Make the Barbarians Great Again

Chapter 28: The Greatest Under Heaven

The frozen body of the Family Head began to slowly crumble apart.

His hollow eyes, which had been staring into empty space, turned toward Hindir.

It was an unbelievable strength.

No—he had clearly been the stronger one.

Yet, there was something within his opponent that surpassed him.

“Who… are you?”

He knew him.

And he knew Parno.

“Five hundred years ago, the Parno family had a single heir, obtained with great difficulty. He challenged Seolyong Valley to overcome his limits, and he never returned.”

“…Philip Parno.”

He was a well-known figure. Since Hindir had specified five hundred years, the Family Head understood immediately.

“Yes. Philip. Had that boy truly died there, the history of Parno would have been very different.”

It would have been vastly different.

More than just the end of a bloodline.

Philip Parno was the founder of the Hundred-Form Ice Blade, one of the greatest Family Heads in the history of Parno.

But why was this man suddenly bringing that up?

And why was he referring to a Family Head from five hundred years ago as “that boy”?

“But you’re wrong.”

Hindir’s eyes fixed on the Family Head.

“Philip Orcus Parno. Do you know that name?”

“……!”

The Family Head’s eyes widened in shock.

Seeing that, Hindir sighed.

“So, you did know. And knowing, you still acted this way.”

“H-how…?”

Hindir knelt down so that his gaze met the Family Head’s.

“I saved Philip. And both he and the Family Head of that era took me as their godfather. I refused, but that boy went ahead and borrowed my name anyway. Thus, he became Philip Orcus Parno.”

The Family Head’s eyes were now filled not only with astonishment but disbelief.

“And that’s not all. The foundation of the Hundred-Form Ice Blade— I created that for him. He was quite lacking back then, yet now you use a Hundred-Form Ice Blade weaker than what I saw centuries ago. Do you think such a thing would make me afraid?”

Nonsense!

“Thus, Charun— we, whom you call Barbarians— were far more than Parno’s benefactors. So, the Family Head of that time swore upon the family name itself: no matter what happened, Parno would never betray Charun. But look around you. If this isn’t betrayal, then what is?”

Madness!

But the Family Head could not bring himself to say it aloud.

In Hindir’s deep eyes, he saw fragments of a bitter, dreadful history.

What dwelled in those eyes was not the young Barbarian before him.

It was an old man—worn and withered by decades of time.

“…A nightmare…”

The Family Head murmured as though entranced.

The Parno family carried a secret unknown to the world.

A curse that manifested only to its Family Heads.

A nightmare of their glorious history consumed by flames that even a Frost Dragon’s breath could not extinguish.

And in that dream burned the despairing revelation that the fire could only be quenched by the blood of Parno.

Yet for generations, nothing had happened. The family had prospered and basked in wealth and glory.

They had thought it would remain that way forever…

But the nightmare had been a prophecy.

Perhaps the former Family Heads had known that deep down.

Perhaps he himself had known.

That today might be the day he met his death.

Perhaps that was why he had been unable to take a single step away from the family grounds.

The dead from five hundred years ago had returned as the messenger of death today.

To burn the family to ashes.

Half his body had already vanished.

Soon his consciousness would fade, and death would claim him.

So, gathering the last of his remaining strength, the Family Head spoke his final words.

“…Forgive… me…”

And with that, he completely disintegrated, becoming one with the snow.

As though he had always been a part of Seolyong Valley.

“I will return what was taken. And take back what was denied.”

Hindir declared to the departing soul.

The Snowy King’s eyes snapped open.

The same blue sky greeted him as before he’d lost consciousness.

The only difference was that the sun was now beginning to set.

“…Am I alive?”

“You are.”

Startled by the familiar voice that answered his mutter, the Snowy King lifted his head.

Hindir sat cross-legged before him, his entire body covered in wounds.

“What are you doing?”

“Parno’s energy was quite fierce. I was calming my inner flow.” Get full chapters from novelfire(.)net

“…So, you fought the Family Head after all? No—seeing that steel-like body of yours in such a state, you clearly did.”

The Snowy King gave a hollow laugh as he pushed himself upright.

