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A Mercenary’s Rebirth Among Nobles Chapter 136

Chapter 136

Lucian’s⁠‌ relaxed attitude made‍‌​ something boil inside‌​‍ Ainar.

“It’s​⁠‌ not over yet!”‌‌‌

Ainar⁠‍ yanked the axe‍‍‍ back to recover⁠ it and adjusted‌‍ his stance.

If⁠ the previous attack‌​​ had prioritized speed,​ this one would‍‌‍ put everything into⁠​‌ power.

Of‍‍ course, that left​‍​ many gaps in⁠ his defense, but‌‍ Lucian remained still,⁠‍ as if daring‍​ him to try.‌

“Hup!”‌​‌

Whooom!​⁠

The​‌‌ moment the muscles⁠‌ in his arms​‌⁠ swelled as if‍‌ they were about‍‍⁠ to burst, Ainar’s‍​ axe came down‍​ toward Lucian’s head.‌‍

He​ struck with such⁠‍​ force that the​ sound of the‌ air tearing could‍‍ be heard among‍​‍ the spectators.

However,⁠⁠​ Lucian didn’t even⁠ think of blocking​ with his hand‌ like before; he​⁠ simply tilted his‌‌⁠ head slightly.

Clang!​

“Ugh!”‍⁠

The​​ rebound force that⁠‍ traveled from the​ handle to his​⁠⁠ arms made Ainar​​‍ stifle a groan.⁠‍

He⁠‌ had struck a human body, but⁠‍​ it felt as⁠⁠ if he’d hit⁠⁠ a block of​‌ steel.

The​‌‍ pain made him‍​ furrow his brow,​⁠‌ though a slight‌‍​ smile formed on​ his lips.

‘Even⁠‌​ so, with this,‌‍‌ he shouldn’t come‍ out unscathed.’

Such‌‌⁠ a strong rebound‌ meant the attack⁠‌ had been powerful.‌

As​​ strong as Lucian⁠ was, Ainar thought,‍​‍ he wouldn’t be​ able to take‌‍​ that blow lightly.‍​ With that thought,​⁠⁠ he looked up—and‍⁠‌ his eyes widened.​‍​

Lucian‌ had the axe​​‍ blade resting on​‌‌ the back of‌ his neck, with‌‍‍ an indifferent expression.​​​

“Is‍ that all?”

“What⁠ the hell…?!”

Ainar‍ was speechless. The‌‍‌ nape of the‍⁠‌ neck, unlike the​‌​ skull-protected head, was​‍⁠ a much more‍ vulnerable and easy-to-cut‌‍​ area.

And⁠​​ yet, he had‍‍ taken an axe‍‍ blow there without‌​ showing a single‍‌ wound, not even‌ a hint of⁠ pain.

“If‌ you’re finished, it’s‌ my turn now.”‌

Whoosh!‌‌

As⁠‌ if he wouldn’t‌‌⁠ allow a third⁠‍⁠ chance, mana burst⁠ from Lucian’s body.⁠‌⁠

At​ the same time,⁠ a wave of‍⁠‌ heat never before‌‌ felt in the‌‍ tundra slammed into⁠‍ Ainar. He managed⁠‌ to withstand it‍⁠ without being pushed⁠ back by the​​ scorching wind—but that​‍⁠ was the end⁠‌⁠ of it.

He​ couldn’t block Lucian’s​ sword that followed⁠ right after.

Clang!⁠‌​

“…!”‍

Struck⁠ by something heavy,‍‌​ Ainar was sent‍⁠​ flying through the‌‌​ air. Then, something⁠⁠ else hit him‌ square in the‍‌⁠ forehead and he⁠ crashed to the​‌ ground.

It⁠ all happened so​‌​ fast that no‌​ one could make​‌​ out what had⁠⁠ happened inside the⁠‍ blazing gust.

Thud.‍⁠

“W-what?”‌‌⁠

“What‌ happened?”

When‌‌⁠ the wind died‍‌ down and they​ saw Ainar lying‌⁠‍ on the ground,⁠‍‍ the members of​​ the tribe looked‌⁠​ at each other‌⁠ in shock.

They‌‍ had closed their‌‍‌ eyes from the​‌​ blast, heard a single crash, and​‌‍ when they opened‌‌ them, everything was​⁠⁠ over.

