The Barbarian of the Count’s Family Is Too Strong

Chapter 20: The Warrior’s Qualification (1)

People often said:

The second coming of the ancient demigod Hekleitus.

Astrarea Kingdom’s strongest warrior.

‘Wolfgang von Wolfert.’

Standing at 2.5 meters tall with the build of an ox or a bear, Wolfgang was not of noble birth but a former serf.

His parents had abandoned him, and months later, when the villagers returned to sell the house, they found Wolfgang sleeping while suckling on a wolf’s teat.

The villagers reported this to the village chief, who informed the overseer, who then passed the news to the tax collector, and finally, it reached the local lord.

Intrigued, the lord took Wolfgang into his castle and soon realized that the boy possessed exceptional strength. He decided to raise him as a knight.

However, Wolfgang had no talent for wielding weapons.

Instead of becoming a great knight, he gained recognition through wrestling and unarmed combat, eventually earning a noble title.

He became the first noble in Astrarea Kingdom to receive a title through martial arts rather than swordsmanship.

“I heard that Count Agron defeated a Troll Warrior recently. I’ve been wanting to meet you.”

“Hmm, I see. I’ve read about you in books.”

“In books…? What an honor.”

Wolfgang tilted his head slightly at Agron’s words before a satisfied smile spread across his face.

Agron often read books about renowned warriors from the kingdom and beyond.

“But what brings you all the way here? Did you really just come to see Agron’s face?”

Lawrence eyed Wolfgang with suspicion.

Would that battle-hungry warrior really travel all this way just for that?

“…Yes.”

Wolfgang nodded firmly, his face unreadable.

Agron, observing him, smirked faintly.

“I don’t think so.”

“What?”

“If you wanted to give that answer, you should’ve at least concealed your fighting spirit.”

“…….”

Just as Agron pointed out, Wolfgang was brimming with pent-up energy, radiating an intense heat like a forge.

His muscles and presence were coiled tightly, as if ready to explode at the slightest provocation.

“You look like you’re ready to fight right now. Shall we have a match?”

“W-Wait! Hold on!!”

Just as Wolfgang was about to bare his teeth in response, Lawrence quickly stepped between them.

He pushed Wolfgang back slightly before dragging Agron toward the terrace.

“Hey, are you insane?”

“I gave it some thought, and I don’t seem to be.”

“No, damn it! Do you even know who he is?”

“Hm, you must not have been listening during introductions. Wolfgang von—”

“I know! I know who he is!”

“Then why are you asking me? Check if you’re the one who’s gone mad.”

‘This bastard?’

Lawrence gritted his teeth and glared at Agron.

It seemed he had forgotten just how infuriating this man could be.

“That guy is the strongest in Astrarea Kingdom when it comes to raw strength and close combat. He wins tournaments in other kingdoms!”

“Oh—what a fine warrior. I like him.”

“And what exactly do you plan to do? I know you fight well against monsters, but fighting a person is a whole different thing!”

Lawrence recalled a lesson from his royal swordsmanship training:

‘Combat against humans and combat against monsters are different.’

Swordsmanship for fighting people was different from swordsmanship for fighting monsters. Excelling in one didn’t guarantee success in the other.

There was even a case where a wandering knight who dominated tournaments had died to goblins after joining a noble’s monster-hunting expedition.

Most knightly training focused on dueling other humans, while fighting monsters was usually left to mercenaries or those living near the Demonic Realm.

Lawrence assumed Agron had only trained in monster combat.

“You’ve only fought monsters, right? He’s only fought humans. What do you think is going to happen?”

“A true warrior never shies away from battle.”

Lawrence stared at him, dumbfounded.

‘It’s no use. He’s already made up his mind.’

Shaking his head, Lawrence sighed.

“Fine, then I’ll act as the mediator. Deal?”

“You’re not going to challenge him yourself?”

“Why the hell would I fight?”

“Hm, like a delicate maiden.”

‘This son of a—?’

Lawrence clenched his fists, glaring at Agron.

Dragging him back, he approached Wolfgang.

“Sir Wolfgang.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Agron has agreed to the fight.”

“Thank you! Then let’s begin right—”

“Whoa! Whoa! Stop!”

Lawrence quickly intervened as Wolfgang moved to take off his shirt.

Wolfgang sighed in disappointment but buttoned his shirt back up.

‘Is every fighter insane? Do they all think like this?’

Lawrence looked at the two of them with a mixture of awe and exasperation.

“The duel will be one-on-one. The location will be the Count’s training grounds. I will serve as the witness. No audience. Agreed?”

“Yes, that is acceptable.”

Wolfgang seemed slightly disappointed that there would be no spectators, but he nodded, satisfied that the duel was happening.

Meanwhile, Lawrence was trying to ensure Agron wouldn’t suffer a humiliating defeat in front of a crowd.

If Agron lost publicly, his standing as the new Count would be severely damaged.

‘For my sake and his, that can’t happen.’

King Decker had taken an interest in Agron.

And thanks to Agron, Lawrence had gained some footing in the race for succession.

If Agron fell, Lawrence’s own position would be weakened, and the influence he had just begun to grasp would slip away.

“We should place a wager.”

“A wager?”

“If you win, great for you. But if Agron wins, he gains nothing. It’s unfair.”

“Ah….”

Wolfgang, realizing the imbalance, nodded in agreement.

Even without spectators, this was still a duel between a Count and a Baron.

Even if it was a friendly match, there were risks involved.

“I understand. But what should the wager be?”

“Gold? Treasure—”

Before Lawrence could finish, Agron cut in.

“If I lose, I will fight for you in politics or war whenever you wish.”

“……?!”

“If I win, you will serve under my banner.”

