Chapter 359: 359 The Reason

Chapter 359: Chapter 359 The Reason

Sira woke to find the house empty. Panic surged through her like lightning. She ran outside, barefoot, asking the neighbors if they’d seen him. Some had—headed toward the forest again.

She grabbed a knife and sprinted after him, heart pounding.

Only to find him a few hours later… dragging a two-horned rock boar behind him, its massive body covered in wounds.

He wasn’t bleeding. Wasn’t even scratched.

Just sweaty.

And smiling.

“I got breakfast,” he had said proudly.

Sira stared. Blinked. Then stared some more.

It was that moment she realized something.

The boy who once cried when his favorite rock disappeared had now become a walking monster-slayer.

And Sira—Iron Sister, money-hungry and practical—had one immediate thought.

Capital.

She resisted at first. Truly, she did.

But the numbers didn’t lie.

Monster parts were valuable. Cores, pelts, bones—villages and cities paid well for those things. And Uga… well, Uga was basically a walking monster trap.

So, after a few long discussions, and a lot of worry, she gave in.

She crafted a plan.

They would do occasional hunts. Not too often. Not too far. Just enough to build capital. Enough to secure a future where Uga wouldn’t have to fight forever. Safety first. Brother first. Then money.

Still… the money was good.

In one month, they earned more than Sira had made in two years at her peak.

It became a cycle.

Quiet days in the village. A few short hunts a month. Simple living. Peace.

And for a while, that was enough.

Until the letter from her assistant came.

It was just a side note.

A competition, hosted by the Duke’s estate.

The victor could even win the favor—or hand—of the Duke’s daughter.

Most dismissed it as a political stunt.

Sira saw gold.

Most importantly, she saw a better future for her brother.

“You’re joining,” she said one evening, arms crossed, expression fierce.

Uga blinked at her, chewing on a roasted root.

“…Joining what?”

“The Duke’s competition. If you win, we marry you off.”

Uga tilted his head. “What’s marry?”

Sira sighed. “It means you’ll become family with the Duke.”

“Why?”

“Because then we’ll be rich. You’d be able to eat anything you like and not have to worry about anything.”

“Are they pretty?”

“Yes.”

He thought about it. Frowned. “But… pretty people don’t like dirt.”

“They’ll like you just fine if you win.”

“…But why do I have to win?”

“Uga…..”

And so, Uga entered the Duke’s competition.

Not because he sought fame. Not because he wanted a bride. But because Sira had asked him to.

Because if his sister believed it mattered, then it mattered.

Even if he didn’t get it.

Even if those little soft-looking girls made no sense to him and smelled like flowers he couldn’t name.

Still—

He came to win.

Because Sira wanted it.

Uga with wide eyes and a tilted smile, addressed Michael once again.

“Pretty people don’t hit like you. You hit hard.”

So he would win.

Just not too rough.

After all, Big Sis said pretty faces should be spared.

And Uga always listened to Big Sis.

Michael didn’t have time to process before Uga moved.

Just as Michael’s kick was blocked with that frighteningly casual strength, Uga’s other fist swung forward—straight toward Michael’s chest.

It wasn’t fancy. There was no technique or footwork. No clever feint or twist of the waist.

It was just a punch.

But it was fast.

Michael barely raised his hands in time to intercept it, and even then—

Boom!

The impact rang out like a muffled explosion. The collision sent a shockwave rippling through the stage, flattening the dust around them into a ring.

Michael was thrown back.

Not stumbling.

Not sliding.

Thrown.

He twisted mid-air and landed with graceful precision several meters away, the heels of his boots digging slight grooves into the stone.

The crowd roared at the sight, but Michael barely heard them. His hands tingled, a subtle numbness crawling up his arms.

He looked down at his hands, then at his fingers.

They were fine.

But not unshaken.

“…That strength,” Michael murmured under his breath, narrowing his eyes.

As a High Human, his race came with incredible advantages. Magic affinity, sharper senses, heightened agility—and yes, even great physical strength. Especially since he had been an Awakener. Though he wasn’t born as one, changing race mid-stage meant his body had undergone further enhancement.

And yet…

Uga’s raw power matched him.

That boy wasn’t just strong. He was something else.

“Is he even human…?” Michael muttered, flexing his fingers.

But he had no time to dwell.

Because Uga moved again.

The bulky youth vanished from his original spot with surprising smoothness, almost like a bear melting into mist.

And then—whoosh—he was behind Michael.

Arms outstretched.

Like he wanted to hug him.

Michael didn’t wait to find out what that meant.

His figure blurred once more, warping a few meters away. The air cracked in his wake.

He landed softly and turned.

“Though you’re strong,” Michael said coolly, adjusting his stance, “your overall speed is quite lacking.”

Only he could say something like that.

But Uga didn’t seem offended.

He blinked at Michael’s words, then slowly tilted his head, as if considering the point. “…Uga not fast?”

Michael arched an eyebrow. “You’re fast. Just not very fast.”

“Oh,” Uga said, nodding solemnly. “Then Uga train legs more.”

But Michael didn’t let down his guard.

There was no doubt.

Uga had no formal training. But he had power.

Real power.

And instincts.

Wild instincts.

He really did move like a beast.

Still, Michael wasn’t about to lose.

The next second, he launched himself again.

Michael didn’t go for a wide swing this time.

A sharp jab straight to Uga’s shoulder with the heel of his palm. The kind of strike that could dislocate an arm if delivered right.

But Uga tilted slightly.

Not dodging.

Just adjusting.

Michael’s strike landed but didn’t dislodge him. It was like striking a tree—firm, unmoving, indifferent to pain.

Uga’s eyes blinked slowly.

“You fight like birds.”