Reynold stood atop the carriage, watching the stare down between the two.
Even from a distance, he could feel the overwhelming power radiating from the Barbarian King and Renard.
Their laughter, while seemingly lighthearted, only masked the tense atmosphere around them.
The air shimmered, vibrating with their restrained energy, ready to erupt at any moment.
The tension was palpable, the raw energy between the two figures was so dense that it appeared like the very air was pushing against the fabric of space.
Suddenly, a faint glow surrounded him and the carriage, and he didn't resist as the world dissolved around him in a swirl of energy.
In the blink of an eye, the grassy plains, the Barbarian King, and Renard's radiant figure vanished.
When Reynold opened his eyes, he found himself standing in the lush, peaceful garden of the Dwight mansion.
The scene shifted from the chaotic battlefield to this serene haven.
He stepped down from the carriage, glancing around as the others followed, confused by the abrupt change in scenery.
They were back home.
In the distance, under the shade of a gazebo, Sophia sat, her presence calm and composed—so different from the tense battlefield.
Before he could speak, Alice darted past him, rushing straight into her grandmother's arms.
"Grandma!" Alice squealed, hugging Sophia tightly.
Reynold approached, his gaze softening. Bowing his head slightly, he addressed his mother with quiet respect.
"Mother, I'm sorry to have caused you worry," he said softly, a hint of regret in his voice. "I should've been more careful."
Sophia looked at him, her expression a mix of relief and concern.
"Where's your brother?" she asked, her tone direct but laced with worry.
"He was brought here separately," Reynold replied, standing upright. "But he'll be fine, you know how he is."
Sophia sighed, her eyes reflecting a familiar exasperation. "I know, but I don't want him stirring up trouble like last time."
Reynold flinched, recalling the incident from years ago. "I assume it's the same people who took him back then."
When Spark was twelve, he had been kidnapped in a similar way. Sophia had been beside herself with worry, not expecting something like an abduction to happen right under their noses in their own state.
To make things worse, they couldn't track his location. Yet, despite all that, Spark returned a week later, completely unharmed.
Sophia nodded slowly. "The signs are the same, and so are the tactics."
Before Reynold could respond, Alice's small voice interrupted.
"How did Grandma and Grandpa find Alice and Uncle Reynold?" Her eyes were wide with curiosity, knowing they hadn't been at the mansion earlier and had been chased by "bad people."
Sophia smiled gently, wiping a crumb from Alice's cheek. "Because Grandma and Grandpa can sense where Uncle Reynold is."
"Sense?" Alice repeated, tilting her head.
"Yes," Sophia explained, "I always know where Uncle Reynold is, no matter where he hides."
Alice's eyes widened in amazement. "Anywhere in the world?"
Sophia chuckled. "Yes, anywhere."
Alice frowned, deep in thought.
"They are," Sophia replied softly, her gaze fixed on the battle. "Once Alice grows up, Alice will be as strong as them."
Hearing Sophia's words, Alice's eyes gleamed and she profusely nodded. "Alice will train hard."
The image on the table flickered as the two fighters disappeared, reappearing in yet another part of the battlefield.
The craters they left behind seemed to scar the plains, but neither Renard nor the Barbarian King appeared to tire.
Their fists collided again, sending another massive shockwave through the earth.
The once-flat plains now crumbled beneath their feet, forming yet another huge crater.
Below, the barbarians who had come to witness the fight stood frozen in shock, their eyes wide but unable to follow the speed of the battle.
They could only see the devastation left behind—crater after crater forming as the two titans clashed again and again.
The booming sound of their fists meeting echoed across the plains like rolling thunder, shaking the very air with each blow.
It continued for a while, with massive craters forming here and there.
But then the intense clashing came to a sudden stop as the Barbarian King stood tall, his booming laughter echoing across the scarred plains.
"Isn't this enough for a warm-up, Sword King?" he called out, his voice cutting through the stillness after their violent battle.
His hand rested on the hilt of the massive sword strapped to his back, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "Draw your weapon. Let's end the games."
Renard, standing amidst the shattered battlefield, appeared calm and unbothered, as if the fierce fight had been little more than practice. Your next read is at mvl
Not a drop of sweat touched his brow.
He smirked, his gaze steady.
"You're eager to lose, I see," he said lightly, retrieving a sword.
As he drew the blade, a faint bluish aura shimmered around it, casting an ethereal glow in the air.
The sword's presence was subtle, but its sharp energy hinted at its deadly nature, a contrast to Renard's relaxed demeanor.
The Barbarian King's eyes flickered toward the sky, Renard's artifact, the silver cube.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Not bringing your shell this time?" he asked, gesturing toward the cube hovering overhead.
Renard shook his head slightly, his smirk widening. "Not today."
"Good," the Barbarian King growled, his grin growing wider as he reached behind him and pulled out his enormous sword.
The moment it left his back, a wave of oppressive energy surged through the air.
The sword's dark aura was heavy, casting a shadow over the battlefield. It was no ordinary weapon—it radiated power, as though it had a life of its own.
The distant barbarians, who had retreated far from the fight, could feel the weight of the sword's presence even from afar.
"I've fed this sword the blood of countless beasts," the Barbarian King declared, his voice full of pride. He raised the sword high, and the ground beneath him trembled. "Now it wishes me to unleash its all."
Renard glanced at the great sword before turning his gaze back to the Barbarian King, a wry smile on his face. "Like owner, like sword. The last time I saw it, it was slimmer. Seems like it's been overfed."
The Barbarian King roared with laughter, his shoulders shaking as his deep voice filled the air.
"True! It's grown fat," He swung the sword with ease, the motion sending a powerful gust of wind across the plains, flattening the grass and scattering dust.
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A/N: Lord king or Barbarian king is just a title that the other barbarians referred to the three strongest in the Grimhold. He doesn't rule the grimhold, only a part of it.