Chapter 406

Scars are marks left behind when a wound heals.

Most wounds heal quickly and become clean without a trace, but some scars are here to stay.

Depending on the severity of the wound, a scar can remain quite pronounced. Particularly, the impression one gets from a scar can alter how they perceive the person.

For adventurers, soldiers, and fighters, scars are an everyday occurrence. Even when they don’t want to get hurt, getting injured is common.

Thus, by the quantity and severity of scars, one can roughly gauge how arduous the person’s challenges have been.

However, if those scars are etched on their face, they’re likely to receive less favorable remarks regarding their appearance. There’s no escaping that.

But in a country where ability takes precedence over looks, it doesn’t matter.

“Did that guy really defeat the Queen Sand Scorpion?”

“He looks weak on the outside, doesn’t he?”

“You’ll know once you watch him.”

This was the assessment made by the Tartar people watching Sivar from the stands.

He had a decent physique, but his face had such a gentle, harmless look that it made him appear weak.

In fact, many people underestimated Sivar because of his signature vacant expression.

Most only came to realize their mistake after taking a punch from him. But for now, he wasn’t showcasing his strength.

He had already subdued the strong warrior priestess Kara and slain the troublesome monster. That was the end of the rumors.

“What? He took a hit from Io and looks perfectly fine?”

“It’s not arrogance; it’s composure.”

“I’ll have to keep an eye on him.”

But everyone began watching intently after he took a hit from Gulrak’s dancer, Io, and remained unfazed.

It wasn’t just one hit, but a flurry of blows, yet he stood intact. They couldn’t help but be impressed with his resilience.

That surprise turned into admiration soon after.

-Swoosh!

Sivar, tearing his tattered shirt, boldly revealed his upper body.

The Tartar people looked at his scarred form with feelings of admiration and awe, displaying favorable reactions.

For Tartars, scars are marks of glory, traces of struggle—a map of life gained through countless battles.

Of course, this mindset isn’t limited to Tartars; most soldiers in other nations also see scars as symbols of honor.

It’s just that Tartars emphasize this tendency more. Their barbaric customs have evolved into ‘romantic’ ideals over time.

As a nation of romance, they tend to favor physical beauty even more.

In that sense, Sivar matched the quintessential image of a ‘warrior’ that every Tartar yearns for.

“An Academy Student with a body like that? What kind of life has he lived?”

“I heard he lived in the woods before enrolling in the Academy. Have you heard of the Chaos Forest?”

“I have. I’ve heard it’s harsher inside than the desert.”

“He apparently survived in there. So those scars are to be expected.”

Even the visiting nobles of Tartar were impressed by Sivar’s large, beautiful body.

Those who had gone through the tribal unification wars couldn’t help but feel admiration.

“If he has a body like that, his strength must be incredible… but he doesn’t reveal it easily.”

“He probably only uses it when necessary, just like when he caught the Queen.”

“If he came from the woods, he must be more barbaric than us. But he shows none of that. It seems we will have to take cues from the Academy’s education.”

The heads of families who experienced the tribal unification wars were mostly middle-aged folks.

Wise sages with a broad perspective built through time and experience.

They noticed Sivar’s restraint in displaying his abilities and praised the Academy’s education.

“That’s just Sivar being a good guy.”

Kara, who was listening to all of this, struggled to hold in her laughter.

Considering the incidents Sivar had caused upon his entrance, it was indeed effective education.

But it was closer to martial arts training. He had to learn how to control his strength and not be reckless.

His moral development came not from the Academy but from people around him, including Rod.

From the beginning, Sivar’s nature was so kind that he didn’t commit any moral transgressions.

“What is that guy thinking?”

Kara couldn’t hide her rising smile as she glanced sideways.

A guy with a typical golden sun impression was frowning deeply. Clearly displeased.

It’s no wonder; another man who was practically his rival just showed up.

He had even provoked Kara moments ago. It must be quite unsettling for him.

“Is he really going to let one scar define his value?”

Kara was well aware of both Uro and Bulwar. She had heard the whole story from Hector.

It felt so ridiculous, especially since he hadn’t even properly participated in the tribal unification war.

He had merely defended his base and was ambushed at the end. That’s when he got his scar.

“At least he should have scars like Sivar.”

And then there’s Sivar. A truly perfect catch in every sense.

Strength? He defeated Hector, known as the Destruction King.

Face? If someone claims that face isn’t handsome, the world is doomed.

Body? A body full of scars, a clear testament to a great warrior and marks of honor.

Intellect? He might not seem to use his head much because of his great physique, but his quick thinking is impressive when the time comes.

Even though he lacks general worldly knowledge, he is overwhelmingly the best catch out there.

“….”

That’s why Kara couldn’t help but smile. Each aspect was just too perfect.

And perhaps that was why she started hearing quite annoying remarks in her ears. Most of them were from the heads of families.

“At that level, it seems I could introduce my daughter to him?”