Lucian‍⁠ scanned the confused​⁠ faces of the‍‍‌ tribe members and,‍ sheathing his sword,‍⁠⁠ said:

“Next.”​

***⁠​

Ivar​ felt the strength‌‍⁠ drain from his​ legs.

It‍⁠ was the same⁠‌ scene as in⁠⁠ the first trial,​‍ but the despair‍ was far greater.‌

‘How‌ am I supposed​‌ to defeat someone⁠ against whom even​ weapons don’t work?’⁠

The‌‍‌ warrior he had‌‌ seen in the‍ first trial—the one​⁠ who had reached‌​ the pinnacle in‌​ a woman’s body—at‌ least still had‌‌ human skin.

Though​ she hadn’t suffered‌​⁠ a single wound,⁠ if a blade⁠ had made contact,‍ surely flesh would‍ have torn and​ blood would have​‍​ flowed.

But‍ Lucian was different.‌⁠‌ Not only did‌ weapons fail against⁠‍ him, they couldn’t​​ even deliver impact.‌‌

“Father,​​‌ it’s not time⁠ to despair yet.”⁠‌​

Brunda’s​‍ whisper reached Ivar,‍⁠‌ who was staggering.‌⁠

Turning​‌ his head, he​ saw Brunda smiling,‍​‍ eyes still full‍ of determination.

“No‌ matter what authority​ that man has⁠​​ obtained, it’s still⁠‌ power that comes‍⁠‌ from the dragon,​⁠​ just like ours.⁠​ If the source‌‌‍ is the same,⁠ there has to‌‌ be a way‌ to end him.”​

“Have‍‌ you found a method?”

“It’s​‍​ better to show‌​‍ than to explain⁠​ poorly.”

With‍​ those words, Brunda⁠ stepped toward Lucian‌‌​ without hesitation.

Seeing⁠ him unshaken despite⁠‍ the overwhelming gap,​⁠‍ Ivar clicked his‍‌⁠ tongue.

He‌ had thought Brunda‍‌ was just a reckless brute who‌‍ never thought of‌ the consequences, but⁠⁠‌ hadn’t expected such​ firm resolve.

‘Maybe‍​ I was wrong.’‍‍

He‌⁠⁠ had always believed‌ Ainar was the‌ true successor—someone who​⁠‌ combined wisdom and‌‌‍ courage.

But‌‌ now, seeing him‌⁠ again, Brunda seemed⁠‌‌ to fit even​⁠‍ better as the‌‍ next chieftain.

Under‌⁠ his father’s expectant‍⁠ gaze, Brunda drew‍ his weapon without‌⁠ hesitation—a greatsword.

“I⁠ will be the‍ second opponent.”

“Hmm.”⁠‍

Lucian⁠‍‌ scanned Brunda’s face.​ Despite having seen​‌⁠ his power several‍⁠‍ times, there wasn’t​​ a trace of‌​ despair in his‍​‌ eyes.

Put‍ kindly, it was‌ confidence. Put bluntly,‌⁠⁠ he didn’t understand⁠‍‌ the situation.

‘This‍​‌ one won’t do.’‌‌‌

Even​‌ if he spared‌​ him, he’d be⁠​ the type to​‍ believe he could​‌ one day take⁠ Lucian down and‍‌‌ would wait for‍⁠⁠ a chance to‌‌⁠ stab him in⁠‌‌ the back.

Better​ to end him‍‌ now than let​⁠ him live by⁠​ mistake, like Ainar.​

Unaware⁠‍​ that Lucian had‌‍⁠ already decided his​‌ fate, Brunda smiled‍ smugly.

“I​ admit, you surprised‌⁠‍ me. I never‍‍ imagined someone could‌‌ use the dragon’s‌‍​ power that way.‍​‍ The authority of​‌ our great ancestors‌‍‌ has no limits.”‌

“…”‍⁠​

“But‌ if the origin​ is the same,‌‌ then it can⁠‍‍ be neutralized with‌ the same power.⁠ Like this!”

Wooooong​‌​

“Blessing⁠​​ of the Dragon!”‌‍‍

“Since‍‌ when…?”

