I walk through the cave, my steps steady this time. No more wobbling. I’m wearing the leather boots I took from my uncle. The character is wearing leather boots. Total Item Level rises by +5. They almost fit perfectly, which taught me something new: my uncle had strangely large feet for his height. In any case, they’re sturdy. Stepping on a trap won't hurt nearly as much as it did before. In my hand, I carry a two-handed hammer. The character has equipped a two-handed hammer. Total Item Level rises by +30. It’s a meter-long beast of solid iron. My uncle needed both hands to wield it, but I can swing it with one. Steel pauldrons rest on my shoulders. The character is wearing shoulder guards. Total Item Level rises by +13. I had to tie the laces a bit loose, but they fit well enough. If I took off my jacket, I’d look like a gladiator from some forgotten age. A proper backpack is slung over my shoulders. The character is wearing a backpack. Inventory expands. Finally, I don’t have to store blood-stained mana stones next to my bread. Moving is no longer such a cumbersome ordeal. Chomp. I pull out a strip of jerky and chew on it. I don’t have much, but it tastes infinitely better than dry bread. I use my knife to slice off the part I’ve slobbered on, saving the rest for later. On this, the second day, my primitive existence is officially over. When I'm thirsty, I drink from a water bottle. When I need to know my direction, I pull out a compass. If I want to know the time, I check my pocket watch. I even have a potion, a small bottle of insurance against any sudden injury. Isn’t it ironic? It took killing a man for me to finally start living like one. Alaric Brand Level: 1 Body: 25 / Mind: 37 (New +1) / Ability: 1 Item Level: 72 (New +48) Combat Index: 81 (New +13) Smash was a decent enough technique with a shield, but a proper weapon was on another level entirely. Puff! A single swing of the hammer was all it took to make a goblin dissolve into motes of light. Had I known, I would have just started with a weapon from the beginning. I could have saved up for a shield later. Then again, I didn't know I could fight this well. Was it because I was in a barbarian’s body? When I fought, it felt like my limbs were moving on their own. Getting used to it was surprisingly easy, but this body never ceased to amaze me with what it could do. “I’m getting drowsy.” Yawning, I stoop to pick up two mana stones from the ground and drop them in my pack. This was the main change on the second day: the goblins had started coming in twos. Tomorrow, it would probably be threes, and the numbers would keep growing until the labyrinth closed on the seventh day. That’s how it worked in the game. In that sense, things weren’t so bad yet. My combat power had spiked with the new weapon, and the collection of supplies made me feel safer, not less. Things were going smoothly. Except for the leaden weight on my eyelids. I’d been moving and fighting nonstop since yesterday. In all that time, I’d managed maybe ten minutes of sleep, once even dozing off on my feet. I desperately wanted to sleep. I didn’t need luxuries like a blanket or a pillow. I just wanted to curl up on the cold stone floor and close my eyes. Really, if this kept up… “Oh, fuck!” In a half-conscious stumble, I trip over a rock. For once, my luck held. If that had been a trap, I’d have been in real trouble. “Right here,” I muttered, making a decision. “I’m sleeping right here.” I leaned against the cavern wall, hammer and shield still clutched in my hands. I didn’t have a night friend to stand watch, but this almost felt safer. If I was going to be ambushed, I’d rather it be by goblins. Better to get stabbed with one of their little carving knives than to have my head caved in by another adventurer’s hammer while I slept. Squelch… Motherfucker. The sound of familiar, shuffling footsteps woke me. I’d stood guard for four hours earlier and seen nothing, not a hide nor hair of them. The moment I try to sleep alone, one appears. I was beginning to understand my uncle’s paranoia. Stubborn bastards. I surged to my feet and brought the hammer down on the goblin’s head. Puff! “Ga, gruck!” Two of the little shits had been creeping up on me. The other one bolted the instant its companion burst apart. Yes, go on. Run. I don’t have the energy to chase you. “Goddamn it…” I checked the time. Less than ten minutes had passed. In the end, I had no choice but to start moving again, hunting goblins through the dark passages. Whenever the exhaustion became unbearable, I’d find a wall, lean against it, and steal a few moments of sleep. A few times, I woke with a jolt that nearly stopped my heart, but only twice did I feel like I’d brushed against death itself. The first time, I felt a presence and my eyes snapped open to see an adventurer closing in on me, his steps unnervingly silent. When our eyes met, he offered a flat, indifferent smile, then simply turned and melted back into the darkness. Just thinking about it still gave me goosebumps. The second time was, in its own way, just as terrifying. Especially because it was still happening. The character was attacked by a goblin while sleeping. For the first time, I woke not to a sense of danger, but to a spike of actual pain. A goblin stood over me. I killed it with one swing, and its partner, as usual, fled into the gloom. “G-ghh!” I immediately located the source of the pain. My God, a carving knife was lodged in the hollow between my collarbones. Shit. My left arm wasn't moving right. Still, I was glad it was just pain. If I were a little shorter, or if that goblin had been a better jumper, the knife would be in my neck. Creak. I clenched my teeth and pulled the blade out. Fumbling in my pack, I uncorked the potion and let a few drops fall onto the wound. By the time I’d stoppered the bottle and put it away, the blood was bubbling as the flesh rapidly regenerated. Chiiiiiiiik. Was the person who made this potion a psychopath? Somehow, this hurt more than getting stabbed. “Ouch… heh… heh heh…” After five minutes, the agony subsided. The pain had shocked me awake, but