“Ha… What an interesting thing to say.”
Igrun laughed heartily, clearly intrigued.
He had never expected to hear the Northern Language here.
Tinder Mot.
Translated, it meant, Meet me at the summit.
In the North, it was a phrase used to issue a challenge to a duel.
Amid the endless mountain ranges of the North stood a peak known as the Sanctuary of Duels.
It was called that because the peak served as a dueling ground.
Northern warriors often went there to converse through their weapons.
Igrun had frequently witnessed such scenes when he stayed in the North long ago.
Great Warrior, chieftain, slave.
Anyone could issue a challenge.
A duel had to be fought bare-chested, with nothing but one’s weapon in hand.
It meant that the outcome would be decided solely through the strength of the body and the weapon.
“Do you fully understand what those words you just spoke mean?”
“I do.”
Although the dawn air was quite cold, Rodos stood without so much as a shiver.
He knew very well.
Rodos had invoked Tinder Mot because he needed to sharpen his combat instincts for the battle one month from now.
Fighting spirit burned in Rodos’s eyes.
They were unmistakably the eyes of a warrior.
A Northern warrior fought every battle with everything he had, giving his utmost until the very end.
“We fight until one of us dies or surrenders. The victor may do as he pleases with the defeated. That is the Northern way.”
“Hahahaha.”
Igrun laughed.
This truly was an amusing turn of events.
The youngest son of a prestigious magic family had suddenly challenged him to a fight according to Northern customs.
In the thirty-five years Igrun had wielded a sword, few things had caught him this far off guard.
And yet, he found himself eager to cross weapons with the Young Master.
“Do you intend to refuse?”
Anyone who received a challenge had to accept the duel within three days.
To refuse meant declaring that one would never again take up a weapon as a warrior.
It was an immense humiliation, so almost no warrior ever refused.
‘He is serious.’
“That is not my intention. But are you truly certain about this?”
“Would it not be enough to cross weapons and find out?”
Rodos did not waste words.
Crossing weapons was the true language of warriors.
“Hahaha.”
Igrun laughed in disbelief.
It was something Northern warriors often said.
The more he thought about it, the harder it became to shake the feeling that Rodos was a Northern warrior himself.
“In that case.”
He had not come here intending to fight, but no swordsman would turn down such an interesting opportunity.
There was no harm in it.
He had also wanted to fight someone using Northern martial techniques again after so long.
“Very well. I will teach you a lesson.”
Igrun and Rodos moved to the center of the training grounds.
The sun was just beginning to rise.
It was a fine time to warm up with a spar.
“If I remember correctly, in the North, the one who receives the challenge has the right to decide the terms of the duel.”
“That is correct.”
Rodos nodded.
The terms of the duel were in Igrun’s hands.
As the challenger, that naturally put Rodos at a disadvantage.
But if he concerned himself with nothing but favorable conditions, he would never reach greater heights.
“Then if you manage to leave even a single scratch on my body, I will consider it your victory. I will not use aura either. That should make the fight both fair and entertaining.”
“As you wish.”
Rodos did not object.
He understood the situation perfectly well.
The objective difference between himself and Igrun was undeniable.
There was no reason for his pride to be wounded.
He was not the strong one here.
He was the weak one.
Rather than wasting time protecting his pride, he needed to experience as much real combat as possible and awaken his instincts.
“Let us fight in the Northern way.”
Igrun drove his sword into the ground and removed his gambeson.
His body was covered in scars from cuts and punctures, yet despite his middle age, his physique was powerfully muscular.
‘This is exciting.’
Rodos exhaled slowly.
His heart pounded.
Not out of fear.
He was exhilarated by the prospect of fighting a new and powerful opponent.
Simply being able to cross weapons with someone strong filled him with almost uncontrollable delight.
Had he not stepped down as Great Warrior in the past because he wanted to become even stronger?
Rodos tightened his grip around the two tomahawks and recalled his goal.
‘To reach a realm even higher than I did in the past.’
The strength he had possessed as Great Warrior would not be enough to accomplish that.
He needed far more.
Different forms of swordsmanship, martial arts, training methods, aura techniques, methods of manipulating aether, and more.
