For a minute, it felt like even the world was holding its breath. Yafgar’s face muscles tightened and made his eyes twitch. His brows furrowed and finally, an extremely sharp glare that could have cut air pointed at Kai.

Brugnar, who was next to the chieftain had his hand clutched-white-knuckled around the hilt of his dagger. He spat tobacco remains on the ground with venom in his eyes. Ragnar’s face went white as he looked between Kai and his father.

Although Kai had explained his thoughts to them, they hadn’t been prepared for his bluntness.

His thoughts soon vanished to thin air as he saw the barbarians around him exchanged glances of suspicion and alarm, several already retrieving their weapons with sharp, swift motions.

On Kai’s side and without his commands, Gareth and the mercenaries mirrored the tension. Shields shifted into place, weapons slid from sheaths, and a subtle shift in formation signaled their readiness to defend. The atmosphere was heavy, a coiled spring on the verge of snapping. If this continued for a few more seconds—

Yafgar raised his hand sharply, his voice cutting through the burgeoning chaos. “Is that a threat?”

It was a simple question. Kai shook his head, knowing the depth behind those four words.

“No, it’s not, I’m not here to threaten you, but to offer you a path forward. I have already said so. You’re in foreign lands, cut off from your home. If you want to survive and thrive, you need more than these mountains. You need backing—a place to grow. And I’m not just offering you refuge; I’m offering you something no one else in this world can.” He gestured subtly toward Gareth. “You’ve seen the proof for yourself. If you doubt me, ask your son.”

The rest of the barbarians seemed to pick up on the formal tone of the conversation, prompting them to lower their weapons to where they belonged. All eyes, including the chieftain’s, turned toward Ragnar.

“Is it true?” he asked.

Ragnar nodded solemnly. He stepped forward and placed his hand on his chest.

“I’ve seen it myself, Father,” he said. “He’s telling the truth. Lord Arzan can bless warriors without the gift of magic. It’s a power similar to that of Mages but different… and just as destructive.”

Yafgar’s hand relaxed, but his expression remained guarded. Kai knew one slip of a word could end up shedding blood and tears, painting the mountain ground with wet, fresh, crimson life-fluid. He steadied himself, eyeing the chieftain’s next words.

“Your kingdom hates us,” Yafgar said coldly. “To your crown, we are raiders—barbarians in name and deed. Warmongers. Cavemen. They’ll never accept us. Never!”

Kai sat straighter from where he was and looked at him squarely. “That’s my responsibility to deal with, not yours,” he said. “I give you my word that I will make it work. You know I’m honorable. You’ve seen it that day or you wouldn’t send your son to fight in the beast wave.”

The chieftain sighed, that one breath felt like it held centuries worth of pain. “I do know,” he admitted. “But this isn’t about you. This is about my people—their survival, their future. I can’t make such a decision lightly.”

He paused, his eyes locked on Kai but his mind running miles.

“You spoke of a duel of blood,” he said slowly. “Can you truly prove yourself in such a sacred trial? If you fail, it will cost your life.”

Kai’s lips curled into a confident smile. He inclined his head and placed his hand on his chest, mimicking what Ragnar had done before, showing his respect. “I’m prepared,” he said. “But I won’t fight you myself. I’m a Mage—it would be an unfair fight. I’ll use a proxy instead.”

Yafgar’s brows lifted in surprise. “A proxy? Who would fight in your place?”

Kai’s hand extended, pointing toward Gorak, who stood quietly among the mercenaries, his presence radiating raw strength. “Him.”

Yafgar looked at Gorak and looked at Kai back again. “Are you sure? If you’re so confident, why not use this blessed warrior?” He gestured toward Gareth, whose display of power still lingered fresh in the minds of the gathered crowd. The split boulder laid broken behind him.

Kai shook his head, appearing calm and collected. “Gareth is an experienced Enforcer—or as you call him, a blessed warrior. He’s… very experienced. Pardon me, I’m not underestimating your ability if it appears so, but his powers might not provide the clarity we need to see the right outcome.

