Nameless birds swept across the open sky. Against the blue heavens, billowing clouds tangled together in chaotic knots, while on the ground, multicolored mountains and streams burst into full bloom. Without a doubt, it was the height of spring.
The time was just as the sun began to sink toward the west. It was an incomparably peaceful and tranquil afternoon—but for some people, it didn't feel that way at all.
For example, those prisoners stretched out across the plain in a long line like an army of ants.
Clink, clink—
Iron chains binding both arms. With every step they took, a grating metallic sound rang out. Dark, gloomy clouds hung over every prisoner's face alike. Rather than repenting for their crimes, they wore expressions lamenting the bad luck of having been caught.
"Hey! I'm innocent! I didn't kill that woman—it was the baker's bastard, I tell you!"
"Damn it, are your ears clogged?! That cripple died dancing around with a knife all by himself!"
"I swear, I only stole a single bronze ring! The silver necklace—fuck, I didn't even know it was in there!"
The prisoners occasionally shouted their grievances in vulgar language. Of course, the soldiers only barked at them to shut up and paid them no mind. They were long used to these wretched criminals spewing lies as naturally as breathing throughout the escort.
Still, it wasn't true that everyone here was guilty.
Exactly two people in this procession had committed no crime at all, yet had been arrested regardless.
One was a peddler caught near the border.
"Soldier, sirs! I—I really am innocent! I never sold demon byproducts! Someone planted those to frame me! For example, whoever searched my bag, perhaps…!"
"Silence! Are you daring to doubt Elga's holy knight?"
"N-no, that's not what I meant, but..."
The soldiers weren't fools. They all knew. They knew that the young holy knight leading them had framed the peddler—to inflate his record by increasing the number of prisoners.
But there was no hero among the soldiers willing to defend the peddler. There was nothing to gain from earning the displeasure of a holy knight. In the end, the peddler had no choice but to be dragged all the way to the holy city under false charges.
The other was a barbarian whose origins were unknown.
Clink, clink—
He too was a scapegoat captured for the holy knight's record. However, this one couldn't be treated the same as the other criminals.
The barbarian's physique was so massive that the other vicious criminals looked like children by comparison. His raging muscles bulged as if they could tear apart iron chains with ease. Looking into his incomprehensible, beast-like eyes made one swallow reflexively.
As far as this was concerned, the soldiers secretly resented the holy knight. If this barbarian were to protest his innocence and go on a rampage, they had no confidence they could stop him. Yet strangely enough, the barbarian followed them quietly without a single complaint.
The reason the barbarian, Kadim, went along obediently with the soldiers boiled down to two things.
First, he didn't understand what kind of situation this was. Second, he currently lacked the strength to break free of the chains with his bare hands.
The great warrior of Atala who had slain a great demon—or the man from a modern world who longed for cold beer and a comfortable bed—had ultimately crossed the threshold of an exit door in a dim space. Squinting as he passed through dazzling light and fumbled to regain his senses, he found himself in this sorry state.
Kadim couldn't hide his confusion. His body felt familiar, yet so many things had changed.
The madness and guilt that had eaten away at his mind were gone. The power he had built up before was gone. And the freedom of his body was gone.
He could accept the first and second changes well enough. According to that damn phrase written as 'New Game +', he was starting the game over from the beginning, just like before.
But this situation—being escorted as a prisoner—was impossible to understand.
'...There's never been a case where the game started like this, even in reality.'
Kadim frowned slightly. The surrounding prisoners, frightened in advance, shuffled away from him. Kadim grabbed the peddler who was standing a short distance away and asked,
"Hey. Why was I captured as a prisoner?"
"Y-yes? Are you asking me?"
"Yeah. You."
What is wrong with this guy? Is he crazy? He doesn't even know why he was arrested?
The peddler thought that in an instant. Valuing his life, he carefully concealed his true thoughts and explained haltingly.
"Uh, um... This isn't land of the Free City Alliance, it's Imperial territory. As you know, the Empire's holy knights and priests are extremely hostile toward heretics, aren't they? Since you're a barbarian who worships Atala, even if you didn't commit any crime, it's enough reason to be arrested—huhk! I-I'm sorry!"
When Kadim's face stiffened, the peddler panicked and apologized.
But Kadim wasn't angry. He simply couldn't understand a word the peddler had said.
"Imperial territory? There's an empire on this continent?"
"...What? Don't tell me you don't know the Lucaonia Empire?"
"Lucaonia? Wasn't that a kingdom in the center of the continent?"
Only then did the peddler completely fail to hide the expression that said, *This man is insane*. One of the soldiers who had been glancing over shouted loudly.
