The Barbarian of the Count’s Family Is Too Strong

Chapter 16: That Thing in the Cave (3)

Agron, ensuring the man couldn’t escape, gripped his throat tightly and continued swinging his fists.

Each blow sent flesh and blood flying, the man’s face gradually deforming like melted butter.

How much time had passed?

"A-Are you alright, Agron?"

Baekun approached, asking cautiously.

"Yes, I’m fine."

"No, not you. I meant the one you're holding."

"……."

Agron looked down at the bloody pulp in his grasp, barely recognizable as human.

"Shouldn’t he be fine? He said he was a god."

"He doesn't look fine…"

Baekun moved closer, placing a hand on the man's body.

If he was dead, they would discard him. But if he was still alive, they could use talismans or medicine to heal him and extract information.

However, as soon as Baekun touched him, he frowned, inhaling sharply through his nose.

"Hmm."

"What is it?"

"This so-called god is connected to an enormous presence deeper inside. That other force is several times larger than him."

"Where exactly?"

"That way."

Baekun lifted his staff and pointed into the darkness.

"Since he’s still alive, why don’t we heal him and question—"

SMACK!

Agron delivered a resounding slap to the man’s face. His head snapped to the side with a sickening crack.

"Kuh-huk!"

"He’s awake. Go ahead and ask."

"Oh… Thanks. But that’s not waking someone up; that’s how you get their last words before they die."

Agron's monstrous strength had been famous across the snowy lands since childhood.

‘Slayer of the Snow Mountain Elk.’

‘Bare-Handed White Bear Hunter.’

‘Collector of Northern Tiger Pelts.’

The people of Snowridge Labyrinth had given him many titles, each more fearsome than the last.

Legends even told of how he once hunted an entire pack of red wolves bare-handed, tearing the leader’s jaw off and using its tongue to strangle it to death.

─Nonsense, Dumurka.

─It’s not nonsense. Actually, he didn’t rip the jaw off—he pulled out every single tooth.

─……??

When Baekun first heard these stories, he was beyond shocked. He was horrified.

After spending so much time around Agron, he had come to accept his absurd feats. But just when he thought he was getting used to it, something even more unbelievable happened.

So, for his own sanity, Baekun simply stopped trying to comprehend Agron altogether.

It was easier that way.

"Are you conscious?"

"Guh… H-How can a mere human…?"

The man, now missing a few teeth, spoke with a slight lisp.

"Who are you? And what is that presence deep inside?"

"……!!"

The man's expression stiffened.

More than Agron’s blows, he was utterly shocked by Baekun’s words.

"W-What are you talking about? I-I don’t know anything about what’s inside!"

"Oh? But you’re connected to that massive presence."

"I told you, I don’t know! You foolish humans!"

"Old man, let me handle this."

"Agron! Don’t kill him!"

"I won’t. Probably…"

Mumbling the last part, Agron crouched and locked eyes with the man.

The already broken man flinched, his body trembling slightly.

"W-What do you want?"

"Are you a warrior?"

"What?"

What kind of absurd question was that?

"I asked if you are a warrior."

"What kind of question—?!"

"Fine, let me rephrase it. Do you have pride?"

"Of course…!"

"Good. Prove it."

Agron grabbed the man's intact arm and twisted the flesh as if wringing a rag.

"AAAAAAAGH!"

"Good! A promising start! Endure it!"

"Guhhh! AAAAAH!"

"Prove that you are a warrior!"

"I-I’ll talk! AAAAAAH! I’ll tell you what’s inside!"

"Shut up! A warrior does not surrender so easily!"

"I’M TALKING, YOU PSYCHO!"

Foaming at the mouth, the man convulsed in agony.

Watching this unfold, Baekun silently prayed for one of two outcomes—either the man would confess the truth or pass out from the pain.

"D-Deep inside… my master… resides…."

"Your master?"

The man, introducing himself as Jacob, nodded weakly, his face drenched in sweat.

"You said you were a god."

"That… was a ruse… to protect… my master…."

Like a panting dog in sweltering heat, Jacob wheezed through his answers.

He glanced at his swollen right arm—what had once been red was now a grotesque blackish-purple, nearly three times its normal size.

‘This brute…’

Never in his hundred years of existence had he seen a human with greater physical strength than his own species.

"Take us to your master."

"W-What? Y-You want me to betray my master?!"

"You already have. Don’t act noble now, worm."

"……."