“And… Gorak has recently become an Enforcer. He can’t yet wield most of his powers or affinities, but his body is already far stronger than that of a normal warrior. He’s the best suited for this clash. And it seems to be the best fit in my eyes.”

The chieftain’s sharp eyes moved to Gorak, sizing him up. A moment of silence passed, the tension thick in the air. Finally, Yafgar let out a deep breath and nodded. “Very well. He will do it. But understand this—if he loses, it will be clear that your conviction isn’t strong enough to guide us.”

Kai smiled once again, not once losing his calm exterior.

“I believe it is. You don’t have to worry.”

With a nod, Yafgar barked an order. “Clear out the space! We’ll settle this properly.”

The crowd quickly sprang into action, clearing an open area near the edge of the camp. The spot chosen for the duel was rugged, with uneven ground and jagged rocks scattered across the periphery, lending an almost primal aura to the setting. Barbarians and Kai’s retinue alike formed a tight circle around the makeshift arena, their heavy boots crunching against the gravel.

The low murmur of voices faded, replaced by a tense, expectant silence as the crowd settled into place. Suddenly, the nervous energy was replaced by the excitement in the air. He saw a lot of barbarians talking in hushed voices among themselves while pointing at both him and Gorak.

His eyes moved away from the arena towards the approaching mercenary leader.

Gorak’s face stood stoic as ever, no tension visible in his shoulders—almost as if he didn’t have any battle with a barbarian chieftain.

“I’ll do my best,” he said, as soon as he stepped closer.

Kai nodded and looked at him. “Don’t hold back. The chieftain is a seasoned warrior. He’d gone through as twice as things that we’d collectively gone through so, the victory isn’t guaranteed.”

Despite Kai’s not-so-very motivational thoughts, Gorak’s lips twitched into a small grin. “I will win. I wanted to test my newfound strength without holding back anyway.”

As you should, Kai thought to himself and stepped backwards. He saw Gorak turn around and step into the dueling ground.

For the fight, neither combatant wore anything more than the usual leather and hide armor. Both wielded axes—the chieftain gripping his own well-worn weapon, and Gorak trading his heavy club for an even larger, weightier axe.

Brugnar stepped forward, taking the role of referee. His voice cut through everyone’s thoughts.

“The rules are simple!” he started, “This fight will end when one of the combatants is dead or surrenders,” he announced, his eyes scanning both warriors, ensuring they understood the gravity of his words. “There is no time limit. There will be no interference. Fight with the elements in mind, and fight honorably.” He paused for a moment, his gaze flicking over the assembled crowd, making sure his instructions were being absorbed. “No tricks, no dishonor. If any is witnessed, you’ll have to face the consequences and offer the win to the opposite party.” Brugnar added, his gaze settling on the warriors. “You know the rules. Let the battle begin when the call is made.”

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The warriors nodded in unison, their grips tightening on their weapons. A hush fell over the crowd as the two combatants faced each other. Every pair of eyes watched intently, waiting for the clash to begin.

“Begin!” Brugnar yelled and the duel began.

Yafgar stood still, his body relaxed but his eyes sharp, observing Gorak with the focus of a predator studying its prey. He didn’t raise his axe right away, instead allowing it to hang loosely in his grip as he subtly shifted his weight, always ready to respond to any move that might come his way.

In contrast, Gorak surged forward with the force of a boulder, his heavy axe raised high. The sound of his boots crunching on the packed dirt echoed through the stillness, breaking the silence as he charged. With a powerful swing, his weapon descended in a mighty arc, filled with raw strength. The chieftain met the blow with his own axe, the clash of steel ringing out like thunder.

The force behind Gorak’s strike pushed the chieftain back a full step, his feet digging into the earth to keep his balance. For a brief moment, Yafgar’s eyes widened, the realization of Gorak’s power clear in his expression.

Gorak grinned, teeth flashing, and pressed on with another attack, more aggressive now that he’d found an opening.

