NTR School: S Rank Student

Raphael travelled without stopping towards the silver peaks. Over the past months, he had been so physically active that such tasks were hardly of difficulty to him.

As he reached closer, he was given a sight of just how big the mountains were.

There were tens of them, all scattered around a snowy field, though at the centre stood one taller than the other.

Its heights stretched into the clouds, and even with Raphael's prowess, he knew it would be a difficult climb.

But then, a sound suddenly came from nearby.

"Who goes there!" A rough male voice spoke.

It seems like he would not have to climb yet.

Raphael turned towards the voice to see a group of five men standing there, clad in clothing for the north. They seemed to be made from wolf pelts, and on their heads, they were hats of the same material.

The men were armed with all types of crude weapons. Axes and swords mainly, but one of them even wielded a spear.

Raphael turned towards the group with a raised eyebrow.

As he did, the men were given a glance at his crown.

They recognised it.

"Wait a minute, he's that dragon king that the cities have been speaking of."

"..."

"You're right. He looks weaker than that Helix fella though. How'd you reckon he beat him?"

"Luck. Either way, we all know there's only one king around here."

The group of bandits let out bellowing laughs which echoed through the mountains. Even Raphael couldn't help but smirk to himself.

Noticing his smile, the group suddenly lost their humour, tightening the grips of their weapons in anger.

One man stepped forward, a snarl on his face.

"Hey, you find something fun-"

The words were cut off as Raphael raised his right arm lazily and shot white flames from his palm. They quickly enveloped the man, melting his flesh down to the skeleton.

At first, all that could be heard was the sounds of the man's dying screams.

But they were quickly replaced by war cries, as the group of bandits charged forwards with raised weapons.

Fools. They all have death wishes.

Raphael didn't even need to summon The Ender.

From the looks of things, it was clear that these bandits lacked Birthrights.

It would be an easy fight.

The first man swung his axe forward in a devastating arc, but the strike was too slow. Raphael easily stepped to the side, delivering a heavy kick to the side of the man's knee.

A crack was heard, as the man buckled to the ground, followed by the sounds of agonizing screams.

However, they didn't stop the others.

The second man wielded a sword in both hands, swinging and slashing in violent directions. Raphael dodged, and dodged, using his hands to direct the strikes away from him.

As he spotted an opening, he stepped in closer, and disarmed the man, taking his weapon as his own. Then, in one movement, he sliced the man's throat, sending blood spraying onto the white snow beneath them.

"Brother!" Another man screamed after witnessing his comrade's death. He then charged in an angered manner. "You'll pay for the- UGH"

Raphael threw the sword with precision, piercing the man's chest and puncturing his heart. He fell to the ground quickly; his life was lost to him.

That left only two bandits.

One was a young man, the last to attack. He held his axe shakily, and his face suggested that he had never seen such violence before.

The only one alive was the man whose leg had been broken. As he layed on the floor, crying, Raphael walked over to him to put him out of his misery.

Squelch.

He stomped the man's head into a bloody pulp, before turning back to the shaking boy.

His weapon fell from his hands, as he held them up towards the dragon king, surrendering.

"Please, spare me!" He cried shamelessly.

From a glance, Raphael could tell that the man was young.

But he's a part of a bandit group. That means he's most likely committed heinous crimes.

Raphael let out a sigh as he wondered what he should do with him. Then, after a few moments of consideration, he came to a decision.

"Take me to your leader, and I will spare your life." He suggested, before glancing at the fallen men on the snow. "Or, you can end up like them?"

The young bandit's eyes went wide, fearful of his options. But he made his decision quickly.

"I'll take you there, please! Just don't kill me!"

Raphael gestured towards the mountains with his arm, a grin forming on his face. "Well then, lead the way."

---

They travelled through the mountains without having to do any climbing. Instead, they travelled between them, with the mountain looming above at all times.

The entire time, the young bandit tried to plead for his life with Raphael. He didn't believe that the dragon king would let him leave alive, so he promised all sorts of things he could not deliver if he was allowed to leave alive.

Of course, Raphael ignored them all.

As the sun began to fall, the pair finally reached their destination.

At the centre of the mountain range was what seemed to be a modest village made from wooden houses.

The sight confused Raphael immensely. He had no idea that such a village existed.

He counted roughly twenty small houses, and its centre was a larger structure, and from it came the sounds of cheers and songs.

The bandits swallowed heavily, as Raphael watched the building.

"That's the King's hall. There seems to be a gathering going on right now." The young bandit said.

Makes sense. That's why I didn't spot any more bandits during our journey here.

Raphael started to make his way towards the hall.

"H-hey, where are you going?" The young man said with fear in his voice. "You'll die in there, and then they'll come out here and get me next!"

Ignoring the words, Raphael continued to make his way over to the hall whilst talking over his shoulder.

"If you're scared of dying, then run. I have no use for you anymore."

---

Inside the hall, tens of frozen tribe members linked arms and danced around the fireplace.

Others were on the sidelines, drinking liquids from barrels, whilst others chewed on slabs of meat.

Some were engaged in more explicit activities and sat down with naked women wiggling around on top of them.

Inside the hall of kings, all members of the tribes were solely focused on enjoying themselves, through whichever method that might be.

On a wooden throne, watching over the event, was a man dressed in the pelt of a bear. He wore a crown on top of his head, made from the skull of a wolf, and jewellery of all sorts of materials was draped over his hands and his fingers.

Laying across his lap was a tribeswoman, naked and having her breasts fondled by his large hands.

And to the side, sitting on a throne of her own, was the man's wife.

"Isn't it lovely?" The Frozen Tribe leader said aloud. "After our hard work, pillaging and looting, we get to come right back home to enjoy the spoils without having to face any troubles."

The man let out a bellowing laugh, as his hand slid between the naked woman's thighs, finding the sweet spot between her legs.

As her husband played with a young woman on top of his lap, Yaltena sat with her face resting in her palm with a disturbed look on her face.

She wore the pelt of a lion over her shoulder and wore a necklace made from the lion's teeth around her neck. She had never cared for jewellery, as it never meant much to her.

But wearing the items of nature's dangers, animals are filled with a primal satisfaction that could met through no other means.

They called her Yaltena the Lioness. Not just because of this, but also her brown hair which flowed messily like a mane. Her eyes were grey, and her face young and beautiful, despite her roughness.

But no matter how strong Yaltena was, there was one thing about her that could never be overlooked by the people of her tribe.

She was a woman.

Yes, she was the queen of the tribe, but her husband, Olka The Bear, would also be the one to call the shots.

The man who was respected by all men and women of the tribe.

It was why he could sit there cheating on his wife right in front of her, without her being able to say a word.

So, Yaltena simply accepted it, trying to find what joy she could in seeing the people of the tribe enjoying themselves.

But then, the noise of the songs and laughter was suddenly cut off, as the door swung open, and a man stepped inside.

Instantly, it was clear that he was not a member of the tribe. Not because of his clothes, or his unfamiliarity to those around him.

But rather, it was his face. He was far too pretty. Elegant would be the best word to describe him.

Most notable, the man wore a crown on his head, which signalled to all who he must be.

Raphael, The New King of the North.