A Mercenary’s Rebirth Among Nobles — Chapter 130

Chapter 130

“How‍ dare you!”

A furious Gormsen stepped⁠⁠ forward. The blood had rushed to‍‍ his head and⁠‌ he acted without⁠⁠⁠ thinking. Felicia turned⁠ sharply toward him‌‌ and asked,

“Are‌‌ you next?”

Under Felicia’s icy gaze,‍ Gormsen shuddered.

He‍ instinctively knew that‍ if he drew‍ a weapon right‌‍ there, his head would fall. Even‍ so, ashamed of‍ his own behavior but unable to‍⁠ let it pass,‍ he shouted loudly.‌

“Using‌‌ magic in a sacred duel… how⁠ dare you!”

“Magic?”‌

“Chief!‌ We must immediately‌ punish this woman‍‌ and her lord for profaning the⁠ duel! I beg‌ you to make‌ a decision!”

Felicia⁠ tilted her head, as if she‍ did not understand‌ what they were⁠ talking about.

Magic?‍ She, who did‌ not even know‌ the principles of‍⁠⁠ magic—what were they‌‍‍ talking about?

However,‍‍‍ the other members‍ of the tribe‌ seemed to understand⁠‍ at once and‌ nodded.

“Magic!‍⁠ Yes, it was magic.”

“Of course… if it‍⁠ weren’t magic, how‌ could she…?”

“It‍ felt strange to me—now I get‍‌ it.”

“Silence.”⁠‍‌

With‍ a single word‍‌⁠ from Ivar, the‍‌⁠ murmurs were cut‍ off abruptly. In⁠‍‌ the silence that⁠ followed, Ivar looked‍ at Felicia and⁠ spoke.

“Woman,‍ do you have‌‍ anything to say⁠ in your defense?”‍‍

“Defense?”‍

“You⁠⁠ used magic in‍‍ a sacred duel‌⁠‌ and mocked a warrior. It is⁠‍ a grave crime.‍ Not only you,⁠ but even your master will not‌‍‌ be able to‌ avoid punishment.”

Felicia‍⁠ did not answer.⁠‌ Instead, she formed‍‌ a strange smile⁠ and raised her‌‌ sword.

When⁠ Ivar sharpened his⁠ gaze, thinking she was about to‌ use magic, a bluish radiance began⁠⁠ to envelop Felicia’s‌‌‍ blade.

“By‌ the heavens! That’s the dragon’s blessing!”⁠

“That glow… it’s far‌ too intense!”

Seeing⁠‍ the clearly visible energy, the members‌‌‍ of the tribe‍‍ burst into astonished‌ exclamations.

Even‌ the most capable⁠‍ warriors could barely manifest a faint‍‍ glimmer, yet a woman was radiating‍ such a pure⁠‌ light.

And⁠‌ Felicia did not‍ stop there. She‌⁠ continued drawing out‌ power without pause.‍

Wooooong.‍

“Huh? Is it growing?”

“What‌‍ is that…? Am‌ I seeing things?”‍⁠‍

Both‌⁠ warriors and villagers rubbed their eyes⁠ again and again.‍

They‌‌ vaguely knew of the power, but⁠‌ they did not‍ know how to⁠ control it.

At‍‌ most, they used⁠⁠‌ it to reinforce‌⁠ the body or‍‍ release it crudely.‍‍

What‍‌ they were seeing⁠⁠ for the first‌ time—the manipulation of‌ materialized power—was a devastating shock.

“Magic…?”⁠‍

Felicia⁠ murmured and swung‌‍⁠ her sword.

At‍‌‌ the same time,‍ the energy bursting‌‍ from the blade⁠ sliced through the⁠ air. A cutting‌ edge so sharp‌‌ it seemed capable‍ of splitting bone‍⁠ and human flesh⁠‌ with a mere‍⁠‍ graze.

Then⁠‍ they understood.

“Does‍⁠‌ this look like‌ magic to you?”‍‍

“……”‍⁠⁠

“……”⁠

The‌‌⁠ warriors lowered their‍‍ heads in silence.‌‍ It was a mixture of reverence‌ for a level‌ never before seen‌‌‍ and shame at‌ not having recognized‍⁠ it.

Gormsen,‌ who had been⁠ the first to‍ accuse Felicia of⁠‍‍ using magic, lost the strength in‍⁠‍ his legs and‍⁠ collapsed to the⁠⁠ ground.