There had to be countless forms of power in the world, along with countless ways to obtain them.
In his previous life, Rodos had been unable to travel anywhere because of his duty to protect the North.
‘I want the power I could not obtain in the past.’
As he trained to reach greater heights, he intended to discover those powers as well.
There were also things he needed to find.
Back when Rodos had been the Great Warrior, Marcos had visited the North.
After his departure, the treasures guarded by the various Northern tribes had disappeared.
Considering the circumstances, there was little doubt that Marcos had taken them.
If so, they were probably stored somewhere within the family estate.
But the family had rules.
Without the Head of the House’s permission, no one could freely enter even the facilities within the estate, much less leave the grounds.
Naturally, there were many places Rodos was forbidden to enter.
The warehouse was one of them.
That was the rule of the family.
Those without ability could do nothing.
‘I must win that battle.’
That was why he absolutely had to defeat Harka.
If he wanted to obtain what he desired from Marcos.
***
Igrun stood some distance away from Rodos.
He held his sword casually, yet there was not a single opening in his stance.
“Let us begin the duel.”
Rodos lowered his body and assumed a combat stance.
Tension settled over the training grounds as the sun began to rise.
Roughly twenty paces separated them.
Far, depending on how one looked at it.
Close, depending on how one looked at it.
“Then let us see what you can do, Young Master.”
The moment Igrun finished speaking, he charged.
It happened in the blink of an eye.
Unlike his earlier nonchalant attitude, his expression became deadly serious the instant the fight began.
Before Rodos knew it, the tip of Igrun’s sword was already approaching his waist.
Rodos did not evade.
He took the slash head-on.
The blade cut into his side, but both of his axes continued hurtling fiercely toward Igrun.
CLANG!
Igrun swiftly pulled his sword back and blocked Rodos’s tomahawks.
“What will you do if I attack like this?”
He immediately thrust his sword forward.
This time, the tip was aimed at Rodos’s chest.
If Rodos failed to stop it, the wound could prove fatal.
Rodos twisted his body.
His movement was astonishingly flexible for someone with such a solid, muscular physique.
His body bent dynamically, and the sword sliced through empty air above him.
Rodos then used the recoil of his bent body to surge forward.
The axes in his hands swept along two different trajectories.
The attack was fluid, yet vicious.
CLANG!
Igrun blocked both axes with a single swing of his sword.
His movements remained remarkably relaxed.
Rodos responded by unleashing a relentless barrage.
When Igrun raised his sword to block one axe, Rodos immediately swung the other toward the resulting opening.
“A fine target.”
Igrun twisted his sword and knocked the first axe aside, then struck the second axe upward as it approached.
He did not stop there.
He immediately gripped his sword with both hands and delivered a powerful slash.
Rodos threw himself forward.
As though he did not care if he was cut, he abandoned defense and swung both tomahawks.
All he had to do was bring down his opponent before he himself fell.
“Ha.”
Igrun halted his own attack and knocked Rodos’s axes aside.
He had not expected Rodos to charge straight in instead of retreating.
BANG!
With a tremendous impact, the tomahawk flew from Rodos’s left hand.
But Rodos immediately aimed the remaining weapon at Igrun’s shoulder.
When Igrun stepped back to evade it, Rodos moved swiftly and retrieved the fallen tomahawk.
Despite the tremendous amount of movement in such a short span of time, Rodos showed no sign of exhaustion.
Instead, he was smiling.
He was genuinely enjoying the moment.
“Oh?”
Igrun was impressed.
Rodos’s movements changed endlessly.
It was like watching fickle weather.
They were the movements typical of Northern warriors.
Northern warriors preferred to seize the initiative in battle through their exceptional stamina and powerful physiques.
After all, very few people could overcome the strength and endurance they developed from constantly traversing the harsh mountains.
Rodos did not avoid attacks.
The more wounds appeared across his body, the more fiercely he continued his assault.
It was the fighting style of Northern warriors, whose bodies possessed greater regenerative ability than those of ordinary people.
Unless they suffered a truly fatal wound, they recovered quickly.
Of course, Rodos was not a Northerner, so his wounds did not heal.
Yet his fighting spirit did not falter.
