Barbarian in a Failed Game

001. Barbarians of the North (1)

Clunk-thud—clunk-thud—

The carriage jolted violently, possibly having struck a small rock. A middle-aged coachman, nibbling on jerky as if bored at the coachman’s seat, sneakily glanced back at the carriage’s interior.

Thanks to the careful stacking by the trading company’s workers, the goods destined for sale were safe. He had almost expected an earful. Fortunately, that was not the case.

Having confirmed the safety of the goods, he turned his attention to the passengers within the carriage.

A neatly dressed young woman was comforting a child cradled in her arms. The carriage’s lurch must have startled the child slightly, causing the coachman to narrow his eyes.

“Are you alright? The road here is a bit rough, so there was a slight mishap.”

The apology, devoid of any real sense of remorse, was met with a slight nod from the young woman, who then returned her focus to soothing the child.

People could be so awkward… Couldn’t she at least have responded? Grumbling inwardly, the coachman shifted his gaze to another passenger.

It was an elderly man with flecks of white in his beard, who appeared unaffected by the recent jolt, eyes closed in rest. Had it not been for the occasional rise and fall of his chest, one might have thought him deceased.

“How much longer until we reach Cherno?”

“Hmm…? Quite a ways off still. At least another ten nights.”

The question was sudden, but the coachman answered kindly. The inquirer was an exceedingly beautiful woman.

Skin so fair it could be mistaken for nobility, lustrous brown hair, and curves evident even beneath her robe…

“Ahem. If all goes well, seven nights might suffice.”

The coachman, having blatantly scanned the woman’s face and figure, cleared his throat. He then remembered the merchant lord’s instruction to treat this woman with utmost care, hinting at dire consequences for any displeasure caused.

‘What’s with that, she’s no dark mage…?’

“Well, that’s up to the heavens, isn’t it? Just relax.”

“Thank you.”

The woman offered a smile, causing the coachman to grin foolishly before he reached for the reins once more, only to suddenly address another passenger huddled in a corner.

“Any issues with you?! Mister Hunchback. You always look so gloomy; I’d think you were dead if I didn’t know any better.”

It was unclear whether this was concern or mockery, but it certainly wasn’t meant kindly.

The man referred to as the hunchback had his face and body fully concealed beneath a large robe, his back bent so severely it was as if he’d been twisted by a dark mage’s experiment.

“I’m fine.”

“Is that so…?”

Surprisingly, the hunchback replied in a profoundly deep voice, prompting the coachman to sniff disdainfully and grab the reins.

‘What’s with the cripple going on a journey? The world’s become a strange place.’

Thus, the carriage continued on its journey, carrying a mother and child, a young woman, an old man, and a bent figure, from the eastern reaches of the Argon Kingdom to the orchard-famed lands of Cherno.

“Excuse me.”

Perhaps wearied by the monotonous journey, the young woman, notable for her beautiful features, showed interest in the hunchback immersed in a book in the corner.

“What are you reading?”

“……”

“‘In the Beginning of Existence’… Wow. Are you interested in the Mythic Era?”

Receiving no reply, the woman peered at the book’s cover herself and exclaimed in admiration.

“There are so many fascinating myths from the Mythic Era. The Pantheon Church denies it, but they say it was an era dominated by beings that predated their gods. What do you think? Do you believe it’s real?”

“…I’m studying to find out.”

“Ha! Right? So, are you heading to Cherno because of your research into the Mythic Era?”

“Somewhat. And somewhat not.”

“Hmm. That’s a vague answer.”

In an era overwhelmingly dominated by illiteracy, the chance to engage in such an academically inclined conversation excited the woman.

Even if that conversation partner was a hunchback. Or perhaps, that made it even more intriguing.

“Certainly, the western regions of the Argon Kingdom are largely unexplored. You might find ruins related to the Mythic Era there. Not a bad choice… Ah!”

Clunk—thud! Clunk—

Excitedly engaged in conversation, the woman yelped and stumbled as the carriage jolted once more. Fortunately, the hunchback reached out, preventing her from injuring herself, though their cargo was tossed about.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The woman smiled awkwardly, having been supported by the hunchback, whose body, unexpectedly, was incredibly sturdy. It felt almost like being held by a rock.

“Hmm. Was there an accident? That wasn’t a normal shake…”

“We’re under attack! An arrow was shot from over there causing the horses to panic and shake us violently, so stay inside and keep quiet!”

The response came from the front of the carriage. The sounds of battle indicated that they were directly engaging the attackers.

