The Bone White Tooth Chain swayed slightly, refracting an orange-red sheen in the firelight.
The burly figure draped in a wolfskin cloak stood there quietly.
He made no attempt to conceal himself at all, and had even blocked the cave's only exit.
Yet the Goblins, who just now had been extremely sensitive to intruders breaking into their nest, had not discovered his presence at all.
It was as if, in their hearts, they had accepted by default that he belonged here, that he was part of the entire cave.
Of course, it was deliberate.
[Barbarian]
[Frost Mourning Oathbinder]
As a true high-ranking Professional who had already completed his class change and stepped into the realm of the "Transcendent,"
Fugan knew very well that if he did not restrain his breath and hide his form, even if he simply stood here and did nothing, the cold killing intent condensed from the lingering wails of countless prey before death
would be enough to make these cowardly, frail, degenerated greenskins before him turn into snow hares locked in a wolf's gaze—stunned, foolish things that did not even know how to flee.
He came from the Frost Moss Highlands, from a Barbarian tribe that had lived and grown for generations deep in the snowfields.
He did not possess the vast, profound learning of the old scholars in Newm's academies, nor did he understand things like "teaching procedures" or "instruction models."
He only knew this:
amid the clash and mingling of roars and muscle, what sort of character a person had, what kind of fighting style they were accustomed to, what skills they possessed, and even the talent and potential they might reach in the future—
all of it was like bright-red blood steaming atop ice and snow.
It was plainly visible.
The black-haired youth