Barbarian Quest

Chapter 3

“We’ll take him down with our arrows, Sir Fordgal!” one of the bowmen suggested.

“No! We must capture this barbarian alive. Even I would have to retreat if the other barbarians came back with reinforcements. This one will be a great token of our newly discovered land and an excellent gift for His Majesty,” Fordgal shouted as he held his sword upside down by the blade. This maneuver of using the pommel and the grip as a blunt weapon was an imperial swordsmanship called Bladegrip.

“You’re fooling around with your sword in front of me? Do I look like a joke to you? You bastards are dead.” Fordgal’s absurd sword-wielding left Urich dumbfounded. He then realized that the bowmen surrounding him had no intention of shooting their arrows.

‘Are they trying to capture me alive?’ Urich frowned in disbelief. He had always been the face of terror in every battle he was in, yet these strange men were giving him a sense of humiliation that he had never felt before.

The anger made Urich clench his fist to the point where his arms became tense. Everything faded into the background.

Fordgal gradually closed in on Urich as the other men observed with their eyes wide open, so as to not miss a single action.

Woosh!

Urich was the one who made the first move. He launched himself forward as he flung one of his axes at Fordgal. The axe thrown with momentum struck Fordgal’s helmet.

Fordgal’s eyes widened as he realized where the axe had struck. ‘He aimed the blade at the gap in my helmet. Did he really intentionally aim for this tiny target?’ Fordgal was faced with the barbarian ruthlessly charging toward him, aggressively swinging his other axe as if he was about to split his head in half.

“You barbarian!” Fordgal let out a roar as he swung his upside-down sword, aiming to strike Urich’s temple with the pommel of his sword.

Fordgal and Urich exchanged their blows. Blood spouted from Fordgal’s face. Urich had slashed his cheek.

“Shoot him, now!” Fordgal shouted.

The bowmen urgently released their arrows onto their target. Urich’s back was soon covered with several arrows.

“Protect Sir Fordgal!”

Fordgal assessed the wound on his cheek inflicted by the barbarian. ‘He knocked my helmet off with one axe throw so that he could strike my bare head with the other.’ Even though Urich was a mere barbarian, Fordgal couldn’t help but be impressed by his skill.

“Get him!”

The other men surrounded Urich and battered him mercilessly with their blunt weapons. Urich could only crouch with arrows sticking out of his back.

“That’s enough, he must be captured alive!” Fordgal commanded his men and found Urich sprawled on the ground, beaten to a pulp.

“You got lucky, metal man!” Urich blurted out in laughter. If Urich had landed his blow just a little deeper, Fordgal’s head would have been cracked into two.

“Shut it, you barbarian!” The men mocked Urich as they slapped him across his face. Although they didn’t understand each other, abusive language found its way into their exchange.

“Sir Fordgal, you must dress your wound as quickly as possible.”

“Get that barbarian cleaned up as well. We don’t know when the rest of them might come back.” Fordgal told his men as he glared at Urich, who didn’t so much as blink an eye as they removed the arrows from his back.

‘This barbarian has ridiculous guts and an impeccable combat skill to back it up... are the rest of them like this, too? We’ve got to get out of here before they come back.’ The barbarians that got away during the battle made Fordgal anxious. He knew that his men were only explorers and that they would not be able to withstand another barbarian attack.

“The arrows did not make it in as deep as they should have, Sir Fordgal. The quality of his muscles seems superior to ours. Otherwise, the arrows would have reached his organs and killed him. But these are still deep wounds, so they’ll fester quickly if we make him move without proper rest and recovery. If he’s lucky, he’ll make it over the mountains. If he’s not, he’ll die.”

“Ah, that’s why I wanted to capture him without inflicting too many injuries on him. Oh well, if he dies, he dies. Let’s get moving.”

Fordgal got up after dressing the cut on his cheek. His men then removed his armor plates and shared the carrying of the parts.

“Get up, you barbarian!”

Urich was forced to pick his wounded body up. There were ropes around his hands as well as his neck so that Fordgal’s men could easily choke and knock him out in case of any retaliation.

‘Am I climbing over the mountains? These men really are from the other side!’ Urich’s eyes widened. ‘So, beyond the mountains is another world of men. It isn't a world for the dead!’

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Although he was captured, Urich’s eyes brightened with excitement and inspiration. His sparkling eyes were already locked in beyond the mountains.

“Get moving!”

The men tugged on Urich’s ropes. Being dragged, he had no choice but to stumble along.

‘Dammit, this hurts like hell.’ The pain from the arrow wounds in Urich’s back grew more intense as he was dragged along. Some herbal remedies and rest would help, but that wasn’t an option.

‘They’re taking me all the way to the other side.’ Urich’s heart was beating out of his chest. His lips were twitching from the fear and excitement.

“Is that where your world is? Over these mountains?” Urich asked the men, but he wasn’t understood, anyway. Instead, he was met with the cold glare of Fordgal and his men as they marched on in silence.

* * *

Urich now understood exactly why the warriors of his tribe couldn’t get over the Sky Mountains.