“Hey…!!”

Agron’s proposal was shockingly bold.

A Count serving under a Baron was impossible, but fighting on his behalf was not. Moreover, a Count’s influence extended far beyond a single household; his followers would fight alongside him.

Wolfgang, meanwhile, had never served under anyone but the King.

For Agron to make such an offer was monumental.

‘It’s a checkmate…’

Lawrence could only click his tongue in admiration.

This brute of a man usually spouted nonsense, yet at crucial moments, he displayed more cunning than even the most seasoned nobles.

It wasn’t something one could learn.

It was the instinct of a born politician.

Having grown up surrounded by nobles, Lawrence instinctively recognized that Agron’s potential far exceeded the confines of this remote province.

“Yes, I will do so, my lord!”

“Sir! Are you absolutely sure about this?”

Wolfgang’s quick acceptance of Agron’s challenge took Lawrence by surprise.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, it seems like a fair proposal for both of us.”

‘This guy is even dumber than I thought.’

Lawrence clicked his tongue internally. Wolfgang was clearly not a political thinker nor a tactician. Regardless of the outcome, this match would benefit Agron.

“Hmm, I have one more thing to add.”

Agron turned to Lawrence.

“What is it?”

“We fight in front of all the nobles gathered here.”

“…What?!”

“I have no objections.”

***

They didn’t bother changing locations. Instead, they cleared the center of the banquet hall, making space for the duel.

“What’s going on?”

“I heard that Count Agron and Baron Wolfgang are having a duel.”

“What? Wolfgang, the one they call the reincarnation of Hekleitus?”

“Yes, the kingdom’s strongest fighter.”

“Why would the Count fight someone like that? He doesn’t stand a chance.”

The nobles, thrilled by the sudden spectacle, could barely contain their excitement.

People had always been drawn to violent entertainment—tournaments, gladiator fights, public executions. Even lords struggling with unrest often hosted such events to pacify the people, if only temporarily.

“Are you really going through with this?”

Lawrence whispered to Agron.

This was madness, akin to a moth flying into flames.

Lawrence glanced at Wolfgang.

The man had stripped off his upper garments and changed into fighting trousers. He looked less like a human and more like a beast—a bear wearing human skin, his massive muscles rippling under the torchlight.

Lawrence suddenly recalled the first time he had faced a Troll Warrior.

“Listen, I told them no killing is allowed, so if you’re in pain, just tap out.”

“Nonsense. A warrior never surrenders, even in death—”

“Hey! This isn’t a fight to the death!”

“Hmm, understood.”

Agron nodded nonchalantly.

“But did you really need to do this in front of everyone?”

“Of course. A warrior does not hide his strength and pride.”

“Goddammit.”

“Besides, if I win, it benefits you as well.”

Lawrence blinked at him, dumbfounded.

“You should support me. Who knows? Maybe my victory will push you a step closer to the throne.”

Agron smirked as he removed his shirt.

“Ohh—!”

“Kyaa…!”

“What an impressive physique.”

“He’s almost as built as Baron Wolfgang.”

Gasps of admiration and flustered squeals filled the air.

His sculpted muscles rippled under the lights, veins pulsing across his arms like living cords.

“Whew.”

The scars across his body glowed faintly as his skin flushed with heat.

Agron stepped forward to meet Wolfgang in the center of the hall. Both men stood barefoot, clad only in trousers.

Lawrence, clearing his throat, glanced between the two warriors.

“I, Lawrence Rubel von Crownguard, Third Prince of the Astrarea Kingdom, will oversee this duel. Killing is strictly forbidden. The match ends when one of you either faints or surrenders. Are you both ready?”

“Yes.”

“I am.”

“Then… Begin!”

As Lawrence’s hand sliced downward to signal the start—

“RAAAAHHHH!”

Wolfgang roared like a wild beast and charged.

Lowering his stance, he drove his shoulder into Agron’s torso.

Agron shifted his weight forward to avoid being knocked down, then immediately clasped his hands behind Wolfgang’s neck and drove his knee upward.

CRACK!!

A thunderous impact echoed through the hall.

Wolfgang staggered, momentarily dazed by the sheer force of the blow.

For a second, disbelief flickered across his face before he refocused, gripping Agron’s torso and hoisting him into the air before slamming him down.

Most fighters would have been knocked unconscious by that throw.

But Agron wasn’t like most fighters.

Just before impact, he clapped his hands against the floor, rolling forward to break his fall.

Wolfgang, realizing his prey had escaped, twisted his body and drove a kick toward Agron’s position.

Wolfgang threw the first punch.

The wind howled as his fist sliced through the air, narrowly grazing Agron’s cheek.

Even though killing was forbidden, it was obvious—if that punch had landed, Agron would either be dead or crippled.

Agron tilted his head just enough to evade the blow and countered with a devastating punch to Wolfgang’s exposed side.

CRACK!

A sickening crunch echoed through the hall as Wolfgang’s knee buckled.

The pain was enough to make him momentarily falter.

Never before had he been forced to his knees by a single punch.

Shock and disbelief painted his face—but only for a moment.

“RAAAAH!”

With a guttural roar, Wolfgang clenched his jaw and forced himself to stand.

For the first time, he questioned why someone this strong had remained unknown for so long.

“You’re quite sturdy.”

“Th…Thank you…!”

“I acknowledge you as a warrior. Now, shall we get serious?”

“…What?”

Wolfgang thought he had misheard.

Serious? Now?

Before he could react, Agron moved—too fast.

A fist came flying toward him, growing larger in his vision.

For the first time in his life, Wolfgang felt true fear.

He froze, helpless as a frog before a snake.

That was the last thing he remembered of that night.