As it turned out, after watching geniuses fight so much, suddenly watching a bunch of noobs peck at each other was actually quite refreshing.
At least Lynn was watching with great interest at the moment.
A toothless snow-maned bear so old it looked like it wouldn't last a week VS Lagut's lackey foursome.
Who was the challenger here, exactly?
Lagut waved his gold-and-silver-inlaid sword, standing in the safest spot directly at the rear, at least ten meters away, as he shouted grandiose orders at the old bear.
“Go! Get it! It's almost dead! Whoever stabs it first, this young master will reward you twenty gold coins!”
The weak lackeys in front of him exchanged looks. Looking at the old bear that could barely even wobble, they actually took a step back in unison.
“You useless trash!” Lagut stamped his feet in anger, his freckles bunching together. “So many of you can't even take down a bear that's about to die of old age? What am I even paying you for? Go! Whoever doesn't go can forget about their salary for the next three months!”
Spurred by the double stimulation of financial incentive and having their pay docked, the lackeys finally mustered their courage and charged forward with loud yells.
The scene was extremely chaotic for a moment. Spears thrusting into the bear's hide was like poking old tree bark, leaving only a few white marks. Swords did splash a bit of blood, but the tips only sank in less than two inches before getting stuck.
Feeling the pain, the old bear slowly swiped its paw, instantly sending an unfortunate fellow who got too close flying. He crashed into a tree and fell into a snowdrift, his two legs sticking out and kicking for a long time before he managed to crawl out.
This “intense” battle lasted for a full quarter of an hour. Lagut's side, relying on numerical superiority and at the cost of everyone getting wounded, finally gradually gained the upper hand.
The old bear's movements grew slower and slower, its claw swipes weaker and weaker, and the white breath it exhaled thinner and thinner. Seven or eight wounds of varying depths now marked its back, its fur soaked in blood that froze into dark red icicles in the cold wind. Yet, it refused to fall.
“It's almost done for! The final blow! Whoever lands the final blow gets fifty gold coins!” Lagut's voice cracked, clearly excited to the absolute limit.
The lackeys looked at each other and raised their weapons at the same time.
Just then, a gentle breeze suddenly blew from behind everyone.
Everyone's movements froze, and they subconsciously turned to look where the wind came from. Then, they saw a blonde youth leisurely walking out from behind a boulder, his left hand casually tucked into his pocket, his right hand dragging a silver longsword.
The tip of the sword drew a shallow furrow in the snow, making a soft rustling sound.
His posture did not look like he was on a battlefield, but rather taking a stroll in his own backyard.
“Thank you for your hard work, everyone,” Lynn said with a bright, sunny smile, his tone so cheerful it was as if he were greeting old friends. “I'll take it from here.”
Lagut's face instantly darkened.
“Lynn... Lynn...”
“Lynn von Reinhardt,” Lynn helpfully completed it for him. As he walked past Lagut, he reached out and patted his shoulder. The force was very light, but Lagut shuddered all over. “We had a very pleasant 'chat' at the banquet not long ago, didn't we?”
He walked past the stunned lackeys, brushed past the mage who was so frightened he had dropped his wand, and finally stopped in front of the old bear.
The old bear looked up in relief. With only its last breath remaining, it actively nudged its head toward Lynn's sword.
I understand you, Uncle Bear.
Dying at the hands of these noobs would be as humiliating as being killed by an opponent wearing pink bunny slippers.
Let me put you out of your misery!
Under Lagut's furious glare, Lynn cleanly and decisively ended the old bear with a single slash.
Perhaps it was good luck, but a magic crystal happened to fly out from the wound. Lynn caught it deftly and casually pressed it against his magical artifact.
【Victory Points +20】
He looked down at the numbers ticking up on his wrist and nodded in satisfaction. “It might be old, but the victory points aren't discounted.”
Then he turned around, as if only just noticing the group of petrified people standing behind him, and put on a perfectly timed look of surprise. “Oh, you're still here?”
Lagut's lips trembled for a full five seconds before he suddenly burst into a screeching, voice-cracking roar, “Lynn!!! That was my bear!!”
