"Waaaaah! Waaaah!"
"Is he crying too much? Is he okay?" The woman, cradling her newborn in trembling arms, looked up in worry. She rocked him gently, trying to soothe his cries.
"Don't worry," the father said. "It's healthy for a baby to cry after birth."
"But… isn't this too much? What if something's wrong?"
"What your husband said is true," the chief replied calmly. "He's crying just like any other newborn. I've seen many births in my time. He's fine." The old man's gaze shifted. "Now, we need to talk about his crest."
The mother hesitated. "…Why is he different? Chief, have you ever seen a baby with two crests before?"
"No," the chief admitted. "This is a first for me. But our records mention it—seven times in total."
"Really? Then he'll be okay, right?" she asked, a flicker of hope in her voice.
The chief's expression darkened. "Don't be so quick to relax. It's not okay. The first child born with two crests was so powerful, she could stand against five nations alone.
The next few were raised by those same nations, hoping to use their strength. But none of them showed loyalty. With two crests, they followed no one.
After that, the five nations made a pact—to kill any child born with double crests, right at birth."
"What!? Chief, no!" the mother cried out, clutching her child tighter. "I won't let you kill my baby!" The father stepped in front of them, shielding them from the chief.
The chief sighed. "Relax. I don't intend to harm him. But listen—he bears the Crest of War and the Crest of Knowledge.
No child has ever been born with these two strongest crests before. He can't stay here. The barbarians will come soon, and the war is far from over."
The mother's tears spilled over as she stared down at her son.
"Then what do we do? Please, Chief… help us. How do we save him?"
"There's only one way," the chief said grimly. "We seal the Crest of Knowledge—and give him to the barbarians. It's the only place he might survive."
---
Why are we afraid of beasts?
Even when we're stronger, even when we're smarter, we still fear them.
Because it's not losing that scares us. It's getting hurt.
When two beasts fight, they don't care if their arms get ripped off, as long as they win, as long as they survive.
But we—we want to survive with all our limbs intact. We don't want to suffer. We don't want pain.
And that's why we lose.
Unless you are a barbarian, like me, Caelen.
Barbarians are the citizens of Barbara, the strongest nation in the world.
We're all powerful. Our crests grant us the mightiest abilities.
Our bodies are built like stone. Tough. Invincible.
Et cetera, et cetera...
That might be true for the others. But I'm different.
For some reason, I'm shorter than everyone else.
At fifteen, every other barbarian stands taller than 180 centimeters. I'm barely 175.
Their grip strength, their stamina, their speed—I fall short in every category, even though I train twice as hard.
But the worst part isn't them.
The worst part... is me.
I'm afraid.
Afraid of getting hurt. Of bleeding. Of breaking.
Even though I'm a barbarian, I'm terrified of losing a limb...
---
"Stop it, Caelen! You don't need to dodge! We'll heal you if you get hurt!" The bulky man—easily two meters tall—shouted from across the training ground.
"I'm sorry, Master."
"Sigh… You even have a shield. No other barbarian uses one. The least you can do is use it properly. And the one-handed sword... It was hard to find one."
"Yes, Master!"
"Then come at me!"
***
"You little brat. You lose because you're scared. How many times do I have to tell you that?"
"Master, hasn't this punishment gone on long enough? You're too heavy, please get off my back..."
"Shut it! You couldn't even scratch me. Another hundred push-ups. You're already fifteen—the test's next month."
"Yes, Master!"
"If the crystal doesn't choose you, you'll be cast aside. You know that, right? You'll be unfit to live among barbarians. The real barbarians."
---
My days are always the same. I train from morning till night.
I'm not the weakest, no. When I fight, I can win... sometimes. But I'm not the strongest either.
The best word for me is… average.
And that's only because I train twice as hard as everyone else. If I didn't, I don't even want to think where I'd be.
That's me. Just avera—
"Caelen! Are you even listening?"
"I am, Dad. Just… ask again, please."
"This kid… Taek told me you fainted again today! A barbarian doesn't faint."
"Yes, Dad."
"The same answer every time…"
Another bulky man, built like a boulder—my father, Ulgaf. A close friend of my master, Taek. That's the only reason Taek is training me at all.
They're both part of the Barbaric Trio.
Even though everyone here is technically a barbarian, the trio is called barbaric because they earned their titles.
People say if the trio entered a battlefield, no one else needed to.
And the third member?
"Stop bugging him. He knows how a barbarian should be."
My mother, Svea. The final member of the Barbaric Trio. Don't think she goes easy on me just because she's my mother.
"That's why he'll double his training tomorrow," she added casually.
"Mom!"
"Hahaha! That's the spirit, Caelen. That's how a barbarian should be!"
