"In the vast universe, all planes of existence have their own unique power systems and nomenclatures. However, the nomenclature of one plane may not be suitable or practical for another. Therefore, we Conquerors, through our extensive research across countless planes, have discovered a system where a plane is divided into 20 ranks, each rank further subdivided into three smaller stages. Although this system operates with exact precision in only five percent of the planes in the universe, none have outdone us. Proud angels, demons, or wizards may be reluctant to admit it, but they all know who created the most practical and accurate ranking system."
- Excerpt from the book Universal Power System Ranking
Azderos, the border with the center of the Northern Tundras.
This region had a snowy but relatively mild climate compared to the extreme north. On one of the hills stood a makeshift settlement of ramshackle walls and structures.
Despite its appearance, it shouldn't be underestimated. Its ramshackle walls had witnessed the deaths of not thousands but hundreds of soldiers from border duchies and kingdoms. Despite being repeatedly destroyed over the past decade, northern raiders and marauder groups never abandoned this place.
Some aimed to raid distant elven lands in the west, while others sought to plunder dwarf merchant caravans in the far east or perhaps establish small bandit camps there. But these ambitions were often thwarted by the northern group that primarily targeted the riches of the central plains.
For the northerners, who grew up in an environment intertwined with magical creatures, power was the ultimate rule. And many powerful raiders would cast their eyes on the wealth of fertile lands just a few months' journey away (three weeks for the Whitefangs). Unlike the tough-bodied and wild-natured northern women, most women in the central regions were gentle and had supple bodies.
With a successful raid, many beautiful women could be obtained and sold to slave traders in the center at exorbitant prices. The fact that they could also have a go at them before selling was an added bonus.
At its current state, this settlement, named Tu'bask, had acquired close to two hundred slaves. Everyone was on edge for a potential retaliatory strike from the Vinumregnum Duchy. Just a week later, a slave trader from neighboring duchies would come to collect their goods, and they would flee north to enjoy their money before the Vinumregnum forces arrived.
In the large house reserved for the clan chief in Tu'bask, the current leader of the raiders, Olpar, sat. Olpar was a large, muscular northerner, standing about eight feet tall. His favorite weapon was a bardiche he had acquired as spoils of war by killing another northerner, whom he had considered an eternal enemy. Even as he sat on his throne, contemplating the future, he never let go of his bardiche, always keeping it close by his knee. Beside him were two half-naked women, chained and massaging his body with forced smiles.
They were among the women abducted from the Vinumregnum Duchy and were the wife and daughter of a relatively powerful baron who ruled over a border village. Now, they served the killer of their baron only to survive and avoid even worse humiliations. The baron's daughter, contemplating their situation, felt tears welling up in her eyes again, thinking she had cried herself dry long ago.
She clenched her teeth slightly, trying not to let her sorrow show. She wouldn't allow this monster, who had mercilessly slaughtered her beloved father and his faithful aide, her secret lover, to take pleasure in her pain!
However, the trembling in her hands could easily be noticed by a warrior of Olpar's caliber. The leader of Tu'bask turned to the young girl and began to run his hand over her body, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips.
"My lord, she's not very experienced. Please, let your hands explore my body," the girl's mother tried to draw attention to herself by pushing her breasts forward. She didn't want her daughter to be exposed to more of the dark side of the world.
"Hah, despite being a baroness by southern standards, you're no different from a disguised whore!" Olpar, satisfied that he had thought enough about his plans, took the baron's wife into his lap. "You'd better satisfy me now. If I'm not satisfied, I'll move on to your daughter!" These whispered words in the baroness's ear felt like a squeeze on her heart, but she managed to force a charming smile, hiding her pain.
Olpar wouldn't be able to contain himself any longer. But it seemed fate had other plans for his desires. With a loud bang, the door burst open, and a bloodied northerner stumbled in.
"My lord, the situation is dire!" he managed to say before his breath hitched, and he coughed up blood.
Pushing the baroness away from his lap with a fierce motion, Olpar stood up and grabbed his bardiche. He hurried over to the northerner and lifted him up with his massive hand. "Speak! What's happening right now!"
The northerner, who coughed up a bit more blood due to the shaking, managed to force out the words: "From the north... Dromkez!" before his body sagged like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
The leader of Tu'bask realized that this northerner, whom he knew to be among his scouts, had breathed his last. Disregarding him, he tossed the body into a corner and donned his bear fur cloak before striding out through the open door.
Tension and hustle permeated throughout Tu'bask at the moment. Those not belonging to Olpar's group debated whether to stay or leave, while those who were part of it prepared their weapons and armor. Olpar felt the rush of blood to his head.
