Medieval Fantasy Barbarian

A massive barbarian warrior was surrounded by a hundred enemies.

He was alone, and didn’t even have a decent weapon in hand.

Nevertheless, not a trace of fear or hesitation could be found in his steps. As the man strode forward, it was rather the enemies who hesitated and backed away.

One relatively courageous warrior jumped forward and swung his sword.

The man easily caught the sword with his bare hand and struck the warrior’s head with his other hand. Surprisingly, the head flew into the air. Blood gushed from the torn neck.

The man, his body drenched in blood, let out a thunderous shout and plunged into the enemies.

The warriors were terrified and swung their weapons wildly. They didn’t care if they accidentally cut down their allies.

Sharp blades slashed and tore at the man’s body, but couldn’t take his life. Rather, he seemed to become more powerful and rampaged more ferociously the more he was wounded.

The man didn’t even glance at the weapons left by the corpses of his enemies, stubbornly crushing his foes with his bare fists.

Finally, standing tall in the center, treading upon all the corpses, his figure appeared almost divine.

“Hmph.”

The man gave a light laugh and then suddenly turned around.

Ivan knew who he was.

The walking legion, the legend of the North, the God of War who had transcended the limits given to humans and finally ascended.

Young Baldor stared straight through Ivan’s soul.

“Sneaking around and peeping, are you? If you’ve seen enough, get lost.”

Before Ivan could say anything, Baldor casually waved his hand, and that was the end.

Even that heroic power was of little help in the mysterious soul world.

Ivan’s consciousness returned to where it should be.

“…Ah.”

That miserable human was real. Ivan cursed inwardly.

Habel asked from beside him.

“You’ve been muttering in your sleep for a while. Did you have an interesting dream?”

“No, it was a terrible nightmare.”

“…They say dreams are better the more nightmarish they are. Anyway, it’s quite unfortunate. I would have liked to participate too.”

Ivan looked at Habel with an incredulous expression.

“That’s impossible. It was just a few days ago that you almost died from excessive bleeding.”

“Haha, is that so? In any case, I wish you good luck. Go and knock them all down, Ivan.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll fill the infirmary with some friends for you.”

Ivan walked forward, thinking about the meaning behind the dream he just had.

When he opened the door and went out, his view was filled with the tribe’s warriors gathered outside.

Thud, thud. Orderly footsteps shook the ground.

The priest, standing in front, desperately avoiding Ivan’s gaze, shouted.

“Great Baldor, watch over your servant!!”

As soon as he finished speaking, the warriors surrounded Ivan, forming a large circle.

Curiosity, hostility, competitiveness, anticipation. Among other emotions, various gazes focused on one person.

He didn’t feel intimidated or pressured. Ivan held his head high and smiled fiercely for all to see.

The coming of age ceremony had begun.

From the crowd surrounding Ivan, one man stepped forward with confidence.

He was a large man, not much smaller than Ivan’s nearly two-meter frame.

“Bjorn, son of Blotan.”

“Ivan.”

Ivan casually looked over the man before him.

Judging by his demeanor, he seemed like someone who usually walked around with his shoulders held high.

Bjorn also looked Ivan over and spoke.

“Do you know this? The coming of age ceremony is far from fair. It’s rather dependent on luck.”

“Why? Isn’t skill all that matters?”

Bjorn shook his head.

“Of course, one’s skill is important, but what’s even more important is the capability of your opponent. In that sense, you’re quite unlucky.”

“Because you’re my first opponent?”

“Yes, you catch on quickly. I won ten matches in the last coming of age ceremony. You have no chance of victory.”

An interesting fellow right from the start.

Ivan involuntarily laughed but suppressed it with superhuman endurance.

Bjorn misinterpreted this desperate effort as trembling with fear.

“Are you shaking now? Don’t worry too much. There’s no shame in losing to a strong opponent. I’ll give you the first attack, so feel free to attack as you wish.”

“…Really?”

“I usually give the weaker ones a handicap. I won’t take that back.”

“Well, if you insist…”

Ivan extended his fist slowly, paying attention to controlling his strength.

Bjorn inwardly mocked the incoming fist.

‘Even given the opportunity, he’s a coward who can’t seize it. With such a slow attack, I’ll…’

Tap-the moment the fist touched his chin, Bjorn fell into a deep sleep.

Ivan said in a nonchalant tone, as if he had done something obvious.

“Next.”

“……?”