"But I'm already training all day. How am I supposed to double it? I'd need another 24 hours!"
"Don't get smart with me! A barbarian doesn't think about how. They just do. If we stopped to figure things out, there'd be no Barbaric Trio!"
"Sigh… Yes, Dad."
---
And, in short, that's all I am. Just average, in a legendary family.
Well, at least I know I'm not their real child.
They never told me the full story, but somehow, that made it easier.
If I were their actual child, just… average like this while they were legendary—it would've been harder to bear.
Now, I'm only sad that they ended up with me. An average barbarian who's afraid of getting hurt.
And yet, they've never treated me like a stranger. They've loved me like their own for as long as I can remember.
But I was about to disappoint them.
---
"Lazlek, come to the stage!" one of the three old men in red vestments shouted.
It's time... The testing begins now.
All the barbarian children aged fifteen were gathered in a large hall.
Well, at least the ones living nearby. It wasn't possible to gather every fifteen-year-old barbarian in one place.
Barbara was the largest nation, so naturally, there were countless children this age.
Lazlek, a barbarian boy around 182 centimeters tall, stepped out from among the others and walked toward the old men.
They were standing before a pedestal. Atop it rested a reddish crystal.
It wasn't perfectly shaped—not at all. It looked more like a fragment, severed from a larger whole.
The crystal was about the size of a child's palm. Not a barbarian child's, of course.
"You may touch it," the old man said.
Lazlek obeyed, already smiling, full of confidence.
That's how a barbarian should be... Caelen thought.
As he touched the stone, the mark on his left hand began to glow.
Then, above the mark, two beams of red light appeared.
"Second stage. Good job," the old man said, motioning Lazlek to join the others.
The audience—mostly the children's families—nodded in approval. His result was solid.
The test itself was simple. The mark on the back of a barbarian's left hand was called the Crest of War.
It looked like a trident and was the source of a barbarian's power.
These crests grew stronger the more their owners trained.
The crystal measured the strength of that crest. It glowed red, which meant it only worked on barbarians.
Not that there were any non-barbarians here anyway...
"Are you scared, Caelen?" a boy nearby asked.
He was tall—taller than all the other children—standing at 185 centimeters.
And clearly, he wasn't concerned for Caelen.
"If you're scared, I can go find you a shield," he smirked.
"What do you want, Ral?" Caelen asked, annoyed.
"Nothing. I just want you to watch closely and see what a real barbarian looks like. After that, I'll make sure Master Taek ditches you and chooses me instead."
Taek, one of the legendary trio, was highly sought after—just like Caelen's parents. But none of the trio had ever taken on a student besides Caelen.
Naturally, some people weren't too happy about that. After all, Caelen was weak. Still, he was a barbarian.
"Shut it, Ral. No one would train someone like you."
"We'll see," Ral said, stepping forward before his name was even called.
The old man glanced at him, then down at the paper in his hand."Are you Ral?"
Ral nodded, prompting the old man to smile.
His foresight is already awakened at this age... he thought.
Excitement stirred in the hall. The old men and the audience—all barbarians—watched with keen interest after seeing Ral's foresight.
Ral placed his hand on the crystal. His crest glowed as expected...
But then, four beams of red light shot upward.
The hall erupted in whispers.
"Fourth stage? Seriously?"
"At this age? That's unheard of."
"Has there ever been a fourth before?"
"Only once. The great general Preill was rumored to have four."
"This kid's going to rise fast. He'll get a high rank for sure."
The audience murmured until the old man raised his hand to silence them.
"Ral, right? Looks like you've worked hard." He nodded, and Ral went to join the others who had finished the test.
Not without shooting one last smirk at Caelen.
***
More children were tested.
Most showed two beams. Occasionally, three. Rarely, just one.
But even one was enough. They were still children—what mattered was passing. They could train and grow from there.
"Caelen, please step forward."
The room fell silent.
Everyone knew the name. Caelen—the luckiest barbarian of all.
Son of two legendary figures. Student of a third.
Caelen walked toward the pedestal.
The old man looked him over. "Are you scared?"
The most humiliating question one could ask a barbarian. But he didn't ask to embarrass Caelen.
He asked because Caelen was visibly shaking.
"No way. I'm just excited," Caelen lied through his teeth.
Of course he was scared. Especially after what Ral had just done.
"Good! That's what I expected." Even the old man assumed Caelen would perform well.
At least three beams, surely.
After all, no one expected to see four beams twice in a single day.
Caelen reached out and touched the crystal.
He felt something enter his hand—something like energy.
It flowed toward the crest on his left hand. The mark began to glow.
And then... it stopped.
The light faded before anything happened.