But⁠ the one who‍⁠‍ took the greatest⁠ blow was not‍⁠‌ Gormsen, but the⁠ chief himself, Ivar.‍⁠⁠

‘Damn⁠ it… of all‌‍ times, now…’

If‍‍ only Gormsen had⁠ accused Felicia, he⁠ could have excused‌‍⁠ the situation by‍ saying he was‍ testing her reaction.‌‌‌

But‌ Gormsen had sought⁠‌ his approval, and‍‌ Ivar had joined‍‌ in that accusation‌ without hesitation.

Now⁠ it was clear‍‌ that even Ivar,‍‍ chief and strongest⁠‍ warrior of the‌ tribe, was inferior‌ to Felicia.

“Since⁠ no one is‍⁠ answering, I’ll ask⁠ the chief.”

Felicia‍ swept her gaze‌‌ over the warriors‌ and then looked‌ at Ivar. With⁠⁠ a faint, mocking‍ grimace, she asked,‍‌‍

“Is⁠‌‌ this magic?”

“…It⁠⁠ is not.”

Though‍‌ Ivar’s face burned‌⁠ with shame, he⁠ could not deny‌‍ it. It was‌ obvious to anyone⁠ that this was⁠⁠ the power of⁠‍⁠ a warrior.

After‍ hearing the answer,⁠⁠ Felicia withdrew her‍ energy and said,‌

“Next.”‍⁠‌

The⁠ tribe’s gazes turned to the chief’s‌‌ sons. Amid the⁠ expectant eyes, Ainar‍ stepped forward.

“I‌ will not challenge‍ you.”

“What⁠ do you mean?”‌‌⁠

“I⁠‍ will not send⁠ my subordinates to‌ certain death for‍‌ empty pride. You⁠⁠ are, without a doubt, the strongest‌‌⁠ warrior. Forgive my foolishness for failing‌ to recognize a true warrior, blinded‍ by prejudice over⁠ your gender.”

Ainar⁠ knelt and pressed‌ his forehead to⁠ the ground.

It‌‌ was a humiliating posture, but no⁠ one criticized him.⁠

The‌‍‌ level Felicia had‌‌ shown was so‌⁠ high that nothing like it had ever existed in‍ the history of⁠ the tundra.

“I‍‌ also withdraw. Challenging‌ a warrior whom‌ no one in‍ the tundra can⁠ face would only turn us into‍‌‍ offerings.”

Brunda⁠⁠ also knelt beside‍ Ainar.

With⁠ both of them‍‌ out, only Gormsen remained.

Still‌ seated on the‍ ground, unable to‍ stand, Gormsen clenched‍‍ his teeth under‍ everyone’s gaze.

‘If‌ I withdraw now,‌⁠⁠ my honor will⁠ be shattered.’

His‍‍ uncle had died,‌ and he had⁠ accused Felicia of‌⁠‍ using magic.

Unlike‍ the other two,‍ he had already‌ created an irreparable‌ grudge.

Withdrawing⁠⁠ now would mean⁠‍ becoming the laughingstock⁠‌⁠ of the entire‍ tribe.

“Rodbruk!”‌⁠

Unable⁠‍ to abandon his‌ pride, Gormsen sprang⁠ to his feet‌ and called another‌⁠‌ warrior.

The‍ named warrior shuddered‌‍ for a moment, but advanced with⁠⁠ determination.

Felicia⁠ watched him calmly.⁠

“Are‌ you next?”

“Seems so.”

“Come.”‌

There‌‍⁠ was no signal‍‍ from the chief‍ to begin the‌‌‌ duel.

As‍ soon as he‌ answered Felicia’s brief call, he launched‍⁠ his attack.

Even‌‌ if he died,⁠ he would die‍ showing the pride of a warrior.‍‍

With‍ that resolve, Rodbruk⁠‌ brought down the‍⁠ enormous sword he‌ wielded with all⁠ his strength.

Slash!‌

Before the massive sword‍ touched the ground,‌‍⁠ Rodbruk’s body had‍‌ already been split‍⁠‍ in two, from⁠‌ head to groin.‌‍

The‌‍ great sword flew‍⁠ away, rolled across‌ the ground, and⁠ ended up buried⁠‍ in a pile‍ of snow.