Seeing⁠ the magic enveloping⁠ Brunda’s greatsword, the​ tribe members cried​ out in surprise.​‍⁠

Materializing​​ magic and applying⁠​ it to a weapon wasn’t something⁠​ just anyone could​‍‌ do—it required considerable​‍‍ skill, regardless of‍‍‍ the dragon heart.‍‍​

In​⁠‌ other words, Brunda’s‍​⁠ level was truly‌ high.

However,‌ Lucian only let⁠⁠ out a mocking​‌ laugh.

“It’s‍ clumsy. Don’t you⁠ think it’s time‌‍‍ to stop pretending​​‌ you’re strong when⁠‌ you’re not? Just‌​​ maintaining that form‍‍ must be exhausting.”‌⁠

Lucian’s‌‍ cold assessment made‌​‌ Brunda’s face twist.‍​

As⁠​​ Lucian said, the‍⁠‌ magic around his⁠⁠ sword wasn’t the​‌ result of full⁠‍ understanding.

It‌​​ was simply the‌​ dragon’s power, recently​ acquired, forcibly channeled​​ into the weapon‍‌ while compensating for‍ the energy constantly​⁠ leaking out.

It⁠ was like trying​⁠‌ to fill a cracked pot by‍ pouring water nonstop.​‌⁠

“With‌‌⁠ a cheap imitation⁠‍ like that, you​‌​ won’t last long.‌‌ Why not stop⁠ before you collapse?”⁠‍⁠

“No.⁠⁠ To face you,‌⁠ this temporary imitation⁠⁠ is enough.”

Perhaps​ because he was‌ forcing the power,​⁠ sweat dotted Brunda’s‍​ forehead.

His‌‍ stamina was dropping⁠ with each second,​‍ yet he kept‍​ speaking.

“You’re‍ using the dragon’s‌‌ power to harden⁠ your body, right?‍‍ But tell me—what‍ happens when dragon​ power collides with‍‌‍ dragon power?”

“Oh.”‌‌​

Lucian‍‍ let out a soft exclamation. If‌ equal forces clashed,⁠​​ even something like​ dragon scales could⁠⁠⁠ be neutralized.

Ainar​ had focused entirely‌⁠ on physical reinforcement,⁠ so it hadn’t⁠‍⁠ mattered. But a direct collision of​ pure magic—that was​⁠ a different story.‍

“Now​​ you get it?‍ Even if it’s‌​ an imitation, if‌​ this power touches‍‌ your body, you⁠‌ too—”

Whoosh.‌‌‌

Brunda‍ launched herself at‌‍ Lucian before finishing​⁠ her sentence.

Her‍‌ speed was explosive;‌‍ clearly, she had‌⁠ feigned carelessness to‍​ prepare a surprise⁠ attack.

‘So‌‌ that’s why she​‌‌ wasted magic while⁠ talking.’

Lucian​​ watched her with⁠‍​ a faint smile.​‍‍ If he didn’t‍ know what would‍‍⁠ happen when two‍‌​ dragon powers clashed,‍‍‌ he couldn’t rely​‌⁠ on defense alone.‌

So‍ what to do?‌⁠

The​‍‌ answer was simple.⁠⁠⁠

Whip.⁠‌‌

“Huh?”‍

With‌‍‌ a whistle, Lucian​ vanished from Brunda’s‌ sight. Attacking empty⁠⁠ air, Brunda tried⁠ to turn in​‍ surprise—but before she‍⁠ could, her vision‍⁠ tilted downward.

“Why—?”‍⁠

Slash.‍

Brunda’s‍⁠‍ head hit the‌‍​ ground. Her body‍ followed shortly after.​‌​

Lucian,‍⁠⁠ who had decapitated⁠‍‌ Brunda with a single motion, clicked‌‌ his tongue.

“The‌‍ idea was good.‍⁠⁠ But only the​​ idea.”

No⁠ matter how effective‍ an attack might⁠ be, if it​‌‍ didn’t land, it‍‌ meant nothing.

Brunda,⁠ who had only​​‌ absorbed a sliver​​‌ of the dragon’s‌⁠ power, couldn’t compare‍ to Lucian, who‌‌‍ had absorbed over⁠ half.

If​​‌ she had waited‌‌ for Lucian to‍⁠ take the hit‍ head-on, like with‌‍ Ainar, she might​ have had a chance.

