Surviving the Game as a Barbarian

The funeral, long and yet short, was coming to an end.

The remains of the warriors we could recover were buried in the forest, according to tribal tradition. For those we couldn’t retrieve, we gathered their names and erected a memorial stone.

As for the humans—we followed human customs. We dug deep into the ground, buried them beneath it, and placed a headstone above.

“Are you really okay with this? Burying him here, on Barbarian land…?”

I’d quietly been concerned about that, but James Carla’s surviving family surprisingly wanted him buried here.

Apparently, there’s no land left for burials in Lafdonia. Unless you’re a noble who can be buried in Gnomtree, most people are cremated and keep the urns at home.

“Besides… I think he’d rather be near his comrades. He really was all about work…”

“That’s not true. Even while drinking, he’d say his family was waiting and leave early. That was him.”

“I… see. Our… big brother…”

Watching James Carla’s younger sister cry quietly in front of his grave, I thought to myself—

Why does sincerity always come too late?

Is it because humans can’t recognize what they have until it’s lost?

I didn’t know. So I slowly turned my head.

Versil Gowland.

Her grave was made next to James Carla’s. Her birth date and the date from a few days ago were engraved on the stone.

Unlike Carla, who had family around, there was no one of her blood nearby.

And I knew the reason.

We were her only family.

[“Why did I cut ties with my family? No reason, really. They just got in the way of exploring.”]

That’s what she’d said. But I knew that wasn’t the truth.

The Gowlands weren’t her real family. It wasn’t fear of being exposed as a revenant. It was the pain of pretending to be their daughter after stealing someone else’s life.

[“So I said some harsh things and broke it off. I agreed to pay their taxes too. Didn’t mind. Wasn’t a big sum anyway.”]

…I’ll have to look into it when this is all over.

Make sure her assets go properly to her registered family. Our clan isn’t hurting for money, and legally it’s the right thing to do anyway.

As I stared at her grave, Sven Parab murmured softly beside me.

“May she… be guided to where she belongs…”

A simple blessing, but for those of us who knew the truth—it carried more.

And I felt the same.

Fwoooosh—

Seriously, is he some kind of saint?

He’s just speaking, but his voice carries a kind of divine weight. He didn’t even seem to be using a skill.

Still, when he prays this sincerely, a faint white glow surrounds him.

“……”

Turning my gaze from Gowland’s grave, I now saw Rotmiller’s.

That damn dwarf was drinking in front of it. Beside him, Misha stood with clenched fists, crying quietly in frustration.

And—

“……”

Shabin Emure stood a little ways off, staring blankly at the headstone.

Normally, I would’ve left her alone to grieve, but I remembered Rotmiller’s words—so I approached her.

“……”

Even as I stood beside her, she said nothing.

So I said nothing either.

After a long time, Shabin finally spoke.

“Yandel… Would it be weird if I cried here?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, Rotmiller and I weren’t… anything.”

Ah. So that’s what she meant.

Yeah, it ended before it could even begin.

“I’m jealous. Kalstein, Hikurod… they were in the same team as him. They can cry freely. But me—”

“What does that matter?”

I cut her off.

Truthfully, I’d been hesitating whether to share what Rotmiller told me.

But now I knew I had to.

“Rotmiller told me—before he died. He asked me to look after you.”

“…What?”

“Not Misha. Not the dwarf. Not anyone else. You. He asked me to protect you.”

At my words, Shabin bit her lip hard. Trying desperately not to let the emotions spill over.

“But still—”

Still what?

I sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“What does it matter what kind of relationship you had?”

“……”

“If you’re sad, cry. If you’re happy, smile. You’re one of us now. One of the tribe.”

“…You really think… I can…?”

I nodded silently.

And only then did Shabin begin to weep.

Her shoulders trembled more with every passing second.

I reached into my pocket and clenched both fists.

Crack—

No matter how many times this happens, I’ll never get used to it.

***

After the funeral, I went back to the palace and met with Astarotta again—to discuss the situation with Ragna and Elthora, who were still under semi-detention.

But—

“Neither of them can be released. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Countess Peproc’s status is something only His Majesty can decide.”

“You think I don’t know that? I’m saying I’ll look after them until then.”

“Denied.”

“Why?”

“Why does the royal family need a reason for its actions?”

Sigh… She really is all sharp edges when it comes to things like this.

Even though she clearly has a softer side sometimes.

Well, guess getting Ragna out will have to wait.

“Then what about Elthora?”

“He’s a traitor’s son. Releasing him now could cause unnecessary complications. But don’t worry. His achievements are recognized. I’ll do my best to make ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) sure he stays alive, just as you asked.”

