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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 003
Chapter Title: The Legendary Weapon (1)
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Munjuk's reason for testing him was something Attila could easily guess.
'It's gotta be the legend of the Great Martial God King.'
An ancient legend passed down in the Black Wolf Tribe.
It told of the great monarch of the East, the Great Martial God King, who would one day reincarnate through the body of a dead man and raise the banner of the East across the continent.
'It was a setting that got out of hand, so they just wiped out the tribe and swept it under the rug.'
In truth, the Black Wolf Tribe weren't natives of this land.
Their ancestors were warriors from the distant East.
'Descendants of the Great Martial God King.'
The Eastern people, who subjugated the natives with overwhelming power, settled here and put down roots.
But as ages passed, their bloodline began to dilute.
Then Attila was born with features close to pureblood, and the elders doted on him endlessly.
'That's how I ended up with this weak-ass personality.'
Munjuk had always chafed at that.
So he pinned faint hopes on Attila's coming-of-age ceremony.
He wanted Attila to succeed spectacularly, right in front of everyone.
But the body that returned wasn't a bear's—it was Attila's.
'Then he came back to life and butchered three bears, so it's no wonder they think he's the Great Martial God King reincarnated.'
"Kahaha! Kahahahaha!"
Munjuk's booming laughter snapped Attila out of his thoughts.
"Good. Choosing the club shows your resolve. Getting a proper beating might be a fine lesson."
Attila's expression shifted.
He sensed terrifying bloodlust from Munjuk, who had assumed a stance.
'So this is what a hero-tier character feels like.'
Attila took his stance too.
Just one opponent, but the pressure was incomparable to the three bears from yesterday.
'If I don't fight seriously, I can't guarantee the win.'
"If you won't come, I will! Attila!"
What a joke.
Attila charged first.
"Take this and rest up!"
He closed the distance in an instant and swung the club like lightning.
But Munjuk calmly blocked with his own club, and Attila's first strike fizzled out.
The sharp sting in his arm made Munjuk click his tongue.
'Insane strength. If I let my guard down, he might turn the tables.'
Unsatisfied with mere defense, Munjuk unleashed a storm of attacks.
Attila blocked and dodged with his club, enduring the onslaught.
All the while, he thought:
'Can't swing full force or I'll shatter my bat.'
Surprisingly, the monstrous power Munjuk felt wasn't even Attila's full strength.
'No helping it. Better end this quick and find a weapon that suits me.'
But Munjuk was one of the rare hero-tier characters in the Bawang Hero Chronicle world.
He wasn't some pushover Attila could beat without going all out.
"What's wrong, son? Is this all you've got?!"
Munjuk laughed heartily as he parried Attila's attacks.
For all his words, he was inwardly amazed at Attila's skill.
'Every strike sends chills down my spine. At this level, no one in the tribe could beat him except me, the chief.'
His brother Breda's face flashed in his mind, but he shoved it aside.
'But don't get cocky, son. You need to temper not just your body, but your mind. Only then can you weather the storms of this vast world.'
Munjuk had a gut feeling Attila would soon leave the tribe.
'That's why this bout today. I'll claim the win.'
Fierce bloodlust flared in Munjuk's eyes.
For the first time since the duel began, chills ran down Attila's spine.
'What the—?'
No time to think.
Danger.
His instincts screamed in alarm.
'Warrior's Strike!'
"This ends it! Attila!"
Munjuk's club shot forward like a beam of light.
Faced with the razor-sharp attack, Attila swung on pure animal instinct.
And realized.
'Damn it, not again…!'
Startled by Munjuk's bloodlust, he'd overdone it—the club in his hand splintered.
"Shit…"
As he spat the curse, a devastating impact crashed down on his head, the world flashed white in a miraculous vision, and Attila blacked out.
* * *
"…He's a total monster."
Looking down at the sprawled Attila, Munjuk rubbed his nape.
The goosebumps prickled vividly.
He'd seen exactly what happened.
"Crushing that ironwood club with grip strength alone."
He couldn't even guess the sheer power.
What if Attila had controlled his strength and blocked?
"No, that's not it."
Slinging Attila over his shoulder as he left the training grounds, Munjuk reflected.
His assumption was wrong from the start.
'Not if he'd controlled his strength.'
It should've been: if Attila held a weapon that could withstand that savage grip strength.
The red sunset warmly lit Munjuk's pleased smile.
He knew of such a weapon.
* * *
Not far north of Black Wolf Tribe lands lived a savage group called the Blood Axe Tribe.
