The Barbarian of the Count’s Family Is Too Strong

Chapter 17: Conflicting Dreams (1)

The half-clad woman was undeniably beautiful.

Her pale, bloodless skin, pomegranate-red lips, and silk-like golden hair radiated a deadly allure.

It was no wonder the Vampir had willingly offered their bodies to her.

So it was not surprising that Jacob’s eyes went hazy the moment he saw his master again after so long.

He was once more enraptured by her beauty.

Jacob assumed Agron, like him, would also be entranced by his master’s charm, unable to think rationally—but he was mistaken.

‘That old man has long abandoned worldly desires, so that makes sense… But this damn barbarian should at least be drooling over her. Why is he so unaffected?’

Jacob glanced at Agron, observing his reaction.

But Agron’s expression was the same as when he had beaten Jacob half to death, when he had tested his pride through madness, or when he had dragged Jacob by the hair. Not a single change.

Like a man wearing an iron mask.

"Do you have… peculiar tastes? Like getting excited by monsters?"

"Monsters do excite me."

"I-I see… That’s quite the preference."

Jacob edged away slightly, startled.

Baekun, who had been listening, let out a quiet sigh.

"Agron, that’s not what he meant."

"What do you mean?"

"He’s asking if you feel lust or attraction toward monsters."

"What? That’s ridiculous. Why would I?"

Agron turned to Jacob with a perplexed expression.

"W-Well, it’s just… You’re not reacting at all to my master’s beauty! Most men would be overwhelmed by desire! She’s stunning!"

"Oh, that’s what you meant."

Agron finally understood and nodded.

"I like strong women."

"…What?"

"Preferably as strong as I am. I never found one among my tribe."

"……."

Jacob was left speechless by his response.

Drip.

Agron cut his forearm, letting blood trickle onto the woman’s lips and face.

The blood initially dried upon contact, but soon, it began pooling.

Suddenly, the woman’s arms flailed, and she abruptly sat up.

"Ack! Cough, cough! What are you doing?!"

"Oh, you’re awake."

Agron watched her with interest.

"Who are you?! How dare you wake Lady ‘Elena’ in such a manner?!"

She coughed, her high, clear voice filled with anger.

"I am Agron of the [Winter Wardens], great warrior of the Northern Snowfields—wait, no, currently, I am Agron, son of Ragnar, Count of Veilain."

"So, are you a warrior or a count?"

Elena frowned.

"A warrior in soul, a count in title."

‘Is he insane?’

She averted her gaze, looking around instead.

Avoiding madmen was always the best policy.

"Hmm? Jacob, is that you?"

"Master! You remember me! Your loyal servant, Jacob!"

"Of course, I do. But where are we?"

"I just woke up by myself… I believe we were sealed away after our last battle with ‘them.’"

"I see. And where did this blood come from? It tastes exquisite. I am weakened—fetch me more of this blood."

Elena’s words left Jacob looking troubled.

That blood wasn’t something he could simply fetch.

"That…"

"What is it?"

"That blood was given by… him."

Elena followed Jacob’s gesture.

There stood Agron, bare-chested, staring down at her.

"His…? He doesn’t look appetizing…"

Elena tilted her head but soon made up her mind.

"I shall grant you the honor of offering me your blood."

"No thanks."

"W-What do you mean, no?! Offering blood to me is an honor for your family—!"

"How is that an honor? If you want my blood, defeat me and take it."

The first time Agron had given her blood, it was out of curiosity.

But being commanded to do so offended his warrior’s pride.

"An unusual human… Fine. I shall defeat you and take my prize."

"What if I win?"

Elena smirked.

"An absurd notion. But fine—if you win, I shall be your servant."

With that, she sprang from the coffin and lunged at Agron, her fingers aiming for his throat with lightning speed.

"Hmm."

Agron tilted his head slightly, dodging, then grabbed her arm and slammed her into the ground.

Boom!

Normally, that would have ended the fight. But this opponent was different.

"You’re quite skilled for a human!"

Elena grinned, revealing sharp fangs, then unleashed a flurry of strikes.

Her attacks were swift, deadly, yet Agron effortlessly blocked or deflected them.

In mere moments, they exchanged dozens of blows.

To an observer, it might seem like Elena was overwhelming him, but in truth, none of her attacks landed effectively.

"Tch! Jacob! Who is this man?! Is he truly human?!"

Elena bit her lip, glaring at Agron.

"Master! This is the one who bested me! Do not underestimate him!"

"Tsk!"

Elena leapt back, channeling dark energy into her fist.

If she held back any further, she would lose.

A crimson aura pulsed from her hand, shaking the cavern as debris rained down.

"Agron!"

Baekun shouted, pulling out a talisman.

‘Have we awakened something we shouldn’t have…?’

He had wanted to wait and see, but Elena’s power was too immense.

"No need to worry, old man."

Agron stopped Baekun and took a step toward Elena.

His calmness unsettled her.

