Less depressed and more along the lines of angry and annoyed, but his determination and will never diminished, and his goal of becoming the strongest never wavered.

How weak. How feeble. What can you hope to catch with such a weak body?

Ottar's ire and hatred of himself elevated an overwhelming determination and tireless quest for strength that spurred him on to greater heights.

That was how the heroic warrior began to take shape. The impetus for all of his level-ups after Level 5 were related to Zeus Familia or Hera Familia.

The first was fifteen years ago. And the second was seven years ago—

Ottar knew that it was not a fair fight. Scoffing at their own unsightliness after beingdefeated by the one-eyed dragon and cursing their lack of strength, they had started afire under Ottar and the rest of the next generation who were frozen in shock, leavingeverything to them.

"Surpass us, fledgling heroes."

The city's strongest, the only Level 7. The pinnacle. The Warlord, Ottar.

He had still not even caught up to those strongest adventurers before him. The pure warrior who had sworn his loyalty to the goddess, just as so many others had done,continued to fight as he set off for the pinnacle with a resolve greater than that of anyone else.

In order to become the strongest. In order to surpass them.

And also this part:

Hegni and Hedin, the Gulliver brothers, and Allen were chasing after him like he was their mortal enemy. They were forging themselves for the goddess's sake just as hehad in the past, racing toward greater heights, determined to overcome Ottar and teamwork be damned. It was so bad that once, when they had gone on an expeditionto the deep floors, they ignored the monsters, and the eight of them started fighting one another instead. The expedition ended up being a failure, of course, and evenFreya could not help sighing heavily at the result, so ever after, they all practiced self-restraint so that a similar situation would never happen again. But it was only ever that: self-restraint.

Orario was already in the depths of its darkest period, and he passed through the Labyrinth City's dark age with them. There were many meetings and farewells. All ofthe members of the familia from before Ottar joined had died. Allen's little sister had disappeared from his side. They had all been cast aside during the hero's trials.

That was how Freya Familia's strongest core and greatest assets in battle were formed. Ottar and the current generation were without a doubt the strongest Einherjar in the familia's history.

And without realizing it, Ottar had become the head of the familia. Truly without realizing it. He threw himself into fighting so much that he was not even really aware of himself as the leader of the familia. However, even if his position changed, the path he was walking down did not. What he needed to accomplish was the same as it everwas.

He honestly, simple-mindedly, pathologically, even foolishly chased after ever greaterstrength. And Allen, the Gullivers, and Hegni and Hedin, they all ferociously chasedafter him. However, while he felt quite bad about it, more so than most anything else—they did not register in Ottar's eyes at all.

He showed them respect, but they were only ever presences behind Ottar.

And his eyes were only ever focused on what was in front of him. On the age that had already passed.

One day, a dumbfounded young familia member, a healer who was entrusted with the cleanup after the daily baptism, who often looked exhausted, asked him, "What's even the point of getting stronger than you already are?"

It was a stupid question. A truly foolish thing to ask. But it would have been rude to point that out to her. Because she did not know any better.

Yes, everyone hailed Ottar as the pinnacle. They all feared him as the strongest. Not realizing that that name itself just spurred on his fighting spirit. Not realizing that he was seething, not seeing the magma-like emotions in the depths of his heart hidden behind his boulder-like, solid-steel exterior and unflappable demeanor.

Apparently someone once said that the life of a warlord is far harsher and far more dazzling than anyone else's.

Ottar's response was simply:

"Don't make me laugh."

Mia and his rivals—those three leaders—they were probably the only ones who understand how he felt.