Chapter 42 : The Heaviest Thing in the World (1)
Chapter 42: The Heaviest Thing in the World (1)
Perhaps it was due to the good compatibility—Ubol was the first to come to his senses.
The next day, just as the sun began to rise, he opened his eyes and let out a gasp at the overflowing mana coursing through his entire body.
“Whoa… So this is a spirit elixir.”
It felt like he could instantly freeze anything he wished.
If he really tried, he felt confident he could travel through the Snow Dragon Valley even faster than Hindir.
“……”
But the moment he saw Hindir sitting in the exact same posture as the night before, still drinking in silence, his confidence vanished.
For some reason, Hindir’s statue-like stillness gave off an overwhelming pressure...
“How is it?”
“Mmm, it’s nice, I’ll admit.”
Ubol slowly extended his palm upward and released the Ice-Blood Qi.
Long, sharp icicles materialized like drills, and pure white frost spread around him.
“Hehe, look at this. Can you feel the power in it?”
Hindir silently observed Ubol.
“You can’t control your power.”
“What? What do you mean I can't?”
Hindir motioned with his chin toward the ground.
“Huh?”
Only then did Ubol notice that the ground around him was frozen solid.
And the frost was slowly spreading outward.
He tried to control it with sheer will, but the leaking energy was impossible to stop.
“Looks like the energy of the Cheongweol Tree was stronger than expected.”
Power beyond the control of its wielder.
For Ubol, who had nearly died because of it, this was not a welcome situation.
“Damn! Again?”
Ubol grumbled as he retracted his power and assessed the situation.
“At least I won’t die this time, right?”
“You’ve now learned how to manage your energy. You should be fine.”
That’s what he said, but it was still a bit of a headache.
What Ubol needed was a proper mana technique.
Whether he created one himself or learned it from someone, mastering it was essential to fully control his power.
‘If that woman would pass it on to me, that’d be perfect.’
It wasn’t intentional, but somehow he had ended up holding a useful card.
But they weren’t on terms where he could ask such a favor yet. Even yesterday, after eating and drinking, she packed up the leftovers and disappeared again without a word.
Lady of Parno had changed.
But that didn’t mean she had become someone who knew how to be generous.
And... no matter how little affection there had been, Ubol was still the one who had killed her son.
It was something only time could tell.
“Ugh, anyway, my stomach’s about to burst. I’m going to see Duar.”
“I heard about that. He worked you hard, didn’t he?”
“He said that? Who worked who…? You staying here to eat?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, I’ll let him know.”
Shortly after Ubol left, Duar arrived carrying heaps of food.
It was surprising that he’d prepared this much so early in the morning.
“Wow… You really ate all that yesterday, brother?”
While marveling at the thought, Duar tilted his head when he didn’t see any empty bowls.
“Someone borrowed them for a bit. I’ll get them back later.”
“Ah, it’s nothing fancy anyway. Then enjoy your meal. It’s not as much as yesterday, but I brought plenty today too.”
After Duar left, Hindir slowly began eating, and this time Bagman woke up.
“Hmm.”
Bagman tilted his head, his reaction lukewarm.
“So this is Cheongweol… Doesn’t feel as impressive as I thought.”
Quite different from Ubol, who had been all excited.
But that didn’t mean it had no effect.
It just lacked a dramatic impact, making it feel a bit underwhelming.
If he had to describe it, it was like a stormy lake that had grown heavier and calmed itself.
“It means your bowl is that much fuller.”
Hindir said quietly.
“You already had enough power—but what you lacked was conviction.”
“I see. So this is the reversal of enlightenment you spoke of.”
Still feeling slightly unsatisfied, Bagman glanced at Hindir.
“If we sparred, I feel like I’d get a clearer picture.”
“Haha, sounds good. But there’s still one more left.”
“Oh!”
Only then did Bagman notice Moritz.
He tried to act indifferent, but clearly he had been a bit excited without realizing it, judging from how he had completely overlooked her.
