled.

As the dust slowly cleared, the revealed battlefield lay open.

“Hmm….”

“…!”

Artez and Krian each showed their dismay in their own way at the gruesome scene.

All of them had no heads!

Now they finally understood why no screams had been heard.

All their heads had been blown off, so they couldn't make a sound.

And it was done barehanded.

Even when they begged for their lives, he would laugh and cut their bodies apart, roasting the pieces right in front of them without a care.

Something about the red giant in front of them felt terrifying.

Just by looking at those enormous muscles, one could tell how powerful he was.

But even with that strength, it made no sense to crush dozens of heads so easily.

Sure, it might be possible for a mana user, but neither Artez nor Krian could detect any signs of mana release from Hindir.

Which meant he had crushed them all purely with physical power...

“…He's no different from a beast.”

Artez finally opened his mouth and released his hands from behind his back, readying his stance.

“Krian. Stall him with the remaining men.”

“What?”

Krian scowled, but he knew Artez wasn’t trying to push the task onto him for selfish reasons.

He simply needed time to activate his magic.

“Damn it. I’ll finish him before that, so just watch.”

With those bold words, Krian stepped forward and drew the large double-headed axe he had spent his life with.

Boasting considerable weight, he deliberately held it up with one hand and slowly circled around Hindir.

“You bastard… what the hell did you eat to get a body like that? Or do you have some special training method?”

He forced a grin to hide his tension.

“What’s with that red hide? Don’t tell me—it’s the Blood-Hero? I heard that guy’s no ordinary monster—did you really kill him? No way—still, it does look pretty cool…!”

Thunk—!

Krian suddenly charged mid-sentence, swinging his axe down.

There was not a single wasted motion, and the attack was so fast the massive axe looked light, but that wasn’t all there was to it.

As if to crush the surroundings, the air grew heavy as the flow of mana tried to bind Hindir’s movements.

Yet even under that pressure, Hindir moved naturally.

Taking a large step forward, he instead rushed toward the axe, reaching out his hand.

“Foolish bastard!”

Krian burst out laughing at the sight.

He immediately retracted the mana he had spread around and focused it onto the axe blade.

It was Krian’s specialty—and favorite trick—to create strong attraction force to break the opponent’s balance and make them crash into the axe blade themselves.

There was nothing more entertaining than watching someone slam their own head into his axe against their will…

Clang—!

Hindir’s fist smashed the axe blade head-on and knocked it aside.

Krian nearly lost his grip but barely held on, yet the undissipated shock traveled through the handle and struck him.

A tingling sensation spread across his entire palm.

‘That was a bare fist without mana?’

“Kh…!”

Losing control of his axe, Krian spun around with a wide swing.

It was an even faster, more powerful strike than before.

But Hindir, with a waist as thick as a tree trunk, twisted it in an unreal angle to easily deflect the attack, then sprang up as if bouncing and swung a fist at Krian’s face.

“Ugh!”

Startled, Krian also leaned back like Hindir to dodge, but his movements lacked the same fluidity.

There was something unnatural about his motions, and his return lacked elasticity.

It was only a brief opening, but to Hindir, it was an extended moment that couldn't be missed.

Smash—!

As Krian sighed in relief after evading, Hindir’s elbow slammed straight into his face.

Still off balance, Krian was slammed into the ground.

“Gahk!”

At least his head was still attached—should that be considered lucky?

But with his nose crushed, he was already out of it.

The greatest wound was none other than to his pride, and nothing shook a man’s sanity more than that.

“You bastard…”

Just as he slammed both hands on the ground and tried to get back up—

Bang!

Hindir’s fist landed squarely this time.

His head was shattered, and the grotesque image of a body trying to rise lingered.

But soon the body lost all control and crumbled back to the ground.

Hindir, watching it indifferently, turned straight toward Artez, who was in the middle of preparing magic, and charged.

And on the way, he casually blew off the heads of anyone who tried to block him.

“…You bastard!”

Artez, drenched in cold sweat while preparing his spell, shouted and spread both arms toward Hindir, who charged like a Blood Bear.

Rumble—

The ground began to quake, and soon a swirl of red smoke started to rise.

Before long, the red smoke fired indiscriminately at everyone nearby and began to pierce their chests, sucking blood.

Swoooosh—

Naturally, the unknown smoke also shot toward Hindir’s chest.

But unlike the others, though the energy struck Hindir, it didn’t pierce him—it scattered like real smoke.

“Huh?”

Artez was taken aback.

Hindir also stood still, quietly surveying the surroundings.

It looked familiar.

A few years ago… no, in the past now counted in centuries, he had seen something similar.

“Sakadur?”

Perhaps the starting point of destruction—the opponent in the Cult War.

The high-ranking priests of the Sakadur cult used this exact magic called the “Soul-Smoke Drain.”

A revolting spell that drained blood and offered it to the god of Sakadur.

And the more blood it absorbed, the more powerful the caster’s momentary mana became, making the Soul-Smoke Drain even more deadly.

Of course, compared to what Hindir had seen and experienced in the past, this was clumsy at best.

The Soul-Smoke Drain used by a high priest could dry out a hundred people in one breath, turning them into withered husks.

“Are you one of Sakadur’s?”

At Hindir’s question, Artez’s face turned grim.

“What nonsense are you spouting?!”

“That spell you’re using. Don’t you know it’s Sakadur’s sorcery?”

“You dare…!”

He swung his arms again, manipulating the red smoke.

It grew so thick that it turned Hindir’s surroundings hazy, but with just one step, he walked out, showing that the attack had no effect.

“It doesn’t work on me.”

Another special trait possessed by the Charun tribe, blessed by the God of Warriors.

That was their innate resistance to magic.

Spells that directly act on the body, such as sorceries or curses like the Soul-Smoke Drain—not the kind that causes external destruction—could not harm the Charun tribe.

This trait was precisely why the Charun were especially effective during the Cult War...

“Huh?”

So he thought—until something unexpected happened.

Among the magical energies he thought had scattered, pure mana was drawn into his heart and became part of his core.

Once the heart had completed its internal core formation, it could absorb mana instantly, just like when taking elixirs.

Apparently, the same reaction occurred with all mana that entered his body.

“……”

It was an unforeseen result, but it didn’t feel entirely pleasant.

After all, even if it had been refined upon entry, he had unintentionally absorbed mana that belonged to someone else...

“One last question. What is your relationship with Sakadur?”

That lingering displeasure was redirected back at Artez.

“Shut your mouth! Don’t attach such a filthy name to me!”

But rather than answering, Artez flew into a rage and began to raise his power even further.

Then the red smoke quickly flew toward a building behind him.

As soon as Hindir saw it, he moved.

With a sharp extension of his slightly bent knees, Hindir’s body shot like lightning toward Artez with a thunderous boom.

Artez made a move with some intent in mind, but Hindir’s speed was far too fast for a mage to react to.

“You…!”

Terror and confusion filled Artez’s pupils as the image of the red giant grew larger.

With a final crash that shook the valley, Artez could hear nothing.

For Hindir’s fist had already erased his head, and the headless body collapsed to the ground with the red smoke.