Surviving as a Barbarian in a Fantasy World

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Chapter 278: The Barbarian Tribe (1)

Ketal, who had been watching the barbarians’ duel with cold eyes, suddenly snapped out of his daze.

‘No. No!’

He was disgusted with himself for watching the duel with disappointment, expecting them to kill each other.

What kind of barbaric, old-fashioned mindset was this?

Duels shouldn't involve killing.

If they did, that would just be madness.

Ketal quickly corrected his thoughts.

‘Ah…’

He realized, to his dismay, that he had been assimilating with these insane barbarians without even knowing it.

The thought deeply depressed him, and he hung his head low.

Darkul, seeing Ketal suddenly fall into gloom, was taken aback.

In any case, the duel soon ended.

One barbarian shattered the opponent’s weapon and broke their arm.

"Uwaaaaa!"

With a triumphant shout, he raised his axe high.

"I'm the leader! If anyone has a problem with that, come forward now!"

No one stepped up.

They all respected and acknowledged the strength the barbarian had demonstrated.

That was how the new leader of the tribe was decided.

Neither Darkul nor Ketal cared much about this.

Their goal was to meet the king, so who became the leader of this group didn’t matter.

They simply watched, unconcerned.

Ordinarily, this would have been the end of it.

Barbarians determined their leaders through combat.

It was a system akin to that of wild animals.

And in such a hierarchy, the leader held immense power.

Rewards, like food, were entirely theirs.

The tribe members could hardly claim anything as their own without the leader's permission.

Thus, problems soon arose.

Ketal always carried a black axe.

The axe had a pitch-black gemstone embedded in its handle and various engravings.

The blade was flawless, without a single scratch.

It was obvious at a glance that it was valuable.

Naturally, the leader’s eyes fell on the axe.

The leader approached, eyes gleaming.

"Hey, you!"

"What is it?"

"That weapon!"

The leader pointed at the axe hanging from Ketal’s waist.

"Looks nice! Hand it over!"

The Holy Sword at Ketal's waist muttered in surprise.

[...Oh, is he talking about me? Ah, I see. Even though I’m broken, I’m still a Holy Sword. The aura I emit is palpable to anyone, even a barbarian. He may be crude, but he has a discerning eye.]

"I don’t need the broken sword! Give me the axe!"

[What an ignorant barbarian! Show him his place, master!]

The Holy Sword fumed.

Ignoring it, Ketal spoke.

"This is mine. I have no intention of giving it to you."

"You dare!"

The leader’s face twisted in anger.

"You dare resist the leader! Do you want to die?"

The leader pulled out his axe.

Ketal watched with mild curiosity.

‘This is a first.’

He had always been a chief, a mediator, not someone who was ordered to hand over his possessions.

This role reversal was new to him, and he found it refreshing.

The leader’s face contorted further at Ketal's calm demeanor.

"Why are you just standing there? Are you mocking me? Do you really want to die?"

"Hmm."

Ketal's eyes grew cold.

Just as he was about to make a move—

"Ketal, leave this one to me."

Darkul stepped forward, gripping his sword.

"It’s time to teach this barbarian his place."

There was a hint of madness in Darkul's eyes.

He had been dealing with barbarians for over half a year, beating them down every single day.

Unbeknownst to him, he had become addicted to beating barbarians.

There was no way he was going to pass up this opportunity.

Ketal stepped back.

"Do as you wish."

"You dare challenge me, the leader! I’ll kill you!"

"Haha, you barbarian fool. Let’s see you try."

Both Darkul and the leader drew their weapons.

The battle began.

The clash of blades rang out loudly, and the surrounding barbarians cheered.

Darkul was confident.

The aura he sensed from the leader was that of a lower-tier first-rate, clearly beneath him.

Having learned swordsmanship in the Holy Land, he had no doubt he would win.

But the actual battle didn’t go as expected.

"Ugh... Hmm."

Slowly but surely, Darkul began to lose ground.

He had little experience fighting those on his level or stronger.

While he had been beating down barbarians in the village, none of them had even reached the first-rate.

This opponent was different.

He was of the same rank as Darkul, with far more experience in life-and-death combat.

His instincts and skills far surpassed Darkul’s.

"Grrr!"

As a result, Darkul's defeat was becoming clear.

"You dare challenge me, the leader! I’ll show you the might of a true leader!"

The leader roared furiously.

"I’ll kill you!"

He swung his axe down.

Darkul, gritting his teeth, raised his sword.

But with his trembling arms, it seemed unlikely he would be able to block the strike.

At that moment, Ketal intervened.

"That’s enough."

"Wha—what!"

Ketal had somehow stepped in and grabbed the leader’s arm.

The leader struggled to break free, but Ketal didn’t budge.

Ketal pushed the leader back with a slight squeeze, causing him to stumble.

"From here on, I’ll handle this."

"My apologies, Ketal..."

"No need to worry."

Ketal smiled softly.

"Leader, I know you desire my axe. If you defeat me, I will hand it over to you, as per the law of the strong."

"...V-Very well. You’ve made a wise choice!"

The leader, trying to hide his nervousness, got back to his feet.

But there was confusion in his eyes as he looked at Ketal.

When Ketal had grabbed his arm earlier, it had felt like his arm was caught between two boulders.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move it.

The barbarian in front was dangerous.

The leader’s instincts warned him.

‘…But I can win!’

The leader tried to ignore his instincts, gripping the axe tightly in his hand.

“Die!”

He rushed forward, swinging the axe down with the strength to split logs and shatter rocks.

