Chapter 130

Chapter 130
Chapter 130
“How could you!”

A fuming Gormsen lunged forward. It was a reckless move, spurred by the surge of fury clouding his judgment.

Felicia jerked her gaze toward him. “Are you volunteering next?”

Gormsen recoiled at her freezing stare. He understood in his gut that if he drew a blade right then, his life would end. Though he felt a sting of embarrassment at his own fear, he refused to back down. He bellowed at the crowd.

“How could you dare to employ magic during a Divine Duel!”

“Magic?”

“Chieftain! You must punish this woman and her master immediately for treading upon the sanctity of our duel! Please, pass your judgment!”

Felicia cocked her head, appearing genuinely puzzled. Magic? How could she have cast magic when she possessed no understanding of its inner workings?

Yet, the gathered tribespeople began to murmur in agreement, finding Gormsen’s accusation plausible.

“Magic! Of course, it was magic!”

“I knew it. Nothing else explains how she did that…”

“I sensed something was off, and now it makes sense.”

“Quiet.”

The moment Ivar spoke, the chatter died away. In the heavy stillness that followed, Ivar fixed his eyes on Felicia and addressed her.

“Woman, what is your defense?”

“Defense?”

“You have insulted a warrior by resorting to magic in a Divine Duel. This is a severe transgression. Neither you nor your master shall go unpunished.”

Felicia offered no verbal reply. Instead, a peculiar grin touched her lips as she gripped her sword.

Just as Ivar’s expression darkened, bracing for whatever spell she might unleash, a flickering sapphire glow began to coat Felicia’s steel.

“G-Great heavens! It is the Dragon’s Blessing!”

“Look at that radiance!”

The tribespeople let out gasps of amazement as the mana took physical form. Even a formidable warrior could usually only muster a dull glimmer, but this woman was emitting a blinding light.

But Felicia was not finished. She began to pull forth even more mana.

Wooooong—

“W-Wait… it is expanding?”

“What are we looking at? Is this a trick of the eye?”

It wasn’t just the commoners; even the seasoned warriors rubbed their eyes in disbelief. They understood the concept of mana, but they lacked the skill to refine it. At most, they could use it to bolster their physical strength or release a raw burst.

Witnessing the ‘manipulation of materialized mana’ for the first time sent a shockwave through their ranks.

“Magic, you called it?”

Whoosh—

Whispering the words, Felicia lashed out with her blade. In an instant, the mana surging from the steel cut through the air. It carried a lethal sharpness that felt capable of shearing through bone and marrow effortlessly.

Only then did the spectators grasp the reality of what they had seen earlier.

“Does this truly look like magic to you?”

“….”

“….”

The warriors bowed their heads, struck dumb. Their silence was a mixture of reverence for a level of skill they had never imagined and shame for their own ignorance.

Gormsen, the one who had shouted the loudest about magic, felt his legs give way and collapsed onto the dirt.

Yet, no one was more shaken than Chieftain Ivar.

Curse it. Of all the possible outcomes…

Had Gormsen been the only one to point the finger at Felicia, it wouldn’t have been a disaster. Ivar could have claimed he was merely waiting to see her response.

But Gormsen had demanded Ivar’s support, and Ivar had joined the pursuit to corner her. Now, it was blatantly obvious that even Ivar—the famed Chieftain and most powerful warrior—was outclassed by Felicia.

“Since no one cares to answer, I will ask the Chieftain.”

After surveying the warriors, Felicia directed her focus to Ivar. She questioned him with a faint, mocking twitch of her mouth.

“Is this magic?”

“…No.”

Ivar’s face burned with disgrace, but he was forced to admit the truth. It was undeniably the strength of a warrior, and he couldn’t stubbornly call it magic when the proof was staring everyone in the face.

Satisfied with the answer, Felicia retracted her mana and declared.

“Next.”

The crowd’s attention shifted to the Chieftain’s sons. Under the weight of countless eyes, Einar stepped out.

“I will not fight you.”

“What is the meaning of this?”

“I cannot send my men to their graves for the sake of empty pride. You are without a doubt the superior warrior. Please pardon my arrogance for failing to see your worth because I was clouded by bias against your gender.”

With those words, Einar dropped to his knees and pressed his brow to the earth. It was a humbling display, but nobody laughed. The skill Felicia had displayed was so far beyond anything in the history of the Snowfields that she stood alone.

“I also withdraw. To challenge a warrior whose equal cannot be found in the Snowfields would be nothing more than suicide.”

Brunda knelt beside Einar as well. With the two of them out of the running, only Gormsen remained.

Gormsen, still slumped on the ground, ground his teeth as he felt the eyes of the tribe on him.

If I quit now, my name will be dragged through the mud forever.

His uncle had been slain, and he had publicly branded Felicia’s talent as magic. Unlike his brothers, who could claim they had simply seen the light, Gormsen was fueled by a personal vendetta. If he abandoned his quest for vengeance now, he would be the laughingstock of the Snowfields.

“Rodbrook!”

Refusing to let go of his ego, Gormsen scrambled up and summoned another fighter. The named warrior hesitated for a second but then stepped out with a brave face.

Felicia looked over the man named Rodbrook and asked, “Are you the following challenger?”

“I am.”

“Begin.”

Fwak!

There was no official start from the Chieftain. He simply lunged at Felicia’s command.