The surroundings instantly fell into silence.

Perhaps this was the most anticlimactic match in the long history of the North.

“…Stupid bastard. We’ll see when you wake up.”

As a figure presumed to be the father dragged the slumped Bjorn away, the next opponent came forward.

“Ketil, son of Skagi. …It won’t be as easy as with that fool.”

“Really? You don’t look much different.”

“How dare you…!!”

Did he consider it an insult too hard to bear? Ketil’s face turned red as he swung his fist.

Ivan dodged the attack by twisting his head without even looking.

“See? Not different at all.”

Applying a bit of force, he kicked Ketil in the stomach, and with a “poof” sound, Ketil’s body flew through the air.

“……!!”

The fallen Ketil groaned in pain, clutching his stomach.

“Next.”

Both fights ended with a single blow. Astonishment crossed the eyes of the gathered people.

The first time could be a coincidence, but from the second time, it’s inevitable.

The two who had come forward were by no means weak. It was just that Ivan was too strong, causing a misconception.

As the murmuring atmosphere didn’t subside, Ivan added a comment.

“Why isn’t anyone coming forward? Were all those gathered today cowards rather than warriors?”

The provocation seemed to work as another volunteer immediately appeared.

A man with a long scar near his eye responded curtly.

“Bendil, son of Brunda. I ask for a match.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Bendil lowered his posture and dove in, attempting a tackle.

Facing that monstrous strength head-on would be suicidal. But with this, maybe there’s a chance…

He tried to grab Ivan’s leg to pull him down, but Ivan didn’t move even slightly.

“What is this…”

Bendil felt an insurmountable wall. It would be much easier to knock down a tree.

“At least you’re somewhat decent, mister?”

Ivan picked up the dumbfounded Bendil and then smashed him into the ground.

As the thick dust cleared, Bendil was revealed embedded in the ground, unconscious.

“Next.”

Though not spoken aloud, at this moment, people were certain of one thing.

Today, for the third time in the long history of the North, a warrior who completed the coming of age ceremony would be born.

Now, no one thought they could defeat Ivan, even by chance.

Instead, warriors who saw it as an opportunity rather than fearing defeat challenged him one by one.

These were renowned warriors of the tribe, but the results didn’t change much.

They used desperately honed techniques, had them broken, and fell.

Finally, after defeating ninety-nine people, Ivan thought while sweating.

‘Controlling my strength is harder than I expected.’

If someone were to die accidentally, the atmosphere wouldn’t settle. It could also earn him resentment.

Still, thanks to all these matches, he had roughly grasped the technique. It was a satisfactory achievement.

The sun was hot as it hadn’t set yet. By this point, he wanted to give up and go home.

‘Come out quickly.’

Ivan stared blankly at the chief. If possible, he’d like to fight him once…

The chief didn’t respond to his gaze. It seemed like a matter of prestige, so it couldn’t be helped.

Instead, a person next to him responded to the provocation.

He was a middle-aged man with a head that gleamed brightly in the sunlight.

“Baldr, son of Sorir. I have a proposal, would you listen?”

“Well, let’s hear it.”

Baldr cleared his throat and said.

“I see you’re strong. Probably no one here would dare to doubt that. However, questions about your endurance must remain… If you don’t mind, shall we test it?”

“So… you’re saying you want to hit me once?”

“That’s right, if you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to accept.”

Despite saying that, Baldr was confident that Ivan wouldn’t refuse this proposal.

‘You think you’re getting an easy pass here?’

That’s why he’s bald. Ivan stared at the shiny bald head before turning away, dazzled.

This might be cleaner than having rumors spread afterward.

“Not bad. Go ahead and hit me.”

“Then, excuse me.”

The bald man smiled sinisterly.

No matter how strong, there are parts of a person’s body that cannot be trained.

The bald man stretched his fist back and struck Ivan’s chin with all his might.

“……!!”

The bald man frowned. He hit so hard that it felt like his fist had cracked.

But there’s no way anyone could be fine after taking that hit… right?

“Are you done?”

Ivan smiled leisurely. Compared to that damned old man’s fist, this was nothing.

Still, it was annoying. Ivan put a bit of emotion into it and struck the shiny bald head.

Ding-. A clear sound resonated. The bald man fainted with his eyes rolled back.

Ivan thought as he saw a bulging bump forming on the head.

‘He looks like a snowman.’

It was the moment the coming of age ceremony ended.