It had been ages since he’d been beaten into unconsciousness, and the aching of his body wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“Why didn’t you kill me? I tried to kill you.”

“So did I.”

“Then you spared me out of mercy.”

“You’re a strong one. Had I not been certain in the final moment, I would have killed you.”

“Heh, what a complicated way to say I was weaker.”

His gaze turned toward the ruins left behind by Hindir’s battle with the Family Head.

“How strong was he?”

“Very strong.”

“But you won—so you were stronger.”

This time, Hindir shook his head.

“In terms of technique and mana refinement, the Family Head was superior.”

“Then what made the difference? How did you win?”

“Experience.”

“Experience?”

“The things I knew, and he did not. That’s where the gap lay.”

“The things known and unknown…”

The Snowy King mulled that over for a while.

It was difficult to understand at once—but most of his conversations with Hindir these past days had been like that.

As though some vital piece was always missing.

Yet since Hindir never revealed that missing piece, there was no way to know.

Still, it was something he could vaguely grasp, so perhaps it was a good enough explanation.

“In any case, remarkable. You’ve defeated the Family Head… Now you’re the greatest of the Great Snowfields. How does it feel?”

“Neither good nor bad. It was simply another chance to reconsider where I stand—and where I must go.”

“…Good grief.”

The Snowy King scratched his head, then asked cautiously,

“How old are you now?”

“About sixty.”

“You’re young.”

Ignoring Hindir’s answer, the Snowy King continued,

“And the path you’ve walked—it’s not one a man of that age should even dream of. You’re strong beyond reason, and you’ve achieved things most would call a lifetime’s goal. Yet, you don’t seem pleased. It’s as if you’ve lived it all before.”

“When you’ve lived about sixty years, you tend to experience a lot.”

“No matter how I think about it, this can’t be your destination. Tell me—where do your eyes look? What is it that you seek?”

Hindir recalled the vow he had made when he first awakened in this body, and the many plans he had envisioned then.

But to explain all of it now would be cumbersome—and without revealing that he was a man from five hundred years ago, it would make little sense.

Even if he told the truth, they would think him mad.

Those who would hear his true identity would do so only in their final moments.

So, he chose to speak only one goal.

“The Greatest Warrior Under Heaven.”

Though the words hardly matched his blood-soaked state, the Snowy King felt that this was Hindir’s true self.

Like the Blood-Hero who had long painted his fur crimson— a man destined to be drenched in blood.

“…It won’t be easy.”

There would be countless obstacles, and once the rulers of the continent began to take notice, every day would become a chain of dangers.

But it didn’t seem like something Hindir needed to be warned about.

Somehow, he appeared to know that better than anyone else.

“Snowy King.”

At Hindir’s call, he instantly snapped to attention.

“The road that Charun must walk is long and perilous. And they are not prepared for it in the slightest.”

The Snowy King unconsciously swallowed dryly.

For some reason, his heart began to race.

“I need your help.”

Behind Hindir, the sunset grew redder and redder.

That light met his crimson fur, shattering into blinding brilliance.

And the Snowy King saw it—

Within Hindir’s shadow that stretched beneath the setting sun, he saw a vast landscape larger than Seolyong Valley, filled with green vegetation… and then, he saw it engulfed in flames.

It wasn’t something he even needed to think about.

He might have lived all his life misunderstanding his identity, but the battles he had fought until now had always been for the liberation of Charun.

He wasn’t Charun by blood, but he was Charun in every other way that mattered.

Overwhelmed by the majesty that radiated from Hindir, the Snowy King straightened his back with pride.

Sitting upright, he met Hindir’s eyes without flinching from the sunlight and declared,

“Wherever you stand, Hindir, beside you will always stand I, Bagman.”

He had cast aside his crown and become a warrior of Charun.

The Snowlit Crimson surrounded the outskirts of Choranchai like a living wall.

Before them stood about fifty swordsmen radiating a murderous aura—

They were none other than Parno’s Wolves, the strongest armed division of the Parno family.

“Isn’t this your fault?”

At Duar’s words, Ubol coughed awkwardly.