If my life is to end, it will end with the dignity of a warrior.

With that final thought, Rodbrook swung his massive sword with everything he had.

Slash!

Before the heavy blade could even strike the earth, Rodbrook was sliced in half from his scalp to his groin. The discarded sword skidded across the ground and vanished into a bank of snow.

Felicia shifted her hand on her hilt—no one had even caught the motion of her strike—and spoke once more.

“Next.”

“Torving!”

Gormsen’s voice was borderline hysterical as he called the third fighter. The warrior looked at his master with a touch of pity before charging valiantly at Felicia.

Just like the one before him, he was dead in a heartbeat.

“Next.”

“Yorvik…!”

Gormsen’s voice cracked as he summoned the fourth man. After the fourth fell, the fifth stepped up; after the fifth, the sixth. Every one of them met their end at Felicia’s hand, unable to disobey their lord’s heartless orders.

By the time the snow was soaked a dark crimson with the blood of the fallen, Gormsen had no one left to command.

“Next.”

“….”

Gormsen stared blankly at the bodies littering the ground. Rollo, Ketil, Floki, Hafdan, Horik. Of all the brothers-in-arms who had survived the Snowfields by his side, not one remained.

Felicia’s voice cut through to Gormsen again, whose spirit felt completely drained.

“Next.”

Gormsen was paralyzed by her relentless demand. The point of this trial was to prove the caliber of one’s followers. Since all his men were dead, he had fundamentally failed.

However, Felicia kept repeating the word as if those rules were irrelevant.

“Next.”

“Stop! The trial is concluded!”

Unable to endure the carnage, Ivar bellowed. It was a stern order for her to cease her actions and step back.

Felicia spared a quick glance at the fuming Ivar before opening her mouth one last time.

“Next.”

“Why, you arrogant…!”

Just as Ivar was about to snap at her for ignoring his command, Gormsen, who had been in a trance, grabbed his own blade and stepped forward.

“Gormsen! What are you doing?!”

“….”

Ivar yelled in horror at his son’s choice, but Gormsen didn’t even blink.

Felicia leveled her sword at Gormsen and asked, “Do you have any final words?”

“None.”

“Begin.”

The moment the words were spoken, Gormsen lunged. He swung his weapon exactly like the men he had sent to their deaths. It was as if he sought the same fate as his followers as a final gesture of regret.

Slash!

“Kegh…!”

As Felicia’s blade bit into Gormsen’s throat, a strangled sound left him. Gormsen tried to hold his neck, but it did nothing to stem the torrent of blood.

Gasping for air, Gormsen looked between Felicia and Lucian before letting out a self-deprecating laugh.

“Heh….”

With a sound like a punctured lung, Gormsen’s body hit the snow. He didn’t die instantly like his men, but his body was left intact.

With Gormsen dead, Felicia walked back to Lucian and knelt, her mission complete.

“Your Highness, I have returned after eliminating the opposition.”

“You did well.”

Lucian offered his praise and personally helped her to her feet. As the tribespeople watched the display in a daze, a deep voice echoed from the rear.

“A foreign ruler shall arrive from beyond the Snowfields. In the year of the changing sun, he shall earn the right to defy the heavens. He is our King, destined to unite this land and lead us toward a future of honor and serenity.”

People turned in shock at the prophecy they knew so well. Marius, who had slipped away earlier, had reappeared and was walking through their midst.

Marius moved through the ranks and knelt before Lucian.

“O King.”

That single phrase changed everything.

A warrior of such impossible skill that no one in the Snowfields could match her, even though she was a woman. How grand and powerful must the master be who commanded such a person?

When the Guide’s prophecy was factored in, it created the vivid impression of a divine light surrounding Lucian.

“O King!”

“King of the Snowfields!”

“Our King!”

Gone was their previous doubt; the tribespeople fell to their knees like falling dominoes, shouting for Lucian. They seemed to have forgotten that this was only the first part of choosing a Chieftain, and that they already had a leader.

Observing this, Ivar turned away and retreated to his tent without officially ending the trial. The crash of his door was lost under the thunderous cheering.

As the crowd continued to celebrate, Lucian’s group followed Marius to his quarters. Marius had stopped Lucian, claiming he had vital information to share.

“He was a miserable soul.”

Marius, having welcomed Lucian inside, let out a heavy sigh. There was no need to clarify who he was talking about.

“Believe it or not, he used to be a man who traveled far and wide dreaming of becoming a legendary warrior. At some point, he grew fond of manipulation. I suppose he became addicted to the ease of getting what he wanted through schemes.”

“Hmm.”

“Still, his men kept faith in him. They believed that even though he had lost his way, he would one day reclaim his honor. In the end, he did. Though it’s a bit late to find your pride after you’ve lost everything.”

Only after hearing Marius did Lucian’s group realize why the warriors had stayed so loyal. They had viewed him as nothing more than a snake, but it seemed he had once been a man of honor.

When Lucian offered no response, Marius pushed on.

“Regardless, that was spectacular. I knew she was the Sword Saint’s pupil, but she exceeded every expectation. You have shattered the logic of the Snowfields. Do you have any idea what the people are calling her now?”

“Old man.”

Lucian interrupted Marius’s rambling in a quiet voice.

“Let’s end this here. I have no further use for you.”