Barbarian's Adventure in a Fantasy World-Chapter 14: The Barcan Estate

Ketal bowed respectfully, adhering to proper etiquette.

The lord’s eyes widened in astonishment. Barbarians never lowered their heads to someone they did not acknowledge. The more aristocratic their opponent, the less likely they were to show any deference.

For barbarians, strength was everything. Nobles who relied solely on their lineage to wield power were objects of contempt. Thus, the lord hadn’t expected Ketal to display even a semblance of respect. Despite any air of dignity he might possess, he was, after all, still a barbarian.

Yet here he was, demonstrating a level of refinement that surpassed even many nobles. As the lord reeled in surprise, Ketal was inwardly thrilled. I actually greeted a real noble!

Ketal was meeting an aristocrat, a figure once thought to have different blood coursing through their veins. While some countries still had a noble system, in Ketal’s homeland, Korea, such concepts were relics of a distant past.

To encounter a noble, shake their hand, and perform a respectful bow as he had learned—this entire scenario delighted him. He couldn’t suppress the giddy grin creeping onto his face.

Lord Barcan, watching Ketal’s expression with a mix of amusement and puzzlement, finally spoke. “Please... have a seat.”

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Fearing his laughter might slip out if he replied, Ketal simply nodded and sat on the sofa in the reception room.

The sofa, large enough to seat four, was filled by Ketal alone. Across from him, Lord Barcan turned to a maid and gave an order. “Bring us some tea.”

“Yes, my lord!” the maid stammered, trembling as she left the room.

Ketal suddenly asked, as if a thought had just struck him. “Would you prefer I speak formally?”

“No need. You’re not a subject of my estate,” Lord Barcan replied.

“Still, I am your guest and a visitor to your land. As such, it’s only proper to show my host due respect.”

“It’s fine. You can speak casually. I would find it more comfortable,” Lord Barcan said, his lips twitching at the idea of a barbarian speaking in a formal tone. The thought alone made his skin crawl.

“If that’s what you want, I won’t argue,” Ketal replied, leaning back comfortably against the sofa’s backrest. His eyes wandered around the room, taking in the decor.

The interior boasted luxurious medieval-style furnishings. Yet, something about them was subtly different from the medieval aesthetics he had studied. It made sense—this was a fantasy world, not medieval Europe. Observing these differences was intriguing in its own way.

As Ketal’s gaze swept the room, it landed on a knight standing behind the lord. The knight’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he stared at Ketal with a wary, hostile gaze.

Clearly, this man was no ally. However, Ketal’s eyes lit up in excitement.

A knight! Ketal inwardly exclaimed.

The knight wore polished, elegant armor. The plate mail glinted as it covered his chest—a sight Ketal found utterly captivating.

A real knight! A powerful human wielding a sword on the battlefield! Ketal thought.

His passionate gaze fixed on the knight, who instinctively tightened his grip on the sword’s handle.

He is preparing to attack me! the knight thought, misinterpreting Ketal’s enthusiasm as a provocation. Just as the knight was about to make a move, Lord Barcan’s voice broke the tension. “You’ve learned proper etiquette, I see.”

The way Ketal had greeted him earlier was unmistakably the work of someone educated in refined manners. Moreover, it was a particularly sophisticated style.

“Someone taught me,” Ketal admitted.

“From which kingdom is this etiquette?” Lord Barcan noticed subtle differences from local customs.

“I don’t know. I only learned it because the opportunity presented itself,” Ketal said while shaking his head.

Before Lord Barcan could probe further, the maid returned, pushing a cart with tea.

“I-I’ve brought the tea...,” she said, her hands trembling as she lifted the teapot. She poured a cup for the lord first, then approached Ketal. Her face went pale as she neared his imposing frame.

Ketal, however, was silently elated. I’m being served tea by a real maid!

To him, even this small act was a significant milestone.

The maid, however, seemed paralyzed by nerves. Hoping to ease her tension, Ketal offered her a gentle smile. “Thank you.”

“Ah...” The maid’s body slackened in relief. Her grip on the teapot faltered, and it slipped from her hands. Hot tea cascaded toward Ketal.

“Ah!” the maid gasped, her face drained of all color. In her mind, she envisioned the worst: the scalded barbarian would lose his temper, and her life would be forfeit.

As the horrifying scene played out in her head, Ketal moved swiftly. He raised his cup, catching the falling tea with fluid precision. Then, with the other hand, he reached for the teapot.

Lord Barcan’s eyes widened in disbelief, and the knight’s pupils dilated in shock.

Ketal, now holding both the teacup and teapot, took a sniff of the tea’s aroma and smiled contentedly.

“The tea smells excellent,” he said.

Stunned by the near-miraculous display, the maid finally regained her senses. She dropped to her knees, bowing repeatedly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! Please forgive me, just this once!”

“It’s fine. You did nothing wrong,” Ketal said nonchalantly. “Unless the lord believes otherwise?”

“No,” Lord Barcan replied, still marveled at the spectacle he had witnessed. “If you’ve forgiven her, then that’s sufficient.”

Lord Barcan was more astonished by Ketal’s demeanor than his remarkable ability. The maid’s actions had undoubtedly been disrespectful. Not just barbarians, but most nobles and knights would have punished her harshly, but Ketal had dismissed the matter without a second thought.

He is certainly... different, Lord Barcan thought. This was no ordinary barbarian.

After dismissing the maid, Lord Barcan turned to the matter at hand.

“I called you here for a simple reason. I want to evaluate you as a person,” Lord Barcan said.

“And? Have you reached your conclusion?” Ketal asked him.

“Partially. But there are still some questions I’d like to ask,” Lord Barcan said, his gaze sharpening. “Where are you from?”

