Chapter 5. Goblins, Demons, and Children (1)
Duncan was being pushed into extreme circumstances in more ways than one.
It was good that he had gained a traveling companion. He had already felt that escaping the Imperial territory alone would be dangerous. Now, he wasn't even the slightest bit afraid of shoddy monsters or roadside bandits.
The problem was precisely that very "traveling companion."
The reason monsters and bandits didn't scare him was because, compared to them, the barbarian was far more terrifying. How could anyone not fear a person who devoured demon corpses and slaughtered dozens of people on his own?
Duncan worried constantly, afraid that he might offend the barbarian's mood at any moment. He stayed on edge all day long, carefully gauging the situation as he posed his questions.
"W-would you like to eat, milord? I have jerky and dried potatoes."
"W-would you like to lie down here, milord? I-I'll light a warm fire."
"U-um, but how did you end up in the Imperial territory...? Ah, I understand. I'll stay quiet."
It wasn't easy. No matter how hard he tried to read him, Duncan simply couldn't glimpse the barbarian's true intentions. Moreover, the man allowed no questions beyond what was absolutely necessary. There was no chance to relax or curry favor.
He barely spoke, yet subtly radiated killing intent at all times. Calling him human almost felt wrong—he was more like a ferocious beast. Every single day felt like sticking his head into a lion's jaws and performing acrobatics. As the days passed, Duncan's eyes grew more and more hollow from sheer nervous exhaustion.
Even so, if that had been the only problem, he might have endured somehow.
The bigger problem was the barbarian's absurd marching speed.
Duncan was a traveling merchant. That meant he prided himself on being quick on his feet and hard to tire—qualities few could match. But compared to this barbarian, he might as well have been a toddler just learning to walk.
Once Duncan told him the direction, the barbarian would already be far ahead. When Duncan finally caught up, the man would leave behind a single indifferent remark before moving on again.
"Go."
"Let's go."
"You're slow."
"Heeek, huff, huuk, huuuuk...."
The barbarian would then stare unblinkingly until Duncan arrived, as if threatening to smash his head open if he came any later.
At least Duncan was the guide. If the barbarian had been the guide instead, the distance between them might have grown to dozens of kilometers already. Watching the tireless barbarian, the merchant clicked his tongue.
'Good grief, I'm dying here... no, is that man's legs made of steel or something?'
He didn't have the courage to ask him to slow down. The brutal journey, combined with the constant strain of watching his mood, produced a devastating synergy that turned Duncan into a wreck in just a few days.
Duncan made up his mind. If he wanted to survive, he had to run away soon. Somehow, he had to seize an opportunity to escape.
And that opportunity came sooner than he expected.
On a night when thick clouds swallowed the moonlight and only dying embers remained to cast any glow, the barbarian lay turned toward a tree trunk. Before sleeping, Duncan had crushed medicinal herbs and applied them to the wound where the spear had pierced him, yet the man slept soundly, seemingly unbothered by pain.
Holding his breath, Duncan observed the barbarian's condition for about half an hour. Seeing no movement, it was clear he was fast asleep. If he was going to flee, now was the perfect chance.
'Hmm....'
The merchant's gaze lingered briefly on the large bag resting beside the tree trunk.
It was no exaggeration to say that it contained his entire fortune. Oil candles, a wool blanket, flint, soap, dried provisions, a silver mirror, an antique ring.... All together, they were worth enough to set up a small street stall in a city.
But none of it was worth more than his life. If he approached the tree trunk carelessly, he might awaken the sleeping beast. Duncan decisively abandoned the bag.
Lowering his posture, he crawled forward, gently brushing aside the leaves piled on the ground. When he reached the grass, he finally straightened up awkwardly. Gradually picking up speed, he moved at a quick pace, and the moment he emerged from the forest, he hurried forward desperately.
Under the dim sky, darkness stretched in all directions. Whether his eyes were open or closed, the scenery was the same. Running blindly with nothing in sight, Duncan charged forward without knowing where he was going.
Large beads of sweat slid down his nape, and his lungs felt as though they would burst. His heart pounded against his chest like an enraged intruder, and his joints creaked, screaming in pain. Lacking the strength to keep his mouth closed, saliva dripped from his chin.
"Huhh, huff, huuk... khk, kehuk, huuuuk...."
How long had he run like that?