This time, Yafgar ducked low, rolling to the side and coming up behind Gorak. His axe was ready, but he didn’t strike. Instead, he circled, carefully observing. Gorak, unwilling to give an inch, immediately pivoted to face him, closing the distance with another series of brutal attacks. Each swing of his axe was thunderous, and the barbarians around the ring gasped in awe at the power of each blow.

Yafgar danced away from most of them, his movements fluid and agile for his size. When he couldn’t avoid the strike, he blocked with his axe, the clang of steel ringing out. Every time, a flicker of discomfort passed across his face before it was quickly masked by steely determination.

Kai stood on the edge of the ring, his arms folded as his sharp gaze followed the fight. He’s quicker than I expected, he thought, eyes narrowing as he watched the chieftain’s movements. Yafgar wasn’t just skilled—he was calculating, manipulating the fight. He wasn’t wasting energy with unnecessary counterattacks, letting Gorak wear himself down with relentless offense while also learning his weak points.

Yafgar wasn’t just battling Gorak with strength. He was playing a mental game, trying to keep Gorak from predicting his next move by not revealing his fighting style or attack patterns.

Despite his usual confidence, Kai couldn’t ignore the growing doubt for Gorak. The mercenary had proven himself in countless battles, but this was different. The chieftain’s experience wasn’t just in fighting—it was in strategy and endurance. Kai noticed the small signs: the slight hesitation in Gorak’s strikes, the tightening of his grip on the axe, the winces when the chieftain blocked his blows.

Though, he still felt confident in an Enforcers’ endurance and strength.

The battle pressed on, each clash louder and more frenzied than the last. Gorak’s breath became heavier, sweat glistening on his skin beneath the rising sun. His strikes were still strong, but Kai saw it—the cracks were starting to show. Gorak’s swings were slowing, his precision fading.

It’s only a matter of time, Kai thought, holding his breath as the fight wore on.

The sounds of clashing axes and the labored breathing of the warriors filled the air, the duel stretching past the twenty-minute mark.

Neither Gorak nor the chieftain showed any visible injuries, but the tension in the air was thick, charged with each narrowly avoided strike and perfectly timed block.

Gorak stood firm, his chest rising and falling steadily, his eyes still burning with the same intensity as when the fight began. His stamina hadn’t faltered, and the crowd—along with the chieftain—began to realize this wasn’t normal.

Yafgar, though still sharp, was finally starting to show signs of fatigue. His shoulders sagged slightly with each dodge, and the tightness in his jaw betrayed his growing frustration.

Gorak swung again, heavy and precise. The chieftain dodged with fluid ease, stepping aside and retaliating with a vicious cleave aimed at Gorak’s side. But Gorak’s eyes flashed with anticipation. He twisted his torso and, with surprising agility, lifted his foot to deliver a powerful kick that landed squarely in the chieftain’s chest.

The impact shook the ground, and Yafgar was sent crashing to the dirt, his weapon skidding out of reach. Gasps rippled through the crowd, several barbarians instinctively stepping forward before pausing, unsure.

He struggled to push himself up, but Gorak was already upon him. With the speed of a predator, he raised his axe high, bringing it down in a deadly arc. The crowd held its breath as the weapon descended like a hammer.

At the last second, Yafgar managed to grab his axe, raising it just in time to block the blow. The clash echoed through the camp, and though he stopped the strike, the sheer power behind it made him cry out in pain.

Gorak continued his assault, each blow coming faster than the last, battering the chieftain’s axe like a storm against a tree. The weapon groaned under the repeated impacts, dents forming in its surface with every strike.

Kai watched closely, his sharp eyes catching every detail. Yafgar’s teeth were clenched in effort, his muscles trembling under the strain. The chieftain’s weapon, once sturdy, began to show signs of breaking under the pressure, until, with a final snap, the head of the axe broke clean off.

Yafgar’s instincts kicked in.

As Gorak brought his axe down for the final blow, he twisted and rolled, narrowly escaping the attack. The ground cracked where the blow landed, sending shockwaves through the camp. Dust and debris rose into the air, and for a moment, the entire crowd stood in stunned silence, staring at the broken earth and the figure at its center.