"Are you foolish, or just slow? You see my power, yet you approach?"

"I don’t see a reason to run. You don’t seem that strong."

Elena frowned and observed his energy.

"…Ha."

She let out a dry laugh.

"You have no magic at all?"

Normally, all living organisms possessed at least a trace of magic. Yet, the man before her had none—not even the slightest hint.

"Are you perhaps a golem or something of the sort?"

"I am no golem. I am a warrior."

"Then why do you have no magic?"

"A warrior’s strength lies not in magic, but in the soul."

"…You’re definitely an idiot."

Elena threw back her shoulders and gathered magic into her fist before launching it forward.

BOOOOM!

The compressed energy surged ahead, tearing through the air with an explosive force.

A confident smirk spread across Elena’s lips.

She was certain—

Even a dragon would struggle to withstand that attack.

"Hm."

Agron extended his fingers.

Then, as the mass of magic approached, he stabbed into it with one hand, wedging his other into the opening and ripping it apart.

"……?!"

"……???"

"……??"

Everyone stared at Agron in stunned silence.

Disbelief clouded their eyes as they traced the now-empty space where the magic had vanished.

It wasn’t just illogical—it was outright impossible.

"Wait… Where did it go? This can’t be… He’s just a human…?"

Elena blinked dumbly, struggling to reconcile what she had just seen.

Reality defied her reason.

"I tore it apart."

"No… Do you think my magic is some kind of bread dough?"

"I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t much different from bread dough."

Agron clenched his fists and strode toward her.

Each step radiated a suffocating aura of sheer, predatory strength.

Elena felt her limbs tremble involuntarily, her energy draining away.

This was no ordinary human—

Even as an ancient Vampir, she found herself completely overwhelmed by his presence.

She instinctively prepared to flee.

It was a pure survival instinct.

"W-Wait! Don’t come any closer! Stay back!"

"I refuse."

Agron swung his fist toward her.

"Kyaaaah!"

BOOOOOM!

Elena’s body burst into a cloud of dark red mist, scattering in all directions.

***

"How can I help you today?"

"Here. The head of a ‘Herb Tiger.’"

Agron handed a large ice pouch to the guild employee.

The ice pouch, crafted from processed slime leather and imbued with an ice-sealing spell, was commonly used for transporting fresh meat, alcohol, and milk.

It was a popular tool among adventurers.

The employee, seemingly accustomed to such requests, calmly took the pouch and went to check its contents.

"Yes, we’ve confirmed the ‘Herb Tiger’ head. Please sign this verification slip. Would you like your payment in cash, or deposited into the guild bank?"

A decade ago, guilds had introduced a banking system, an innovation made possible through trust and cooperation between branches.

It allowed deposits at one location to be withdrawn from another—

A revolutionary system.

While merchants had long used similar promissory notes, this was a refined magical banking network.

"Deposit it."

"Understood. I’ll create an account for you."

However, the system was still largely regional, limited to the southern noble territories, including Veilain.

Each guild required identical magical circuits to support it, and maintaining the system over long distances was extremely costly in magical energy.

The guild employee pricked Agron’s finger, letting a few drops of blood fall onto a registration tablet.

She also handed him a new adventurer’s pendant linked to his account.

"Make sure not to lose this! An adventurer’s first and last duty is to protect their proof of identity."

"Understood."

Agron exchanged his old pendant for the new one, hanging it around his neck.

Although he hadn’t yet completed enough missions to rise above F-rank, he still felt satisfaction from his first successful assignment.

Rather than taking another mission, Agron decided to return to his estate.

There were unresolved matters waiting for him.

***

"W-Welcome back…"

Upon entering his office, Agron found a woman in a dark red dress awaiting him.

"You’re really going to live here?"

"Of course! No—I mean, y-yes, of course. A Vampir always keeps their word, Master…"

Elena bared her fangs slightly as she hesitantly answered.

"I only woke you up out of curiosity about so-called gods. Now that my curiosity is satisfied, you can leave if you want."

"Elena Rosetti cannot do that. If I break my promise, my word and honor will be meaningless. Please grant me the honor of serving you."

"Honor and reputation are important. Fine, I’ll allow it."

"Thank you. I will devote myself entirely to you. But… I have one request."

She hesitated, fidgeting nervously.

"What is it?"

"If… If possible, could you occasionally… provide me with some of your blood?"

Though Elena coveted Agron’s blood for its flavor, the real reason was necessity. As his bound servant, she required regular offerings of his blood.

"Blood? Fine."

Agron nodded without hesitation.

A request, not an order—

A subordinate’s request was something he could accommodate.

"T-Thank you!"

Watching from the side, Baekun shook his head in disbelief.

In all his years, he had never seen a human keep a Vampir as a servant.

"By the way, you haven’t forgotten, have you?"

"Forgotten what, old man?"

"Tch. The banquet in two days."

Agron’s unfinished task—

Hosting a gathering of nobles and lords to celebrate the new Count of Veilain.