Bending over and pressing his hands against his knees, Duncan thought to himself. This should be far enough. Since he didn't even know which direction he'd run in, it would take a long time to find him. Now, he was finally free.
It was a careless delusion.
"Where are you rushing off to like that?"
A low, mid-toned voice that seized his calves. Duncan staggered violently, as if his legs had snapped. A chilling sensation slid down his spine.
When he turned his head, a murderous silhouette emerged from the darkness.
'T-this can't be... how?'
It made no sense. He had run away so fast—how had he been caught? And in this darkness, where he couldn't even see an inch ahead? Had the man flown through the night like an owl, piercing the darkness itself?
In truth, now that he had already been caught, the question was pointless. Suppressing the urge to vomit, Duncan barely managed to speak.
"Huff, ghk, n-no, th-that is... I...."
"Are you running away? Why are you running away?"
"H-huff, milord, it's not that...."
"Do you not need the reward we agreed upon?"
As the clouds parted, moonlight poured down like translucent fabric. The blade hanging from the barbarian's waist gleamed with a chilling light. It was a reminder that Duncan's life was not yet fully his own.
Enduring a fierce urge to relieve himself, Duncan threw himself flat onto the dirt.
"I-I'm sorry, milord! I've committed a sin worthy of death! I should never have forgotten the grace of you sparing my life, yet this foolish me grew reckless...."
Kadim squatted down, meeting his eye level, and cut off the merchant's words.
"No. What I want isn't an apology, but the reason. If that reason isn't fixed, you'll just run away again, won't you? Explain. Why did you run?"
After hesitating, Duncan finally confessed the truth.
"W-well, milord... y-your pace was too fast for me to keep up with.... If I kept following like that, I felt like I'd collapse soon...."
"...."
Kadim fell silent for a moment. Duncan squeezed his eyes shut tightly, thinking that even if the blade came down on his neck now, there was nothing he could do.
Unexpectedly, Kadim did not rebuke him. After quietly pondering for a short while, he simply said,
"Let's go back. From now on, I'll walk a bit more slowly."
"...!"
That was the end of the conversation.
Kadim turned his back to the moonlight and retraced the path they had come from. Duncan stood dazed for a moment, staring blankly. Then, as clouds once again began to swallow the moon, he suddenly came to his senses, got up, and followed after the broad back of the barbarian.
*
The baseline of his emotions was impatience. His quick pace was a habit formed during the first playthrough.
In the Demon Realm, where everything was barren and hostile, food and water had never once been plentiful. On top of that, his mind gradually deteriorated as he drank demon blood.
Rest and leisure were distant words. Any delay meant destruction. Fearing that the barbarian might be swallowed by madness at any moment, Kadim and his companions had even cut back on time spent eating and sleeping, constantly urging themselves onward.
But now, that wasn't necessary.
'...Hoo.'
Kadim took a deep breath and calmed both body and mind.
The surroundings weren't particularly dangerous. Food and water were sufficient. Madness might resurface someday, but at least not now.
Moreover, there was a reason he had to slow his pace.
The merchant was quite a capable guide.
There was a fairly detailed map of the continent in Kadim's head, but it was a map from over three hundred years ago. Enough time for the land itself to have changed nearly thirty times over. Without a capable guide, there was no way he could find the correct route.
Kadim adjusted his pace and began walking slowly to match the merchant's speed. Only then did the traveling merchant finally feel like he could breathe again. After a while, he even gained enough leeway to consult his map and occasionally offer his opinions to Kadim.
"At present, the border between the Empire and the Alliance has quite a lot of friction, you see. If we're unlucky, we might run into holy knights. We don't want to get unfairly detained again... so how about taking a bit of a detour toward an area where the border watch is looser, milord?"
Most holy knights were said to seize heretics the moment they laid eyes on them. The barbarian wouldn't be able to sleep peacefully until they reached the territory of the Free City Alliance.
'The Elga Order three hundred years ago wasn't like this....'
Once again, he keenly felt how far out of step he was with the times. He wanted to take the fastest route possible, but there was no helping it. Kadim clicked his tongue softly and gave a small nod.
Kadim and Duncan headed south. They were fairly lucky. Even after traveling in that direction, several days passed without needing to draw their weapons once.
A lack of friction meant fewer stationed soldiers, and fewer soldiers meant poor public security. Duncan let out a sigh of relief and said that it was nothing short of a miracle that they hadn't been forced into a fight here.
