Chapter 49: Parno’s Nightmare (1)
Parno.
The ruler of the Great Snowfields beyond the Northern Sea, owner of the only port in the Great Snowfields, and producer of most of the Ice Crystals supplied across the continent—with a monopoly on especially popular luxury goods—had amassed imnse wealth.
Their affluence was evident in the domain they built upon this barren land.
Not just the scale of the territory, but the well-maintained streets and the warm glow pouring from houses were enough to make one doubt it was really a harsh, snow-laden land.
From every chimney rose generous plus of smoke, flaunting that no one in Parno’s domain was left shivering.
Yet recently, a strange tension simred beneath that peace due to a rumor that began to circulate.
The death of the Lord of Parno.
It had not been officially announced, but the rumor was spreading like wildfire.
There were various speculations about the cause of death, but most people were filled with unease and confusion, fearing that the long-standing peace might now be shaken.
However, for those lurking in the shadows of Parno’s domain, this unrest was nothing short of an opportunity.
Their sole interest was money.
In Parno’s domain, where interaction with other territories required crossing the sea, smuggling and illegal immigration were the most profitable trades.
Usually, they had to be cautious, watching the Parno family’s every move, but the current chaos emboldened them.
They brought in more contraband and ferried more dangerous individuals into the Great Snowfields.
Originally, their business had operated under the Parno family’s tacit approval.
In particular, accepting fugitives from the continent was done in coordination with the Snowlit Crimson—there was no need to say more.
But now, they confird that the relationship between the Snowlit Crimson and Parno had broken down.
That ant there was no longer any need to hand them over to the Snowlit Crimson. All they had to do was bring people into Parno’s territory, then rob and kill the stowaways sowhere in the Great Snowfields.
With the process made simpler and the profits increasing, it was no surprise they beca like wild horses freed of reins.
But where in the world could one make easy, fast money without consequence?
You only realize the danger once it’s too late.
“Guhhh…”
The sole survivor of a group leading stowaways into the Great Snowfields.
He groaned as he looked at the corpses of his comrades scattered around him.
“Why…”
He stared at those who caused the massacre, his eyes filled with resentnt.
“Why?”
The large man slamd his iron mace into the ground with a thud and sneered.
“Why? Because your damn face just pissed off.”
“What…?”
In a world overrun with lunatics wielding blades—
Even in Parno’s territory, they were considered so of the most deranged. But now, faced with true madn from the wider world, they were helplessly weak.
“Parno’s not doing so well lately, huh? Then why should we head out into so barren wasteland? We might as well take over instead.”
“Heh heh heh, looks like they’ve been living comfortably for too long. Look at all the fat on these bastards’ bellies.”
Rather than anger, their taunts only stirred greater fear.
He was more terrified now, knowing that he would end up dead too.
“S-Save…”
Crunch—
But he didn’t finish his sentence. The mace dropped onto his head, crushing it.
“Well then, shall we go?”
“Judging by these guys, I bet Parno’s folks are about the sa.”
“Tsk tsk. Isn’t it already well known? The Parno lot aren’t nobles—they’re just nouveau riche scum. As long as you hand them money regularly, they’ll be happy. Let’s take this chance and climb up too.”
“Keh heh heh, sounds good.”
But just as they set off toward Parno’s domain, they ca to a stop not long after.
Sensing sothing strange, they turned around.
A red giant.
A man wearing red leather, completely out of place in the snowy field, was walking toward them.
“…Who the hell is that guy?”
There should have been no survivors.
No, how could they have missed soone dressed like that in the first place?
A strange sense of unease crept in.
It was odd that such flashy clothing had gone unnoticed, and even stranger that he’d gotten that close without anyone sensing it.
But only the man with the mace, Pelios, felt that way.
The others didn’t.
“Looks like a snowfield tribesman. Doesn’t seem to be carrying much. Wonder if that leather’s any good—being bright red like that, it might be special.”