“I couldn’t help it. Didn’t you see that bastard try to kill me first?”

“No, actually I didn’t. I was attending to the boss at the time.”

“Attending, my ass. What could you even do?”

“Tsk tsk. You clearly don’t know how terrifying it was when the boss and the Snowy King were fighting with their auras. If you did, you’d shut up.”

Their chatter might have sounded meaningless, but in truth, they were clinging to it—because if they didn’t talk, they might be too afraid to move.

It was only thanks to the Snowlit Crimson standing in front that they could even hold their ground. Without them, their nerves would have snapped long ago.

“The guy who went up the mountain earlier—he’s the Family Head, right? Then he’s your father?”

“…What father.”

“Then those people over there are all your relatives?”

“You crazy bastard. What the hell are you saying?”

Well, not entirely wrong.

He’d just never thought about it that way before.

“Then that old man in the middle—is he your grandpa?”

“Damn it. Why does that sound so weird when you say it?”

“I’m just asking. So who is he?”

He was the vice-leader of Parno’s Wolves.

No one knew why the leader himself hadn’t come, but the man who had arrived was said to be even crueler.

“He’s a foul-tempered old devil. I bet he heard everything you said—he’ll probably be the first to try and kill you.”

“Eh, he’ll probably kill you first.”

“Or you’ll die by my hand before that.”

“Hey now, no need to get angry. But why are they just standing there like that? It’s weird that the Family Head didn’t kill you right away and went up the mountain instead.”

“That means he’s confident. Nobles aren’t like you—they don’t lash out just because they’re angry.”

“Pfft. And that’s why you’re standing here, huh?”

“What? You little—”

BOOOOM—

At that moment, a thunderous explosion and shockwave erupted from the direction of Seolyong Valley, cutting Ubol’s words short.

Between countless peaks, snowstorms began to surge.

“…The boss won’t lose, right?”

Duar muttered to himself, but Ubol couldn’t answer.

The opponent was the Family Head of Parno—

The apex of the family and ruler of the Great Snowfields.

The Snowy King?

Even if he was strong, he wasn’t on the Family Head’s level.

And Hindir? Even his strength compared to the Snowy King wasn’t certain yet—how could he possibly defeat the Family Head?

“Damn it. No way. Well, unless he and the Snowy King teamed up or set some trap…”

“What?”

Duar glanced around, then whispered to Moritz,

“How about the three of us sneak away right now?”

RUMBLE—

Neither Moritz nor Ubol responded to Duar’s nonsense.

All of them were fixated on the avalanches that had erupted throughout Seolyong Valley due to the shock.

The very atmosphere of the valley was beginning to shift ominously.

Though the sky was clear, a dense fog suddenly rolled in, wrapping around one of the peaks.

Recognizing it, Ubol muttered quietly,

“The Cold-wave Apex…”

The unending rumble, the trembling ground, the suffocating wave of mana—

They couldn’t help but wonder what kind of battle was raging up there.

Yet at the same time, the thought of what horrors would unfold here once the Family Head returned made their blood run cold.

Time passed—no one knew how long.

Eventually, Seolyong Valley fell silent.

“…It’s over.”

The fight had ended.

They didn’t know the result—but they all felt it.

Both they, and the waiting Wolves.

“…Get ready.”

“For what?”

“You idiot. The thing you said—if it goes bad, we run.”

Ubol stared tensely at the Wolves.

Moritz, too, rested her hand on her sword’s hilt, ready to draw at any moment.

But the Parno side still stood silently, unmoving.

Confidence, most likely.

Time crawled by painfully slow.

Everyone’s eyes were locked on their respective enemies, but their nerves were all drawn toward Seolyong Valley.

Except for one—Duar, who couldn’t read the invisible clash of aura at all, had fixed his gaze entirely on the valley.

He stared hard at the path Hindir always took.

Then, just as he began debating whether to go relieve himself, he caught sight of an odd flash of red emerging from the dim valley.

“Bo… Boss!”

“What?”

Ubol turned in shock.

Focusing his sight with mana, he could see it clearly—

A Blood-soaked Bear, walking toward them, drenched from head to toe in crimson.