The chieftain rose unsteadily, his chest heaving.

His eyes locked onto Gorak, who stood calm and composed, his weapon resting on his shoulder, ready for the next move. There was no doubt now— Gorak had already won.

For a long moment, the camp was silent except for the crackle of the campfires. Then, Yafgar dropped what remained of his weapon, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. His voice, when it came, was heavy with reluctant respect.

“I concede,” he said and bowed before raising up. “You win the fight. You are honorable in your conviction.”

The crowd erupted in murmurs and gasps, some cheering for the unexpected victory, others stunned into silence. Kai allowed a small, satisfied smile to curl at the corner of his lips. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

More gasps rippled through the gathered barbarians, followed by murmurs of disbelief. It wasn’t long before the tension in the crowd escalated.

“Chieftain, they must have cheated!” a voice rang out from the crowd.

Others quickly joined in, their cries fueled by disbelief. “There’s no way you would lose without trickery!”

“The duel isn’t honourable, chieftain! We need another fight!”

Kai’s eyes flicked toward the outbursts, his expression calm, though his hand subtly rested on the shaft of his spear. The crowd’s accusations grew louder, swelling into a cacophony of outrage.

“Enough!” Yafgar yelled.

The barbarians fell silent almost immediately, their gazes dropping as their leader stepped forward, his tone laced with unyielding authority. “Who do you think I am?” His sharp glare swept over the dissenters, making even the boldest among them avert their eyes. “Huh? Would I allow any trickery in my own arena?! That’s right! I won’t. I lost because my opponent was stronger. There was no trickery, no dishonor. It was a fair battle, and I will hear no more of this nonsense!”

The crowd murmured their reluctant acquiescence as the chieftain turned toward Kai. Despite his disheveled appearance and the fatigue in his limbs, his stride was steady, his pride unbroken. “You have strong warriors under you,” he said, his voice quieter but no less commanding.

Kai inclined his head respectfully, a faint smile playing on his lips. “They do well, but it would be wrong of me to claim their strength is purely their own. Much of it comes from their abilities as Enforcers, or as you might call them, blessed warriors. Gorak has always been strong, but becoming an Enforcer made him a different kind of beast. It gave him power and stamina beyond what he ever thought possible.”

The chieftain nodded slowly, his gaze flicking to Gorak, who stood silently nearby, still holding his battered axe. “Is it true that each of us could gain such power?”

Kai shook his head and smiled apologetically. “Not everyone, no. But I can send Mages from my retinue here to test your people. They’ll determine who among you has the potential to become Enforcers. I’m certain there will be quite a few.”

Yafgar’s brow furrowed in thought. “A force of Enforcers would be formidable indeed,” he admitted. After a pause, his voice once again rang. “But how do you know we won’t use these powers against you?”

Kai’s smile widened slightly, tinged with confidence. “I believe in your honor,” he said simply. “Without trust, there can be no partnership. Although we haven’t worked out all the details, I know this much— Trust is the foundation of success. And so, I offer you mine first.”

The chieftain regarded Kai carefully, then looked around at his people. His gaze lingered on Ragnar, whose piercing stare was fixed intently on him, silently urging him to make the right choice. After a long moment, Yafgar turned back to Kai, his expression resolute.

“Very well,” he said, his voice steady. “If all you’ve said proves true, and we can come to terms, the Lombards will consider standing under your banner. If it means giving us a new lease on life, we will accept it.”

Kai’s smile broadened. “You won’t regret it. I’ll send my delegates and Mages here as soon as possible. I believe more Enforcers will be the need of the hour.”

Yafgar raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Why do you say that?”

Kai’s gaze turned distant for a moment, as if he were looking beyond the horizon. “Because,” he said, his voice quiet but heavy with meaning, “we have a lot of battles ahead of us. And I intend for us to win them all.”

***

A/N – You can read 30 chapters (15 Magus Reborn and 15 Dao of money) on my patreon.

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