Common sense was a fixed notion that bound people—but it was also a form of order.
That was why, when someone tried to shatter common sense, people instinctively reacted with rejection.
They did not want the order they had believed in all their lives to be destroyed.
But that only held true when one tried to break common sense with paltry strength.
When it was smashed head-on by something overwhelming, people instead felt awe.
To the tribespeople, Felicia was clearly the latter.
"Is that person the king's great warrior?"
"How rude! Lower your head!"
As they watched Felicia walking beside Lucian, the tribespeople dropped to their knees all at once.
Before, their gazes had been focused solely on Lucian, but now even more of them were drawn to Felicia.
Amid the reverence pouring in from all sides, Lucian let out a small chuckle and spoke.
"So? How does it feel to receive worship as the strongest warrior?"
"To be honest, it feels a little strange. If they were going to offer reverence, it ought to be to Your Majesty…"
"I'm getting plenty myself. Look."
With a tilt of his chin, Lucian pointed to the tribespeople who were bowing not only to Felicia, but to him as well.
A powerful warrior, by their very existence, possessed the qualifications to become a ruler.
If the ruler had been chosen by none other than the strongest warrior, it was only natural to believe that they were someone just as great—if not greater.
"Well, not quite as much as you, who's famed as the strongest warrior."
"My apologies."
"For what? That's enough—don't burden yourself unnecessarily and just enjoy it. This is a scene you changed with your own, pure skill."
Felicia made an awkward expression at Lucian's words, but she couldn't hide the faint flush rising to her cheeks.
She was someone who had been dismissed by her own father simply for being a woman, forced to have her abilities doubted.
And yet, with nothing but her swordsmanship, she had shattered the common sense of those who believed a woman could never become a warrior.
It was burdensome, yes—but it was also true that a strange joy and thrill welled up in a corner of her heart.
"…Still, it isn't good that I'm receiving more attention than Your Majesty. Not just for my own sake, but politically as well."
"It's fine. I'm planning to make a big splash myself before today's over anyway."
Lucian had no intention of letting this situation continue as it was.
While he was happy for Felicia to receive attention, becoming a lord inferior to his own vassal was a different matter altogether.
In the second trial to be held today, Lucian intended to display a presence no less imposing than Felicia's.
Only then would the tribes of the snowy plains understand what kind of person Felicia's lord truly was.
"We're here."
When Lucian arrived before the chieftain's dwelling, Ivar—who had been waiting outside—murmured quietly.
For someone who hadn't even properly declared the end of the first trial, he looked remarkably composed.
"Now that everyone has gathered, I will announce the contents of the second trial."
Casting his gaze over Ainar, Brunda, and Lucian, Ivar raised his voice so that all the tribespeople could hear.
"The second trial shall be entrusted to our great ancestors who rest in the sacred ground! The Dragon's Heart itself will judge whether you possess the qualification to challenge for the next chieftain!"
At Ivar's declaration, the tribespeople were taken aback.
Letting someone who wasn't the chieftain into the sacred ground was shocking enough—but to entrust a trial to the Heart itself?
"Chieftain, what in the world do you mean? Are you saying the Dragon's Heart personally chooses someone?"
"That's right."
"…What?"
"The Dragon's Heart is alive. It even possesses the will to judge whether the one who lays a hand upon it is a true warrior—or a contemptible ruffian."
The tribespeople stared blankly at one another at this unheard-of revelation.
Until now, they had believed the Dragon's Heart to be nothing more than a sacred relic honoring their ancestors.
But the Heart itself was alive, breathing, and capable of discerning warriors?
As the tribespeople stood dumbfounded, Ivar continued his explanation calmly.
"The Dragon's Heart contains infinite power. The moment one who possesses the proper qualifications touches it, they are granted strength. However, one without those qualifications will have their body burst apart and die on the spot."
According to Ivar, the position of chieftain and the Heart's judgment were unrelated.
That was why past chieftains had never laid a hand on the Heart.
Gaining power would have been ideal—but the possibility of not being acknowledged by the Heart was very real.
"But I accepted that risk and asked the Dragon's Heart to judge my worth. And the Dragon's Heart deemed me qualified, bestowing power upon me—power you all already know!"
Whooo—
With a violent gust of wind, a mirage like flickering flames rippled around Ivar's body.