Fine. That’s enough…

‘I’ve done all I could. The rest is up to him.’

Honestly, I didn’t care much about Elthora’s fate. So I didn’t press.

“Can I at least see Ragna before I leave?”

“There’s no reason you can’t. But it won’t mean much. She’s still unconscious.”

“Still?”

“Still. But you’ll go anyway, won’t you?”

“After we’re done talking.”

“You must have a lot to say.”

“Given the state of things, yeah.”

Hearing that, Astarotta gave a slight smirk and refilled my teacup.

She was showing that she was willing to keep talking.

Still, knowing her, she might kick me out at any moment—so I went straight to the point.

“The Labyrinth… it’s going to reopen?”

“Why ask me? That’s for the next chancellor to decide.”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I can’t give a date, but yes—soon. We haven’t harvested mana stones in nearly a year. We’re at the limit.”

“Then the Noark bastards are going to crawl in too. Got a plan for that?”

“Farmers don’t skip a season just because of pests.”

“Meaning you don’t have a plan.”

“That’s for the officials to handle. Limiting access below certain tiers, linking operations with the military—that sort of thing. It’s already being discussed in royal meetings.”

“I see…”

“Oh, and why didn’t you come last time? You were so curious before.”

“I had things to take care of.”

I gave a vague excuse, but it was absurd. She knew exactly where I was and what I’d been doing, yet asked anyway.

She really is—

“A word of advice, Bjorn Yandel.”

…Did she just read my mind?

She suddenly went stiff, and I tensed without realizing it. Thankfully, it wasn’t mind-reading.

Though that didn’t mean I understood what she said next.

“Month 13 is coming. Ever since His Majesty’s coronation, it’s always been marked by a grand festival. And this year, because of the current situation, it’ll be even bigger.”

Huh. That’s news to me.

“So?”

When I gave her a what’s-your-point look, she stared at me with an odd expression and put down her teacup.

Then—

“Just take a break for now.”

…What is this?

Is she worried about me?

That would be strange.

“I’ve already been resting.”

“Rushing to the palace the moment the funeral ended to interrogate me counts as rest?”

“……”

“If anything happens—Labyrinth, war—I’ll let you know immediately. So until then, just…”

“……”

“You need rest, Bjorn Yandel.”

I had no words.

Not because I couldn’t argue, but because this kind of concern from her was just too unfamiliar.

As I stayed silent, she awkwardly downed the rest of her tea in one gulp.

“That’s all. You can go now. If you want to see Countess Peproc, tell the guy out front. He’ll show you the way.”

Sigh… What even is this? Overprotectiveness?

“Understood.”

…She’s changed a bit since we first met.

***

After the conversation with Astarotta, I visited the room where Ragna was being kept. Just as she said, Ragna was still unconscious. I talked with Hyeonbyeol for a while and left.

Elthora showed up halfway through, whining about how long he had to be locked up. I ignored him. Not important.

‘Rest, huh…’

Even on the way back to the Sanctuary, I kept thinking about it.

Can I really afford that?

Ibaekho suddenly declared himself the protagonist. The Noark army was squatting right next door. The king could wake up any day and decide to crush me.

‘As if I could…’

In reality, I didn’t rest at all after returning to the Sanctuary.

What I did instead—

Visited the interspecies noble coalition “Melbeth” to gather intel. Attended royal council meetings to monitor politics. Met nobles like Count Alminus to maintain connections. Met Sven Parab to study his new abilities. Drank with the bear-man again. And did my duties as chieftain.

Shabin had been handling most of it, but I wanted her to rest now.

I could take over for a while.

‘My schedule’s insane…’

Even so, the days passed quickly.

Strangely enough, I didn’t feel tired, mentally or physically.

This Barbarian body was too strong to wear out from just this.

‘In fact, staying busy keeps my head clear.’

People like Amelia kept telling me to rest, just like Astarotta had.

I brushed them all off or declined politely.

But maybe that was reaching its limit.

“Yandel.”

Late at night, while finishing up clan work, Amelia barged into the tent.

“You know the festival starts tomorrow morning, right?”

“Of course. I’m busy because of that. Our warriors earned a break. They should enjoy it.”

“And you?”

“My schedule? After the tribe’s festival prep is done, I’ll visit the capital in the evening. Count Alminus seems to be holding some kind of event again. He said if I attend, he’ll offer our clan a big—”

“That’s not the point.”

She cut me off and tossed something at me.

I looked down.

It was clothes.

“Tomorrow morning at 9. Wear that and come outside.”

“Huh? Like I said, I’ve got plans—”

“It’s your choice.”

“Oh, in that case—”

“If you don’t show up, I’m leaving the clan.”

…Didn’t you just say it was my choice?