“Maybe we should just beat him up and find his camp. Bet there’s sothing useful there.”
Pelios thought they shouldn’t do that, but after just having killed soone without flinching, he couldn’t suddenly start sounding weak.
So, they laughed and joked as they waited for the man in red leather to approach.
And the mont he stepped into range, they struck, swinging their blades in ambush.
BANG—!
With an explosive sound, the blade shattered and scattered through the air in pieces.
The head of the man who had charged in was then struck by the red-clad man’s fist. It crushed in, and then burst apart in grotesque slow motion.
“Huh?”
As they stood dumbfounded by the surreal sight, a sudden blizzard, kicked up by a fierce gust, blinded them.
CRASHHH—
By the ti they realized the blizzard was caused by the shockwave from a punch, another man had already been taken out without even a scream.
BOOM—! BOOM—!
From beyond the swirling snow, loud thuds and sprays of red blood echoed out.
Terror filled the eyes of n who had lived their entire lives without fear.
“Ugh… uaaah!”
So charged at him, while others fled.
In a situation like this, perhaps those who fled were the brave ones.
Pelios, who turned and ran first, certainly thought so.
But no matter how fast you are, how do you escape a fist faster than the wind?
“Guh?”
Sensing a presence at the back of his head, Pelios flinched and swung his mace.
CRACK—!
The mace and the fist collided.
But it was the mace that flew away—not the fist.
Worse yet, the impact traveled through the hand holding the mace, nearly making him drop it.
“Grr…”
He eventually stopped running and assud a stance again.
“……”
No one was left.
They may have only crossed the Northern Sea together, and though they were little more than thugs, they’d been united in their cruel and rough ways.
Even with his wretched personality, the fact that he had survived this long proved that his skills weren’t lacking.
Yet all of them had died with their heads crushed in an instant.
“Brutal…”
Even soone like him, who had lived his whole life swinging a blade rcilessly, could not help but mutter such words at the sight before him.
But the man showed no interest in his remark, simply gazing down with a calm expression.
‘He… he’s huge.’
Once more, Pelios realized that this was the largest man he had ever laid eyes on. The mont the man’s shoulder twitched, he reflexively raised his mace.
‘Ah…!’
The mace felt too light.
Pelios realized he had lost his senses—he hadn’t even noticed that the head of the mace had shattered and fallen off.
‘How could a human fist…’
A fist that could smash through even a mace.
So how could a human skull possibly withstand—
Hindir, after setting his direction, walked in a straight line without pause.
Eventually, as he kept walking, signs of a well-trodden path began to appear, and following it led him at last to Parno’s territory.
Along the way, there had been a few clashes.
That was unavoidable, as many who lived in the Snowfields survived by robbery.
But he didn’t kill most of them.
That was because the mont they saw Hindir’s towering figure, they panicked and rushed at him blindly.
However, the ones he t just before reaching the domain were different.
If anything, it was the difference between the Snowlit Crimson and the Snow Fiends.
Even from afar, the stench of blood and murderous intent was thick.
That didn’t co from simply killing many people.
It wasn’t the sll itself—it was the quality of energy one carried.
In the past, Charun warriors had often been forced to take many lives.
There were too many situations where it was kill or be killed.
So they constantly had to strive to master their inner selves.
To avoid becoming desensitized to murder. To resist being consud by bloodlust.
Though they lived the cruel life of a warrior, they always strove not to lose their humanity.
Of course, countless Charun tribesn failed and ended up reeking of blood.
Those who did could no longer be called warriors—they had to return of their own accord to face punishnt and atone, or die by the Great Warrior’s hand…
That’s why Hindir could identify soone steeped in murderous desire more clearly than anyone else.
‘Still, that last one was fairly strong. Might’ve been a notorious one.’
Though now that he was dead, such infamy no longer mattered.
Having entered an outskirt village just outside the outer walls of Parno, Hindir quietly observed his surroundings.