Felicia‌‌⁠ steadied her sword—no⁠ one knew when‌ she had swung⁠ it—and said again,⁠

“Next?”‌

“Torving!”⁠⁠‌

Gormsen’s‌⁠ voice, as he‍⁠ called the third warrior, sounded more‍ like a desperate⁠ scream than an⁠⁠‍ order.

The‌‍‍ called warrior looked‍ at his lord‌ with a sorrowful expression and then‍ charged bravely at⁠‍ Felicia.

And‌⁠ like his predecessor,⁠ he died in an instant.

“Next?”‌⁠

“Yorvik…!”

Gormsen‌‍ called the fourth‌⁠ warrior with a voice that seemed‍ torn from his‌ throat.

After‌ the fourth came‍‍‌ the fifth; after the fifth, the⁠⁠ sixth.

All‌ obeyed their lord’s‌ senseless command and‍‍ died facing Felicia.‍

When‍⁠ the blood of‌ the corpses dyed‌⁠‌ all the surrounding‍‌ snow red, Gormsen⁠ had no warriors⁠ left to call.⁠

“Next?”‍

“……”‍⁠

Gormsen‍ stared blankly at⁠⁠ the bodies scattered‌⁠ across the ground.‌

Rollo,‌‍ Ketil, Floki, Halfdan,‌⁠ Horik.

Of the companions with‌ whom he had‍‌‍ crossed the frozen‌⁠ wasteland, not one⁠ remained alive.

With his mind empty,‍ as if his‌ soul had a hole in it,‍‍‌ he heard Felicia’s⁠‍ voice once more.‌⁠

“Next?”‌

At‍ Felicia’s insistence, Gormsen‍‌ was unable to‌⁠ react.

From‌ the beginning, the‌‌ trial was about‌‌‌ demonstrating the strength⁠ of one’s subordinates.‍

Now that all of‍⁠⁠ his were dead, it was clear‌ he had failed.

However,⁠ Felicia kept repeating the same thing,‍‍ as if she⁠ were completely unaware⁠‌ of that rule.

“Who’s next?”

“Enough!‍ The trial is‍⁠ over!”

Ivar’s⁠ roar finally burst‌ forth.

It‌ was a warning—for‍‍⁠ her to stop‌ and stand down.‍⁠‌

Felicia‌⁠ looked at Ivar‌⁠ for a moment,‌ who was glaring‌ at her with‍‍ fury, and repeated,⁠⁠

“Who’s⁠ next?”

“Damn‌⁠‌ it…!”

Just‌ as Ivar was‌ about to explode⁠‍ in rage, Gormsen—half⁠⁠⁠ out of his‍‌‍ mind—grabbed his sword‍‍‌ and stepped forward.‍‌‍

“Gormsen!⁠‍ What are you doing now?!”

“……”‌

Ivar‍‌ shouted, shocked by‍‍⁠ his son’s sudden‌‍ action, but Gormsen‌ remained unmoving, as⁠ if he hadn’t⁠ heard him.

Felicia‍‌ pointed her sword⁠ at him and‍⁠ asked,

“Do‍⁠ you have anything‌ to say before‍ you die?”

“No.”‌

“Come.”‍

As‌ soon as that‍ short exchange ended,⁠‌ Gormsen pushed off the ground and⁠⁠⁠ swung his sword—just⁠ like all the‍‍⁠ warriors he had⁠ sent before him.⁠

As‍ if he wanted‍‌ to share the‌ same fate as‍ his comrades, as‍‌ a final act of atonement.

Slash!‌

“Urgh…!”‍

Felicia’s⁠‍ sword grazed Gormsen’s⁠‍ neck, and a muffled groan escaped‍ his throat.

Instinctively,‍ he clutched at‍‌‍ his neck, but‌‍‌ he couldn’t stop‍ the blood pouring‍ out like a waterfall.

Panting,‍‌‌ Gormsen looked between‌ Felicia and Lucian,‍ and gave a bitter smile.

“Hh…”‍‌‍

With‌ a sound like⁠ air escaping from‌‍ crushed lungs, Gormsen’s‍⁠ body collapsed to⁠ the ground.

He‌ didn’t die as⁠ quickly as his⁠ warriors, but his‍ corpse remained intact.