Jacob hung his head. He wanted to grit his teeth—but he had no strength left.

Agron’s words were cruelly accurate.

In the end, he succumbed to the torture and revealed the truth about his master.

Such betrayal was an unforgivable sin for a devoted servant.

"Enough theatrics. Lead the way."

Agron, sighing in irritation, grabbed Jacob by the hair and dragged him forward.

"Aaaagh! Aaaagh! P-Please, be gentle!"

"You have no clothes, so there's nothing else to grab."

"I'll walk on my own! Please, have mercy…!"

"Why not let him walk on his own? There's nowhere for him to run anyway."

"Hmm."

Agron didn't particularly care how Jacob moved, but at Baekun’s insistence, he relented.

Jacob snapped his fingers, gathering his spilled blood and infusing it with magic.

The floating pool of crimson wrapped around his body, morphing into a well-fitted black-and-red suit, tailored as if it had been crafted just for him.

"Alright, let's go."

"The hell is this? Going to a banquet? Why are you dressed like that?"

Agron frowned, unimpressed.

"This is just how I dress. Besides, it's only proper for a servant to be well-dressed when meeting their master."

"Nice excuse. But you’re not going as a servant. You're going as a hostage and war slave."

"I know that! I just wanted to show my last bit of dignity…"

They proceeded toward the hidden chamber.

It seemed the cultists had been too preoccupied with Jacob’s imprisonment to thoroughly investigate beyond.

The hidden space was small, more akin to a side chamber.

"This… is my master."

Jacob pointed to a coffin in the center of the room.

Inside lay a young woman, appearing to be in her mid-to-late teens, clad in little more than rags, as if in a deep slumber.

"Is she dead?"

"No! She’s just sleeping!"

"So I just need to wake her up?"

Agron raised his palm, prompting Jacob and Baekun to panic.

"Wait! Are you trying to kill her?!"

"Agron…! She has done no wrong."

"Yes, I know."

"Then why would you try to kill her?"

"Kill? That’s a bit much. This is how we wake people up in the North."

"……."

Agron wasn’t lying.

The Snowridge Labyrinth was infamous for its extreme cold.

People frequently froze to death, sometimes even while visiting a neighbor’s house.

And the most effective way to wake an unconscious person was with a firm slap.

Baekun, however, suspected Agron had killed more people than he had revived this way.

"Anyway… she has strong magical energy. It wouldn’t hurt to be cautious."

"Alright. Jacob, how do we wake her up?"

"Wake her up? She is my master—"

"Maybe to you. To me, she’s just some brat that smells like milk."

Jacob clenched his teeth at Agron's indifferent remark.

‘Damn barbarian.’

Suppressing his anger, he finally spoke.

"She needs blood."

"Blood? Like black pudding?"

"No! Just pure, human blood!"

Jacob yelled at Agron, exasperated.

Hearing their exchange, Baekun let out a deep sigh.

"So… she isn’t human. Is she a ‘Vampir’?"

"I don’t know what that means. In my homeland, we call them—"

Vampir (вампир).

A nocturnal race that thrives on blood.

"Ah, yes. In the East, they’re called ‘Blood Demons.’ Have you heard of them?"

"I’ve read about them."

Agron nodded, recalling texts describing undead creatures worshipped as gods in some regions.

"Hmph! Yes, we are the great Vampir!"

"So, not a god, huh? And you’re just her servant."

"Tch…! I’m not a servant. I’m from a younger generation of Vampir!"

Jacob seethed at Agron’s casual mockery.

"Then wake her up already."

"My blood won’t work. It’s the same as hers."

"I see."

Without hesitation, Agron bit into his thumb, letting his blood drip into the girl's mouth.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The drops pooled at her lips before vanishing instantly.

"…Why isn’t she waking up?"

"She needs more blood!"

"Oh, alright."

"Why is your first instinct always to use brute force?!"

Agron stared at Jacob, then suddenly raised his hand toward him. Jacob flinched and raised his arms in defense.

"Understand now?"

"U-Understand what?"

"A single motion is faster than ten words."

‘Damn brute.’

Muttering under his breath, Jacob watched as Agron grabbed a fang from his necklace and sliced his own arm.

Drip… Drip…

More blood poured over the girl’s face.

The moment the blood touched her lips, it vanished into her mouth.

Then—

"Ack! Cough, cough! What the hell is this?!"

The young Vampir woke up, spitting out blood that had gone up her nose.