"Hey, keep it down! Do you think this is a pleasure trip? No chatting during escort!"
"Y-yes, sorry! I'll be quiet!"
The peddler quickly took the opportunity to slip away. Left alone, Kadim sank into thought.
Something was seriously off. He had assumed this was just a second run with a higher-difficulty event—but it seemed something far more absurd had happened.
'Did I fall into a parallel world with slightly different settings...?'
It didn't seem like a completely different world. That prisoner had called him a barbarian who worshiped Atala, and there was indeed a nation called 'Lucaonia'. To properly grasp the world, he would need to gather more information.
Before that, there was something else he needed to understand first: his current situation and what was about to happen.
Kadim casually asked the soldier standing beside him,
"Hey. Where is this procession headed? Are we being thrown into prison? Or sold off as slaves?"
The soldier flinched. He had been deliberately ignoring the barbarian. Trying to control him like the other prisoners was terrifying—but showing fear would hurt his pride.
But since the barbarian had spoken first, there was no helping it. The soldier swallowed and forced a stern expression.
"Watch your tongue, heretic. You are a prisoner under arrest. Do not address us without permission."
To Kadim, the trembling voice only looked pitiful.
"My apologies, soldier. I'll apologize. Just answer this, and I'll keep my mouth shut. Could you kindly tell me where I'm being taken?"
"...You are being escorted to the capital of the Lucaonia Empire, the holy city of Lucaon. Upon arrival, the other prisoners will receive judgment from Elga's arbiter and be punished according to the law. However, since you are a heretic, you will likely meet the inquisitor."
"Is that so? That's a relief."
Kadim felt somewhat reassured. The clergy of Elga's order were usually rigid, but just and fair. Once they realized he'd been dragged here unjustly, they would surely release him.
To everyone else, it was an utterly baffling sight. A prisoner standing nearby snorted and butted in.
"Hey, what's such a relief about that? Inquisitors—those bastards are all perverted freaks obsessed with torture! When they see a heretic like you, they'll hammer nails into your gums and pour boiling molten metal into your nostrils!"
"Can't you be quiet! How dare you slander clergy who carry out Elga's will!"
"What, did I say anything wrong? I'm right, aren't I? Has anyone ever come back alive after meeting those guys? Even three-year-old kids in our town know it! Once you're dragged off by an inquisitor, you get tortured all day, turn into a wreck, and die like a dog—"
The prisoner couldn't finish his tirade.
A sharp spearhead suddenly pointed at his throat.
"What a reckless tongue you have. Go on—try moving your mouth again."
"...U-urk."
"Tsk, such a foul stench. The smell of a nonbeliever. The smell of a nonbeliever..."
The one holding the spear wasn't a soldier.
At some point, a youthful-looking young man had appeared.
Though he looked even younger than the youngest soldier, the prisoner couldn't move an inch. Even the other prisoners—who had been boldly mouthing off to the soldiers—fell completely silent.
Cobalt-colored plate armor engraved with a ten-pointed crest. Heavy armor clearly distinct from the other soldiers. Even the spear in his hand was extraordinary. Subtle wave patterns were etched into the metal shaft, and from the blue spearhead, a strangely cold aura rose.
Kadim immediately grasped the young man's identity.
'Elga's holy knight. Still a green rookie holy knight, but...'
The grip holding the spear was strangely stiff. Worse still, his face was drunk on the sense of domination he'd seized over the situation. It was an expression a seasoned holy knight would never show.
Thud—
And that wasn't all. The holy knight didn't merely threaten with the spearhead—he actually stabbed the prisoner's throat.
"...!"
Even the soldiers couldn't hide their shock. Only Elga's arbiters held the authority to execute prisoners who had already been captured. This was a blatant abuse of power.
Yet the holy knight who had committed the deed remained utterly calm.
"One who insults Elga's agent must cleanse that sin with death."
"Ghk, ghrrrkk...."
Clutching his throat, the prisoner collapsed while foaming blood. He never rose again.
The holy knight twisted his lips into a crooked smile and traced a holy sign. Then he withdrew his spear and turned his accusations toward the soldiers.
"What are you all doing? Why were you standing by while prisoners wagged their filthy tongues? Have you grown attached to them after escorting them for a few days?"
"I-I'm sorry, Lord Linton. That wasn't our intention—"
"I've no interest in excuses. Just tell me—who's the source of this mess? That big heretic over there?"
The soldiers glanced nervously at Kadim. The holy knight took that look as affirmation. Without giving anyone a chance to stop him, he thrust the spear again.