He enjoyed the battle with only one thought in mind.
He merely had to bring down his opponent before he himself collapsed.
In spirit, he was a Northern warrior through and through.
“I acknowledge your determination, but the difference in our skill is obvious.”
The Northern fighting style had its weaknesses as well.
Against opponents of similar strength, it could provide a clear advantage.
But against someone overwhelmingly superior, it was simply reckless.
Just like now.
Igrun’s sword began moving freely, pressuring Rodos.
Every one of his strikes carried tremendous weight.
‘It is as though his sword is dancing.’
The weapon moved freely beyond the simple concepts of cutting and thrusting.
It was a style of swordsmanship Rodos had never seen before.
CLANG!
Rodos’s axe collided with Igrun’s sword, sending sparks flying.
Whenever the sword twisted strangely in search of an opening, Rodos’s two axes moved along the shortest possible path to block it.
‘Now.’
Rodos lowered his head.
The sword swept over him.
He seized the opportunity and swung an axe upward from below.
Igrun shook his head and brought his sword down.
CLANG!
A clear metallic ring echoed through the training grounds.
The sword and two axes locked tightly against one another.
At that moment, Rodos gathered strength from the tips of his feet and began forcing the sword upward.
“You have built your body well.”
Igrun, who had intended to overpower him through brute force, twisted his sword and knocked Rodos away.
Rodos did not miss the opportunity and immediately lunged forward.
Their weapons collided again.
CLANG!
One exchange.
Then two.
Each time their weapons clashed, Rodos was forced back little by little.
Yet his smile only grew brighter, as though the struggle filled him with even greater exhilaration.
They exchanged more than ten precariously close blows, each attack narrowly missing its mark.
‘Oh?’
Igrun was genuinely impressed.
Even though he was using only a fraction of his strength, few full-fledged knights in the Order could exchange more than ten blows with him.
‘This is becoming enjoyable.’
Igrun was several moves ahead of Rodos.
Naturally so.
He was a warrior who had reached the Highest-Tier Expert level.
Rodos, on the other hand, had not yet reached the point where his body and axes moved as one.
That disparity in skill only made Rodos enjoy himself more.
With every clash of weapons, he could feel himself growing stronger.
“You have talent, Young Master. Talent that no one else could hope to imitate.”
Igrun praised him sincerely and rewarded that talent with even fiercer attacks.
Driven all the way to the corner of the training grounds, Rodos had nowhere left to retreat.
“You may stop now if you wish. I will forget about our wager.”
Rodos was smiling.
He loved this moment too much.
A form of swordsmanship he had never known was unfolding before his eyes, and a skilled wielder of that swordsmanship had driven him into a corner.
It felt as though he were standing at the edge of a cliff.
‘This is exhilarating.’
Rodos lived for battle.
It was in moments like this that he felt truly alive.
Combat instincts became clearest when one was driven to the brink.
Of course, he did not roar like some of the other Northern warriors.
Rodos merely met Igrun’s attacks with fighting spirit blazing in his eyes and counterattacked whenever he could.
“!”
Igrun sensed something unusual.
Even while placed in an overwhelmingly unfavorable position, Rodos continued fighting exactly as a Northern warrior would.
‘His talent is undeniable.’
Rodos was growing even in the middle of the fight.
To be able to visibly improve during battle itself—
Rodos was a natural-born warrior.
Igrun smiled.
This was how a fight became enjoyable.
It seemed safe to raise the level a little more.
His sword began to dance.
As though his movements until now had been nothing at all, the blade carved beautiful curves through the air as it slashed toward Rodos.
Rodos could not endure for long.
His body was already covered in cuts and blood, and considerable pain assaulted him from every direction.
Yet his eyes remained wide open as he focused with absolute concentration.
‘Only those who endure pain can seize opportunity.’
Recalling a Northern proverb, Rodos began drawing in aether.
Perhaps because his body had been driven to its limits, the aether gathered far more quickly than before.
Igrun charged forward, slashed past Rodos, and continued beyond him.
At that instant—
Rodos also surged toward Igrun and swept past him, swinging an axe that shone pure white.
WHOOSH!
Dust billowed between the two as they crossed.