Barbarian's Adventure in a Fantasy World-Chapter 125: Knight of the High Elf (3)

“What’s with that reaction?” Parco shouted in obvious confusion.

He had just summoned an Epic spirit—one of the rarest and most powerful entities within Elfo Sagrado. Very few elves could contract such a spirit, and when he first succeeded in doing so, the entire holy land viewed him with respect and admiration. It was a source of tremendous pride for him.

Yet, Ketal looked nothing but disappointed. Parco simply couldn’t understand.

On the other hand, Ketal found it perfectly normal. He had witnessed something far more shocking in the past: the fire spirit Fiego, a Legendary spirit summoned by the elf queen Marseria Haciane Carusia. Fiego’s power had clearly surpassed that of this new spirit, Brunstad. Seeing a spirit of just Epic rank no longer startled him.

So that really means Marseria was incredibly strong, Ketal thought. Back then, he had only realized that Fiego’s fire felt hot, without fully grasping how exceptional it was.

No, I shouldn’t be thinking like this, Ketal thought. I need to be happy.

Even if Brunstad was merely an Epic spirit, it was still a spirit—something worthy of attention and curiosity. Ketal quickly dismissed his mild disappointment and studied Brunstad more closely.

The translucent stag looked regal, with striking antlers crowned by a gentle current of swirling wind. Ketal’s eyes lit up with fascination, finding the spirit just as awe-inspiring as a creature from a painting.

“Are all spirits shaped like animals?” he wondered aloud.

Parco clenched his teeth at Ketal’s casual remarks. “We’ll see how long you can act so nonchalant! Brunstad, show him what you can do!”

With Parco’s command, Brunstad stamped one massive forehoof against the ground. A blade of wind materialized and roared forward. Even from a distance, it was clearly more powerful than any wind Parco had conjured on his own.

“Oh?” Ketal said, sounding intrigued. He sprang aside at remarkable speed, deftly evading the razor-sharp wind.

Parco’s spirits soared when he saw Ketal dodge instead of blocking. To him, evasion meant that Ketal feared taking a direct hit.

“Brunstad!” Parco cried out.

Raging gusts erupted in the clearing, assaulting the area with chaotic winds. Yet, none of the attacks even grazed Ketal—he skillfully slipped through all of it. Parco, too wrapped up in his own excitement, failed to notice how odd that truly was.

“You dart around like a coward!” Parco taunted. “Brunstad!”

“Let us see how long you can run,” the spirit rumbled, shaking its head. The antlers swung in a circular arc, causing the surrounding wind to condense into a single, solid formation. Although air should naturally flow without constraints, it now felt locked in place by Brunstad’s will.

Swoosh!

A towering wall of wind rose around Ketal, boxing him in. The instant he stopped moving, he studied the phenomenon with fascination.

“That’s possible, too?” he remarked quietly, sounding intrigued rather than afraid.

The swirling barrier transformed without warning into an array of razor-sharp spikes. The gusts thrust inward, crashing into Ketal and exploding in a deafening blast.

Winds whipped outward in a colossal shockwave, shaking the entire vicinity. Arkemis’s house rattled precariously, and leaves rained down from nearby trees. Small saplings were ripped right out of the soil, roots and all.

“Ketal!” Arkemis shouted, alarmed. Even Ketal could be in danger with a blast that powerful. She hurried to gather her mana, intent on intervening.

But then, a different surge of wind erupted—the sudden gust wasn’t Brunstad’s doing. It was raw pressure, something born from pure physical force. The raging storm around Ketal collapsed almost instantly, swept away by a mightier wave of air. Several trees in the background bent so far they nearly snapped, and the surrounding foliage trembled.

“W-what is this?” Parco exclaimed. His triumphant confidence shattered as he saw Ketal standing perfectly unharmed when the winds died down. Parco’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Ketal still held his fist outstretched, having clearly just thrown a punch.