once the adrenaline faded, my eyelids felt heavier than ever. My vision swam if I lost focus for even a second. It was time to make the decision I’d been putting off. My barbarian senses were sharp, but there was a limit. Hadn’t I just woken up with a knife in my chest? I need to take a break. I checked my pocket watch. It had been about fourteen hours since I’d parted with my uncle. The adventurers on the first floor were probably starting to wander around again, looking for night friends. “Hey, Barbarian. Looking for a night friend?” This time, as I roamed the main passages, adventurers approached me first. And they were surprisingly eager. “Hmm, you look pretty tired. Interested in joining up?” “You can always trust a barbarian. With you, we’d be a party of three. What do you say?” It was like being an in-demand whore. Had everyone become just as haggard by the second day? The adventurers who’d turned their noses up at me yesterday were nowhere to be seen. Or maybe the smell hadn’t been the problem in the first place. Come to think of it, yesterday I’d been staggering on my feet and drenched in blood. “Oh? That’s unfortunate.” Offers flooded in, but I refused them all and kept moving. Was there not a single other barbarian down here? My best option would be to partner with one of my own kind, but after two days, I hadn’t caught even the faintest scent of another. “You’re looking for your own people? Hmm, that might be difficult.” “Difficult? Why?” “Even a barbarian who’s just finished his coming-of-age ceremony would be upstairs within two or three months. I don’t know for sure, but there can’t be more than a hundred of you on the whole first floor.” As I kept exploring, it became clear: barbarians were a rarity here. And why wouldn’t they be? It would be strange for anyone with a body like this to linger on the first floor. Ninety-nine percent of the adventurers I met were human. “Why not join us instead?” “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” “I see. May Aethelgard be with you on your journey.” “Thank you.” The man seemed trustworthy enough, but I ended the conversation and moved on. Ever since I’d learned how much a barbarian’s heart was worth, I couldn’t help but be suspicious of every human I met. Click. I pulled out the compass. I’d been heading south ever since I got it, but I still hadn’t left the Goblin Zone. It was a stark reminder of just how massive this floor was. Should I give up on finding my own kind? My worries didn’t last long. I decided to stop looking for a needle in a haystack and came up with a more realistic plan. I would find a night friend, even if they weren’t a barbarian. But not a human. I would search for the demihumans, the ones who made up less than one percent of the population. A fairy who valued promises, or a dwarf as proud and stubborn as a barbarian—they would be ideal. But really, any non-human race would do. Unlike humans, they had long lifespans. Given enough time, they had the potential to climb to the very top. They’d be less likely to get blinded by short-term gains and betray a fellow adventurer. With my new goal set, I wandered the caves for another hour. And then… You encountered an injured fairy stranger. I’d finally found one of them. The moment our eyes met, the air thickened into a suffocating silence. "" The pointy-eared fairy sat with her back to the wall, just staring at me, saying nothing. Had she also been trying to sleep alone, without a partner? Her glowing, cat-like amber eyes held a flicker of embarrassment, but mostly a keen vigilance. My first instinct was to just walk past and pretend I hadn’t seen her, but… Scrape. As our silent confrontation stretched on, the fairy pushed herself to her feet, her expression tense. Her posture was unnatural. Looking closer, I saw a wound on her stomach. “You’re hurt.” It wasn’t deep, but the cut was long. It wasn’t the kind of injury a goblin’s little carving knife would make. I drew a quick conclusion. “Was it a human?” The fairy didn’t answer. She was afraid. I could see why. I’d be scared too if some stranger twice my size stumbled upon me while I was injured. And she was a woman, a small one at that, maybe 160cm tall. Still, this wasn't a bad situation for me… “Please spare me.” What? “Please, just this once, Mister Barbarian. I have a little sister in the city that I need to take care of.” I wondered where this was going. The fairy dropped to her knees without a moment’s hesitation. Tears were already welling in her eyes. “I beg you.” What the hell happened to the proud spirit of the fey? To be honest, I’d expected a cool, aloof beauty; most of the fairies in the game had that kind of personality. Damn. If I’d known she was this type, I would have handled this completely differently. I had to clear this up before it got worse. “I have no intention of killing you.” I made sure to meet her eyes, speaking slowly and clearly. The eyes are the window to the soul, I figured. If she just calmed down, she’d see I was being sincere. “Must you do this, Mister Barbarian?” So much for that. I felt a bizarre sense of an identity crisis. It felt like a scene from some high-school drama: the hulking brute cornering a terrified girl by the lockers. And I was the brute. “Just once, please, let me go just this once.” As my silence stretched, the fairy shuffled backward, her eyes widening in terror as her hand went to the collar of her tunic. This wasn’t funny. What in the hell was the reputation of barbarians around here for her to react like this? “Haaaah…” I couldn’t help but let out a long sigh. What was I supposed to do? Maybe actions, not words, were the only way to prove I wasn’t the kind of trash she thought I was. Worth a shot. “Get yourself treated first. We can talk later.” I stepped back, pulled the herbs and bandages from my pack, and tossed them at her feet. “This is a lychee leaf?” she murmured, her eyes wide with surprise. So that’s what a lychee leaf is. Good to know. I’d been worried it might be poisonous, so I hadn’t used it on my own wound earlier. Now I knew I could.

Chapter 8: The dead man's gear