Their chief, Gundika, was a brutally cruel man.
And his ambitions were unmatched—he schemed to conquer the surrounding savage tribes and forge a unified kingdom.
"What? Breda's here?"
Gundika nodded with a sour face.
The subordinate who'd reported finished quickly, silently thanking warrior god Tyr that no liquor bottle flew at his head, and hurried from the tent.
Moments later, Breda entered.
"There's a snag in the plan."
Gundika's face darkened.
With a glance, he dismissed all his men.
"Continue."
"Munjuk's youngest son died and came back to life."
What an idiot—wondering why this fool had shown up, and now he's spouting nonsense.
Gundika barely suppressed the urge to kill the man on sight.
'Can't do that.'
To realize his grand plans, Breda had to play the long game, and his exceptional skills were too valuable to waste on a momentary whim.
"Speak."
Breda detailed everything that had happened.
Still nonsense, but one thing caught Gundika's interest.
"The Great Martial God King, you say?"
"An ancient legend known only to the Black Wolf Tribe's leadership. You should've seen it yourself, Chief Gundika—Attila tearing those savage bears apart barehanded."
The words didn't quite land for Gundika.
Like any failure, the guy was hyping up some fresh-faced kid who'd just finished his coming-of-age to cover his own screw-up.
"So you're saying this brat Attila is a warrior on par with Munjuk?"
"Could be more."
"Kahahahaha!"
Gundika burst into laughter.
The reason his grand ambitions remained mere plans in his head.
'Crazy bastard. More than Munjuk?'
It was because Munjuk guarded the Black Wolf Tribe.
'I've clashed with him. That's no human.'
A monster.
No, something beyond even that.
That was Gundika's view of the man called Munjuk.
'All that bold talk of assassinating Munjuk. Figures. How could a wolf cub take on a tiger?'
But the words from Gundika's mouth differed from his thoughts.
"Sorry for laughing. I'm just thrilled to find a foe worth fighting."
He needed to humor Breda until Munjuk was dealt with.
"So, what's your next move, Lord Breda?"
"I have a plan. Lend me a few swift archers, and I'll bring you Munjuk's head in three days."
"Don't you already have plenty like that?"
"They're not enough."
"Hoo? Now I'm curious about this clever scheme."
Breda's elite guards were among the finest gold-belt warriors of the Black Wolf Tribe.
If even they weren't sufficient, what amusing plot was this man hatching?
Grinning crookedly at Gundika's intrigued face, Breda replied.
"I'll use the Forest Calamity Grizzly."
* * *
"What? Attila became a gold-belt warrior?"
"Impressive. Gold belt right after his coming-of-age ceremony."
"Well, he took down three bears alone, with three warriors as witnesses. He's more than qualified."
The village buzzed with talk of Attila.
True to the Black Wolf Tribe's warriors, who revered prowess and bravery, most were amazed and celebratory.
But could everyone's hearts be truly aligned?
"A fratricidal wretch gets gold belt overnight?"
"No doubt Ilek, who babies Attila, coached her little brothers to rig the story!"
They were Ivar's friends.
"We just gonna sit here? If we don't avenge Ivar, he'll never rest in peace."
"But how? Attila's gold belt now. We bronze-belts are outmatched."
Attila's body, transformed overnight into a beastly mass of muscle.
As everyone hesitated, one spoke up.
"I've got a good idea."
* * *
Woken by unexpected visitors, Okhtar scowled at the three fools kneeling before him.
"So you idiots woke me from my sound sleep just to beg me to discipline some punk like Attila?"
Absurd.
Who was Attila?
A joke of a warrior, the village's top loser and plaything for these clowns.
"Y-You were away on patrol, so you must not have heard. Attila… he officially received his gold belt today."
"What? Gold belt? That brat who's barely bronze-worthy?"
Okhtar's fierce reaction had Ivar's friends cheering inwardly.
"Probably Ilek pulled some trick while hunting with him. Y-You know too, Lord Okhtar—how she always favored that runt."
"Hmm…"
"The whole village is talking about him now. Even Ilek's blabbing that a warrior-king to succeed Chief Munjuk has been born."
Of course, that wasn't true.
But it was enough to sting the pride and jealousy of Okhtar, a top-five tribe warrior who harbored feelings for Ilek.
Time to drive it home.
"And get this—Attila said he could crush an overhyped warrior like you with one hand."
"What did you say?!"
Okhtar shot to his feet, muscles bulging like they'd burst.
"Take me to him. Now!"