As bandit attacks were all too common, most passengers remained calm, assuming the caravan’s guards would handle the situation as usual—either fighting off the attackers or negotiating with a bribe.

“Don’t let them get close, shoot your arrows! They don’t have shields!”

“If you don’t want to starve tonight, charge—!”

However, contrary to expectations, the conflict escalated, marked by shouting and the sound of weapons clashing for quite some time.

‘This doesn’t bode well.’The hunchbacked man cast a quick glance out the window. By all accounts, it would not have been strange for hands to have been shaken and reconciliation reached by now, yet the battle outside continued unabated.

And violently so.

“These don’t seem like ordinary bandits…?”

“We’re losing.”

“Though their gear is worn, they’re incredibly skilled in combat. The way they’re tightening the encirclement is not the work of amateurs.”

“Either deserters or mercenaries disguised as bandits, I’d wager.”

“A common enough sort.”

“Indeed.”

The woman and the hunchbacked man exchanged words with remarkable calm.

However, the woman, being a mage capable of defending herself, presented a contrast to the sight of the hunchback, whose physical condition suggested he was not nearly as capable.

“Shouldn’t we, shouldn’t we be running?”

The voice of a middle-aged beauty, holding a child, trembled. She cast desperate glances around, seeking agreement.

But the response she received was cold.

Run? To where? It would be better to pray for the caravan guards to win.

“If you think you can break through the bandits on your own, by all means. Oh, but you’re not alone, are you? There’s the child.”

“That’s…”

The woman responded with a cutting sarcasm, and the beauty’s face fell as she clutched her child like a talisman.

“Hmm. It seems I’m the only one here capable of fighting. What about you? Despite the bent back, you seem quite sturdy.”

“Hard to say.”

The man’s response was lukewarm, but the woman had not expected much, to begin with, and, shrugging, she exited the room.

Incredibly, her appearance seemed to bring the ongoing battle to a sudden standstill.

For the bandits, the sudden emergence of a strikingly beautiful woman was a distraction, whereas the guards ceased fighting in awe of the mage’s intervention.

“Eh. Is she some noble lady? Quite the stunner.”

“A noble? Wouldn’t touching one introduce a world of trouble?”

“Idiot. If they’re all dead, nobles or whatever means nothing. Why act so green?”

The bandits were momentarily taken aback by the woman’s beauty but quickly shrugged it off and began to sneer ominously.

“Ha ha… You folks seem full of vigor.”

“I wish you were too, miss. We do have the advantage in numbers, after all!”

“Krakakak!”

The bandits burst into crass laughter, but the woman merely smiled back.

This puzzled the bandits. To face such disrespect yet laugh it off – was she not quite right in the head?

Alternatively, perhaps she simply failed to grasp the gravity of her situation.

Unknown to them, however, she harbored no such confusion. Why bother getting angry at those doomed to die?

Without much ado, flames sparked to life in the woman’s hand, growing from a torch-sized ball into a head-sized orb in an instant, before launching at the face of a bandit, who had been impudently grinning.

“Aaargh───!”

The bandit screamed as his face was engulfed in flames, which then invaded his throat and lungs, silencing him.

A chilling silence followed. The remaining bandits hesitated, clearly intimidated now that they faced a mage.

In a battle of otherwise even forces, a mage represented an asymmetrical threat, significantly altering the balance by casting spells from a distance.

“Damn it-”

“Now! Attack! Don’t let her escape!”

The caravan’s guards, seizing the moment, advanced to form a protective barrier around the mage so she could cast her spells unhindered.

Seeing this, the bandits began to retreat, some even dropping their weapons to flee, fearing becoming the mage’s next target.

The situation took another drastic turn.

“What fools.”

With a swift motion, the head of a retreating bandit was severed by a greatsword in a display of formidable strength – a finesse not easily achieved.

Yet, more startling was the appearance of the swordsman.

“Keep pushing, and this could have been over… Leave none alive who flee.”

The deep, resonant voice was reminiscent of a wild beast’s call. Notably, he stood a head taller than the already robust bandits, his size suggesting perhaps a lineage mingled with that of an orc.

Clad not in armor but in beast hides, his bare torso featured tattoos extending up to his face.

“Barbarian…?!”

A cry came from among the caravan party. It was an understandable reaction.

A barbarian from beyond the frost-bitten northern wastes was indeed such a being. Warriors living solely for slaughter and victory, capable of decimating dozens single-handedly.

