Chapter 93: Warrior Village·Victory over the village chief·I still have to rely on you, Fern, to protect me
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With a mix of noise and mild distress, the group quickly departed from the village, finding no reason to linger any longer.
Before long, they arrived at a warrior village well-known in the local region. Its fame, however, had nearly made it a target for the bloodthirsty god of war Rivale , who sought worthy opponents wherever he went.
"…In other words, this is the place that was almost massacred by Rivale," Ash muttered under his breath, his gaze sweeping across the village. This settlement, renowned for its martial culture, carried with it peculiar obsessions and rules.
The village was far removed from the bustling cities, isolated and remote, with only winding paths connecting it to the outside world. It was the kind of place stumbled upon by travelers or the occasional lost hunter.
The layout of the village was scattered yet oddly harmonious. Most of the houses were constructed from adobe, standardized to a near-compulsive degree. Beneath the buildings, the ground was paved with stones, though the surrounding land was left as raw earth. Rain from the previous night had turned the village paths into muddy trails.
Despite the muddy conditions, the men of the village all wore pristine white cloaks, taking extraordinary care to keep them spotless. Their meticulous appearance was striking against the backdrop of their modest surroundings.
One figure stood out among them—a middle-aged man with a prominent knife scar running over his right eye, making him unmistakably one-eyed. Draped in a black cloak, he exuded authority with his commanding demeanor and majestic presence, marking him as the village chief.
But when it came to strength… Ash couldn't help but think the village had narrowly avoided annihilation.
While the villagers' martial prowess was respectable, it paled in comparison to Rivale's overwhelming strength. The gap between them was insurmountable, leaving Ash unimpressed.
"Are all the people in this village mysophobic?" he muttered, bemused by their fastidiousness.
"—This is a warrior's honor. It is only natural to remain untarnished," the village chief snapped, clearly overhearing Ash. He turned sharply, his stern tone carrying a sense of reprimand.
"As a warrior, one must stay as spotless as possible in both battle and life to demonstrate excellence. Do you not understand this? By the way… what is that?"
"What's what?" Ash asked indifferently.
"That sloppiness of yours! Unbelievable…! Do you have no pride as a warrior, beyond mere strength?!"
"That's a bit harsh," Ash replied, still unbothered and unwilling to argue.
Fern, however, couldn't remain silent. She stepped forward, her tone sharp with dissatisfaction.
"What kind of so-called 'warrior's honor' is that? And what does it have to do with Master Ash? Master Ash is a magician! He's not a warrior, so this has nothing to do with him!"
"A magician? Impossible!" the village chief scoffed, as though Fern's words were a joke.
"Look closely! Even if you're too inexperienced to sense his sharpness and the battle-hardened aura of a veteran, you should at least notice the calluses on his hands. Not every magician has those! They're unmistakably the result of wielding weapons for years!"
"Calluses… from wielding weapons?"
The chief's confident declaration made Fern falter. Her eyes shifted to Ash's saber, which he always dismissed as merely for self-defense, and then to his hands—hands that were undeniably rougher than those of an ordinary magician.
The girl's suspicious gaze made Ash smile subtly. "Well… how should I put it? Actually, I'm a magician, but I also learned martial arts halfway through, so I can be considered a half-warrior, but I can't compare to you~"
"Learning martial arts halfway?" Upon hearing this, the village chief frowned deeply, his voice laced with anger. "Are you belittling us?!"
"What's the meaning of that?" Ash asked, looking puzzled.
"As a warrior, you have already reached a very high level, yet you disregard the dignity of a warrior so much…!" The chief's voice grew louder, and his tone was sharp with reproach.
"…You really have a strange persistence in strange things," Ash said, shaking his head in exasperation. "Why don't you just do whatever you want?"
Faced with the village chief, who was particularly strict and even angry in unusual ways, Ash found himself speechless.
Frieren, noticing the chief's reaction and finding it amusing, casually suggested, "You both clearly have completely different understandings of what it means to be a warrior. It's impossible to convince each other with words… Since no one can convince anyone, why not just fight it out?"
"—Lady Frieren?!" Fren nearly jumped out of her seat at the suggestion, her voice rising in disbelief. Ash, however, waved his hand dismissively, his tone light. "Forget about it. I'm not interested in bullying…"
"Bullying…?" Eustace's face darkened, the village chief glaring at Ash with an expression angrier than before.
