At Lucian's relaxed attitude, something surged up inside Ainar.
"Not yet!"
Ainar pulled back the axe whose blade had been stopped, retrieved it, and reset his stance.
If his previous attack had prioritized speed, this one was meant to pour everything into raw power.
Naturally, that left many openings in his posture—but Lucian simply waited, as if inviting him to try.
"Hrrng!"
Whoooosh—
The instant the muscles in his forearms swelled as if about to burst, Ainar's axe flew toward the crown of Lucian's head.
He brought it down with such force that the sound of the air tearing was audible to everyone nearby.
Yet Lucian didn't even think of blocking it with his hand as before—he merely tilted his head slightly.
Kraaaang
"Ghk!"
Ainar swallowed a groan as the rebound force surged from his grip up through his forearm.
He had struck a human body, yet it felt as though he'd smashed into a lump of solid iron.
Pain made his eyes crease tightly, yet a faint smile formed at the corner of his lips.
Even so, with that much force, he couldn't have come out completely unscathed.
A strong rebound meant the attack itself had carried tremendous power.
No matter how tough Lucian was, he shouldn't have been able to brush this one off with a smile.
Thinking that, Ainar lifted his head—then his eyes went wide.
Lucian stood there with the axe blade resting against the nape of his neck, wearing an indifferent expression.
"Is that all?"
"What the—?!"
Ainar was left speechless in disbelief.
Compared to the crown of the head, where the skull lay thick beneath, the nape was far weaker and far easier to cleave.
Yet Lucian had taken the axe there and showed not even a scratch—no sign that he'd felt pain at all.
"If you're done, then it's my turn."
Fwooooom—
As if there would be no third chance, mana burst explosively from Lucian's body.
At the same time, a scorching blast—something Ainar had never felt before on the snowy plains—slammed into him.
He barely managed to keep from being pushed back by the heat, but that was as far as it went.
He couldn't stop Lucian's sword as it came flying in right after.
Kraang—
Struck by something massively heavy, Ainar's weapon was smashed aside, and his body was sent floating helplessly into the air.
And then, struck once more on the forehead by something that came flying in after, he collapsed to the ground.
The entire sequence happened so quickly that no one realized what had occurred within the heat blast.
Thud.
"H-huh?"
"What just happened?"
As the scorching wind died down and they saw Ainar lying there, the tribespeople stared blankly at one another.
They had only shut their eyes for a moment because of the wind—there had been a single thunderous boom, and then it was all over.
Lucian swept his gaze once over the flustered tribespeople, then sheathed his sword and spoke.
"Next."
***
Ivar felt the strength drain from his legs.
It was the same sight as the first trial, yet the sense of despair was far greater.
How are we supposed to defeat an opponent our weapons don't even work on?
The warrior from the first trial—the one who had reached the supreme realm in a woman's body—had at least possessed human flesh.
Even though not a single wound had been inflicted, if just one blade had landed by chance, her skin would surely have split and blood would have flowed.
But Lucian went beyond mere resistance to blades—he couldn't even be properly affected by the impact itself.
"Father, it's not time to despair yet."
Brunda's whisper reached Ivar's ears as he staggered.
When he turned his head, Brunda was grinning, his eyes still very much alive.
"Whatever authority he's gained, it doesn't change the fact that it's power derived from the dragon—just like ours. If we possess the same power, how could there be no way to deal with him?"
"You've found a method?"
"Rather than explaining it tediously, I'll show you directly."
Leaving those words behind, Brunda strode straight toward Lucian without hesitation.
Seeing such courage from Brunda—unfazed even after witnessing the overwhelming gap—made Ivar click his tongue.
He had thought Brunda was merely reckless and violent, charging ahead without thinking, yet to possess such indomitable will…
Perhaps I was mistaken.
Ivar had believed Ainar to be the true successor, one who possessed both wisdom and valor.
But looking again now, Brunda seemed better suited for the position of next chieftain.
Receiving his father's expectant gaze, Brunda stepped forward proudly and swiftly drew out his weapon—a greatsword.
"I'll be the second opponent."
"Hmph."
Lucian gave Brunda's face a brief glance.
Despite having seen Lucian's power firsthand multiple times, there wasn't a trace of despair in those eyes.
Put kindly, it was overflowing confidence; put bluntly, a failure to grasp the situation.
This one's useless.
Even if spared, he was the type who would someday convince himself he could defeat Lucian and prepare to strike him from behind.
Rather than letting him live just because he'd paid some attention to Ainar, it would be better to deal with him early.
Unaware that Lucian had already decided his future in his own mind, Brunda merely grinned.
"Honestly, I'm impressed. To use the dragon's power in such a way… The authority of our great ancestor truly has no discernible limit."
"…"
"But if the source is the same, then it can be neutralized with the same power. For example—like this!"
Wooooong—
"Dragon's Blessing!"
"When did he even—?!"
Seeing the mana wrapped around Brunda's greatsword, the tribespeople cried out in shock.
To give form to mana and layer it onto a weapon required reaching a certain level of mastery, separate from the power of the heart.
In other words, it meant Brunda had attained a correspondingly high realm.
Yet Lucian, upon seeing the shaped mana, merely snorted.
"Crude. Why don't you stop imitating a strength that doesn't suit you? Just maintaining that form alone must already be taxing."
