Wilderness

The barbarians had grown up in the same tribe and knew each other well enough to have a general sense of one another's abilities. What he had shown just now was far, far beyond his former level—something that good form alone could never explain.

"Oh, not bad." Richard smiled faintly, looking utterly inscrutable.

A level-three Barbarian Spearman needed relatively little experience to advance into a level-four Barbarian Warrior. Seventy or eighty Hobgoblins and Gnolls had died at the barbarians' hands in this battle, just enough for the two more "diligent" barbarians to harvest sufficient experience.

Naturally, someone eager to fool the barbarians upgraded them at once.

People's grasp of their own physical condition was actually far more precise than they imagined. Even fluctuations caused merely by a different sleeping position could make one feel anywhere between light as a swallow and as though their legs were filled with lead. A dramatic leap in rank over such a short time was naturally noticed by them immediately.

With those two examples before them, how could the others still doubt it?

The barbarians exchanged looks, both incredulous and eager to try.

The convoy regrouped, and the wheels began rolling forward again.

Two draft horses had been bitten to death by Gnolls during the melee. Now, two Ogres had taken their place, harnessed up and straining to pull the carts forward.

An adult Ogre stood around three and a half blade-lengths tall, a massive creature weighing nearly a thousand pounds. Their skin was pale gray, thick brown hair grew densely across their backs, and their mouths were full of sharp teeth. Yet contrary to their frightening appearance, Ogres were naturally stupid and carefree creatures.

One of the three Ogres had been killed on the spot by a thrown spear during the charge. The remaining two had flopped down and played dead, and no one had paid them any attention at the time.

But while the barbarians fought for their lives, the two Ogres had not taken the chance to run. Instead, they had seized the opportunity to tear open several sacks of wheat and gorge themselves on the spot.

By the time the Gnolls and Hobgoblins had been dealt with, it was too late to run. Seeing the situation clearly, they did not resist and obediently accepted their fate as captives.

Richard named them the Hum-Ha Duo. With a whip in one hand and a carrot in the other, he quickly taught the two idiots their names.

The thick weeds covering the wasteland constantly tangled around the wheels. When horses pulled the carts, they had to stop every so often to clear them away. But now that Ogres were doing the pulling, their meager Giant bloodline gave them immense natural strength. Even when the wheels were completely entangled, they could simply drag the carts onward by force.

With them sent to clear the way at the front, the entire convoy suddenly sped up.

Lying in the cart, Richard opened the System Panel visible only to him. Its clean, pale-blue interface was divided into two sections: Army, Shop, and Personal.

The Army panel showed the barbarian troops and Gunther, the hero unit. The system indicated that they were currently in good condition and had high morale.

The Shop panel sold all kinds of weapons, food, and trade goods. Gold coins had to be exchanged for Denar at a ratio of one to a thousand before purchases could be made. This section was currently locked and would only open once he formally settled in his territory.

The Personal panel was divided into three columns. On the left were the four main attributes of Strength, Agility, Intelligence, and Charisma. The middle was packed with dozens of different skills, while the far right showed proficiency in five different weapon types.

Since he had just leveled up, he had two attribute points, one skill point, and ten weapon proficiency points waiting to be assigned. Richard continued allocating them according to his old habits, and his attributes became:

Level: 35

Strength: 45

Agility: 35

Intelligence: 11

Charisma: 12

Skills: Iron Bone 10, Powerful Strike 10, Weapon Mastery 8, Shield Defense 5, Riding 6, Leadership 2, Trade 2

Weapon Proficiency: One-Handed Weapons 281, Two-Handed Weapons 277, Polearms 255, Bows 34, Throwing 41

An ordinary adult man's Strength and Agility were roughly equivalent to seven or eight points in the system. Judging by the numbers alone, Richard was five or six times stronger than an ordinary person. But the system did not follow simple linear calculations; his actual attributes were even more outrageous, at least ten times greater!

Combined with Iron Bone and Powerful Strike, both at level ten, his already exceptional resilience and offensive power were enhanced across the board. Along with his terrifyingly high proficiency with melee weapons, this made him a dreadful killing machine in close combat.

Sir Richard's gaze lingered on the two ranged weapon proficiencies for a long time before he finally let out an almost imperceptible sigh.

There were two ways to raise weapon proficiency. One was to directly spend the proficiency points gained from leveling up, while the other was to make extensive use of the weapon in training and actual combat.

It was not as though he had never considered improving his weak subjects. But no matter what he tried, those two proficiencies stalled once they surpassed fifty and would even begin to drop automatically. The effort he poured into them was like a pebble cast into the sea—after stirring a ripple, it vanished without a trace.

Over time, he had no choice but to accept reality. This was probably a limitation imposed by talent. He could only keep walking the path of a king of melee combat until the bitter end.

"Sigh." Richard raised his whip and swung it hard across an Ogre's back.

The whip, braided from nine strips of cowhide and soaked in tung oil, was both hard and tough. Yet it burst apart into shredded leather with a single strike. Even for an Ogre famed for its thick hide and tough flesh, that lash was somewhat beyond its endurance. Its spine snapped straight like a startled venomous snake.

Accompanied by the mournful wails of the Hum-Ha Duo, the convoy's pace suddenly accelerated.

The wheels turned through another day and night, and they finally began to enter the depths of the wilderness. Nearly all traces of civilization's reach had vanished. As far as the eye could see, endless plains were blanketed by lush summer grass.

A sky vast and high, a land far and remote; a true lawless land, a true boundless wilderness.

Sometimes, Richard was stirred by that inexpressible loneliness and could not help shouting into the distance. Yet the only answers were faint wolf howls and crow calls from afar.

Perhaps their battle had established their reputation. For the rest of the journey, they never encountered any natives foolish enough to provoke them. The peaceful trip left the barbarians, eager to fight and set foot upon the Asura Path, deeply disappointed.

The convoy finally stopped beside a clear, winding river. In theory, everything within a hundred miles belonged to him as private territory, an area no smaller than an earldom.

Of course, the wasteland natives did not recognize Pompeii's theory. To turn theory into reality, he needed sufficient troops, military strength, and subjects.

A temporary camp of tents rose beside the desolate riverbank. The pioneers, sick of chewing dry rations, finally had the chance to light bonfires, set up iron pots, and begin cooking the freshly caught fish.

Perhaps because they had never seen humans before, the fish in the river were exceptionally foolish and fat. The barbarians from the icefields showed off their fishing skills, easily spearing fish after fish with their long spears.

Gutted and tossed into the pot, they released a rich, sweet fragrance with nothing but salt and wild scallions for seasoning. Gunther, who had seen much of the world, held up his bowl of soup and declared that these fish could even rival the tuna that grew in the icy seas of his homeland.

For a time, the camp held nothing but the sound of people slurping soup.