Lord of Caldera - Chapter 218

Chapter 218: Chapter 218

“…”

“…”

Silence fell over the square. Not a single person spoke. They merely gaped wordlessly at Ragnar.

The stillness was so profound that even the sound of a pin dropping onto the snow might have been heard. Finally, someone managed to break the silence.

“Ch-chief.”

Rogain, who had just descended from delivering his speech, spoke in a trembling voice.

“Why…?”

That single question captured the sentiment of everyone present: the northern nobles, the gathered common folk, and even the barbarians under Ragnar’s command.

Ragnar gazed at the sky and began to speak.

“I had a dream.”

“…”

“A dream where I ran alongside legendary heroes, where the ancient glory of the past was reborn in the present. A dream where my name spread farther than theirs ever could.”

As a child, others dismissed his dream as nonsense. While the elders of his tribe found it admirable, they assumed it was a fleeting whim that would fade in time.

They thought it was the fanciful notion of a child unaware of reality. But Ragnar possessed a rare talent.

“I was blessed with a strong body and a sharp mind. It might sound arrogant, but I believed I had the qualities of the heroes of old.”

In truth, he did. Many feats from ancient legends paled compared to what Ragnar had already accomplished.

To call him one of the greatest heroes of antiquity might have been an exaggeration, but he could certainly stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the finest of that era.

“And so I pursued my dream. I challenged the feats of heroes, became the mightiest warrior, and united the fractured tribes.”

Ragnar’s gaze drifted into the distance, as if recalling the past.

“It was exhilarating. Truly exhilarating. With every challenge I overcame, I felt myself becoming something greater.”

“…”

“My heart raced. I believed I had a grand purpose. At times, it felt like divine revelation. I even believed that the great spirits of the North had birthed me to fulfill this destiny.”

Looking back now, the thought made him chuckle. Such was the extent to which Ragnar was intoxicated by his dream. He was caught in a pleasant delusion, floating weightlessly as if in a dream.

“There were sacrifices along the way. Blood was spilled. But I thought it was fine. Every death had meaning. The lives lost were never in vain, and their sacrifices always bore fruit.”

This belief only deepened his intoxication. The deaths of comrades became seasoning for his saga, enhancing the image of himself striding forward upon their sacrifices.

He united the divided tribes and rose to the rank of High Chief. The glory he achieved rivaled that of the first High Chief, Agrim.

“My name became known in my time. My deeds laid the foundation for a legacy that would be celebrated for generations. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to become an immortal hero.”

Then the chance for such a feat appeared before him: the unification of the entire North, which had been at war for over a millennium, and the revival of the throne. The independence and freedom of the North from the oppressive Empire.

“I believed the grand cause was mine to fulfill. I thought I was the only one who could save everyone. I was still lost in my dream.”

Even when his nemesis, Sylas, appeared, or when Bjorn spoke words that denied Ragnar’s vision, he remained unfazed. He saw all of it as trials to overcome.

Even if he was wrong, he thought, he could correct himself. No hero was flawless, after all. Despite the harsh realities he faced, he clung to his dream.

“…And then I paid the price.”

Ragnar looked past Rogain to where the warriors stood. Half had perished in the dragon’s first fiery attack. In the battles that followed, another half fell.

Barely a quarter of his warriors remained alive. Rogain, overcome with emotion, shouted, his voice trembling.

“High Chief, we…!”

“You don’t need to say it. I already know.”

Ragnar silenced him.

“You are warriors. Death is always at your side. You must have accepted that long ago. While cherishing a warrior’s life is a virtue, at times it can also be an insult to a warrior.”

“That’s right! From the moment we pledged loyalty to you, we had already abandoned our lives. How could you hesitate to sacrifice for a great cause?”

“It’s not hesitation about sacrifice.”

Sacrifice was something Ragnar had long accepted and carried out when necessary. He could continue to do so if the situation demanded it.

“It’s simply that, for the first time, I realized…”

“Realized what!?”

“That the sacrifices of warriors might hold no meaning at all.”

“…!”

Rogain’s eyes widened, shaking violently.

If success was not achieved as a result, then sacrifice was nothing more than a futile death.

“I thought I was the chosen one. That the world revolved around me, that my ambitions would always succeed, and that those who followed me would share in glory.”

All of that was shattered during this trial. Sylas was overwhelmingly stronger than Ragnar, and Bjorn possessed a vision that extended far beyond the future of the North.

Ragnar was neither the strongest nor the wisest. Gradually, he grew anxious, plagued by the fear that he might truly fail to become king.

“When my arrogance was broken, I had to weigh my ambition against the future of the North. And as a result, I realized I had taken the wrong path.”

“….”

“At some point, I began prioritizing my ambition above all else. My claim that it was for the North had become a half-hearted excuse. I was simply chasing the dream I had as a child.”

He wanted to be a hero, to leave an immortal name. That naive dream was all Ragnar had. In the end, he was even willing to abandon his people for it.

He didn’t realize that abandoning the people meant he could never truly be a king.

“I was not fit to be a king.”

“Ch-chief…”

“But I do know who should be king.”