But⁠‍​ surrounding herself openly‌ with magic and‌‌‌ charging in was‌‌ meaningless.

‘She⁠⁠‌ forced the power,​ so she couldn’t‍‌‌ manifest it instantly​ and looked for⁠ an opening—but with⁠ this difference in⁠‌ level, it meant‍ nothing.’

Lucian‍​‌ turned away from‍ Brunda’s corpse and‌ addressed Ivar.

“Step​ up. Third one.”⁠‍

“…”​​

At​‌ that informal tone,‍‍ stripped of all​​⁠ courtesy, Ivar walked​ forward in silence.⁠​

Some⁠⁠‌ might call it‌​⁠ calm, but Lucian‍ knew it was⁠⁠ despair and resignation.⁠⁠‍

It‍ was the expression‌ of someone who,‌ with no escape,‌‌⁠ had accepted death.‌

Staring⁠ at his son’s‍​‌ neck, Ivar spoke‌⁠‌ in a trembling⁠‍​ voice.

“Don’t‌‍​ be proud of‌​⁠ taking the chieftain’s​ seat from me.‌⁠⁠ One day, you’ll‌​ fall like we‌⁠ did.”

“Do​‌‍ you really think‌‌‍ that?”

“You’re​‍ young. You still‌ don’t understand how⁠ the world works.”​​

“I‌⁠ asked what you⁠⁠​ think.”

“…”⁠⁠

“Do‌ you think I’ll​​​ fall? Can you‌ really see that‌⁠‌ future so clearly?”​⁠‌

At‌‌ Lucian’s cold smile,​ Ivar clenched his​‌ teeth.

He‍ had cursed out‍⁠ of anger, but‍‌⁠ no matter how⁠‍ hard he thought,‌‌‌ he couldn’t imagine‍‍ a future where‌​​ Lucian failed.

That‌⁠ realization shattered him​​ even more.

“Damn‍‍‍ bastard.”

Lucian‌ smiled silently.

To​​ the victor, the​‍ insults of the⁠‍ defeated were almost​‍‍ the highest praise.​‌‍

***‍

Clack,‍ thud.

Lucian‌ shook the blood‌​ from his sword‌ once, then sheathed⁠‍‌ it.

At⁠ the same time,‍⁠ the second headless‍ body hit the‍⁠ ground.

With‍​‍ the heads of‌​⁠ father and son⁠⁠​ lined up, Lucian⁠ turned to the‍‌​ members of the‍​ tribe and declared.‌​​

“From​‌ this moment on,‍⁠ I am your⁠ king.”

“…”​​‌

“…”​​‍

The​‍​ tribe fell silent.‍ No one cheered​ his proclamation. No⁠​ one mourned the⁠ old chief’s death.‌

The‌​ reason was simple—the‍ battle Lucian had​‍⁠ shown was far‍ beyond any common‌‍​ sense.

It​ wasn’t like the⁠‍‍ warrior woman who‍​‌ had reached the​ pinnacle, nor like⁠​‌ a legendary hero​ fighting bravely.

Lucian‌​‍ had received all​​ attacks as if‍‌‍ watching the flailing‌‌‍ of insects, and​‍⁠ then crushed them⁠ with power, as‌‌⁠ if annoyed.

It​‌​ didn’t seem like‍‌ a battle between‌‌ warriors—it was the‍‍ scene of a god descending to​‌⁠ earth to punish‌‌​ the arrogant.

That’s‌⁠‌ why the looks⁠⁠ they gave Lucian⁠⁠⁠ weren’t those of‍ admiration toward a great warrior—but reverence⁠ toward a deity.‌​‍

“K-king.”‍

“King…!”‌​⁠

An​​ elder, tense to​‌‍ his limit, fell⁠​ to his knees.​​‌ The others followed⁠ immediately.

He‌‌⁠ had seen this​ scene several times‌‌‌ now, but the‍‌ atmosphere was completely​ different.

Before,‍ there had been⁠ hope in the‌‌ new king; now,⁠‍‌ it was pure‍ fear of angering‍​​ a god.

Lucian‍ sensed that fear‌‍ and gave a bitter smile.

‘I⁠ was aiming for‌⁠‍ this effect but‍⁠ maybe I overdid‍ it?’

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