“Ahem, may I eat as well?”
“As much as you like. Duar’s quite generous with his hands.”
Bagman sat across from Hindir and began eating.
“Mmm. Not bad. That guy’s surprisingly skilled for how he looks.”
Hindir nodded in agreement.
“He used to run a restaurant, apparently. Found the right path.”
“And to think someone like that was swinging a sword with the Snowy King’s Army. In a way, he might be the one among us who gained the greatest enlightenment.”
“He’s carving his own path. That alone makes him worthy of being called a master.”
“Hahaha, true. Who knows? One day he might be known as Master Duar or even Chef Duar.”
The two of them chatted idly as they ate Duar’s cooking.
At that very moment, "Teacher Duar" was battling with a customer who, despite radiating cold from head to toe, insisted his soup had gone cold.
One day, two days, three days.
Ever since consuming the Cheongweol, Moritz hadn’t moved a muscle, still deep in energy cultivation.
Hindir remained at her side to help maintain her body temperature.
He could have started a fire, but breathing in the smoke constantly wasn’t good, so this was the better choice.
“Isn’t she dead?”
Ubol asked, seeing Moritz unmoving for so long.
But he wasn’t really one to talk.
“Think about what you went through in the Snow Dragon Valley.”
“Me? I’m pretty sure I just died frozen for a bit and then came back.”
From the way he laughed while saying it, it was clear he had gained insight and survived just fine.
Moritz was definitely still breathing, and they could occasionally see her eyes twitch or muscles flinch.
Since Hindir had never done proper energy cultivation before, he didn’t know why hers was taking so long.
But something significant was certainly happening within her.
Since Moritz still hadn’t regained consciousness, Bagman and Seff—who had led the Charun clan until now—ended up meeting on bare ground.
“This is… I had made some formal preparations, but it turned out like this.”
“It’s fine. We’ve already been given plenty of consideration. And well… if that guy says it’s okay, I just go along with it.”
Bagman and Seff exchanged greetings that way.
They were here to discuss the merger between the Charun tribe and the Snowlit Crimson, as well as their shared future.
In truth, the Charun tribe still had a great deal to learn.
Even though the Charun carried the blood of warriors and lived for Kartan, they still needed to understand how to live as people in this world.
In a way, this place—Choranchai—was where they could experience and learn before fully stepping into the world.
Though much of the Snowlit Crimson had departed, a considerable number still remained. Through daily life with them, the Charun would naturally develop social skills.
“To be honest, there’s no major issue. I say this half-jokingly, but the biggest headache is their competitive streak—they can’t accept losing.”
Bagman chuckled as he spoke.
The Snowlit Crimson, after all, had been a gathering of rough sorts and fugitives from across the continent.
So it was common for the Charun, who had received Hindir’s indoctrination in the warrior spirit, to clash in pride with them.
For example, during an arm-wrestling match—if the Charun lost, they wouldn’t stop until they won...
“……”
Seff covered her face in embarrassment.
She clearly recognized who Bagman was referring to in that arm-wrestling story.
“Was it Baltan?”
“Of course it was Baltan.”
At Hindir’s question, she nodded.
“We don’t know much about the outside world’s rules, but that guy’s a bit much. Among ourselves we call it a warrior’s disease—but he’s got it bad.”
Then she glanced at Hindir with a look that suggested it was all his fault.
“I didn’t do anything in particular.”
“Sure. That’s what you think.”
“……”
Watching their conversation, Bagman found Hindir’s demeanor strangely unfamiliar.
He’d heard they were aunt and nephew, but seeing them talk like this, Hindir’s usual pressure felt completely defused.
How could someone look so ill-fitted for speaking politely?
“Ahem. Anyway, it’ll probably improve with time. Seff and I will keep discussing it and make adjustments as needed.”
“Understood. I’ll be more mindful as well.”
Bagman also spoke about the future direction for Choranchai.