To Eustace, Ash's offhand remark seemed like a direct insult. But Ash only shook his head and sighed, his expression tinged with pity. "You were probably better when you were younger, but you're already in your forties or fifties now, right? And you're still fighting like this at your age."
In this world, the peak of a warrior's ability was comparable to that of an athlete. Unlike magicians, whose power often grew sharper with time, a warrior's prime was typically in their twenties.
By their thirties—or at most their early forties—a warrior's body began to lose its peak condition. Strength, endurance, reaction speed—everything declined with time. This was an unchangeable natural law, and this world was no exception.
Take Eisen, the dwarf from the Brave Team, for example. While dwarves lived much longer than humans, Eisen's physical abilities had still peaked long ago. His body was already in decline, forcing him into a peaceful retirement.
Himmel, the hero, had also retired from adventuring after his physical state began to wane.
Otherwise, why hadn't Himmel gone north to continue eliminating threats and protecting people? After all, the demons in the north had never stopped wreaking havoc. Macht in the Golden land had once slain the demon generals causing chaos, and Solitär had stormed fortresses, their exploits taking place during the same era when the Brave Team had just ended their adventures. This was all within the last ten or twenty years.
Had Himmel been able to maintain his prime for longer, or even grow stronger into his thirties or forties, his nature would never have allowed him to sit idly by. He would have undoubtedly rallied his companions to confront lingering threats such as the Corrupted Sage.
But human limitations arrive swiftly and unavoidably.
---
The brave cannot escape their limits, and neither could the village chief standing before Ash.
Though Eustace had largely retreated from the frontlines, leaving leadership of the warriors to his son, he remained full of confidence. "Even though I'm old, I am still the chief of the Warrior Village! I'm more than capable of handling a young man like you. Even if my physical ability has declined, my experience and awareness are more than enough to turn the tables."
"…Young man? I'm actually a bit older than I look," Ash said, raising an eyebrow and curling his lips into an amused smile.
"Older than you look? What are you—twenty at most?" Eustace scrutinized Ash carefully. No matter how he examined him, Ash appeared to be no more than eighteen or nineteen. Begrudgingly, Eustace adjusted his estimate upward, considering it the most generous possibility.
Ash hesitated for a moment before speaking seriously, "...Alright, I'm kidding. I just turned eighteen this year."
"...This guy is so shameless. Don't learn from him, Fern," Frieren said bluntly, her voice laced with disdain.
"Don't worry... I definitely don't want to become someone like Master Ash," Fern replied, her tone equally sharp.
At their synchronized reactions, disgust practically radiated from their expressions, making their tacit understanding more than evident.
Ash, visibly hurt, forced himself to act as if nothing had happened. He turned back to Eustace and spoke again, his tone casual but firm.
"I'll agree to a duel, but if I win, you have to provide accommodation."
"And free meals," Frieren quickly interjected, her financial woes overriding her earlier disdain.
"Master Frieren?!" Fern exclaimed, clearly upset. "This village chief looks really strong. What if Master Ash gets injured?"
"It's nothing serious. Don't worry," Frieren reassured her, her confidence in Ash unshaken as she gently pulled Fern aside.
Eustace watched the exchange before stepping forward. Drawing his sword, he pointed it at Ash from a distance and declared, "I'll agree to accommodation and food, but don't expect me to take care of you if you get hurt later."
Ash smirked, unfazed. "I should be the one saying that. Oh, and can you provide drinks as well?"
"Of course!" Eustace chuckled, his voice brimming with confidence. "It's only natural for the strong to enjoy privileges. You can have all the wine and drinks you want—if you defeat me!"
Ash shrugged. "Let me make one thing clear in advance. If your clothes get dirty or torn, I'm not compensating you."
Eustace's expression darkened as he shifted into an offensive stance. "Draw your sword! Let me see what you're capable of, to speak so boldly."
But Ash, much taller and broader than him, didn't even flinch. Instead, he waved dismissively. "Forget it. That would be too much of an insult. If I inject magic power into my body, it's enough to rival most weapons."
