First Point (3)

Living in the Barbarian sanctuary, the battle cry is something you hear thousands of times a day.

Beth-hell-rah while eating, Beth-hell-rah while chopping firewood.

They shouted the names of their ancestral gods at every opportunity, and thanks to that, Rotmiller had gradually learned to distinguish between them.

Though the battle cries seemed similar, they actually had individual personalities.

This one, in particular, had three defining characteristics that set it apart.

First, the pitch of the “Be” started low and rose into a familiar roar. Then between “hel” and “ra” came a pronounced inhale. Most notably of all, the cry belonged to a woman.

‘Aynar………………?

The instant he turned toward the sound, Rotmiller realized his suspicion had been right. He spotted Aynar standing on the railing of a four-story building.

Shaaaak—!

A pair of wings spread wide behind her back. In her hands, she gripped a green spear that looked valuable even from afar.

“Divine spear…!”

“She was supposed to be near the dimensional plaza!”

Rotmiller didn’t know why Aynar was there, but the reason didn’t matter. What mattered was that this dramatically increased his chances of overcoming the crisis.

Boom!

Aynar leapt from the rooftop and landed beside the cart as it charged forward at a mad pace.

And then—

“Hiiihiiing—!”

Keeping pace with the horse that was running with an arrow stuck in its rump, she asked:

“Tell me, Scout. What should I do?”

In true barbarian fashion, she got straight to the point.

“I’m not smart enough to figure it out myself. What must be done to save Bjorn?”

A profound sense of trust radiated from that short question.

For some reason, Rotmiller felt his heart swell, but he suppressed his emotions and regained his composure.

When trust is given, it must be repaid.

“If we reach the walls, there is a very high probability the Royal Army will come out to help. So…”

“Make it easy to understand.”

“Clear the path in front of us!”

“…Simple enough.”

The moment Rotmiller gave the order, Aynar shot forward.

And then…

Stab—!

She swung and thrust the giant spear, defeating the enemies in her way. Her wings fluttered as she moved forward, and not a single enemy could properly block the spear she thrust forward.

Watching her from behind, one could almost fall into the illusion that a warrior goddess had been sent down from the heavens to save Bjorn Jandel.

“Beth-hell-raaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!”

Now the enemies didn’t even dare to try and block her. The cart was able to keep up its speed, and the walls grew closer and closer.

However, if only it could all be resolved so easily.

A lone man appeared in front of them, where no one else had dared to block the way.

Rotmiller didn’t know who he was. However, when Aynar saw him, her expression hardened, the joy she’d felt while plowing through enemies vanishing completely.

Her voice dropped. “You’ll have to go the rest of the way alone. I leave Jandel to you, Scout.”

And at that moment.

Whoooooooosh—!

The world grew dark as if night had suddenly fallen, and goosebumps rippled across his skin.

[Roland Banojant has activated [Black Demon Eyes]

Hundreds of eerie eyes opened within the thick darkness that settled over the city.

At the same time, everything seemed to freeze.

Everything—except two people.

“Good thing I came.”

Strange lights flickered in the man’s eyes as he spoke. The female warrior responded with a spear thrust and her signature battle cry.

“Beth-hel-raaaaaaaaaaaaa!!”

The force of the strike sent the air howling around them, but her spear failed to hit its mark.

Then…

Cr-crack—!

By some strange logic, the dark void shattered and time began to flow again.

The unexpected blow forced a groan from the confident man as he staggered back. Aynar didn’t hesitate, charging him while shouting over her shoulder.

“Go—!”

Rotmiller drove the cart forward.

To be honest, he hadn’t done much.

As soon as the darkness faded, the crazed horse was already pounding the ground on its own. All he had done was hold the reins.

Rattle, rattle—

The cart clattered as it rolled forward, its noise blending into the din of the fierce battle. Superhumans were fighting behind him, but Rotmiller didn’t turn back to look.

He was completely focused on one thing: getting the wagon to the walls.

But…

“Catch them…!”

“Block them!”

Once Aynar disappeared, the forces that had been cowering resumed their pursuit.

And the problem was—

‘Damn it.’

The cart was slowing down.

Of course it was.

Even though they were in a wheeled cart, the horse had run this far while carrying a massive barbarian and an adult male.

At this point, its strength was bound to fail…

Thwack— Phut!

Rotmiller let go of the reins, moved to the back of the wagon, and used his crossbow to intercept the pursuers.

However, it wasn’t very effective.

After all, he wasn’t a powerhouse like Aynar.

“They’re just ordinary arrows with no abilities!”

“He’s a nobody!”

These were people who couldn’t even stand their ground against Aynar, yet their level was still far above Rotmiller’s.

Well, not everyone was like that, as a crossbow bolt occasionally found its mark…

“Catch him…!”

The distance between the cart and the pursuers closed rapidly.

At this rate, being overtaken was inevitable. He had to decide, but there was no time to think calmly.

“He’s out of arrows!”

He had finally run out of crossbow arrows.

Then…

Thud—!

An enemy projectile hit his right shoulder, rendering his arm useless. Simply put, if he stayed on the cart, he would only add to the horse’s burden.

Countless thoughts crossed his mind.

Is this really the end? When he appeared in the sanctuary, I thought I still had a few more stories left to tell. So… is this truly how it ends?

No—there was one way.

If he threw the heavy barbarian off the cart now, he could live. They were after Jandel, not him. The cart would reach the wall safely, and he would survive.

But—

‘I think I finally understand.’