“From the coldest place in the world. A land painted white,” Ketal replied.

Lord Barcan exhaled sharply. The barbarian before him was claiming to hail from the legendary White Snowfield.

Is he the legendary barbarian from the White Snowfield...? Lord Barcan thought.

“Somehow it’s hard for me to believe that you’re telling me the truth,” Lord Barcan said.

“It was a wretched place,” Ketal said, shrugging. “Believe it or not, that’s your choice.”

“Then allow me to reframe my question.”

Where Ketal hailed from was less important than the strength he possessed.

“How strong are you?” Lord Barcan asked.

“That’s the wrong question,” Ketal replied. “I don’t know the standards of strength in this world.”

“I see.” The lord’s gaze shifted to the knight, who gave a small nod. “Would you spar with my knight? You will be compensated, of course.”

“A sparring match?” Ketal’s lips curled into a grin.

“Yes. It won’t be to the death. I trust you both to respect the boundaries.

“A duel with a knight...” Ketal chuckled. “I like the sound of that.”

Lord Barcan instinctively gripped the armrest of his chair. A strange tension filled the room.

As expected, a barbarian is still a barbarian,’ Lord Barcan thought. Despite Ketal’s dignity and politeness, his eagerness for battle was undeniable.

But for Ketal, the reason for his enthusiasm was simple: this was a rare opportunity to face a genuine knight. He was excited to face a true warrior of the fantasy world who used supernatural powers and could wield the power of Aura.

There was no way he would let such a chance slip by.

***

They moved to the training grounds. The soldiers who had been training there were quickly dismissed, and Ketal was handed his axe once more. Opposite to him, the knight stood, gripping his sword and glaring at him with fierce intensity. Ketal casually stretched, loosening his muscles.

“Well then, let’s begin. I sincerely hope there’s no bloodshed,” Lord Barcan announced.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the knight began to approach, a menacing grin spreading across his face.

“Consider it an honor, barbarian, to witness my swordsmanship,” the knight sneered.

“I hope that’s the case,” Ketal replied with a wide grin. He was sincere, but the knight took it as mockery, his expression twitching in anger.

“Hmph!” The knight kicked off the ground, his body hurtling toward Ketal with remarkable speed.

Let’s see how he attacks, Ketal mused, holding his axe calmly as he observed the knight’s movements.

Then, in an instant, the knight’s sword started to move. Ketal noticed a slight flicker at the tip of the blade. However, it wasn’t just the blade tip. His eyes widened as he thought he saw the entire sword split. Ketal’s pupils dilated as he watched the blade divide into three distinct sections.

The split blades slashed toward him simultaneously—one at his head, the other two aimed at his left and right.

An illusion? Ketal thought at first. However, it wasn’t an illusion. Astonishingly, all three blades were real. So this is the swordsmanship he was talking about.

Ketal stood in awe, mesmerized by the trajectory of the blades.

The knight smirked. As expected, the barbarian was so captivated by his elegant swordsmanship that he was unable to respond. Feeling a rush of superiority, the knight prepared to halt his attack, certain of his victory.

Then, Ketal moved.

Clink!

With a mere flick of his fingers, Ketal deflected all three blades at once.

“What...?” The knight was stunned. What had just happened?

Before he could process what was going on, Ketal’s finger struck his chest.

With a tearing sound, the knight’s breastplate crumpled under the impact.

“Ugh!” The knight was sent flying backward, his body skidding across the ground before coming to a halt. He lay sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain. “W-what...?”

Lord Barcan, who had been silently observing, rushed toward the fallen knight. Though the knight trembled violently, it appeared his life was not in danger.

“Incredible,” Ketal remarked softly, recalling the moment. The knight’s sword had truly split into three.

So this is what swordsmanship looks like, he thought, his curiosity bubbling over.

Meanwhile, Lord Barcan was utterly shaken. It only took him one strike...

His knight was by no means weak. He was on the brink of becoming one of the Advanced knights. Yet, Ketal had defeated him with a single blow.

“Is it over?” Ketal asked nonchalantly.

“Yes,” Lord Barcan replied, forcing himself to nod.

***

Afterward, Ketal received permission from the lord to act freely within the estate and was even rewarded with gold coins before he left the domain.

Back in his office, Lord Barcan sat deep in thought. He had just witnessed a barbarian who could take down his knight with a single strike. It was a monstrous level of strength.

He has to be at least Transcendent, he mused. And that was a conservative estimate. Ketal’s true limits remained unknown. A barbarian of such power could potentially disrupt the world’s balance.

He said he would arrive soon... Lord Barcan thought. A particular figure crossed his mind. He was waiting for the person who mentored his knight—one of the few in the vast world to hold the title of Swordmaster.

“Will he find this interesting?” Lord Barcan asked himself. He knew this man had a keen interest in strong individuals. Surely, he would be intrigued. The thought gave Lord Barcan a headache. “I need to make preparations—”

“What are you preparing for?” A voice suddenly interrupted him.

Lord Barcan shot to his feet. He had dismissed all his attendants to organize his thoughts in solitude. No one should have been in the room. Yet a window had been left open, and an old man now stood there.

The elder stared at Lord Barcan, grinning mischievously.

Recognizing him, the lord relaxed slightly, though he still wore a troubled expression.

“You never change, do you?” Lord Barcan said, exasperated.

“As I grow older, I find it amusing to tease the younger generation. It seems you were discussing something rather entertaining,” the old man replied with a chuckle.

Lord Barcan sighed heavily, already anticipating a long day ahead. Bowing respectfully, he addressed the man, “Greetings, the esteemed Swordmaster Kain. It is an honor.”