"Mhhm. Where am I?"
"You finally woke up."
"Old man? Wait, this isn't my room."
"You fainted, so I had to carry you to my house. Aren't you ashamed to call yourself a barbarian after making an old man like me carry you?"
Old man my ass!
"Wait, I fainted? Why?"
"Your arm bled, and it seems like you are also afraid of blood," the old man lied for some reason.
Caelan's face fell. He was always average, so he was okay with being called names.
But being scared of blood... Even he couldn't call himself a barbarian after this.
"Old man, I think I don't want to spar anymore," Caelen said with his head low.
"Sigh... If you wish, I will be glad since I won't need to take care of you anymore. But make sure. Once you stop, you can't come back from that."
"I am sure of it. I don't think I deserve the name barbarian, the strongest of all nations."
This was the best thing he could do.
He had tried. More than anyone. But even the smirk Ral showed three years ago didn't fade from his memory.
Fourth stage at the age of fifteen... He could even be fifth stage by now.
Ral had also trained. There was no shortcut to the top. But he hadn't trained half as much as Caelen did, yet he stood at the top.
On the other hand, Caelan couldn't do anything with three legendary barbarians bringing him up.
Maybe it would have really been better if Ral were the one with the advantages he had.
"Eat before you go. And don't decide anything right now. At least wait until the morning. We always say barbarians don't think, they do. But we are not brainless beasts."
"Thank you, old man."
***
Caelan ate in the old man's house.
The old man was alone, but it seemed like he knew how to cook.
His house was also big.
Well, it wasn't a castle or something like that. Just a bit bigger than the other houses in the village
But Caelan couldn't stay here anymore. He needed to decide and live a new life.
If he left being a barbarian, he could, maybe, be the best farmer.
Is there even something like a best farmer?
After leaving the old man's house, he started thinking.
If he were to spend the effort on anything else, maybe he could be good at that.
Whenever he wasn't working, eating, or sleeping, he was training. So this would give him a serious amount of extra time.
On the other hand, though, he had spent a lot of time and effort on being a barbarian warrior.
It wouldn't be easy-
"Pl-eas-e help m..."
Huh?
Caelan was only halfway home. He was passing through the forest between his and the old man's houses when he heard a sound.
"Hel-p me..."
"Who is there?" Caelan said, taking out his sword.
The village where they were staying was safe. There were no beasts here.
Not because the barbarians cared about them, but because their food was produced here.
Most of the villagers were either weak or disabled. So, it wouldn't be possible for them to protect it.
So, their village was located in a safe location. Still, there could always be one or two that slipped.
But Caelan was still a barbarian. He wouldn't run away. He slowly approached the source of the voice.
Since it was dark and he was in a forest, it was hard to see anything.
But as he got closer, he could hear a faint mumbling voice.
And then, something appeared.
"Who are you?" Caelan asked again, pointing his sword toward the thing on the ground.
When he took another step, he started seeing it clearly.
There was a man on the ground.
The man was old, much older than even the old man he sparred with every day.
But this one wasn't bulky. No, he was thin, even. His height was around 180, making him shorter than Caelan.
He had a long beard, and his face seemed more stern. Barbarians' faces were generally smiling.
"Who are you?" This time, Caelan shouted. But there was no response.
The old man only whispered, "Hel-p mee."
He couldn't even say it properly. It was just a sound that was forced out with what little breath he had.
He wasn't calling for Caelen either. He was just saying things randomly. Caelen doubted the old man knew he was here.
Then, he saw the puddle of blood on the ground.
"Shit!" Caelan cursed and put his sword away. When he put the old man on his shoulder, he realized that the man was really light.
He didn't know anything about healing with a crest's power.
There were healers in most of the barbarian cities with warriors. But this village didn't need one.
Also, the healers weren't barbarians. Calean knew that Crest of War didn't provide healing powers.
At least not for healing others. So, there was no way to ask around to find a healer.
The only option he had was bringing this old man home and seeing what was wrong with him.
He hurried, without any regard for whether he would hurt the man more. He hadn't learned things like that as a barbarian.
But the old man held on. When Caelan entered his house, he put the old man down on a sofa since it was the closest.
Under the light in his house, he started looking at the man. There were a lot of scars on him, some deep, some light.
But the most dangerous thing that he hadn't realised before was that this man had one leg.
Wait, there is blood... a lot of it, even. Will I faint now? No! I shouldn't. Or this man will die.
He needed to hold on. Of course, he didn't know he wasn't scared of blood.
The first thing he did was stop the blood on his ripped-off leg. It was cut a bit under the knee, so Caelan tore a piece of cloth and tied a bit over the wound.
He knew this much. Every barbarian did. Just because they didn't fear injury didn't mean they didn't patch themselves up after a fight.
If anything, they knew more about it since they got hurt more often.
But that wasn't enough. The wound was still open and bleeding. He knew that was dangerous. So, he did the only thing he could think of.
He found a pan and started heating it. He heated it to such a degree that the pan was red.
Then...
He pressed the red-hot pan on top of the ripped part of the old man's leg.
After the sound came the smell. Caelan hardly held himself back from throwing up.
But the old man didn't wake up. Or maybe he did, but he didn't have the power to scream.
Caelan dressed the old man's other wounds and threw himself outside of his house, breathing deeply.
His deep breaths' sound was so high that if there was someone close, they would be scared.
Caelan spent at least half an hour outside.
During that time, he couldn't check the old man.
If the old man died during that time, he would die. He couldn't trust himself enough to check the old man during this time.
But, after half an hour, when he braved himself and went back in, he realized that the old man was alive.
His breathing was nowhere near normal, but it was better than when he found him.
And he was definitely sleeping, or maybe blacked out, right now.