And Ketal simply raised his hand lightly.

Using just two fingers, he caught the tip of the axe blade.

The axe, which had been coming down as if to split his head, suddenly stopped with a thud.

The leader's eyes widened in disbelief.

“Huh?”

Ketal's fist struck the leader in the chest.

The leader’s body bounced away like a billiard ball.

The leader lay sprawled on the ground, twitching slightly but unable to move.

He had fainted.

With just one strike, the group’s leader was defeated.

The overwhelming display of power silenced the crowd.

Ketal calmly returned to his place.

“...He’s stronger than I thought.”

Darkul muttered in shock.

He had thought Ketal’s strength was at the pinnacle of mastery because of his mystery.

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

But Ketal had just knocked out a top-level barbarian leader without even using any of that mystery.

“Looks like what you see isn’t everything. Anyway, there’s no need to worry about him anymore. It’s late. Let’s get some sleep.”

“Y-yeah, got it.”

In the silence, the night passed.

And the next day.

Ketal woke up early in the morning.

He hadn’t fallen asleep out of need, but simply because there was nothing else to do.

When Ketal awoke, he frowned.

“...What is this?”

“Have you woken up, sir!”

The leader shouted loudly, bowing deeply, as if he were a servant.

“What are you doing?”

“Pardon?”

The leader looked confused by Ketal’s question.

“You defeated me.”

“...Ah.”

At that moment, Ketal realized.

The hierarchy among barbarians was clear.

The one who won a duel became the leader of the group.

And Ketal had defeated the previous leader.

Naturally, that meant he had become the new leader.

‘I’d forgotten, it’s been so long.’

The same rules applied even in the white snowy plains.

But ever since Ketal had become the chieftain, he had never been defeated.

At first, there were a few who challenged him for the position, but after a while, the duels were only held to prove one’s own strength.

Because of this, Ketal had half-forgotten about the rules.

The barbarian, who had been the leader, knelt down completely.

“Please take care of us, our leader!”

* * *

The arrogance from before was nowhere to be seen.

The barbarian had completely submitted to Ketal.

If Ketal demanded everything they had, they would hand it over without hesitation.

That was the barbarian way of hierarchy.

Ketal squinted.

He was about to refuse, but then he hesitated, as if changing his mind.

“...Alright.”

Even if he refused, the barbarians wouldn’t accept it.

They would continue to follow him, calling him their leader, no matter what.

Ketal had experienced this all too often in the white snowy plains.

So, he concluded that it was best just to ignore it.

Ketal had become the leader of the group.

But that didn’t mean much had changed.

Their goal was still to meet the king.

The only difference was that people treated him with more respect now.

Darkul actually seemed to enjoy the new arrangement, finding it more comfortable.

They continued moving forward.

Other groups with the same goal kept joining them.

And the leaders of those groups shouted at Ketal:

“Are you the leader of this group? Let’s fight!”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then we’ll force you!”

They would charge at him with weapons in hand.

Ketal sighed and snapped his fingers.

With a single strike, they would all be knocked out.

A few hours later, the former leaders would wake up and shout joyfully:

“I acknowledge you as our leader!”

The group kept growing larger.

Ketal clicked his tongue.

‘This is annoying.’

They kept calling him their leader and tried to follow him.

To be honest, it was irritating.

The holy sword, noticing Ketal’s complaints, spoke curiously.

[You seem quite dissatisfied, yet you’re not leaving. If you hate it so much, why don’t you just throw everything away and run? Or simply say you lost a fight to someone else?]

At those words, Ketal paused.

‘...Oh.’

Now that he thought about it, the holy sword was right.

There was no reason for him to stay here.

If he wanted to leave, he could at any time.

If being the leader was such a hassle, all he had to do was claim defeat in the next duel, and that would be the end of it.

Yet that thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

It was as if leading these people was some sort of duty he had to bear.

As Ketal pondered why, he realized something.

‘The white snowy plains.’

It was because of his experiences there.

He had led the barbarians as their chieftain for an incredibly long time—so long it was pointless to count.

It had become a part of his life.

That was why, even after leaving the snowy plains, he unconsciously believed that leading the barbarians was his duty and responsibility.

Ketal shuddered.

‘How could this be?!’

He had already been broken by that place!

Ketal lamented deeply.

[Are you going to leave now? With your power, you could take Darkul and just leave them behind. They can fend for themselves.]

“You sound upset.”

[Upset? Me? How could I be? I don’t care to stay with those foolish barbarians who don’t recognize my value, but I’m not upset. I’m just being reasonable.]

“I see.”

The holy sword’s argument was logical.

He had no obligation to bear the burden of these people.

But.

Ketal looked at the barbarians.

The way they looked at him was the way one looked at a leader.

They were gazing at him as someone who would guide them.

It was a gaze Ketal was all too familiar with.

“...Fine. I’ll stay.”

This was not the white snowy plains.

It wasn’t the same as before.

He couldn’t remain buried in the memories of the white snowy plains forever.

Ketal decided to accept his situation.

‘I’ll think of it as trauma therapy.’

Ketal accepted the role of leader.

More and more barbarians continued to join, and soon, the group exceeded a hundred members.

The group of barbarians, believing Ketal to be their leader, continued moving towards the northern king’s stronghold.

And the way they looked at Ketal was the way one looked at an ordinary leader.

It was natural.

While Ketal had displayed his strength, it was still within their understanding.

They had no reason to feel anything beyond trust in him as their leader.

But soon, events unfolded.

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

THIS CHAPTER UPLOAD FIRST AT NOVELBIN.COM