“...What exactly are you trying to do right now?”
Killian frowned.
Because the sight of Oscar loosening up looked exactly like someone preparing for a spar.
“Hooook, hooook. Remember when we first met?”
After thinking for a moment, Killian muttered.
“...Baran City. The back alley.”
“Right. That’s where I beat the hell out of you. Thought I’d bring back some memories from back then.”
“Sorry, but I’m not in the mood for that right now.”
Killian flatly refused the spar.
“Why? Think you’ll lose?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Even if I still had tattoo magic, beating you would be impossible.”
“That’s true.”
Level 6 versus Level 7.
Anyone could tell which side had the advantage.
“...You’ve definitely changed. The old you would’ve brushed something like that off as trivial.”
Rather, he would’ve welcomed it as a chance to test his skills as a warrior.
“No, back then I still had tattoo magic—”
“That damn tattoo magic, tattoo magic. I’m getting sick of hearing it.”
Oscar’s gaze turned cold.
“Listen carefully, Killian. Seems like the two months you spent here planted a sense of helplessness inside you.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Like I said earlier, right now, you’re not fighting as a warrior at all.”
It was as though the sensation of defeat had been carved deep into his soul.
And Oscar intended to rip that out by the roots starting now.
Because once you started getting used to that sort of thing, it became harder to cure than most illnesses.
“So what exactly are you trying to do?”
“Fight me.”
“I already told you, in my current state, a fight between us can’t even properly—”
“I won’t use mana.”
Killian’s eyebrows twitched sharply.
Still, it seemed he hadn’t thrown away the pride a warrior should possess.
“Do you seriously think that makes any sense? A mage like you wants to compete against me in martial combat?”
“Still feels like I’d win.”
“If you truly believe that, then you’re gravely mistaken.”
“Hm, Killian Lockwood... is that all you’ve got...?”
“You...!”
Exasperated by the childish provocation, Killian clamped his mouth shut.
In the end, he let out a sigh and nodded.
“Fine. If you want it that badly, then I’ll fight. I’ll make sure you never again say such absurd things about me being consumed by helplessness.”
“Now that’s more like it.”
Oscar tapped his forehead with a finger.
“Alright, I definitely shut off my mana circuits?”
“...You really think you can be my opponent?”
“Aren’t you underestimating me a little too much?”
Even so, he was a battle mage pursuing mastery of both martial and magical arts.
Radan had even acknowledged him personally.
‘Well, to be fair, I haven’t exactly fought using martial arts much lately either.’
But that was purely because his matchups had been terrible.
Demon Kings, Pentarion, remnants of the Great Emperor’s thoughts... when nothing but lunatics kept showing up, it wasn’t exactly the time to start throwing arm locks around.
“I’m ready.”
“Come.”
Killian growled in a low voice.
Secretly pleased by that, Oscar curled his lips upward.
“In that case, don’t mind if I do.”
His body shot forward like an arrow.
‘He’s taller than me.’
There was one thing to keep in mind when fighting an opponent taller than yourself.
You had to close the distance quickly so they couldn’t take advantage of their longer reach.
The instant the gap closed, Killian naturally tried to step backward.
At that moment, Oscar stepped on the top of his foot.
Just like the shadow had done earlier.
Killian’s face twisted viciously.
Thinking he was being mocked, the man immediately threw a punch.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
‘His movements are a little too big.’
That meant Killian was agitated.
It also meant he’d been mentally cornered quite badly.
The Forest Tribe’s martial arts were supposed to be concise and razor-sharp, yet none of those traits could be seen right now.
“Slow.”
Oscar lightly deflected the punch with his shoulder and immediately struck the man’s abdomen.
Bang! Baaang!
The sound of blows hitting a sandbag echoed through the clearing, but it wasn’t enough to secure victory.
‘Damn, what’s this body made of, rocks?’
Because he never neglected his training, Killian’s body remained solid even without mana.
“That won’t be enough.”
Had he realized it didn’t hurt?
Killian attacked with noticeably more ease than before.
‘But if it’s the Forest Tribe’s martial arts...’
Oscar had fought against it countless times through his sparring sessions with Radan.
He effortlessly avoided the incoming trajectories and struck the abdomen again.
As the accumulated damage slowly began to build up, Killian’s brows twitched.
‘What is this?’
Oscar clearly wasn’t using mana.
And yet the flow of the spar was entirely in the other man’s hands.
More than anything else, that alone made no sense to him.
‘In close combat... with hand-to-hand martial arts... I can’t overpower him?’
Freeze.
Killian’s movements halted.
Booom!
The fist buried into his abdomen hurt for the first time.
“Keugh!”
Without realizing it, his body tried to retreat backward.
But the foot pressing down on the top of his own prevented it.
At that moment, Killian recoiled in shock as he looked at his own arms, which had instinctively started to rise into a guard.
‘What is this?’
At the same time, Oscar’s earlier words brushed past his ears.
—Listen carefully, Killian. Seems like the two months you spent here planted a sense of helplessness inside you.
He had thought it was nonsense.
He didn’t want to acknowledge it.
He was a warrior of the forest.
A proud warrior who never fled from danger and fought for his comrades and family.
‘A warrior of the forest...’
Killian suddenly looked down at himself.
An awkward posture, like he had started to raise his guard only to stop midway.
No matter how he looked at it, the image was far removed from the word “courage.”
That was why he felt confused.
‘Since when?’
Just when had he become this weak?