What made barbarian truly feared was their indiscriminate massacre of all – women, children, the elderly alike – and the rumors that they would consume the corpses of their victims as trophies of victory.

Whether these tales were true, no one could say for certain.

“Hmm. A young female mage, huh? Occasionally, a gentle touch isn’t so bad.”

It seemed likely that the rumors were true, judging by the barbarian’s reaction. The barbarian licked his lips as he scanned the woman from head to toe, trembling went through the crowd not because of his lust, but because of the hunger in his eyes – a hunger for flesh.

“So it’s true, the barbarian do indulge in cannibalism!”

The caravan was in a state of turmoil. No matter how one thought about it, the barbarian, who looked more like an orc’s offspring than a frail mage, felt far more threatening. While the mage could eliminate the enemy with a completed spell, there seemed little chance of fending off these fearsome barbarian and their ilk in the meantime.

“Hand over the woman and your goods quietly, and I’ll spare your lives─!”

A way out presented itself, and the reactions were oddly mixed. There was only a woman among the passengers aboard the carriage, and since life was more valuable than money, negotiating seemed the better option. That was the apparent consensus.

“Hmm….” Whether she realized she was about to be sold out or not, the corner of the woman’s mouth lifted. She looked at the barbarian who had changed the situation with a single word, her gaze heavy with meaning.

Meanwhile, after the woman left, a hunchbacked man who had been quietly observing the outside slowly stood up. “What are you planning to do? You surely can’t mean to go out there? With your body in that condition…”

The woman hesitated but tried to stop the hunchbacked man. It wasn’t out of concern for him; having even a cripple nearby felt somewhat reassuring.

However, the hunchback paid her no attention and slowly walked outside. It seemed the caravan had decided to accept the barbarian’s proposal. The guards were slowly retracting to the back, revealing the hunchbacked man’s presence. Naturally, all eyes turned to him.

“What’s with that cripple.”

“Damn unlucky. They’re even taking in someone like that as a passenger?”

The bandits spat, looking at the hunchback cloaked in a robe as if they were staring at a bug harboring the plague.

“Tsk. Just kill him. He’s an eyesore.”

The barbarian had a similar reaction. Waving his hand to command his death, a boastful bandit approached, with the fully alert mage paying him no mind. The bandit, unguarded as if he never expected the hunchback to counter, raised his sword.

“Heh. Curse your mother for birthing you like that. Do it in hell.”

“Seems like you lacked proper home training. Didn’t you know personal attacks are off-limits?”

“What?”

In the moment of his questioning- Something suddenly burst out from beneath the hunchback’s robe. To the bandit standing right in front of him, it seemed as huge as an ogre’s limbs, filling his entire view. That it was a human arm, belonging to the hunchback he ridiculed.

“Live…”

He realized only in the moment of his death. Crunch- The sound of bones crushing was chillingly clear. “What’s this sound?”

The bandits eagerly anticipating the slaughter, the mercenaries of the caravan who coldly abandoned their guests, the barbarian observing the situation with indifference, and even the mage who chuckled with his arms crossed…

All were rendered speechless, staring at the hunchbacked man. What? He broke a neck with one hand? Could he really be a dark mage’s experiment? Such questions followed.

“Shit…”

“A monster created by a dark mage!”

Crunch. Crunch.

Now, eerie bone sounds started emanating from the hunchbacked man himself, but the texture was different. It wasn’t breaking, but rather like a deeply slumbering dragon stretching awake.

Crunch. Crunch.

His bent back straightened, and his stature, which seemed dwarfed by how much he had been hunched inward, expanded as if swelling up.

Finally standing upright, the hunchback… no, the giant ripped off his robe harshly.

“I was planning to stay out of it, but well…”

He was larger than anyone else there. To the extent that the bandits’ leader, taller than most, had to tilt his head back to look up.

His broad shoulders could easily carry a few men, and his thick limbs were not inferior to any orc or troll in terms of green skin.

Unlike the bandit leader, he was half-naked and draped in the fur of beasts, yet the distinction in their grandeur was immense.

Especially since he exuded a presence as if he could tear apart all the humans here on the spot, and his size seemed even more formidable against the giant’s frame.

Most notably, his ash-gray skin and gray eyes brought to mind the landscape of a snow-capped mountain.

“That, that figure is…!”

“Gotta deal with the counterfeit somehow.”

The warrior of Hoarfrost Gorge, known as the frozen wasteland of the North, bared his teeth towards the fake barbarian trying to imitate him.