Dromkez! The traditional northern raid, but why were they attacking his worthless territory? There was no significant loot aside from the slaves. Then why? He felt his anger rise with further contemplation. With all his focus on the southerners, he never expected such a move from the north.
He advanced to the square and called over his most trusted subordinate, his second in command of the clan. "Erik, who is the enemy, and how many are they?"
Erik replied with a grim face. "My lord, the enemy's number is close to seven hundred, and there are at least four level three warriors among them."
Olpar maintained his gaze. He knew Erik wouldn't be afraid of this number. There had to be more, and indeed there was. Erik continued, "Furthermore, they are being led by a longsword-wielding man suspected to be at peak fourth level. He has killed forty of our scouts with a single swing of his sword."
Tu'bask's leader furrowed his brow. He was also at the fourth level, but it had been a few years since his breakthrough, and fourthlevel warriors were not easy to come by in these parts. Moreover, he couldn't even kill half of an eighty-person scout group with a single attack. It seemed like someone who gave due credit to the enemy's strength and couldn't be compared to a weak southern baron. "Understood, prepare all the warriors and take positions on the walls. I will try to convince the Triplets," he said, then without waiting for a response, began to stride long steps towards a secluded corner of Tu'bask.
Without delay, Erik returned to gather the raiders. Despite the enemy not being weak, the defending side was them, and the advantage was in their hands.
...
When the sun reached its zenith, Sven could finally see Tu'bask, the settlement they now referred to as Tu'bask, from a distance.
"Lord, look! We've finally arrived!" his words elicited cheers of excitement from the seven hundred and twenty clan warriors.
Ülgen, maintaining his sharp gaze, nodded his head. Then he began to speak loudly. "Beyazdiş soldiers, behold this ruin! With the divine guidance of Dromkez, we will be the true owners of these lands. And from the ruins they call Tu'bask, we will establish Beyazdiş City, which all clans in the north will admire!"
All the warriors, including Sven, let out a war cry that could be heard even by the raiders in Tu'bask.
But they did not pause for a moment in their advance. It was as if all those sounds were conjured by magic. Within forty-five minutes, they reached Tu'bask and stopped in disciplined silence.
The display of discipline, unexpected from any clan in the north, was creating a warning to the raiders of Tu'bask. Olpar, accompanied by three sturdy men and Erik, couldn't help but feel tense. He had neither seen nor heard of such a clan force before.
As the silence persisted, the raiders of Tu'bask grew even more tense. Then suddenly, all the Beyazdiş soldiers began to pound their shields and weapons on the ground. The rhythm they maintained was quite imposing, adding to the tension of the raiders.
After a ten-minute intimidation akin to torture, Ülgen, Sven, and the other three third-level warriors stepped forward. He swiftly drew his longsword from its sheath on his back and drove it into the ground with a resounding thud that everyone could hear. With a bold grin, he shouted towards Tu'bask.
"You Tu'bask scum, who only find strength in capturing helpless women, I and my sword challenge you here and now! I swear by my clan Beyazdiş, no matter how many fourth-level warriors you bring, I will fight them all at once! Worms and dragons do not stand on the same scale; the number of worms does not instill fear in the dragon!"
His words of contempt and mockery were met with a resounding roar of enthusiasm from his own side, while the Tu'bask raiders cursed in anger. Olpar and the three men were discussing whether to accept the challenge.
"He wields a longsword. Olpar, as long as you and the big brother can hold him, we can easily win." The relatively slender of the three identical men licked his dagger, chuckling.
Olpar looked at him with a slight disgust in his eyes. If he had the confidence to deal with the enemy one-on-one, he wouldn't spare these bastards even a copper from his loot.
Addressed as the big brother, the man nodded confidently. "I can swear he knows nothing more than a handful of soldiers they work tirelessly to cover up the southerners' weaknesses. He doesn't seem to realize how difficult it could be to be attacked by a few people of the same level throughout his life. Let's put him in his place."
The one in the middle contented himself with a low growl. His eyes were scrutinizing Ülgen with intent to kill. Olpar saw the trio's confidence and felt a bit relieved; after all, these three wouldn't accept a job unless they were sure of their success. Suppressing the discomfort and sense of danger in his heart, he made his decision. He drowned out the surrounding cheers with a booming voice, "Even if third-level hounds helped you, stranger, nothing would change. But have it your way. When the fight is over, I'll make a wine bowl from your skull!"
These words would have enraged a normal northerner, but Ülgen's cocky grin didn't change an inch. There were very few opportunities to better understand the combat prowess of the human body. He would seize this opportunity to the fullest!