As scorching heat mixed with the wind and swept past the tribespeople, they all flinched and shuddered.
"The Blue Dragon's Flame…!"
"So that power was granted by the Heart?"
"Wasn't that a blessing possessed only by the chieftain?"
Lucian glanced once over the tribespeople, who were murmuring all around him.
Judging by their reactions, they seemed to have known of the power's existence itself, but not that it was something gained through the Heart.
So that's magic power from the Dragon's Heart… intriguing.
The magic power being faintly emitted was crude in the extreme.
If Felicia's magic power was like a finely sculpted statue, then Ivar's was firewood roughly hacked apart with an axe.
Still, the peculiar form of the emitted magic power and its warm heat were enough to give the impression that it was something special.
All well and good, but this is pearls before swine. With a user like that, it's hard to grasp its true value without testing it myself.
Even overwhelming power is useless in the hands of someone who doesn't know how to wield it properly.
Since Ivar could do nothing but let his magic power leak out, there was no way to tell anything special about it beyond the fact that it carried inherent heat.
What would happen if that magic power were refined through proper circulation and sword techniques, then drawn out to its full potential?
As Lucian pondered that question, Ivar's voice rang out once more.
"I have kept this hidden until now. The moment this truth became known, unqualified and greedy individuals would swarm the sacred ground. We cannot allow the sanctuary where the Dragon's Heart slumbers to be sullied with blood and flesh."
"Th-then why reveal it here and now?"
"Because an outsider has challenged for the position of chieftain."
At the word outsider, the tribespeople's gazes instantly converged on Lucian.
Ivar glared at him with murderous eyes and continued.
"According to tradition, I granted him the right of succession. But is it truly right for one from outside to rule us? Does he possess the qualifications to do so? Was he ever someone who should have been granted the right to challenge in the first place?"
No one could answer Ivar's questions.
After all, Lucian was the first outsider ever to challenge for the position of chieftain.
Before even arguing right or wrong, there was no precedent to begin with—so what could anyone possibly say?
"I don't know the answer to that either. That is why I intend to ask the heart of our great ancestors! Today, you will witness the dragon's choice with your own eyes! You will see for yourselves who is more fit for the chieftain's seat—this outsider, or my sons!"
At Ivar's thunderous declaration, the tribespeople nodded as if convinced.
If the Dragon's Heart truly possessed a will of its own, then there could be no fairer judgment than that.
But to Lucian, the words were enough to make him snort inwardly.
Dragon's choice, my ass. It's just power you get as long as you meet the conditions.
It wasn't hard to see what Ivar was aiming for.
He meant to use this opportunity to gloss over the fact that he himself had touched the Dragon's Heart, while simultaneously deifying both himself and his descendants.
On the other hand, by showing Lucian exploding into gore, he would strip the tribespeople of their infatuation with the outsider.
If everything went according to plan, it couldn't have turned out better for him.
But there was one crucial fact Ivar had overlooked.
The possibility that Lucian, despite being an outsider, might actually receive the dragon's acknowledgment.
If Lucian were to outshine the chieftain's sons—who had been born and raised on the snowy plains from the start—Lucian was deeply curious to see how this tyrant would react.
***
After finishing his speech, Ivar led his two sons and Lucian toward the tribe's sacred ground.
The tribespeople swarmed after them like a flock of chicks.
Judging by how they set off on the spot without any travel preparations, the sacred ground didn't seem to be very far away.
Sure enough, after climbing a few hills under Ivar's guidance, they arrived at the sacred site in no time.
"We're here."
"…A shack?"
At Ivar's declaration, Lucian found himself at a loss for words.
The place called the sacred ground contained nothing more than a shabby shack.
It was absurd enough that it was little better than a hut, but the condition of the shack was even more staggering.
It looked so old that Lucian worried it might collapse if someone gave it a firm tap.
Yet aside from Lucian's group, no one seemed to find anything strange—everyone wore solemn, reverent expressions.
"Stop here. Beyond this point, only those who have been granted permission may proceed."
With a grave declaration, Ivar raised his hand to block the others from advancing.
Then, pointing only at his two sons and Lucian, he beckoned them forward with a gesture.
Maintaining an air of reverence before the shack, Lucian felt a sense of eerie incongruity, but still took a step forward.
Whoosh—
At that moment, a light pressure pressed down on Lucian's body, as if he had been submerged in water.