Click, Click, Click.

The significant drop in the temperature as they climbed the altitude made his teeth chatter.

‘This is way too damn cold, god dammit!’

The mountain was so cold that it felt as if even sound itself could freeze, and it was only getting worse as the men continued the ascent.

Woosh~

The sweeping frosty wind made Urich shiver vigorously as his exhausted breath left his mouth with a trail of steam. Urich was from the plains and forests where the cold was never an issue. The climate was warm enough to roam around comfortably with very few clothes.

“Haha, look at this barbarian! He can’t handle the cold at all!”

“Look how pale he is! How is he not going to freeze to death before we make it back?”

The men dressed Urich with multiple layers of cotton apparel, which he had never seen before. They also looked after his wounds every day and made sure he was healthy throughout the journey.

“This barbarian must be kept alive until we deliver him to His Majesty.” Fordgal constantly demanded of his men.

Fordgal’s men were in the land beyond their side of the mountains, and they had even discovered its inhabitants.

“Sky Mountains,” Fordgal said in awe.

The majestic display of the mountains that seemed as if they were the solid foundation of the sky instilled admiration in whoever laid eyes on them. With this admiration, people gave these mountains the name Sky Mountains. The Fordgal expedition team underwent a ten-year preparation period to climb these mountains. Through several trial and error, they were able to overcome all obstacles and reach the other side. Their discovery of a new land and the barbarians were the precious fruit of their labor.

‘This land, these people, they are worth conquering.’

Fordgal took in a small breath of the frosty mountain air. The chill soon diffused inside his lungs.

“Blargh!”

Urich vomited as he uncontrollably thrust forward. The men snickered as if they had been expecting it.

“Look at you, you barbarian! That’s mountain sickness for you.”

The same wasn’t an issue for Fordgal and his expedition team. They had already spent months practically living in the mountains to gradually acclimatize themselves to the high altitudes. Urich did not know of such sickness and thus believed that the decline in his condition was solely caused by the wounds.

‘This is only getting worse. I have to get out of here before it’s too late.’

Urich’s extraordinary resilience was the only thing that kept him moving without collapsing. He continued to squirm his hands to prevent them from freezing. ‘I gotta keep my hands moving. I have to keep them warm.’

Urich felt the sharpness of his judgment declining rapidly. Along with his weakened mental strength, he noticed that even the small steps felt as strenuous as a full sprint. His surroundings became more and more blurry as if he was lost in a fever dream. These were all signs of mountain sickness caused by a decline in his blood oxygen saturation.

Huff... huff...

Urich was on the verge of going insane from the intense cold and the non-stopping dizziness and nausea, but he stayed patient. He was using all of his remaining energy to keep all his senses alert.

“My god, we made it! Through this goddamn blizzard!” the expedition member who was leading the line exclaimed with relief. The team had finally reached a rare flatland where they had set up camp before.

“What a view this is.” The men remarked in awe as they stared at the endless green plains and forests below them.

“Come on, we have to set up our camp before sundown.”

The men got busy setting up their camp for the night and momentarily lowered their guard against Urich. The ropes securing Urich’s hands and neck were held only by two men.

Urich assessed his surroundings with a quick move of his eyes. He noted the movement patterns of all the men in his vicinity.

“You made a mistake,” Urich said to the explorers. They couldn’t understand him. “You think you can hold me down with these flimsy ropes?”

Urich forcefully contracted every muscle in his arms to the point that his veins engorged on his face. The ropes around his hands snapped like mere strings. The magnitude of his strength was beyond the level known to these men.

Snap.

“Woah, hey! Pull! Pull on his leash!”

Urich secured some room between the rope and his neck by sticking his fingers in between them. He knew that if he let these men tighten the rope around his neck, he would pass out from the loss of blood flow to his brain.

“Hmph!”

Urich used his strong torso to bend forward. The man who was holding the rope around his neck was dragged down powerlessly.

“Here’s something you can brag about in the underworld. You were killed by the hands of Urich, warrior of the Stone Axe tribe!”

Urich placed the helpless man’s head between his knee and elbow, before driving his elbow into the man’s head.

Crunch!

The man’s head exploded like a watermelon. The cold mountain air froze his brain fluid the moment it touched the ground, and Urich was surrounded by the steam coming off the warm blood.

“The barbarian got free!”

The other men dropped what they were doing and quickly fell in to surround Urich. Urich pulled out a sword from the belt of the man he had killed just moments ago.

Cling!

The sword was drawn smoothly thanks to the blade being greased with oil that was resistant to even the harsh mountain conditions.

“What an impressive sword, forged with impressive metal.” As soon as he held the sword, Urich was amazed by how well-balanced it was. He realized that the people beyond the mountains were much more advanced in metal manipulation.

Woosh—

The blizzard showed no signs of stopping. Urich swung his sword at the helpless explorers, slaying them one by one. Most of these men didn’t possess nearly enough combat experience to protect themselves against Urich’s ruthless swipes.

Even though Urich was fatigued and ill, he was still a warrior with unparalleled skill and experience. Anyone who didn’t devote their entire lives to fighting didn’t stand a chance against him.