“Haha, dear me. Isn’t that just a bit too greedy?”

“He looks like a hybrid at a glance. Plus, I’ve heard he speaks our language well.”

That’s the kind of chatter going on. When Sivar revealed his beautiful physique, the nobles’ favor for him skyrocketed.

If he showcases his remarkable strength as well…

-Boom!

That anxious thought materialized. Kara shot up her head at the deafening noise.

As she looked toward the Dueling Arena, the scene she expected was unfolding.

Io was down on the ground, and Sivar stood proudly.

With just one attack, Sivar took Io down. Kara couldn’t quite process what just happened.

-Wowwwww!

With a roar of applause, the arena erupted. The noble families responded with enthusiastic applause.

Kara clapped her hands in surprise but felt a bit flustered. It felt like the entire process had been skipped.

“He struck not with a fist, but with an open palm. He landed a clean shot on the solar plexus.”

“Whoever taught him, his moves are immaculate. What if it had been a punch instead?”

“The warrior of the Bulwar tribe went down in one hit. Remarkable power.”

Fortunately, the gentry who preferred conversations described the sequence of events. He was knocked down in a single blow.

Kara chuckled softly upon hearing that. It was likely that he hadn’t even unleashed a fraction of his strength.

“Bulwar chieftain. It’s your turn now.”

“…I know.”

At a noble’s remark, Uro rose from his seat, appearing somewhat complicated.

Kara recognized the emotions he bore just by looking at that expression.

Inferiority complex. Uro felt such toward Sivar, whom he had underestimated.

How did she know? It’s simple. Once, Kara held a similar sentiment towards Sivar.

But through self-reflection and acknowledgment, the feelings of inferiority had dissipated.

In their place, affection and love had taken root, leading to a different kind of obsession.

“Shall I lend you a shirt, Bulwar chieftain?”

Kara offered Uro with a sly grin. It was more like a mocking remark than a suggestion.

She was deftly using the ‘sarcasm’ she learned from civilization. It was the kind of talk that could infuriate the listener.

“…I’m fine, Princess Kara.”

Uro, with a stiffened face, declined her offer, even if his face still held a twist of discomfort.

Then he turned to Kara and spoke quietly.

“Princess Kara.”

“What is it?”

“His Majesty the King…”

“Yes, yes, I know.”

She replied casually, already anticipating his next words. Uro’s brows twitched.

Maintaining her sarcastic smile, Kara pointed at the Dueling Arena.

“Please save that for after you win. If you lose… well, you know, right?”

“…”

“You’ll have to pay for your careless words.”

Uro’s mouth began to move. It wasn’t that he had anything to say.

He merely shifted his tongue within his mouth unconsciously. Hector and Kara were saying the same thing.

If he couldn’t defeat Sivar, he would pay the price for speaking carelessly about the princess.

“By the way, I lost. To that man.”

“…”

“If you want me, you’ll need to be stronger than that man. Show me the glorious scars of a Tartar.”

In no time, Kara had become quite the civilized person.

“Is that really my daughter?”

Even Hector couldn’t help but wonder at her dazzling wit.

*****

“How nerve-wracking.”

Was it because all eyes were on him? He felt oddly pressured and embarrassed.

Who would’ve thought there’d be such a roaring response just for taking off his shirt?

No matter how much scars are marks of survival, excessive attention isn’t desirable.

Especially since the scars on his body mostly came from his weaker days.

In simple terms, they were remnants from his ‘weakling’ phase, when he was a bottom feeder rather than a predator.

In contrast, he had no new scars after facing adversity and hardship. Well, that’s thanks to his regeneration ability.

“I really wish someone would give me some clothes.”

It seems he’d become a civilized person after all. In the past, he wouldn’t have batted an eye even running around in underwear.

He felt embarrassed and began to pat his body with both arms, trying to cover up as best as possible.

-Crack! Crack!

However, it backfired spectacularly. In fact, the cheers from the women grew even louder.

Could this behavior be what they call ‘sex appeal’? If that’s the case, he would want to hide in a mouse hole.

-Creep. Creep. Creep.

Just then, he heard footsteps approaching. They stood out amidst the noisy crowd.

Along with that, the cheers from the audience began to fade. It was none other than a Tartar who appeared before him.

He had a classic golden sun visage and a long, jagged scar adorning his torso.

In his hand was a hefty greatsword. He appeared quite robust with a muscly build.

“…”

“…”

A strange silence settled between them. He knew that man, and the man knew him.

“…You.”

Just as the man opened his mouth.

-Slash!

In the blink of an eye, he approached the man.

-BAM!

His fist struck straight into the ribcage.

One could hear the sound ringing in his ear, suggesting at least a couple of ribs were broken.

“Urk?!”

Bulwar chieftain could scream all he wanted; Sivar didn’t care.

“For now, I’ll deal with you.”

He was the kind of guy who deserved a beating.

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