“What...?” Parco stammered, refusing to accept what his eyes were telling him. Thinking over Ketal’s stance and the remnants of that shockwave, he could only come to one conclusion: that powerful gust had been generated by Ketal’s own punch.

An Epic spirit’s best attack was repelled by a mere blow of his fist? Parco thought.

“You...!” Brunstad cried, openly shocked as well. The spirit hurriedly summoned more wind, hurling it toward Ketal. However, Ketal didn’t even bother to dodge anymore. The wind crashed into him and dissipated uselessly.

“Is that all?” Ketal asked, genuinely puzzled. That Legendary spirit, Fiego, could incinerate entire patches of land with a single surge. But this spirit seems to do nothing beyond summoning winds.

Feeling an intense sense of humiliation, Brunstad stomped the ground again, sending an even fiercer wave of wind rolling forward. Yet, nothing was fundamentally different from before. Now certain there was nothing more to see, Ketal kicked the ground lightly and launched himself forward.

He cut through the wind at incredible speed, appearing directly before Brunstad. As he pulled back his fist, the stag frantically generated a protective barrier of condensed air. Everything shattered the moment Ketal’s punch slammed home.

Brunstad’s stag-like form crumpled with a sharp, resonant crack. Its body, which had been shaped by compressed wind, burst into fragments of swirling air that rapidly scattered. In a single strike, Ketal had forced the spirit to return to its own realm, effectively banishing it from the battlefield.

“Huh?” Parco choked out, unable to process what had just happened. He stood there in a daze as Ketal casually shook out his hand.

“So if you hit a spirit hard enough, it vanishes,” Ketal mused. “I wish demons were that easy. They’re usually too stubborn to die from physical force alone.”

Whatever the case, that was the end of the battle. Brunstad had been knocked back to the spirit realm, and Parco remained frozen in shock.

What did I just witness? Parco thought, unable to reconcile the scene before him. An Epic spirit, one that should endure nearly any blow, had been bested instantly. Spirits of that caliber were literal embodiments of nature, known for refusing to be banished except under the most extreme circumstances. This shouldn’t have happened.

After a long moment of stunned silence, Parco’s face twisted with furious denial. “You scum! What did you do?! You must have deceived me! To cheat in a duel—you manipulated my mind!”

He refused to accept the reality that an epic spirit had been destroyed by brute force alone. His paranoid conclusion became the only story he could believe.

Ketal looked at him impassively. “I used no such trick.”

“Liar! This duel is invalid! We will fight again, from the start!” Parco shouted, his voice wild with desperation.

No mere barbarian could banish an Epic spirit with a single punch—he must have done something underhanded, he thought.

Ketal regarded Parco in silence. “I’d really prefer it if you just acknowledged your defeat.”

“Shut up, you filthy barbarian!” Parco spat, hurling the insult at him with all the venom he could muster.

At those words, Ketal’s gaze began to grow cold. This is getting tedious.

Ketal had been in countless duels up to this point. In the White Snowfield, barbarians never took anyone’s word for anything; only force could make them submit. Although that was troublesome, it was also definitive. Once a barbarian lost, he’d accept it without question.

Even after leaving the White Snowfield, Ketal had found that people and demons alike, when driven into a corner from which there was no escape, would concede defeat.

However, Parco refused to do so, and that was a first for Ketal.

What a pain, Ketal stared at Parco for a brief moment, then reached out and seized him by the neck, lifting him off the ground with ease.

“Let me go!” Parco flailed and kicked, struggling in vain like a child in the grip of an adult. Ketal merely held him there, watching with calm detachment.

Finally, Ketal spoke, “Parco.”

Hearing his own name, Parco abruptly froze. Something invisible and overwhelming seemed to slither over him, pressing down on his entire being. His limbs felt pinned; his heart felt squeezed.

“I’m not the type to show boundless patience,” Ketal said in a quiet, resonant voice. “This duel wasn’t meant to harm you any more than necessary. It was just a straightforward contest to determine whether Arkemis could continue her alchemy. I’m not asking for you to surrender, nor do I want anything else from you.”