“If this place continues to function, I plan to establish it as a symbolic base marking the boundary between the Great Snowfields and Snow Dragon Valley. A city for the many minority tribes who live in the Snowfields.”
“Wouldn’t that be difficult with Parno still around?”
“Well… thanks to you, Parno has been torn to shreds…”
“Wait a minute. One thing I’ve been wondering—did this guy really kill the Family Head of Parno?”
Just then, Seff asked Bagman as if the thought had just struck her.
He looked between Hindir and her, then burst into laughter and nodded.
“I understand your doubt. But it’s an undeniable fact. Hindir is the strongest in the Great Snowfields.”
Seff was shocked all over again.
She had thought he was strong, but assumed there was some exaggeration.
The lack of a point of comparison hadn’t helped.
Without a standard for strength, it had been impossible to measure.
“But isn’t the Snowy King also here? I’ve heard Parno’s soldiers talk about him—and not as someone ordinary. If something were to happen between them...?”
“What?”
Bagman looked startled as he turned to Hindir.
Hindir’s lips curled ever so slightly.
It was the first time Bagman realized Hindir could make such an annoying expression. He let out a deep sigh.
He’d had no issue praising others, but now that the attention was on him, embarrassment crept in.
“Ahem. I’m that so-called monstrous Snowy King.”
“……?”
Now it was Seff’s turn to stare at Hindir.
And seeing his twitching lips, she too chuckled.
“Looks like the two of you planned this prank together.”
“Didn’t Hindir tell you? That he beat the Snowy King unconscious like a monster. Then immediately fought and defeated the Parno Family Head. If it were me, I’d be bragging about it everywhere.”
“Hm…”
Seff looked between the two of them.
One was entirely serious, and the other had a smirk on his face.
So they clearly had different thoughts…
“Seems like… this guy decided to play a prank, out of character.”
“Haha… When someone who’s always dead serious cracks a joke, everyone takes it as the truth.”
“…But seriously, are you really the Snowy King?”
“Not anymore.”
Seff tilted her head, clearly unconvinced.
Bagman certainly had a solid build, but… did he give off the aura of a true powerhouse?
Given that her benchmark was Hindir, it made sense that Seff, unfamiliar with these matters, found Bagman underwhelming.
Enough of the teasing—Hindir stepped in.
“Bagman really was the Snowy King. And from now on, he’ll be training the Charun tribe.”
“The Snowy King is going to train us?”
Seff looked at Bagman in surprise.
“Haha, I actually think Hindir is more suitable. But he’s likely to get busy soon.”
“And my method is still too difficult for the rest of the Charun to handle. For now, Bagman’s approach will work better.”
Bagman was a true powerhouse who’d risen to the top of this snowy land with bare hands.
Compared to the wraiths of five hundred years ago, his experience—built up slowly over time—would be much more helpful for the current Charun.
“Very well. Though we may run into some trouble.”
Seff said this thinking of Baltan and a few other hot-blooded individuals, but Bagman waved it off with a smile.
“Challenges to test my strength are always welcome. Don’t worry.”
In truth, Bagman was a fierce competitor himself.
When people in the Snowlit Crimson first met him, they would growl and challenge him—but after a single bout, they’d all quiet down, which had left Bagman rather bored.
If the Charun kept coming at him without giving up, he’d welcome it with open arms.
“Well then, I suppose that wraps up the important matters…”
Just as Bagman was about to bring up something else, he turned his head.
“Phew…”
Moritz let out a long breath and slowly opened her eyes.
She had finally awakened.
Her presence felt significantly weightier than before, and upon sensing it, Bagman’s competitive spirit flared up without him realizing it.
“How is it?”
Hindir was the first to ask.
“…Feels good.”
Moritz’s short reply.
Reading the meaning in her eyes as she looked at him in silence, Hindir stood up.
“Follow me.”
When it came to competitive spirit, there was one person who never lagged behind.