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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Prologue
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At the end of the dim, dark space gleamed a radiant exit. The man spotted the words inscribed above it.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [ New Game ]
The more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. He'd just come home from work as usual, cracked open a beer, played some games, and fallen asleep. So what was this pitch-black void? And what were those words and that exit?
There was no choice. No other paths led out of here. The man swallowed hard and stepped toward the exit.
Beyond the blinding light stretched a barren medieval landscape that felt strangely familiar.
And just like that, the man had fallen into the world of the game.
In the body of a barbarian warrior from the rugged wilds beyond the mountains.
'What the hell...'
The man was a seasoned player who'd sunk plenty of hours into the game. After catching his reflection in a puddle, he instantly recognized the identity of the warrior he'd possessed.
'...Kadim?'
Kadim. Son of the wilds, Atala's great warrior who knew no fear. One of the hero's core party members—the game's protagonists.
Kadim's body was incomparably robust compared to his modern frame. Sun-bronzed skin glowing with health, a build closer to a bear than a man, a lean and solid physique without an ounce of fat, and forearms that could probably crush steel.
Back in the real world, he'd been too swamped with work to hit the gym, just piling on the flab. For a moment, the man forgot reality entirely, buzzing with excitement. But that thrill evaporated fast.
As his journey unfolded, the man quickly sank into a swamp of despair.
Almost no one he met showed kindness to a barbarian. The roads teemed with monsters and bandits, leaving no chance for a decent night's sleep. The food was like slop scooped from a communal pot. People's hygiene made modern homeless folks look pristine by comparison. Injuries brought bone-deep agony, and munching on apples or herbs did jack squat for healing.
And despite the impressive frame, Kadim's actual performance was the worst among the five core characters.
Each character had unique advantages—their "innate traits."
Kadim's trait was riddled with flaws compared to the others. If you split characters into nobles and common rabble, Kadim was firmly in the latter camp.
"...".
Still, the man didn't give up.
At least it beat possessing some nameless serf in this godforsaken game world.
He maximized his game knowledge, mastered the barbarian's combat skills through hands-on practice, wandered the continent recruiting the core party members one by one, and pushed through the main storyline.
The game's main plot was dead simple: A hero receives a divine oracle to slay the archdemon, gathers companions, teams up with them to storm the demonic realm, and takes down the archdemon.
The story's progression diverged a bit from the game. To save time, the man recruited all the other companions first and linked up with the hero right away. But the core thread—defeating the archdemon—stayed the same.
On the road crossing the continent toward the demonic realm, they'd finally hit the main storyline's stride. Around then, the man faced a critical choice.
Which ending to chase.
In the game, the hero's actions built up karma that shaped the ending. Lots of good deeds led to the "true ending"; too much evil spawned the "bad ending."
Of course, no guarantee seeing an ending would boot him back to reality. But the man figured this: If some damn omnipotent bastard tossed him here wanting him to finish the game, the true ending had the best shot at sending him home.
The problem? This game world made real wasn't forgiving enough to clear with saintly behavior alone. Save someone from bandits, and they turn around and rob you—how the hell were you supposed to play the perfect gentleman here?
In the end, he made his call.
'Only the protagonist hero's actions affect karma and endings. Mine don't count.'
He'd handle all the dirty work in the hero's stead.
He ripped the jaws off anyone slandering the hero. Buried an axe in the innkeeper's skull after she poisoned the soup. Hunted down the bandits the hero spared and slit their throats to eliminate loose ends. Sliced open the bellies of subdued monsters and stomped every egg that spilled out.
A life where his axe never dried of blood—like a vengeful demon. No modern guy who'd never even chopped a chicken neck could stay sane through that.
'This isn't me. It's all the brutal, merciless barbarian Kadim.'
The man built a flimsy defense mechanism. By repeating that it was all "Kadim," not him, he endured the bloodstained reality.
But even that had limits. His mindset could never fully detach from the "Kadim" he'd forged. He was human, yet facing man or monster, his first thought was to kill—and that felt utterly alien.
To make matters worse, once they reached the demonic realm and he started leveraging Kadim's trait, things got dire.
Kadim's innate trait: "Blood Berserker."
Drink demon blood for a temporary powerful buff—but gradually lose your mind. In-game, it was just a debuff icon. In reality, he had to endure the madness clawing into his brain.
Slit a demon's artery with a dagger and guzzle the blood like nectar. Before the buff faded, axe another demon's skull. When it died, slit another artery and drink again.
Side effects crept up on the man—Kadim.
The boundary between barbarian and modern man blurred. Madness started to fester.
The priestess's holy spells chosen by god, the genius mage's overwhelming magic, the shaman's curses versed in taboos—none worked. To suppress the surging bloodlust and periodic berserk rages, he had to chain himself with iron shackles and binding spells every night, buried in the dirt to sleep.
A journey shredding body and soul alike.
No longer did the office drone seeking solace in post-work gaming reside in Kadim's flesh. Only the berserker tormented by madness and guilt remained. Each flicker of returning reason, like a glitching backlight, brought the delusion that this hell would last forever.
But the moon wanes when full—no eternity in this world.
At last, the grueling odyssey reached its end.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Squelch—!