Parco’s face slowly drained of all color, terror creeping into his features. Still holding him aloft, Ketal went on.

“But if you insist on denying the result and refuse to accept it, I’m going to tire of this situation. And when that happens...” Ketal gave a small, humorless smile. “I’ll have no choice but to settle this in a different way.”

He stared directly into Parco’s eyes, conveying a single, overpowering emotion. It swelled within Parco’s mind like a crushing weight.

“M-mmph...” Parco’s voice came out as a strangled whimper, his reason drowning in sheer dread. He couldn’t even form a coherent sentence.

“So,” Ketal continued, his tone as calm as ever. “I’d appreciate it if you would simply acknowledge your loss. What do you say?”

Parco bobbed his head desperately, the fear evident in his wide-eyed expression. “Y-yes. I lost. It was my defeat... I’m sorry, please... Please forgive me.”

Ketal’s stern expression softened into a faint smile. “Good choice.”

He relaxed his hand, letting Parco drop unceremoniously to the ground, where the elf crumpled as though all strength had abandoned him. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving as he tried to steady himself.

“W-what?” Arkemis whispered, her eyes round with astonishment.

Ketal turned to face her. “It’s over, Arkemis.”

***

Once the duel ended, all three of them returned to Arkemis’s house.

“Parco,” Ketal said, his tone calm but firm. “You were defeated. From now on, you are not to interfere with Arkemis’s alchemy. Do you agree?”

“Yes, I agree...,” Parco blurted out, bobbing his head quickly. “I will not meddle in Lady Arkemis’s affairs.”

His sudden compliance took Arkemis by surprise. Only moments before, he had been so hostile and obstinate, and now he was docile to the point of discomfort.

Ketal let out a satisfied chuckle. “Good. Wouldn’t it have been easier if you were this easy-going from the start?”

“Yes...” Parco nodded yet again. Whenever Ketal’s gaze settled on him, Parco flinched like a snail touched by salt.

Arkemis’s expression brimmed with confusion. “What on earth did you do to him?”

All she knew was that Ketal had lifted Parco by the neck, said something, and suddenly Parco had begun trembling uncontrollably. He looked so pathetic that she almost pitied him.

“I didn’t do anything special,” Ketal replied with a shrug. “I just spoke with a bit of conviction, that’s all.”

Arkemis eyed him dubiously. “It looked like more than that...”

In any case, she was relieved. If Parco had continued to oppose her, it would have put her in a difficult position. She stared at Ketal in renewed wonder.

“Anyway, you really are strong,” she remarked. “You just took Brunstad’s attacks head-on without flinching.”

“Is it really that big a deal?” Ketal asked her, sounding genuinely puzzled.

“Of course it is. Brunstad was an Epic spirit. I’d guess it’s even stronger than Butler, that named demon we fought before.”

“Ah, I see.” Ketal paused as though in thought, then asked her, “So what about a Legendary spirit?”

“They’re on a completely different level. Very few elves in all our history have managed to form a contract with one. Even just accomplishing that much would earn someone a place in the annals of elven lore.”

Ketal murmured in agreement, “Makes sense.”

He realized then that Marseria, the queen of the elven village near the White Snowfield, had to have indeed been exceptionally powerful. Her kingdom’s proximity to such harsh territory might have seemed foolhardy unless she had the strength and confidence to handle serious threats.

Arkemis studied him with a curious gaze. What kind of body does he have?

Ketal had never displayed any use of Myst. Yet, he had endured and crushed the winds of an Epic spirit through sheer physical might. The wind conjured by a spirit was no ordinary gust; it contained the spirit’s raw power. Without wielding any kind of Myst in response, most beings would be blown away.

He even shattered the authority of severance with his bare hands, she thought, recalling a previous incident. It was far beyond anything she considered possible. A lingering question flickered at the back of her mind.

Could his body itself simply exist on a higher plane altogether?