The scene was not too different from Dragon‑Blessed Gate.
Surely the cityscape within the inner walls would be far more distinguished.
anwhile, due to his striking appearance, just as Hindir was observing the village, the residents were also staring at him.
He clearly heard their whispering, but paid it no mind and headed straight for the outer gate.
“H-Halt!”
Even the guards, flustered by Hindir’s massive fra, looked him up and down several tis.
“What business do you have here?”
Being a regular guard, he couldn’t even fathom that Hindir might be one of the Barbarians.
Except for those monitoring Larka Village, very few within the family had actually seen a Barbarian.
So the guard simply assud Hindir was a stowaway.
That was, until Hindir opened his mouth.
“Tell Parno. Hindir has co.”
“…What did you say?”
The guard couldn’t understand what Hindir ant.
But he could tell easily enough that this man harbored dangerous intentions.
“Who the hell are you?!”
If he reported this to the Parno family as is, they’d think he’d lost his mind and punish him harshly.
So he raised his voice and tried to threaten Hindir.
Hindir understood the man’s situation.
He was just an ordinary man—what else could he do?
So Hindir sat down in the middle of the road.
And began a sit-in until soone from the Parno family showed up.
Word of Hindir’s arrival reached the Parno family swiftly.
He sat down squarely in the middle of the street, refusing to move—there was no way it wouldn’t be noticed.
A massive man with red skin, wearing what appeared to be a Red Bear pelt, assud to be that of the Blood‑Hero.
The Parno family, having imdiately identified him, gathered to discuss how to respond.
So insisted on punishing him with full force, while others warned against falling for a Barbarian ploy.
But the one sentint they all shared was anger.
No matter what, Hindir had to die.
The difference lay only in the thod.
At that mont, an elder voiced opposition—not to the family’s anger, but to facing such a man with only rage.
He argued that since this man could speak, it was right to try dialogue first. But no one listened.
So, two people stepped forward—ones who could uphold the family’s honor, pride, and avenge them thoroughly.
The elder who had spoken up was also included.
Though he had once committed a grave sin, his past sacrifices were acknowledged, and he was given this opportunity to atone.
And so, three elders appeared at the outer wall.
The elder who had been given one final chance asked for the others’ understanding and approached Hindir alone.
“So the old Wolf has co too.”
Having already sensed the familiar presence, Hindir slowly opened his eyes and greeted him.
“…It’s been a while.”
Zircas, the leader of the Wolves.
He looked at Hindir with a hardened expression.
“How have you been?”
“Heh… You think I’ve been well?”
“Is that so? The Family Head said you’d spend the rest of your life in the Hall of Repentance. You looked rather well, considering.”
Zircas clicked his tongue.
“Still foul-mouthed as ever.”
“I’ll take that as being consistent. I’m always cautious of changing without realizing it.”
Zircas fell silent for a mont before letting out a shallow sigh and speaking.
“The way you’re talking… you’ve t the Family Head, haven’t you?”
“I have.”
“You hard the head of the Parno family. And yet, you’ve shown up here alone—what nerve.”
“That’s not the right word. While there were personal feelings involved, the fight was fair, and the Family Head t his end honorably.”
“Can you not tell what happened?”
“Not yet.”
At Hindir’s firm reply, Zircas nodded.
The events were still unfolding—it wasn’t ti yet to share it all.
“By the way, could you introduce the ones who ca with you? Just so you know—I ca alone.”
“I don’t have the authority for that.”
Upon hearing this, Hindir beca certain.
“There aren’t many above you, old man. Then maybe… a forr Family Head? Ah! Speaking of which—does Parno have two Family Heads these days?”
“Heh…”
Zircas let out a hollow laugh at Hindir’s seemingly offhand question.
“So I was right.”
Hindir grinned.
“What a ss.”
And with those final words, he provoked the ones standing far off in the distance.
If they were truly that skilled, there was no way they couldn’t hear this conversation.
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