Kadim thought differently. His gaze dropped heavily as he looked at the clots of blood inside the leather canteen, already hardening.
'This blood will soon be unusable. I should secure some fresh demon blood, just in case....'
For a continent supposedly overrun with demons, they were surprisingly hard to encounter. When he asked why, Duncan explained that holy knights obsessed with performance were zealously hunting down demons in the surrounding areas. Kadim smacked his lips softly.
The journey continued. Crossing blue plains and dense forests, they soon reached dusk. A small stream appeared amid a field thick with violets. At the edge of the stream, several small huts were clustered together.
It was the first village they had seen since setting out. Duncan unfolded his crumpled map and stroked his beard.
"Hmm, it's not on the map... judging by the looks of it, it seems like a place where slash-and-burn settlers live... for today, it'd be best to ask for food and lodging there, milord."
Even a bug-infested old house was better than sleeping outdoors under the cold dew. Thinking that he could sleep without worrying about his outer clothes getting soaked for once, the merchant smiled.
But the barbarian's instincts sensed something off. Without the slightest hint of excitement, Kadim narrowed his eyes.
"There's nowhere with a fire lit."
"...Pardon?"
"It's evening, yet not a single house has a fire going."
He was right.
There were over a dozen chimneys jutting up among the rough roofs, yet not a wisp of smoke rose from any of them. If people were living there normally, it would have been impossible.
The corners of Duncan's mouth gradually drooped.
"...Could it be an abandoned village, milord?"
"No idea. Not until we check."
"A-are you really going to check? It might be that monsters or demons showed up and everyone fled...?"
At those words, the barbarian bared his teeth savagely.
"That's welcome news."
A smile chilling enough to freeze the heart of anyone who saw it. There was no chance to stop him. Leaving the pale-faced merchant behind, Kadim strode toward the silent village without hesitation.
*
As they drew closer, it became even clearer. Something was wrong.
An eerie stillness. Not a single human silhouette in sight. Yet the pitchforks and hoes left in front of the huts weren't rusted. The paths cut through the weeds bore busy footprints. There was clear evidence that people lived here—and that they had been here until just moments ago.
'There isn't a single corpse. So they weren't wiped out by monsters... did they notice the attack in advance and flee?'
Perhaps there had been periodic attacks. If they were slash-and-burn settlers, they would surely move their dwellings every few years. Accidentally encroaching on a monster's territory was entirely possible.
Just then, a faint sound came from inside one of the huts.
– Kieek... kiiih....
It was a cry he was all too familiar with. A large hand moved toward the sword hilt. Drawing the blade at his waist, Kadim stepped inside the hut without hesitation.
A low silhouette, barely reaching his waist, lunged at him.
– Kieeeeek!!
A clumsy slash flew toward him. Kadim didn't panic. He had anticipated an ambush the moment he opened the door. With a light upward flick from below his waist, he knocked aside the rusted blade.
Clang – !
– Kieik!?
It was a light counterattack for the barbarian, but not for the monster. Unable to withstand the recoil, the creature staggered violently backward. Seizing the opening, Kadim brought his sword down hard in a vertical strike.
Crunch –
It didn't even leave a dying scream. The barbarian's sword split the monster's head clean in two in a single blow. Because too much force had been applied, the cross-section was oddly crushed, as if it had been pressed flat from above.
The green dwarf collapsed onto the floor, its limbs twitching. The facial muscles of its bisected face twisted in different directions. Blood and brain matter seeped through the gaps in the rough wooden planks.
Kadim let out a short, hollow chuckle. A goblin—what a timely monster. Yes, no matter the journey, the first monster you meet should always be a goblin.
And yet... thinking about it carefully, it was strange.
Unlike the countless portrayals he had encountered in reality, goblins in this world weren't particularly violent. If anything, they were more timid and wary than most birds. There was even a saying that goblins would flee at the sound of a newborn baby's cry.
Therefore, attacking civilian homes like this and striking first was something that should never happen.
And when something impossible occurred in this world, it usually meant that "a certain existence" had intervened.
The goblin's blood-red eyes. That unsettling color was yet another piece of evidence. When influenced by that being, monsters' eyes invariably took on that hue.
The hand gripping the sword tightened slightly.
'...Ha, I came to the right place.'
At the thought that he might obtain fresh demon blood, a gentle curve formed at the corner of the barbarian's mouth.