For the first time since his transmigration, David found himself in a bitter struggle.
What he faced now was nothing like the Barbarians who relied merely on brute strength, experience, and courage, or even the Ogres he had encountered five years ago. It was completely different.
The Barbarian who had suddenly appeared took on the aggrieved air of a man whose wife had been stolen, glaring at David as the culprit. Wielding a pair of Elven mariner's axes, he immediately engaged David in a ferocious life-or-death struggle. This Barbarian clearly had some tricks up his sleeve.
The opponent was a professional.
If this world had a martial arts level system like in those fantasy novels, this guy could likely be ranked at the level of a starter village's first boss.
But reality is not a novel, and his appearance had "absolutely no foreshadowing"!
From the very beginning, it seemed as if he was out for David's life. Not only were his striking moves coherent and deadly, but every attack also targeted David's vital points, forcing him to defend. David continually took hits within just a few minutes of fighting.
Had it not been for the young Red Dragon's scales, which were comparable to roughly tanned leather, he might be suffering more than just scratches. Furthermore, he had probably consumed quite a few minerals in his sleep over the past five years. This had added a metallic texture and plate-like defensive quality to his hide armor.
Had it been a White Dragon in his place, its head would probably have been chopped off several times already!
What frustrated David the most was that the fellow seemed to have simultaneously activated Traceless Step and Bloodthirst Technique, like some Beastman peon hopped up on stimulants.
He had also slyly paralyzed David from the get-go. As a result, David's dynamic vision, which was otherwise capable of capturing the opponent's movements, was completely crippled, as if suffering from glaucoma after heavy drinking. Consequently, all his staggered and clumsy swings and bites couldn't even graze his opponent.
Every time he tried to flap his wings and take off to gain some aerial superiority, the opponent, who was well-prepared, would intercept him with an axe.
Damn it! I can't hit him, I can't fly high, and he just keeps teasing me, not letting me escape! David felt thoroughly stifled by this fight and wasn't going to hold back any longer.
If I don't crush this flea today, I definitely won't sleep well tonight.
Arrogance
Just as he was about to employ some techniques on the opponent, he saw another bunch of Barbarians rushing towards him as if they were high on drugs.
David, far from being alarmed, was actually pleased: What a delivery!
Rosinde, panting but equally aware of what was happening, quickly shouted a warning, "Don't come over! Let me handle this!"
His reminder was well-intentioned. But to those Barbarians who had just been promised rewards by the Elves, it sounded more and more like he wanted to hog the compensation, with a hint of humblebragging.
"Rosinde, you coward who survived alone from your clan, go home and eat your farts!"
"Don't listen to that coward, attack together! Remember to take him alive!"
The bunch of Barbarians charged with even more bravado.
David's heart was overjoyed; his waist no longer ached, his legs weren't sore anymore, and his heart pounded with even greater vigor as he charged head-on towards the Barbarians.
Had the setting and actors been different, the scene could have been mistaken for a horde of desperate lovers rushing to a wild party.
But the moment the two groups clashed, blood and limbs flew everywhere.
David fought solely by instinct. Movements ingrained from the draconic heritage of his dreams—spinning, snapping, clawing, sweeping his tail—guided him. He seemed to dance a bloody waltz among the crowd.
Every frame of the slaughter was a tableau of extreme, beautiful violence.
Every killing blow was clean, sharp, and merciful in its decisiveness.
There was no prolonging any agony.
More than ten meters away, Rosinde had repeatedly tried to approach David but was blocked by his 'own people.' Now, he was frozen in place, witnessing a slaughter akin to scything through a rice paddy. He finally understood the formidable opponent his wife, Monada, had once faced.
He also realized that his companions, who had followed him for years, likely wouldn't have escaped this Dragon's hunt. This would have been true even if they hadn't been buried alive in the avalanche that day.
This was... truly a...
"Monster! Monster! Retreat! Quick—" A wail expressing his own inner despair seemed to erupt from the crowd.
The Barbarians, thrown into disarray by the sudden slaughter, wanted to retreat. But David, now suddenly without the protection of the human shield, wasn't having it. You've come all this way, and now you want to leave? His right claw, dripping with blood, clenched tightly, "Come back here!"
And the fight resumed!
After being toyed with for so long, David was seething with pent-up fury.
Authority: Wrath
The previously scattered crowd froze. They stared at their fallen brothers—men with whom they had feasted, drunk, and chased women. Now, those same men lay dismembered across the battlefield, their bodies beyond proper burial. The survivors' already bloodshot eyes turned crimson with fury.
"Slay that Dragon!"
One Barbarian, howling, took the lead. Brandishing his axe, he charged back into the fray. This ignited a chain reaction, as other Barbarians, driven mad by overwhelming fury, followed suit.
"Don't..."
Rosinde, standing farthest away, had just opened his mouth to stop what seemed akin to a suicidal charge.
THUMP!
Though he had been unscathed in the fight so far, Rosinde suddenly felt excruciating pain, as if he'd been slashed. His movements grew weak and sluggish. His mind, however, flashed back to the day the Winter Wolf returned with the bone ornaments and the news of Monada's death.
"Monada! My beloved!!!"
Rosinde, who had already downed two Anger Potions before setting out, felt his rage boil over into madness.
Like the others who had thrown caution to the wind, he gripped his twin axes, ready to fight.
But he had only taken a step before suddenly collapsing to his knees.
Blood gushed from several burst vessels, painting a gruesome scene.
"Right!"
Wrath
"That's right!"
Wrath
"This is what true Northland warriors should be like!"
Wrath
"Tonight, let's hunt to our heart's content!"
Wrath
...
Just as David had triumphantly dispatched the lesser foes and, after refilling his rage meter, prepared to re-engage in a one-on-one battle with the starter village humanoid boss who had appeared out of nowhere...
He turned around to find that bastard had actually fled!
Could he have been accidentally hit by some idiot just now?
The reason for this far-fetched conclusion was that the bastard was bleeding so much, it looked as if David's tail sweep had nicked a major artery.
Little did David guess that his opponent had actually combined an Anger Potion with the Wrath buff. Lacking the constitution to handle such a potent mix, he had overexerted himself, like someone prematurely burning out after opening all their internal energy gates.
Yet, despite bleeding profusely, that guy could still hobble away remarkably quickly. Just before collapsing, a Winter Wolf darted out from nowhere, snatched him up, and deftly threw him onto its back. The wolf then sped off, its movements so practiced they seemed rehearsed countless times.
David watched, astonished.
This astonishment was immediately followed by a searing rage, as if all his effort had been for nothing.
You beat me and think you can run?
Wrath
Come back here!
Wrath
Stop!!!
Wrath
Blood-crazed, David flew into another berserker rage.
He limped in pursuit.
He soon crashed into the first, second, third, and even more waves of Barbarian hunting parties from various clans, all eager to claim the glory.
Initially, seeing the enemy numbers swell and his own temper flaring, David had briefly considered calling it a day.
But seeing how easily these Barbarians fell, and with no more tough opponents like that grim-faced one in sight, he was overcome by a heady sense of invincibility in this starter village.
This sparked an idea: why not crush the Barbarians' main force right here and now? Then no one would dare disturb his future all-you-can-eat feasts.
So wherever David went...
He was like an out-of-control harvester tearing through the Barbarians' heartlands.
Trees and brush were flattened, and corpses littered the ground.