“Yours?” Lynn tilted his head, a look of genuine confusion on his face. “If you call its name, will it answer you?” He glanced down at the victory points log on his magical artifact, the corners of his mouth curving slightly upward. “My magical artifact says they're my victory points. Did yours tick up?”
Lagut subconsciously looked down at his own magical artifact—his victory points remained completely unmoved.
“You... you stole my kill!” Lagut was so angry his fat shook all over. “We fought for a full quarter of an hour! A quarter of an hour! Do you know how much effort we put into baiting this bear out of its cave? We blew smoke, beat gongs, and threw rocks at the entrance, messing around for nearly two shichen! Two shichen! We finally wore it down until it was almost dead, and you just came up and did one strike, one strike!”
“Two shichen? Just to bait this one old bear?” Lynn swept his gaze up and down the fat youth, his expression highly subtle. “Two shichen is enough for me to clear out three nests. Your efficiency is, how should I put it... very patient.”
【Emotion Points +20】
Heaven have mercy, even a trash card like Lagut, who only had useless white traits, yielded 20 Emotion Points. One could only imagine how furious he was.
Before Lagut could open his mouth to say anything else, Lynn waved his hand impatiently. “Scram.”
Lagut was still frozen in place, but his lackeys reacted as if they had received a grand pardon. They took a step back in unison, shielded Lagut in front of them, and then dragged him along as they bolted.
...
Ignoring Lagut's irrational roars and screams, the lackeys carried him on their shoulders and scurried away.
What a joke. Sure, they were Lagut's subordinates, but provoking the future young master of the North for his sake?
No way. They still wanted to live a few more years.
Lagut was carried away like a dead man, his face ash-gray. Who knew which lackey played a petty trick, but when they finally set him down, he faceplanted hard into the snow.
He curled into a ball, his fingernails digging deep into the frozen soil, his breathing heavy and erratic.
“Lynn... Lynn...”
He muttered the name. Over and over. His raspy growls sounded somewhat low, his entire fat face twisted in a grimace.
It's all because of you, because of you...!
‘Once the competition is over, you will no longer be a member of the family. There will be no place for you in the North.’
He recalled how, after that humiliation, the family head had calmly pronounced his fate while looking at him like a piece of trash.
Why? Why did they treat me like that?
I only exercised my noble honor, I only did it to a mere commoner...
“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!!!”
Lagut clenched his fists and buried his head deep in the snow. No one could see the black mist gradually spreading behind him, nor the increasingly terrified eyes of his lackeys.
Humiliation and anger fermented into agony over time.
In his chaotic consciousness, he could vaguely hear faint, startled screams.
“W-What... what is that?” a lackey's drawn-out, trembling voice whimpered.
“He's crazy... He's gone mad!”
“Spare... spare me...” Panicked cries rose one after another.
“So noisy—”
Lagut wanted to bark in irritation, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he froze.
Because the voice that came out was a hoarse tone that absolutely did not belong to him.
The snow melted into puddles under the intense heat. Through the reflection in a puddle, he met a pair of playful, pitch-black vertical pupils.
“!?”
“My, my... have you finally noticed?”
“Thanks to your intense hatred and strong negative emotions, I was able to slip in so easily...”
“But you really are slow... Is this all that's left of the North these days?”
Who! Who is it?
He tried his best to roar, but his lips opened and closed uncontrollably, uttering that unfamiliar, hoarse voice.
The owner of the voice seemed somewhat disappointed.
“What a truly unappetizing piece of trash...”
“There is no need to panic, no need to fear...”
The hoarse voice gradually rose, carrying a seductive, beguiling tone.
“Merge with me. After all—we have the same goal, don't we?”
G... Goal?
“Ah, yes.”
The corners of his mouth curled upward, splitting all the way to his forehead, twisting his comical fat face into a horrific grimace.
A black spot forming between his eyebrows outlined a faint character for “Seven.”
“I will help you kill—”
“Lynn von Reinhardt.”
After that, the snowfield returned to silence.
“Crunch... Crunch...”
Only the hair-raising, gluttonous sound of chewing echoed.
Rate on N.U.