Since the time he lost the ability to use tattoo magic?
No—the “courageous Killian” in his memories existed even before that.
Long before he ever learned tattoo magic.
‘...Tattoo magic is definitely powerful.’
Strong, convenient, efficient.
By using it, he could perform the movements he desired at precisely the timing he desired.
Tattoo magic was the power that allowed the scenes he imagined in his head to become reality.
‘Then... was my courage born from tattoo magic?’
No.
He could say that with certainty because he remembered being courageous even before receiving his first tattoo.
At only twelve years old, he had hunted a wild boar.
‘Back then, as my reward, I asked to receive a tattoo.’
The tribal chief had ruffled his hair and refused.
Tattoo magic still came too early for him.
Tattoo magic could only be engraved once someone reached the age where they could understand its meaning and bear its weight.
‘That is what it means to be a warrior of the forest.’
But even now, he still didn’t understand those words.
What was the meaning of tattoo magic the chief spoke of?
And what exactly was he supposed to bear?
“Looks like you’ve still got room to spare? Since you’re zoning out.”
Fsssh!
Oscar’s fist came flying toward him.
Killian instinctively tried to block it, then hesitated.
‘It’s a fist without mana behind it.’
Then why block it?
Because he hated pain?
No—pain was familiar to him.
Warriors of the forest were beings meant to suffer pain and wounds.
They bled, broke, got injured, and fell, yet stood back up and grew stronger again.
That was how he had lived even before receiving tattoos.
Suddenly, he remembered the days before a single tattoo covered his body, when he fought wild boars.
He had fought while wagering his life with nothing but an axe as large as his own body.
Back then he hadn’t been strong, but even now, when he thought back on it, he had been courageous.
‘The emotion I felt back then was...’
It wasn’t fear of dying.
Nor was it the competitive desire to win no matter what.
Fighting itself had simply been fun and exhilarating.
Even though he had been much weaker than now.
Even though he could’ve lost his life.
Back then, he had smiled more brightly than ever before.
Oscar’s fist looked slow.
Raising his guard would be easier.
It wouldn’t hurt, and it would be safe.
But Killian simply took the punch head-on.
Crunch!
The inside of his mouth split open.
“...Ptooey!”
As he spat out the metallic-tasting blood, his mind cooled.
“Oscar.”
“What?”
“Is that really all you’ve got? Hit harder.”
“Huh? Seriously?”
“With punches that weak, you couldn’t even kill the wild boar I hunted at twelve years old. Come on, hurry up!”
Oscar shrugged.
He didn’t know about anything else, but he could definitely see the change in the other man’s eyes.
‘No... I should say they’re changing.’
With genuine delight, Oscar swung with full force and smashed Killian across the jaw.
“Tss, ptooey!”
Once again, Killian spat out bloodied saliva, and this time even his lips had split open.
But he shouted while grinning.
“Harder! Hit the other side too!”
“...Aren’t you overdoing it a little?”
“Don’t underestimate a warrior of the forest!”
Bang bang!
As Killian pounded his chest, a fire ignited within his eyes.
Those were the eyes Oscar knew well—eyes like a Forest Tribe warrior whose mind was just a little unhinged.
He liked that look quite a lot.
“Then I’m really going all out now, alright? Don’t complain later.”
“A warrior does not take back the words he speaks.”
“You mean don’t speak twice with one mouth.”
“Whatever, that’s what I meant!”
Smack!
The incoming fist slammed into his cheek.
Feeling both sides of his face throbbing, Killian opened his mouth.
“...Thank you.”
“Did it help?”
“Very much.”
“That’s good to hear. Then... is the spar over?”
“What nonsense are you talking about?”
Killian bared his teeth in a grin.
The blood-soaked teeth looked almost like those of a beast.
“The match still hasn’t been decided. We continue.”
Killian took his stance.
An atmosphere completely different from before began to seep out of him.
“...Oscar.”
“What?”
“Tattoo magic is now a technique—and a weapon—that can no longer be separated from the warriors of the Forest Tribe.”
“That’s true.”
“Choosing and using good weapons is also the quality of an excellent warrior.”
“That’s true too.”
“But it should only remain at the level of something to use. I failed to do that.”
He had depended on that weapon.
Leaned on it.
Had he started believing that weapon was his everything?
“But I was wrong. In that state, I should possess that kind of power even less.”
He was a man who had fought and struggled even before gaining tattoos.
A warrior of the forest, Killian Lockwood.
Tattoo magic was not what proved his worth.
Because he possessed them, because they were engraved onto his skin, they themselves gained meaning.
“I’m coming.”
Killian lightly swung a punch.
Compared to before, it was a far lighter punch.
“Keugh! Fast as hell!”
Simple and quick.
Even after reading the trajectory, it was difficult to dodge.
His physical specs were identical to before, yet Oscar failed to avoid over half the attacks.
“Damn it! Stop! Stop! I surrender!”
“Hmph. This is the price for acting cocky toward a warrior of the forest.”
Filled with swagger, Killian tilted his head back and shouted.
“I am! A warrior of the forest! Killian Lockwood!”
“...Khng!”
With a nosebleed running down his face, Oscar glared at him resentfully.
“You really hold grudges. You hit my nose on purpose, didn’t you?”
“A warrior of the forest has a heart as broad as a stream. We do not dwell on such trivial matters.”
“...If it’s only as broad as a stream, isn’t that actually narrow?”
“Kuhahaha!”
Killian burst into hearty laughter.

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