"Looks like we went a bit overboard," he said, with a hint of dry humor, as nced around the ruinedndscape.


    The Barbarian King barked out augh, 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 ins.


    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 andughed.


    "You''re right! Why would I?" His boomingughter echoed across the empty ins.


    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 turned sharply, his voice booming.


    "What?" he roared at the approaching warriors. "You want to fight the Sword King?"


    The barbarians, their faces pale, shook their heads in unison.


    "No, no. We dare not," one stammered, while the others murmured in agreement.


    They hade seeking help, desperate for aid, but seeing their lord alongside the infamous Sword King had crushed whatever hope they had.


    These barbarians were from smaller tribes—the same ones who had been chasing Reynold''s group.


    Unlike the Barbarian King''s tribe, they didn''t have warriors capable of standing against such powerful figures.


    Even if they did, revenge against Reynold and his group was impossible with the Sword King protecting them.


    They had seen how Renard had fought their lord king, and that had only been a warm-up.


    They knew they had no chance.


    Renard noticed the hesitation in the group of barbarians, his gaze shiftingzily toward them. He didn''t say a word, letting the sheer weight of his presence speak for him.


    The Barbarian King sensed their unease and let out a huff.


    "Hmph, cowards," he muttered, though without much bite. He knew they hade with a purpose, but that purpose had crumbled in the face of reality, leaving only resignation.


    With a dismissive wave of his hand, the Barbarian King sent them off. "Go on. Leave this ce. If you''re seeking revenge, let it go."


    The barbarians bowed, their faces still showing frustration, but they knew better than to argue.


    Slowly, they retreated, casting nervous nces at Renard, who remained still, his expression unreadable.


    As thest of them disappeared into the distance, the Barbarian King turned back to Renard, his voice lighter. "You''ve gone soft, letting them go so easily."


    Renard watched them retreat, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. His smirk widened, "Would you rather I ughter your people?"


    The Barbarian King snorted, folding his arms across his chest.


    "Don''t lump me in with those spineless fools." His tone was sharp, dismissive of the tribesmen who had fled.


    Though they all belonged to the same race, there was a clear divide—a deep difference that had always kept their tribes from truly uniting.


    Some, like the Barbarian King, fought with honor, while others clung to survival, too afraid to take real risks. It was this divide that kept their people fractured.


    Renard shrugged, unfazed.


    "Well then, I''ll be on my way." His tone was casual, but the shift in his posture showed he was ready to leave.


    Turning on his heel, he began floating toward the silver cube, prepared to return to Dwight state.


    "Wait, wait!" The Barbarian King''s voice called out.


    Renard paused, still facing away.


    "What now?" he asked, slightly annoyed. "If you''ve got something to say, make it quick."


    "I was headed somewhere interesting before I sensed you," the Barbarian King said, his tone more thoughtful, as if considering his next words carefully.


    Renard turned his head slightly, raising a brow. "Don''t keep me in suspense. Spit it out."


    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, reced 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, deste 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, ncing briefly at Renard. "Because I''m not certain yet. The ruin is only starting to show signs. I can''t urately say what ss 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 thest 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.


    Thest time such a ruin had surfaced, ten years ago, an empire had tried to keep it secret, hoping to im 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-thrivingnd was reduced to ashes, consumed by a dark miasma, leaving behind nothing but a cursed wastnd.


    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 thement, 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 humannds, ready for whatevery ahead.


    But when the expedition party arrived, the ruin had vanished, leaving only an empty wastnd.


    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.