"One, two, one, two."
"Power to your elbow, Caelen."
"Thanks, Raudr! One, two, one, two."
Farming is the best...
Caelen was taller now. And broader. But still smaller than the others his age.
185 centimeters at eighteen? Not nearly enough for a barbarian.
Well, it didn't matter. He wasn't a barbarian anymore. Not really.
He was a farmer now. Sent off to one of the villages in Barbara.
It had been three years.
When he touched the crystal three years ago, nothing happened.
There were only two reasons that could happen.
One—if someone wasn't a barbarian. But that was impossible.
His Crest of War had glowed faintly, just for a moment, before going dark.
And the second reason... was no talent at all.
That wasn't failing.
When Master Taek had told him he needed to pass to be with real barbarians, what he meant was that Caelen needed three beams.
One or two? That was already considered a failure.
But no beams? That was unthinkable.
The crystal didn't just measure current power. It measured potential.
One beam meant minimal potential. Two meant there was a chance to grow.
Only those who showed at least three beams were called true warriors.
Sure, a one- or two-beam barbarian could still grow—reach three, four, even more—but it would take time, and the path would be slow.
I'd be fine with one beam... even half a beam...
They measured him once a year after that. The result never changed.
So Caelen worked as a farmer. A humiliating job—but one he had to accept.
In Barbara, only soldiers held real pride.
Everyone else... it depended.
Some farmers were retired soldiers, proud men who had either earned enough glory to step away or who had been wounded in battle.
They still held their heads high.
But war slaves, cowards who gave up after a one-beam result, or those who couldn't fight for other reasons—they worked the fields without pride.
Caelen had to leave his home. His family lived in an area reserved for high-ranking barbarian warriors.
In three years, he had seen them only once.
He could have seen them more, but he didn't want to.
No matter what, Caelen was a barbarian. And a barbarian had pride.
He couldn't face his parents. Or his master.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Ah, old man, don't sneak up on me like that."
"Hehe! You shouldn't be daydreaming while working," the old man said, pointing behind Caelen.
Caelen turned and saw that the dirt he'd hoed wasn't deep enough.
He sighed and walked back to where he'd last done it properly, starting again from there.
"Still thinking about home?"
"Home? Barbarians don't have such things. The battlefield is our home."
"Young man, don't lie. That's not your thought. That's just what they taught you."
"What does it matter? I'm here now. This is my battlefield."
"I see. Then this is your home."
Of course you'd say that... You were a great warrior once.
Caelen kept the thought to himself. He would never say it out loud.
"Well, no matter. Will you come train with me tonight?" the old man asked.
"Can I?"
"Why not? You come every day."
"Well, it never changes anything. But yeah, I'll come."
Even now, Caelen never stopped training. Not once.
It was in his blood. Or maybe just in his crest.
He was a barbarian. Training felt right.
It didn't change anything. He never saw results. But sparring with the old man was still fun.
Not that he was just an old man.
Once a great warrior, he still had skill.
And since he wasn't disabled, he fought almost as well as Caelen's old Master, Taek.
"Then I'll see you after dinner," the old man said, walking away.
---
Caelen swung the sword through the air twice. A real sword. Barbarians didn't train with wood.
After a full day of using farming tools, he had to readjust to the weight.
In the past three years, he hadn't touched a shield once—but he still used a one-handed sword, unlike most barbarians.
They typically fought with massive two-handed blades. Of course, in a barbarian's hands, even those heavy swords looked like light zweihänders.
The old man, being a true barbarian, carried one of them.
"You ready? Today, I'll use only one hand."
"Old man, don't regret that later."
"Hehe! You haven't even landed a single hit yet. Think today will be any different?"
Caelen didn't respond. He charged forward.
He raised his sword in front of him. Speed—that was his advantage. Not that he was faster than the old man, of course.
Just that, between Caelen's speed and strength, his speed was higher. Another shameful feature for a barbarian.
He thrust forward when he approached the old man.
The old man swung his massive blade and parried with ease.
He's still faster than me... Even with a two-handed sword, the old man outpaced him.
Caelen stepped back, then lunged again, this time striking from above.
The old man's sword met him midair again. Caelen pulled back, just in time to avoid the counter.
"You always back off after a strike. If you stayed in close, you could hit me while I counterattacked."
Then I'd die. Can't you see the size of that thing in your hands?
Of course, he, once again, abstained from saying it aloud.
But what the old man said was correct. Since the day he stopped using a shield, he tended to dodge back after each attack.
Also, he needed to use the time the old man swung his sword.
Thankfully, the old man wasn't mocking Caelen. If he wanted, he could use both hands and slice Caelen together with his sword.
It would be easy for the old man.
Also, he didn't use any barbarian abilities in consideration for Caelen.
Since his crest wasn't activated when he was fifteen, he couldn't use the barbarian abilities that came with the Crest of War.
Caelen readied his sword once again and swung his sword toward the old man.
"Are you bravely coming from the front? That is the barbarian spirit!" the old man said with a smirk on his face.
Of course, there was nothing brave about what he was trying. He just wanted to check if he could find an opening.
Sigh... This won't do. I should increase the pressure a bit, the old man thought, and swung his sword from up to down.
Caelen's eyes widened as the blade came crashing toward him. He dodged sideways in panic.
But not fast enough.
His arm was grazed. Blood dripped down his forearm.
He looked down, eyes going wide.
A hundred thoughts flashed through his mind in a single heartbeat.
Was he okay? Was his arm gone? Maybe the pain hadn't caught up yet?
No. His arm was still there. Bleeding, but intact.
Could he still use it?
His heart pounded. Fast.
It was so fast that he could even hear his own heart.
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
Caelen closed his eyes and then reopened them. He didn't know this, but this was the reason barbarians were strong.
They didn't fear getting hurt. Because when they got hurt, they got stronger.
And this was the first time Caelen had been hurt in the past three years.
Time seemed to slow down. No, there was nothing about time going slower. He was just stronger.
He felt like his punch could easily break down any wall it encountered.
This was the "barbarian spirit" every barbarian talked about.
Barbarians didn't research their own features like other nations. They just named it as barbarian spirit and used it.
So, what they called the barbarian spirit every day was something akin to a passive ability to them.
That was why no child knew what it was until they experienced it.
Of course, most experienced it around the age of ten while roughhousing with their friends.
Unfortunately, Caelen had never joined them. Even when he was older and fought in duels, he had used a shield.
So he had never experienced the barbarian spirit.
And no one had realized it or told him about it since the barbarians didn't think, they just did.
He was still scared, of course. He was hurt, confused. His mind was working at full capacity.
But his instincts—or maybe his fury—overpowered his fear and mind.
He didn't stop to think. He just wanted to strike back.
His arm throbbed. He needed payback. He needed to retaliate.
He leapt forward. This time, no careful precision. No searching for an opening.
He just swung.
If the old man blocked it, he'd break through the old man's sword.
If he didn't, he'd land a clean hit.
Either way, he'd make him bleed.
Then, just as he moved, his eyes shut for a split second, but it didn't open again as Caelen fell to the ground.
Did his crest just shine...? the old man thought.