At the cold assessment, Brunda's face twisted sharply.
As Lucian had said, the mana coating Brunda's greatsword was not something born of sufficient enlightenment.
He was simply forcing in the dragon's power he had recently obtained, then desperately replenishing the mana as it leaked away.
It was like trying to keep the water level steady by constantly pouring more in before everything drained out of a cracked jar.
"Imitating appearances like that won't last long. Why not stop before you exhaust yourself?"
"No. Against you, a temporary imitation is more than enough."
Perhaps because he was forcibly drawing on power, beads of sweat formed on Brunda's forehead.
His stamina was clearly being drained in real time, yet for some reason he kept running his mouth.
"You're clearly using the dragon's power to harden your body. But what do you think happens when dragon power clashes with dragon power?"
"Oh?"
At Brunda's idea, Lucian let out a small sound of interest.
Just as he said, if identical powers collided, even something like dragon scales might be neutralized.
Ainar had devoted all his strength purely to physical reinforcement, so it meant little in his case—but if a clash of pure mana were to occur, no one could say what would happen.
"Do you understand now? Even if it's just an imitation, if this power touches your body, then you too—!"
Puhwak—
Brunda cut himself off mid-sentence and lunged at Lucian.
Judging by the explosive speed, he had clearly been baiting complacency and preparing an ambush.
So that's why he kept wasting mana and babbling.
Lucian smirked as he watched Brunda fly toward him.
Since no one knew what would happen when identical mana collided, he couldn't rely on defense alone.
So what was the solution?
The answer was simple.
Slice.
"Wha—?"
With a sharp whistling sound, Lucian vanished from Brunda's sight.
Startled after striking at empty air, Brunda tried to look around—
but before he could even turn his head properly, his field of vision tilted downward.
"Why—?"
Thump.
That was the end of it—Brunda's head hit the ground.
Moments later, the body that had lost its owner also tumbled across the ground.
Lucian, who had severed the neck in a single stroke, clicked his tongue briefly and muttered,
"Good idea. But it was only a good idea."
No matter how effective an attack might be, it means nothing if it can't land.
Compared to Lucian, who had absorbed more than half of the dragon's mana, Brunda—who had taken in only a negligible amount—was nowhere near the same level.
If he had waited for a moment when Lucian deliberately took an attack head-on, as with Ainar, that might have been one thing—but wrapping himself in mana and charging straight in? There was no way Lucian would let that hit.
Looks like he was trying to exploit an opening because power forcibly dragged up can't be manifested instantly—but with a gap this large, it's meaningless.
Well, if he'd understood the difference in their levels, he wouldn't have devised such a plan in the first place.
Turning his gaze away from Brunda's corpse, Lucian spoke toward Ivar.
"Come out. Third."
" … "
Dropping all pretense of formality, Lucian addressed him casually, and Ivar stepped forward in silence.
Some might have called the sight resolute, but Lucian could tell it wasn't resolve—it was despair and resignation.
People who recognized that there was no longer any escape, who accepted their own death, usually wore that kind of expression.
After staring quietly at his son's severed neck, Ivar finally spoke in a trembling voice.
"Don't get conceited just because you stole the chieftain's seat. One day, you too will fall and end up just like us."
"Do you truly believe that?"
"You're still a child—you don't yet understand the principles of the world."
"I asked what you think."
" … "
"Do you think I'll be ruined? Can you really picture such a future so vividly it feels within reach?"
At Lucian's cold smile, Ivar clenched his teeth.
He had hurled curses in a fit of anger, yet no matter how he thought about it, he could not envision a future in which Lucian fell.
That realization gouged at Ivar's heart all the more viciously.
"Bastard."
With nothing left to say, Ivar spat out the insult.
Lucian merely laughed quietly.
For a victor, the curses of the defeated were no different from the highest praise.
***
Clack—thud.
Lucian flicked the blood from his sword once and slid it back into its scabbard.
At the same time, the second headless body collapsed to the ground.
Laying the heads of son and father side by side upon the earth, Lucian turned to the tribespeople and declared,
"From this moment on, I am your king."
The tribespeople fell into collective silence.
They neither cheered at Lucian's proclamation nor mourned the death of the former chieftain.
What Lucian had shown in battle lay far beyond common sense, making any display of emotion feel impossible.
It was not like the supreme realm demonstrated by the female warrior sent out earlier, nor was it a bold, heroic struggle like that of a legendary champion.
He had allowed every attack to strike him unilaterally, as if watching the futile thrashing of insects, and then crushed them to death with casual force, as though it were an annoyance.
It was less a warrior's battle than the sight of a god descending upon the earth to punish the arrogant.
Naturally, the gazes directed at Lucian shifted as well—from respect offered to a great warrior to something closer to reverence paid to a god.
"Y-your Majesty."
"Your Majesty…!"
When one elderly man, trembling, dropped to his knees, the others followed suit in unison and bowed deeply.
It was a scene Lucian had witnessed several times before, yet the atmosphere was unmistakably different.
Previously, there had been hope in their eyes for a new king; now, it was closer to a desperate attempt not to incur the wrath of a god.
Feeling the fear emanating from the tribespeople, Lucian gave a wry smile.
This was the effect I was aiming for… but did I go too far?
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