Thud—
Kadim's eyes widened. The spearhead sank half a span below his shoulder. Along with the sensation of bone being pierced, a biting cold spread through him. His blood froze, stopping the bleeding on its own, but pain as vicious as poison followed.
"...."
Kadim did not scream. He swallowed the pain inwardly and simply stared at the holy knight in silence.
"...huh."
The holy knight flinched without realizing it.
Even a greenhorn was still a knight. In Kadim's gaze, he read a killing intent as cleanly refined as that of a butcher eyeing meat.
He hastily pulled the spear back. The holy knight retreated while hiding his fear. To an outside observer, it looked like the natural motion of someone who had finished his business.
"Ahem. Dispose of the corpse, and keep a close watch on this heretic. If he shows any sign of acting out, execute him immediately."
The soldiers hesitated, but reluctantly nodded.
Meanwhile, the barbarian warrior made a decision.
He would escape from this damned procession—now.
The spear thrust by that green holy knight had driven the lesson deep into him. The Elga order was no longer what it had been in his memories. If he were dragged before an inquisitor, the outcome was obvious without needing to see it.
The situation was far from favorable. He lacked the strength to break the chains, and now he was wounded on top of that. Escape had already been difficult—now the odds were stacked even further against him.
'If I'd inherited the power from the first run, I could've snapped these chains without effort....'
There was no time to wallow in regret. He quickly cast it aside and calmly scanned his surroundings, searching for anything that might help him escape.
That was when Kadim's eyes caught sight of a large crate at the very rear of the procession.
A faint breeze was blowing from behind toward the front. Mixed within it was a subtle sense of dissonance. Within that, Kadim detected a smell that was all too familiar—utterly revolting.
The stench of a demon.
His eyes narrowed sharply. Clanking his chains, Kadim hurried forward. He grabbed the same peddler again and demanded,
"Hey. What's inside that crate in the back?"
"A demon's corpse. That holy knight bought it with money in a village we passed earlier. But are you alright? That wound looks pretty deep—"
Kadim didn't hear the peddler's last words. Bought a demon's corpse with money? He couldn't believe it.
'...In the previous run, demons were nearly impossible to find outside the Demon Realm. Are demons so common in this world that they can be bought with money?'
Kadim couldn't tell whether this was good news or a calamity.
Kadim's unique trait, 'Blood Berserker', was a trait that granted a special buff for a limited time after drinking demon blood. In other words, the more common demons were, the more easily he could obtain powerful buffs.
But the side effects were just as severe.
If he consumed demon blood frequently, the madness that had tormented him so relentlessly in the first run would inevitably return. Worse still, easy access to blood meant easier consumption—accelerating how quickly the madness would gnaw away at his mind.
Even so, he had no choice right now.
To break free of the chains and escape with a wounded body, he desperately needed a demon's power.
'...No matter what, it's better than being dragged before an inquisitor.'
The barbarian warrior made his resolve. He visibly slowed his steps, gradually approaching the crate.
"...."
"...."
A tense battle of glances unfolded among the soldiers.
The holy knight had ordered them to execute the heretic if he tried anything funny. Falling back from the procession was clearly "something funny." Yet not a single soldier had the nerve to step forward.
While they hesitated, the barbarian reached the crate. The squad captain guarding the rear judged he could no longer let it slide. He thrust his spear toward the barbarian and issued a firm warning.
"Stop, heretic! Return to your position at once—"
Kadim ignored the squad captain's words completely.
He kicked off the ground and leapt forward, smashing the crate with his chain-bound fist.
Kwa-ji-ji-jik—!
Wood tore apart and splinters flew. The sturdy crate made of thick logs shattered as uselessly as a straw box. Soldiers and prisoners alike recoiled in panic.
"Aaah!"
"Uwaaah—!!"
"H-huh? W-what...?"
It was utterly absurd strength. An ordinary person would struggle to break even a single plank. Yet he destroyed a reinforced crate with his bare hands—while bound in chains. No one could close their gaping mouths.
But it was too early for shock.
Kadim gazed down at the demon's corpse with dry eyes. Like a warrior who had butchered demons as casually as eating meals, he analyzed the demon in an instant.
'Dead for about three days... no horns on the head, so it's a low-grade demon... looks like a "pureblood"? Hard to say exactly what buff will manifest....'
If he'd had a dagger, he would have slit an artery and drunk only the blood—but he had no such luxury now. Kadim bared his teeth savagely.
Crunch, rip—!
A crimson carnival unfolding atop a pastoral plain on a tranquil afternoon.
As they watched the barbarian tear into the demon's corpse like a wild beast, the soldiers felt a fear they couldn't put into words.