He was briefly startled, but quickly realized what the pressure was.
Residual magic power…?
It was the kind of trace that briefly lingered after intense magic power had been released in battle—
much like embers remaining for a short while after a campfire had burned out.
Normally, it would have vanished before long, leaving nothing more than a faint sense of discomfort.
But the residue here showed no sign of dissipating at all, and was so powerful that it could be felt as actual pressure.
It's not even a living dragon—just its corpse. No, just the heart remains… and it's still radiating this much power?
Without realizing it, Lucian clicked his tongue.
At the same time, Lucian felt he understood why they had chosen this ramshackle shack as their sacred ground.
No matter how shabby it looked, the moment one approached, overwhelming power could be felt against the skin—there was no choice but to feel reverent.
"Stop."
When the three of them had advanced about halfway, Ivar—standing before the shack's door—spoke in a low voice.
From here on, it was a signal that they were to enter one by one.
Whether the order had already been decided or not, he didn't bother asking who would go first.
"Ainar."
"Yes."
At Ivar's call, Ainar set his halted legs back into motion.
He stepped through the shack's door, which Ivar opened for him personally.
Lucian folded his arms and waited quietly for things to conclude.
Whoooosh—
"…What?"
After more than ten minutes had passed, a faint warmth tickled Lucian's entire body.
At the same time, the pressure in the surroundings rippled and shifted slightly.
Just as he began to sense that something had changed, the shack's door swung open.
"B-blue flames! The dragon's power!"
"The dragon has acknowledged Ainar!"
The tribespeople who had been standing some distance behind them cried out in shock.
Just as they said, Ainar was emitting a mirage shaped like blue flames, the same as Ivar had shown before.
Seeing Ainar emerge looking slightly fatigued, Ivar curved his lips into a faint smile.
"Good work."
At his father's perfunctory praise, Ainar dipped his head slightly and withdrew from the sacred ground.
Despite having gained power from the Dragon's Heart, he didn't look happy at all.
If anything, he even avoided Lucian's gaze, like someone burdened with guilt.
What's with him?
Lucian felt puzzled, but it wasn't the kind of situation where he could ask questions.
Once Ainar had stepped aside, Ivar immediately called the next name.
"Brunda."
"Yes."
Called second, Brunda stepped forward with a resolute expression.
Perhaps because he had been made to go after his rival brother, a sense of urgency seemed to weigh on him.
But before long, Brunda too emerged from the shack wearing a confident look.
Like Ainar, he was also wreathed in a mirage of blue, flame-like haze.
"Brunda has obtained the dragon's power too!"
"Both of them were chosen!"
The tribespeople, crying out in astonishment, turned their gazes toward Lucian, who now stood alone.
Of the three candidates, the two born on the snowy plains had been chosen.
Then what, exactly, would happen to that man from foreign lands?
"…Outsider."
Ivar called Lucian's name in a voice that sounded thoroughly unwilling.
Sensing the undisguised hostility, Lucian let out a scoff of his own and stepped forward.
As Lucian reached the shack, Ivar leaned in and whispered at his side.
"Even now, turn back and return to your homeland. A thief who tries to steal treasure that already has an owner always meets a miserable end."
"We'll see soon enough who's the thief—and who the rightful owner is."
With a strange smile, Lucian brushed past Ivar and entered the shack.
But unlike the two sons before him, Lucian did not come out even after time passed.
At the end of the long, tedious wait, a sudden explosion rang out from within the shack.
Along with the blast came a ground-shaking tremor, and the shack rocked violently, as if it might collapse at any moment.
Seeing the sight, Ivar curled his lips into a vicious smile and addressed the gathered tribespeople.
"Now, behold! The dragon's wrath has descended upon the outsider who knew not his place—!"
KRAAANG!
Before he could finish speaking, an explosion erupted at the very heart of the sacred ground that housed the Dragon's Heart.
The ramshackle shack that had preserved an ancient tradition until the very end was blown apart, and from within it, Lucian emerged.
His body was wreathed in massive blue flames, blazing so fiercely they seemed to reach the sky itself.
As all eyes locked onto him, Lucian tilted his chin toward Ivar and spoke.
"Dragon's wrath? And what about it?"
READ MORE CHAPTERS HERE : https://beastnovels.com