Slash.

Five men were slain by his sword in the blink of an eye. Before the blood could freeze, Urich wiped it off the blade with his sleeve. No matter how good a sword was, it would be rendered useless if blood clotted or froze over its blade.

“How did he get out of the ropes? Did he snap them off with just his strength? Well, I guess there’s no point in asking him since he doesn’t speak our language.” Fordgal mumbled to himself as he emerged from the snow. He had gone out to collect firewood for the camp. When he heard the screams of his expedition team, he rushed back to the scene of the incident.

Cling.

Fordgal drew his sword and lifted his shield. However, he no longer had the advantage of a full plate armor that helped him in his initial battle against Urich.

“My name is Urich. Urich of the Stone Axe tribe.” Urich emphasized his name as he raised his sword. The message got through to Fordgal.

“Even if you’re just a feeble barbarian, ‘Urich,’ I’m sure a warrior of your caliber understands honor. I am Fordgal Arten, the empire knight!’”

Fordgal expressed a sign of respect by crossing his sword and shield. The blizzard was growing to the point where it was difficult to stand still without losing balance. The bodies of the fallen explorers were getting buried underneath the pelting snow.

“I know your name now, Fordgal Arten,” Urich said to Fordgal as he stumbled toward the latter. He had no intention of dragging this fight on as he was losing strength every second.

‘You can’t defeat me, Fordgal,’ Urich murmured like a ghost as he wound up his arm. His sword tip penetrated the sliver of a gap that he spotted on Fordgal’s shield.

“Keugh!” Fordgal extended his shield in an attempt to parry the sword.

‘You foolish barbarian. You are not getting through my shield. Once I’ve broken your stance with my shield, it’s over for you!’

Fordgal assumed that shields were not a common encounter for the barbarians, and he was correct. To Urich’s people, shields were something used to protect them from arrows. They were not favored at all during close combats like this. But using a sword and shield in close combat was like bread and butter for knights like Fordgal. Ever since he was a young apprentice, he had poured his blood, sweat, and tears into mastering many different skills and moves that he was recalling at this moment.

“Huh?” Fordgal let out a dumbfounded expression. He wasn’t feeling the force of the sword striking his shield as he expected. Urich had ditched the sword and was pouncing into Fordgal’s side with a wound-up fist.

Thud!

Urich buried his boulder-like fist recklessly into Fordgal’s face. Fordgal felt the impact of the punch reverberate all the way up to his head through the tense muscles.

Crunch.

Urich grabbed Fordgal’s hands and crushed his fingers. Fordgal was no longer able to wield his sword.

“Argh!”

Urich’s beast-like grip left Fordgal in disbelief. He couldn’t believe that Urich was a human, just like himself, as his helpless fingers crumpled up like twigs. His hand was in no shape to hold a sword, let alone fight with one.

Fordgal used his remaining hand with the shield to push Urich off of himself.

Thud.

Even when momentarily repelled, Urich kept his brown eyes locked in on Fordgal. He picked up the sword that he dropped and swung it low.

“Keugh!” Fordgal screamed as crimson red blood spouted from his ankle. Urich had slashed him straight through his leather boots.

“What an impressive sword,” Urich muttered as he stood over his defeated opponent. The battle was over.

“You fought well, Fordgal Arten.” With these words, Urich diffused his smoldering hatred and rage.

Schluck.

Urich struck down and buried his sword into Fordgal’s chest. He did so with reverence.

“Your skills weren’t half bad, but your blade lacked the bloodlust. That’s what set us apart,” Urich said to his lifeless enemy. Fordgal’s sword-wielding lacked the sweet, metallic smell of the battleground blood. It had taken the lives of only a few enemies. This gave Urich the certainty of victory.

Fordgal was a skillful knight. However, compared to Urich, he significantly lacked real combat experience. A bloodless sword like his was a child’s play to Urich. A warrior grew stronger with each additional enemy slain. To become a strong warrior, one must stand tall on top of a mountain of their enemies’ corpses. Although Urich was much younger than Fordgal, he had already built a bigger mountain than Fordgal ever could.

“I’m dizzy,” Urich sighed as he rested his tired body against a tree. The rigorous battle from a moment ago aggravated the symptoms of his mountain sickness.

“Blech.” Urich had nothing left to vomit. It looked as if all that was left of his face was just skin and bones.

“Sky Mountains,” Urich muttered to himself as he pointed above.

“Motherland,” he muttered again as he pointed below—to his home.

“Over there is the land beyond the mountains,” he muttered one last time as he pointed to the other side of the mountain.

‘The mysterious world.’

Thump, thump.

Urich’s heart was racing. He hoisted himself up from the tree and cut his long flowing locks with his newly acquired sword.

Woosh.

He released his hair into the blizzard and watched as they flurried toward the land of his home. Urich was just a sixteen-year-old warrior from the Stone Axe tribe. He wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was the mountain sickness messing with his head, the childishness of youth, or the natural curiosity of man—but he walked. Toward the foreign land, with his back turned against his home.