When he had sensed death at the sanctuary, Rotmiller hadn’t understood what his mage friend must have felt when making that final decision. He could only guess. He couldn’t truly understand.

But now, he did.

‘No matter how afraid you are—’

Like the barbarians entering the Labyrinth. Like the warriors who laugh harder when things get difficult.

‘He just couldn’t run away.’

His head cleared, like a breeze brushing away fog.

Dwalki wasn’t a great man.

He was ordinary, just like himself.

He feared death like any other commoner and must have been desperate for the life he had left. Looking back at his past, he would have found countless regrets and mistakes, and he probably wanted to run away and fix them all.

But he didn’t run.

He did his best, and as a result, he saved everyone.

‘Right…’

If it weren’t for him, this story would have ended a long time ago anyway.

It was ridiculous even to hesitate.

So…

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to go the rest of the way alone.”

He whispered a final goodbye to the unconscious man who couldn’t hear him.

Even to the very end, Rotmiller remained ordinary at heart.

Out of a final sense of lingering regret, he pulled a pen from his [Treasure Vault].

And then…

Scribble, scribble.

He wrote words onto the man’s thick palm.

The situation was too urgent to write a long story…

But even that was enough to settle his many regrets.

In a way, even the words left at the end might be his own greed…

‘I suppose I can afford this much greed.’

Rotmiller gripped a dagger with the hand that had held the pen and jumped off the wagon. He swung the dagger at the swarming enemies again and again.

“What is this bastard?”

Hot blades tore through his body.

Rattle, rattle.

The sound of the creaking wagon wheels grew more distant. He didn’t need to look back to know.

Rattle, rattle.

That wagon would continue on the right path.

Toward those high, high walls.

***

It felt like waking up from a deep sleep.

My body was stiff, but my mind was clear. It felt as though I had awakened from a long sleep, but I couldn’t remember what it had been.

“Where…?”

Looking at the ceiling, I realized it was the barracks of a camp.

Slowly, I lifted my upper body and glanced around, but there were no clear clues about where I was. It vaguely resembled the palatial soldiers’ barracks I remembered, but why would I be sleeping there?

“Rotmiller…”

I began piecing together the fragments of memory from before I lost consciousness.

Thunder fell, and I blocked it. When I had barely managed to regain consciousness, Rotmiller had been right beside me.

‘What… what the hell happened?’

I was confused.

I needed information about my current situation.

Just as I was about to push myself up from the bed, a knight stepped into the tent.

It was a familiar face.

“… Astarotta?”

It was the King’s Knight, Astarotta Berun.

The temporary ally who had vanished along with Raven after I’d been dragged into the Netherworld by the Corpse Collector.

“You’re finally awake.”

“Why am I here right now? And where is Raven?”

“How about asking one thing at a time?”

Geez, that’s cold to someone who just woke up.

“Where’s Raven?”

“She’s in a safe place, so don’t worry. She’s been informed. You’ll see her soon.”

…Good.

“Then tell me. Where is this place, and why am I here?”

“This is the Imperial Capital, Karnon. As for why a baron like you is lying in a soldier’s tent, it’s for security.”

“Security?”

“The moment your location is known, another thunder will fall.”

“…What?”

“The Marquis seems to have become quite desperate. Every time your location is confirmed, he keeps firing thunder.”

So it really was the marquis behind that.

Important information, sure—but that wasn’t what I’d asked.

“Astarotta. What I want to know isn’t why I’m in a soldier’s tent. I want to know everything that happened while I was unconscious.”

“Oh, right.”

Astarotta put on an easygoing expression and explained what had happened.

The summary was simple.

A second thunder fell, and Baron Wilkins, commander of the Fifth Corps, activated an ancient magic installed in the city.

It was a summoning spell with a fairly long casting time, and because it was activated hastily, it produced a “side effect.”

The side effect was that the summoning coordinates were designated randomly…

“So everyone there was randomly teleported across the city?”

“Isn’t it better than everyone dying?”

Well, that was true…

“Then did I just get lucky and end up here?”

“No. You landed right in the middle of enemy territory—District Four. And the man who carried your unconscious body all the way to the imperial capital was someone else.”

“Man… Rotmiller? You mean Brown Rotmiller?”

“Most likely.”

“What happened to Rotmiller?”

I asked urgently, and Astarotta replied calmly, as if it were nothing.

“He’s dead.”

I froze as the answer hit me. “What?”

“According to witnesses from the wall patrol, when the cart slowed down, he jumped off and held off the enemies.”

“Also, Aynar Pheneline, who helped you escape with that man, was captured by the enemy and is reportedly a prisoner.”

Rotmiller is dead… and Aynar was captured…?

My mind shut down under the flood of information. Seeing this, Astarotta let out a short chuckle.

“For someone who looks like you, you’re far more delicate than I expected. I’ll step out for a bit—take some time to get yourself together. Oh, and one last thing…”

When I could only stare at him, baffled, he added, “Your palm.”

With those incomprehensible words, Astarotta left the tent.

I sat there blankly on the edge of the bed.

Finally understanding his seemingly random parting words, I raised my arm and turned my palm upward. A hastily written message was scrawled across it.

The moment I read them, reality finally sank in.

[Take good care of Miss Shabin. She’s a good woman.]

…This wasn’t a dream.

Continue reading more chapters at henprogressive.com

Please join here, I need supporters to help me continue translating Surviving game as a barbarian and Lee Gwak
If it doesn’t work support me here buymeacoffee.com/hennoveltranslations. There are advanced chapters for supporters as well.