The old man didn't wake up.
At first, Caelen just waited. The old man's breathing was improving.
But after a day passed, he realized the man wouldn't be waking up any time soon.
So, he had to take care of him. He cooked food that was easy to eat and digest.
Of course, during that time, he didn't have much room to think about himself. For now, he kept working as a farmer and training as a barbarian.
The only difference was that he no longer visited the old man to spar.
And the old barbarian didn't come either.
***
On the fifth day, the old man in Caelen's house began to show small movements, as if he were only sleeping.
He didn't wake up, just moved occasionally.
But on the evening of the seventh day, after Caelen came back from training, he heard a voice from the room where the old man was sleeping.
He rushed in to check. The old man was definitely starting to wake up.
Caelen prepared a glass and some water, just in case. He also had his sword strapped to his waist.
A minute passed. Then another.
The old man kept groaning softly.
After five minutes, his eyes slowly began to open.
When they did, everything looked blurry to him.
"Arghh!" he shouted, trying to sit up—then gave up immediately.
Instead, he turned his head slightly, only to scream louder, "Aaaaaaaah!"
Caelen jumped back, hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw.
But he didn't.
The old man looked at him. He looked back. They stared at each other for a moment before the old man glanced down at his body.
"Are you a barbarian?" he asked.
"Yes," Caelen answered.
The old man looked even more confused.
"Then who saved me?"
Caelen frowned. Isn't it obvious?
But he didn't say that out loud.
"I did."
"Huh? I see. Even if you torture me, you won't get anything from me!" the old man shouted, trying to sit up again.
But this time, he groaned even louder, his head falling back onto the sofa.
Since he hadn't lifted himself far, it didn't hurt much.
"Old man, what are you doing? Why would I save you just to hurt you again?"
"What kind of bullshit is that? Didn't you say you were a barbarian?"
"I am a barbarian. But I found you lying in the forest. So I brought you here and took care of your wounds for a week."
"Stop lying! No... you're really a barbarian. You can't lie that well."
An idea instantly came to the old man's mind.
The boy in front of him was definitely a barbarian. A young one, too. And he was obviously clueless about what was going on.
I can lie my way through this!
"Young man, I'm sorry! It must have been my injuries that scared me. I was attacked by a beast, and that's how I got hurt."
"Beast, my ass!" Caelen frowned. "This isn't a beast wound. These cuts are from swords, different ones at that."
Shit! How can he see through that? Isn't he just a young barbarian?
Barbarians didn't usually think much, but of course, experience was another form of knowledge.
So, older, experienced barbarians weren't idiots.
But this kid...
"Sigh... I'm sorry." The old man immediately switched tactics. The best lies were the ones mixed with a bit of truth.
But first, he needed to earn the boy's trust.
"I'm actually a magus."
"A magus? What? What's a magus doing here? Aren't magi extinct?"
"Extinct? Hahaha! No way. Even though the barbarians are strong now, they haven't killed us all. Who told you that?"
"Uhm... That's what all the children are taught here."
"Then you've been lied to! That's complete bullshit!" the old man said, his frustration showing.
"Why should I believe you? Didn't you just lie to me about your wounds?"
"Sigh... You're right. But I am telling the truth. Tell me what you know about this world, and I'll tell you the truth.
It seems like barbarians these days are raised on lies. You can choose to believe me—or ignore me—after you hear what I have to say."
Caelen paused to think for a second.
He walked over to the sofa and pulled up a nearby chair to sit.
He wouldn't trust the old man easily, but listening wouldn't hurt.
"What's your name?" Caelen asked.
"Idel! My name is Idel."
"Sigh... Fine. I'll listen to you. But that doesn't mean I trust you."
"That's okay. Start by telling me what you know."
So Caelen began sharing what he had learned as a child.
This knowledge came from his family, friends, his master, teachers, and the other barbarians around him.
"The five nations were told to live in peace, until the other four joined forces and attacked us—the Barbara Kingdom.
We, the barbarians, defended ourselves and pushed back. After years of war, all the other crest-bearers were killed..."
Caelen's story went on for a while. During that time, Idel listened silently, his expression growing more and more shocked.
"Those bastards! That's a lie. Mindless barbarians couldn't come up with something like this. They must've used enslaved magi to create this story."
"It's your turn," Caelen said, cutting him off. "If this version's wrong, then tell me the truth."
"Sigh... Listen, boy. Barbarians are strong, sure—but they were never the strongest.
Years ago, the five nations did live in peace. But that peace only existed because of a balance between them.
When that balance broke, the strong turned on the weak. And that's when the fighting began."
"What kind of balance are you talking about?"
"Hmm... You don't even know about the balance. Well, it's what we call the crest birth rate."
Caelen frowned, confused. "Everyone's born with a crest. What do you mea—"
"Patience, young man. I'll explain. Yes, everyone is born with a crest. But which crest?"
Huh?
"You told me all the other crest-bearers were killed in the war. But that's impossible."
Idel slowly raised his right hand and pulled up his sleeve.
A faint blue light glowed on the back of his hand, completely different from the barbarians' red Crest of War.
The symbol shining on Idel's skin was a parchment and a pen.
"This is the Crest of Knowledge, the crest of the magi. I'd show you what it can do, but... well, you've seen my condition."
Caelen's eyes widened. "That doesn't prove anything. You might be a deserter. No one can really confirm that every single crest-bearer was killed!"
"Haha! You're not wrong. But that's not why I said it was impossible.
I meant the balance. The birth rate of the crests... It may sound strange, so let me put it another way.
The number of children born with crests.
Before the war, the number of newborns with each crest was always equal across the five nations."