Graduation from Primitive Life
I walked through the cave, but this time, my steps were steady.
[Character has acquired: Worn Leather Boots.] [Object Level has increased by 5.]
The boots were a bit oversized—Hans must have had large feet for his height—but they were sturdy. Stepping on a trap now wouldn't be the death sentence it was before.
[Character has equipped: Two-Handed Hammer.] [Object Level has increased by 30.]
The hammer was a meter of solid iron. For Hans, it was a heavy two-handed weapon; for a barbarian of my stature, it felt natural in one hand.
[Character has equipped: Iron Shoulder Pads.] [Object Level has increased by 13.]
I adjusted the laces. Wearing the guards over my bare chest made me look less like a lost rookie and more like a blood-stained gladiator.
[Character has equipped: Explorer's Backpack.] [Inventory size has increased.]
Now, I didn't have to worry about my mana stones rubbing against my bread. I took out a piece of cured beef—a luxury compared to the hard bread—and chewed slowly. The sweetness of the protein was a revelation.
By the second day, I had officially graduated from primitive survival. I had a canteen for water, a compass for direction, and a watch for time. I even had an emergency potion.
It was a grim irony: by killing a human being, I had finally gained the means to live like one.
Bjorn Yandel
Level: 1
Spirit: 37 (+1)
Item Level: 72 (+48)
Combat Power: 81 (+13)
The Price of Sleep
In the game, Smash was a shield technique. With a hammer in the other hand, it became a symphony of destruction.
CRUNCH!
A goblin vanished in a flash of light after a single blow. I should have chosen a weapon from the start. I'd underestimated how much a barbarian's body could exceed expectations. Every swing felt like it was fueled by an instinct that wasn't entirely mine.
"I'm exhausted..."
I yawned, stashing two more mana stones. It was the start of the second day, and the goblins were beginning to spawn in pairs. By the seventh day, they'd be in mobs.
Everything was going well, except for my eyes. They kept slamming shut. I hadn't slept for more than ten minutes since entering the labyrinth, and even that was while standing up. I was so tired I tripped over a loose stone.
"Shit!"
I got lucky. If that had been a trap, I'd be done. I decided to risk a nap. I leaned against a wall, hammer and shield at the ready. I felt safer alone; if a goblin attacked, I'd wake up to a dagger prick. If a "partner" attacked, I'd wake up to a hammer crushing my skull.
Patter-patter.
I woke up after only a few minutes. Goblins.
BAM!
I turned the first one into paste. The second one saw its friend die and bolted. I didn't have the energy to chase it.
I tried to sleep again, dozing in ten-minute bursts. Twice, I sensed a presence and opened my eyes to see a shadowy explorer retreating into the gloom. They saw my eyes—wide and bloodshot—and decided I wasn't worth the risk.
But the third time, I didn't wake up to a presence. I woke up to pain.
[Character has been attacked by a goblin while sleeping.]
I opened my eyes to see a goblin standing over me. I smashed it instinctively, but my left arm wouldn't move properly. I looked down.
A carving knife was buried deep between my collarbones.
Damn. If it had been two inches higher, that would have been my throat.
I gritted my teeth and yanked the blade out. SHHUNK! I poured a few drops of my looted potion onto the wound.
CHHHHHHHH!
The blood boiled and the flesh began to knit together instantly. The pain was worse than the stabbing. "Agh... ughhhhh..."
The pain kept me awake for a while, but eventually, the exhaustion returned, heavier than ever. My barbarian instincts were reaching their limit. I couldn't survive another "alarm clock" made of steel.
The Search for a Non-Human
I needed a partner. But after Hans, humans were off the table.
I wandered the tunnels for fourteen hours. Explorers approached me frequently now—likely because a solo barbarian with a hammer looked like a high-tier bodyguard.
"Hey, Barbarian! Need a night partner? We've got a spot for a tank."
"You look tired. Come with us, we're trustworthy."
I felt like a high-class escort being scouted at a bar. I rejected them all. I was looking for my own kind, but as one explorer told me, barbarians were rare on the first floor. Most of them cleared it in their first week and moved up to the second.
"It doesn't have to be a barbarian," I decided. "Just... not a human."
I wanted an otherworldly race. A fairy who valued a blood-oath, or a dwarf with a sense of honor. Someone who wouldn't be blinded by the price of a barbarian's heart.
After an hour of searching, I found one.
[You have encountered an injured Fairy.]
The Misunderstanding
The air grew still as our eyes met. The fairy sat against the wall, her bright, cat-like amber eyes wide with alarm. She looked tiny—maybe four and a half feet tall—and she was holding a wound on her stomach.
The cut was long and clean. Not a goblin dagger.
"Was it a human?" I asked.
The fairy didn't answer. She trembled as I stepped closer. She was terrified. I could understand why; a blood-covered giant carrying a gore-stained hammer was approaching her while she was down.
"Forgive me!" she suddenly blurted out, kneeling on the stone floor. Tears welled in her eyes. "Please, Mr. Barbarian! Just this once! I have a younger brother to look after in the city!"
I froze. Wait, what?
Fairies in Dungeon & Stone were usually cool, aloof, and full of pride. This girl was sobbing and begging for her life.
"I have no intention of killing you," I said, trying to modulate my voice to sound as non-threatening as a barbarian could. I tried to make eye contact to show my sincerity.
"Do you really have to do this, Mr. Barbarian?" she wailed, misinterpreting my gaze. She took a step back, her hands shaking as she began to unbutton her collar.
I was stunned. She thought I was that kind of barbarian. I felt like a monster. What kind of reputation do my people have in this world? What did the other barbarians do to make her think unbuttoning her shirt was her only way out?
"Ha..." I sighed, the sound echoing in the tunnel.
I didn't want to talk anymore. Words were failing. I reached into my bag, pulled out a handful of herbs and bandages, and threw them at her feet.
"Treat your wound first," I grumbled. "Then we'll talk."
The fairy blinked at the bundle on the floor. "Is this... a lychee leaf?"
Ah. So that's what it's called. I nodded internally. At least now I knew the herbs I'd looted from Hans weren't poisonous.