"Ridiculous!" Eustace roared, clearly enraged. Without hesitation, he stomped forward, his sword aimed directly at Ash's hand, ready to teach him a lesson.
The movement was so fast that ordinary people wouldn't have been able to see it. Even Fern, standing nearby, couldn't react in time. She instinctively turned her head, unable to bear watching what seemed like an inevitable injury.
But as the gap between them closed and Eustace prepared to strike, he was certain Ash wouldn't be able to dodge at such close range. Yet, in the next instant, his certainty was shattered.
A resounding bang echoed across the space as a silver streak shot through the air, vibrating violently before landing over ten meters away in a puddle.
The fight ended in an instant.
It wasn't until the weapon hit the ground that Fern realized what had happened—it was Eustace's sword that had been sent flying.
---
Eustace, who had moments ago been brimming with confidence, now stood frozen in his attacking stance, completely bewildered. His expression was blank, as though his soul had momentarily left his body.
He replayed the moment in his mind but couldn't grasp what had happened. All he'd felt was an immense force striking his sword—like a giant's hand slapping it away.
The sheer force had been enough to disarm him entirely, sending his weapon soaring out of his grasp.
The surrounding villagers, who had been chatting excitedly moments ago, were equally stunned. Their lively conversations died down abruptly, replaced by a heavy silence as they stared at the scene in disbelief.
Eustace stood motionless for several seconds, staring down at his empty hands before looking back at the boy in front of him. His face was filled with confusion, as though he was questioning everything he had just witnessed.
Ash, however, smiled lightly. "Mr. Village Chief, your clothes didn't get dirty, and I secured food and lodging. I'd call that a perfect win-win situation, wouldn't you agree?"
"You... no, who are you?" Eustace stammered, his voice shaking with disbelief.
"My name is Ash," he replied casually. "Just Ash. But I've had many masters, one of whom was the Hero of the South."
"The Hero of the South? The strongest hero in legend?!" Eustace's expression shifted from confusion to skepticism. "But he died over 80 years ago!"
"Correct," Ash said with a nod. "In fact, I'm already over ninety years old."
"...You're joking, aren't you?" Eustace stared at him in shock, but Ash stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"If you must know, it's due to a magical experiment. My appearance has remained unchanged ever since."
"A magical accident?"
"Yes, but let's save that for later. For now, let's talk over drinks, shall we? Or... are you planning to back out of your promise?"
"Of course not!" Eustace shook his head vigorously and began leading everyone toward a nearby guesthouse designated for visitors.
Just as they were about to follow, Fern quickly approached Ash and grabbed his hand, pulling him aside. Her expression was stiff, and her puffed cheeks betrayed her displeasure.
"Master Ash," she said in a low voice, "did you lie to me?"
"Lie? About what?" Ash asked, his tone innocent.
"You're obviously a warrior!"
"To be precise," he explained, "I am a magician who also happens to be a warrior."
"What kind of explanation is that? Mr. Village Chief seemed very strong, but you defeated him with just one move—if that even counts as a move!"
Fern's frustration grew as she recalled the duel, wondering if it could even be called a fight. To her, it seemed more like a mismatch.
"Well, he's retired," Ash said with a shrug. "His strength isn't what it once was."
"Even so! He should still be strong enough!"
"Maybe, but I've trained for a long time."
"Then how could you win so easily?!"
Ash tilted his head. "Why are you so upset about this, Fern? Shouldn't you be happy? Maybe even a little proud?"
Fern clenched her fists, her voice rising. "Because I always thought you were weak! I worked so hard to learn magic all these years, mostly to protect you! I wanted to make sure no one could ever bully you again! And now you're telling me you're actually strong?!"
"...I never said I was weak," Ash said with a slight smile.
"But you've been beaten before!" Fern exclaimed.
"That's true," he admitted, scratching his cheek awkwardly. "But those were... unusual situations. Besides, I might have been holding back just a little."
Fern glared at him, frustration evident on her face. Ash, sensing her irritation, reached out and gently ruffled her hair.
"I only know a little magic," he said softly, "and my main focus has always been martial arts. So in the future, I'll still be relying on you to protect me, okay?"
Though his tone was light, Fern couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of mystery about him. It was as though the man who raised her was someone far more complex than she had ever imagined.