The hero plunged the holy sword into the archdemon's final heart and twisted viciously.
—Kehahaha! You think you pathetic worms can kill me with th—
Whoosh—thunk!
Kadim seized the moment, cleaving the archdemon's neck with his massive battle axe. He stomped the severed head into pulp, silencing its arrogant, scheming tongue forever.
"Huff... huff..."
"Hoo..."
"...".
No one in the party spoke. The brutal fight's end didn't feel real. On the pallid, poison-reeking wasteland, only ragged breaths echoed for a while.
The silence broke with a voice hoarse from nonstop spellcasting.
"I-is... it over...? Is it really done?"
The mage gripped her staff with trembling hands.
Deep shadows ringed her eyes, cheeks gaunt. No trace remained of the greenhorn girl mage.
"...By Elga's grace, it seems so."
The priestess replied, tracing the holy sign.
Her pristine white robes from before entering the demonic realm were now mottled crimson-black. Half that filthy dye was demon blood, half her own.
"...L-Lord Kadim? Are you alright? No injuries? You haven't lost control...?"
The shaman groped forward blindly.
Having lost her eyes to a demon, she fretted more over Kadim's mental scars than her own physical ones. When asked why, she always said it was because they served the same god—but that wasn't the whole truth.
"...".
Finally, the hero.
The hero stayed silent for a long stretch, just staring at Kadim, who'd silently beheaded the demon.
Kadim had no attention to spare for the hero.
His mouth was parched. Anxiety mingled with thirst for the archdemon's blood—what if reality didn't await despite all this?
Heavy silence weighed on his shoulders. A void of time, no words exchanged.
Once black clouds parted the ash-gray sun, the hero finally spoke.
"Hey, Ka—"
But in that instant.
Crack-rrrack—
A rift tore through space like ripping tough hide.
Kadim's eyes lit up. The stoic barbarian, unmoved by most things, shuddered in thrill.
No time to hesitate. He charged the rift. The party jolted at the sudden anomaly, then again at Kadim ditching his prized axe to sprint.
"H-hey!"
"Lord Kadim!"
"W-what's happening? Is something wrong with Lord Kadim...?"
Their cries fell on deaf ears. Kadim's mind held only longing for reality, yearning for home.
But someone blocked his path. The hero spread his arms and yelled.
"Hold it, Kadim! What makes you think it's safe to jump in there?"
"...Out of my way. No time to explain."
"Do you know something about that rift? I won't move until you tell me. We just beat the archdemon together—I can't let a comrade dive into danger again..."
"Keep stalling, and if that rift closes, I'll drink the archdemon's blood and smash your skull. Step aside if you value your life."
No joking in that icy threat. Veins bulged on the barbarian's forehead. Ripples of shock crossed the hero's face. First time Kadim showed such clear hostility while sane.
A brief standoff. The barbarian stood like a mountain cradling lava; the hero's gaze dropped like scattering ash. The winner was clear.
The hero stepped aside, face stiff. Feeling a twinge of guilt, Kadim glanced back with parting words.
"No time for proper goodbyes. Your conviction to save people out of true goodwill? Worth holding onto. It'll be tougher without me, but don't lose that初心. And..."
"...".
"...It was an honor fighting alongside you, not just watching from afar."
"...What?"
Crack-rrrack—
The hero never got an explanation for the cryptic farewell. The rift sealed shut the moment Kadim plunged through.
"...".
"...".
"...".
Despite slaying the archdemon, no one in the hero's party felt triumph.
"Lord Kadim...? Lord Kadim? LORD KADIM!!!"
As the lightless shaman wailed his name in anguish, they all just stared into the void that swallowed their comrade.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The dim space returned.
Second time here, but the feeling differed vastly from before.
Kadim—the man—pressed forward. With each step, the barbarian's madness melted away, his modern self resurfacing.
Back in reality, he vowed never to touch medieval fantasy games again, even on pain of death. Hell, no more movies, novels, or comics either.
He was sick to death of a world where law and hygiene were in ruins, of the acrid, fishy reek of demon blood. First thing: crack open a cool canned beer beaded with condensation, then crash in a fresh, bug-free bed for a deep sleep.
'Kinda bugs me that I bailed without proper goodbyes to the party...'
His feelings toward his comrades had grown complicated. They'd shared life and death, yet back home, they were just game characters.
The gulf between past perceptions and what he needed now churned a fierce dissonance in his soul.
'...Gotta accept reality. No seeing those guys again.'
The man flashed a bitter smile. Still, regret lingered—if he'd known it'd be forever, he could've said goodbye with more heart.
A hazy exit appeared at the dark path's end. Probably the same drill as last time: pass through to reality. The closer he got, the brighter it glowed. Excitement swelled in his chest.
But at the exit, the man froze, didn't step in.
Eyes bulging, rooted to the spot.
His face twisted grotesquely. Heart pounded like a sledgehammer. Breath ragged, blood surged. Spine stiffened, vision reeled. Nausea roiled, guts boiled.
'...A dream?'
He desperately wished it all illusion. No way could he process this sober.
But no matter how he stared, the words above the exit didn't change.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [ New Game + ]
Blank eyes fixed on the words endlessly.
At last, a filthy curse erupted from his lips like spewing blood.
"No... fuck..."