"Looks like we went a bit overboard," he said, with a hint of dry humor, as glanced around the ruined landscape.
The Barbarian King barked out a laugh, his mood shifting instantly.
"Overboard? That was just a warm-up!" His voice was loud. "Next time, you won't get to hide. I'll drag you out of that shell, mark my words."
Renard smiled as he sheathed his sword. "We'll see. But for now, I'll take the win."
The Barbarian King shook his head, grumbling about "turtle tactics," but a grin spread across his face.
"What were you doing in Grimhold?" he asked, his deep voice carrying across the quiet plains.
Renard, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword, looked toward the distant horizon where the Grimhold fortress stood. "I'm here for my sons."
"Sons?" The Barbarian King frowned, confused. "Are they in the grimhold?"
He did not see the carriage, nor know anything about Reynolds's group. He was simply here because he had sensed Renard's presence.
Renard's lips curled into a small smile as he turned toward the hovering silver cube.
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"They're already inside," he said casually.
The cube, which had remained still throughout their battle, began to move, its surface gleaming as it drifted toward Renard like a sentinel returning to its master.
The Barbarian King's eyes narrowed.
"That artifact..." His voice was a mix of regret and admiration. "If not for you, it would have been mine."
Renard chuckled softly, a teasing tone in his voice. "For someone like you, a 'true warrior,' why would you want a turtle shell?"
The Barbarian King threw back his head and laughed.
"You're right! Why would I?" His booming laughter echoed across the empty plains.
His eyes gleamed with memories, and Renard's grin widened, knowing exactly what his old rival was thinking.
Their eyes turned toward the silver cube—a relic they had fought over long ago.
It had been the prize of a brutal battle during their youth, deep within a Pseudo-Greater Ruin filled with treasures and danger.
They had discovered the cube in the heart of the ruin, small but incredibly powerful.
Their fight over its ownership had been so fierce that they shattered the ruin itself.
Even back then, the Barbarian King had been a formidable opponent, but Renard's skill with the sword had won him the day.
That victory earned Renard the title of Sword King—and gave the Barbarian King his first defeat.
Since then, the streak of defeats has only continued.
As they stood in silence, their shared history hung in the air, a bond forged through respect and countless battles.
The ground trembled as a group of barbarians cautiously approached the edge of the crater, having noticed the battle had stopped.
Their eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of their lord and the Sword King standing side by side, not as enemies but as if they were old friends.
The Barbarian King grinned, clearly enjoying drawing it out. "There could be an emergence... of a Greater Ruin. In Grimhold."
The words hung in the air like a challenge.
Renard's smirk faded, replaced by a more serious expression. His eyes narrowed, and he turned fully to face the Barbarian King, a frown creasing his brow. "Are you serious?"
...
Two figures cut through the grim, desolate skies of Grimhold, their presence slicing through the heavy, oppressive atmosphere.
The Barbarian King flew with raw, untamed energy, his wild hair whipping in the wind, while Renard glided beside him with calmness.
Behind him, the silver cube tailed.
Renard's gaze swept across the horizon, and he finally broke the silence. "If it's as serious as you say, why haven't you sent word to the human empire?"
The Barbarian King snorted, glancing briefly at Renard. "Because I'm not certain yet. The ruin is only starting to show signs. I can't accurately say what class it is until it fully emerges."
Renard's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Even so, you could've given a warning. Have you forgotten what happened the last time a Greater Ruin appeared?"
The mention of the past silenced the Barbarian King.
The emergence of a Greater Ruin was no small matter—it demanded attention from all nations and tribes. No one could afford to ignore it.
The last time such a ruin had surfaced, ten years ago, an empire had tried to keep it secret, hoping to claim the treasure within themselves.
However, they didn't understand the danger.
From that ruin had emerged a being known as the Seventh Prince of Darkness, a being of unimaginable evil.
His rise had brought death and destruction, wiping out the empire that had sought to hoard the ruin's secrets.
The once-thriving land was reduced to ashes, consumed by a dark miasma, leaving behind nothing but a cursed wasteland.
It was a brutal reminder that greed in the face of a Greater Ruin was fatal.
The wind whistled as the silence stretched. Then the Barbarian King asked, "What happened to that seventh prince thingy that came out of the ruin?"
Renard shook his head. "No one knows. At least, he's not in this world anymore."
The Barbarian King's eyes lit up with excitement.
"I wish I could've fought him," he said, his voice filled with a strange eagerness at the thought of battling such a powerful being.
Renard ignored the comment, his thoughts still focused on the past.
After that empire's fall, the world had no choice but to unite—empires, tribes, and kingdoms joined forces to send a grand expedition to that ruin.
Even the Barbarian King had led his warriors into human lands, ready for whatever lay ahead.
But when the expedition party arrived, the ruin had vanished, leaving only an empty wasteland.
The world had been left to wonder: how could a ruin of that magnitude disappear?
Now, they were facing the emergence of another ruin, the stakes just as high—perhaps even higher.
As they flew closer, the wind around them began to swirl, carrying an unnatural chill.
In the distance, a massive, dark cyclone loomed on the horizon, twisting with ominous power. The approaching storm seemed to signal the beginning of something greater.