Once‌ Gormsen was dead,‍ Felicia returned to‌‍ Lucian and knelt‍ as if she‍‍‍ had just finished⁠⁠ a routine task.‍

“My⁠‍ lord, I have‍ eliminated the enemy‍‍ and returned.”

“Well‍⁠ done.”

Lucian praised her and‌‍‍ helped her to‌ her feet with‌ his own hands.⁠

While‌ the members of the tribe watched‌‍‍ the scene in‍ shock, a solemn⁠ voice rose from⁠‌ behind.

“From‍ beyond the frozen‍‍‌ waste, a foreign‍⁠ sovereign shall arrive. In the year‍ when the sun‌ changes, he shall gain the right⁠ to challenge the⁠⁠‌ heavens. He shall‌ conquer all in⁠‌⁠ this land and‍‌ lead the way‌ to glory and‌⁠⁠ peace. He shall be our king.”⁠

At⁠ the sound of⁠⁠ such a familiar⁠ prophecy, the people turned their heads‌⁠ in surprise.

Marius,‌ who had been‌‌ out of sight‌‍ until then, walked‍‌ among them.

Cutting‌‌⁠ through the crowd, he knelt before‍⁠ Lucian and said,‍

“My‌‌ king.”

That⁠‌ was all it took.

A woman who had⁠‌ reached a supreme‌ level never before⁠ attained by any‌‍‍ warrior of the⁠⁠‍ waste.

If‌‌‍ such a being‍ served someone—what kind⁠⁠ of existence must‌‌ her lord be?‌

With the Guide’s prophecy‌⁠ adding to it,‌‍ many even thought‍ they saw a halo of light⁠ behind Lucian.

“My‌ king!”

“King⁠‌‍ of the frozen waste!”

“Our‌ king!”

Unlike⁠⁠ before, when there‍⁠ had been doubt,‌ the members of‌‌ the tribe bowed‍‌ down like a crashing wave and⁠‍‌ cried out to‍⁠‍ Lucian.

It‍ was as if‍ they had completely⁠ forgotten that this was only the‌⁠‌ first trial to⁠‍ select a new‌ chief—and that they‌ still had one.⁠

Watching‍‌ the scene unfold,‍‍ Ivar didn’t even⁠ declare the trial⁠⁠ over. He simply‌⁠ turned around and‍⁠‍ walked into his⁠‍ residence.

The‍ sound of the‍‍ door slamming shut⁠ was buried beneath‌ the deafening cheers.⁠

***‍

Amidst⁠‍⁠ the cheers, Lucian’s⁠ group moved to⁠ Marius’s residence.

Marius⁠ had stopped Lucian,‌⁠ saying he had⁠‌ something to tell‌‌ him.

“Poor⁠ fool.”

He‌⁠ sighed, murmuring those⁠ words.

There‌⁠ was no need‌ to ask who‍‌‌ he meant.

“Even‌‌ though it might‍⁠ not seem like‍⁠ it now, he once went around⁠ fighting, saying he’d‌ become a great warrior. But at⁠ some point, he started favoring schemes.‌‍ I guess he‍ got addicted to‌ easy gain.”

“Hmm.”⁠‍

“Even⁠⁠ so, his old⁠ comrades trusted him.⁠‍‍ They believed he’d‍‍ only strayed a little, and that‌‌ someday he’d remember his former pride.⁠ In the end,⁠⁠ he did… though‌ it means nothing‍‌ if you remember‌ after losing everything.”‍‍‌

Only‌⁠ then did Lucian’s‍‍‌ group understand why‌‍‍ the warriors had‌⁠ been so loyal‌‍ to him.

He‌ wasn’t just a cunning schemer; he‍‍ had once possessed⁠ honor.

Lucian‍⁠‌ remained silent, not‌ reacting.

Marius⁠⁠‌ continued.

“By‍ the way, that‍ was impressive. They‍⁠ said she was⁠‌ a disciple of‌ a Swordmaster, but⁠ she exceeded my expectations. You’ve turned‍ all the common‌ sense of the‌‌ frozen waste on‍ its head. Do⁠⁠ you know what‌‌ the tribe is‍‍ calling her now?”‍

“Elder.”‌

Lucian⁠ spoke calmly, cutting⁠ him off.

“That’s‌‌ enough. I no‍‌ longer need you.”⁠‍