Surviving the Game as a Barbarian

The Resurrection Stone.

Even in Dungeon & Stone, a world brimming with bizarre items and abilities, resurrection-related artifacts were nearly nonexistent.

Obtaining one on the 9th floor required satisfying very specific conditions—followed by an absurdly low drop rate. Its rarity was beyond words.

Honestly, collecting all nine single-numbered artifacts would probably be easier. That says it all.

In Lafdonia, with its dungeon-exploration history spanning thousands of years, the Resurrection Stone was treated more like a myth or ghost story than a real artifact.

People weren’t even sure it existed.

But that wasn’t the important part here…

‘That came out of his mouth?’

The moment Elwen’s uncle, Beleg, brought up the Resurrection Stone, my first reaction was confusion.

It was just that out of the blue. A topic I’d never have expected.

But as I calmed down and processed the situation, a different feeling bubbled up.

Curiosity.

Or rather… suspicion.

‘Don’t tell me he’s Crescent Moon…?’

It was a fleeting thought that flashed without warning—but not one I could brush off.

Because it wasn’t just baseless speculation; there were reasons to back it up.

A fairy.

Someone from the upper ranks.

An unusual obsession with the Resurrection Stone.

There weren’t many people who checked all three boxes.

And considering that most of the old revenants were in their mid-thirties to early forties, this guy’s age only made him more suspicious.

Not that I could just outright ask, “Are you the Crescent Moon Mask?”

“If the topic seemed too abrupt, I apologize. I only brought it up because I heard, Baron, that you prefer direct conversations…”

He carefully offered his apology, likely interpreting my silence as discomfort while I sorted my thoughts.

I gave it one last moment of deliberation.

‘How do I respond?’

Two choices.

Feign ignorance and deny it.

Or acknowledge it and hear him out.

It took some thought, but I went with the second option.

It felt like he wasn’t just speculating—he’d come here already convinced.

“Where did you hear about it?”

Not quite an admission, but a semi-affirmative response.

Beleg’s expression shifted slightly.

A brief flash of relief.

Followed by tension.

“…Hoo.”

Letting out a quiet breath, he answered.

“I received an anonymous letter in the middle of the night.”

“A letter?”

“As I said, I don’t know who sent it. But it specifically mentioned Miss Kalstein, so I didn’t dismiss it as nonsense. That’s why I’m asking you now.”

“Could I see it?”

Without hesitation, as if he’d been waiting for me to ask, Beleg pulled out the letter and handed it to me.

Thankfully, it wasn’t some cursed invitation where the ink vanishes with time—the contents were still intact.

I quickly read through it.

‘Just as I thought.’

It wasn’t hard to figure out who had sent it.

I’d already had a rough idea anyway.

[Hehe]

Those two characters at the end—mocking laughter.

The sender clearly wasn’t even trying to hide.

‘Ibaekho…’

But I was left with more thoughts than clarity.

I’d always assumed he’d show up again eventually, but ever since that day, he’d disappeared without a trace.

And yet, here he was, pulling strings in the background like this.

‘…What the hell is he after?’

I couldn’t tell.

And that uncertainty made it all the more disturbing.

Why did Ibaekho pass on information about the Resurrection Stone to Beleg?

‘That bastard’s completely unreadable.’

Perhaps noticing my eyes lingering on the bottom of the letter, Beleg added a comment.

“I was told it’s one of the characters used by the revenants.”

“I see.”

“So is it true? That you really possess the Resurrection Stone?”

“It’s true.”

It felt ridiculous to lie at this point, so I answered honestly.

And even though he’d probably already suspected, hearing me confirm it seemed to overwhelm him emotionally.

“…Y-you’re serious!!”

Now I was more convinced than ever.

There couldn’t be another fairy with this intense an interest in the Resurrection Stone.

This guy had to be Crescent Moon.

Though… there were a few things that didn’t quite add up.

‘Elwen’s uncle is a revenant…?’

If he really were a revenant, would he care so deeply about Elwen’s family?

From what I’d heard, he looked after the three sisters more lovingly than actual blood relatives—

Click.

Suddenly, the front door opened.

I heard voices—Elwen trying to stop someone, and Mei sounding furious.

“We’ll speak again soon. I’ll come to you myself next time.”

Beleg gave me a regretful look and said this.

I nodded.

Not long after—

“M-Mei…! Uncle and the Baron are having a conversation—”

With Elwen’s flustered voice trailing behind her, the door burst open and Mei marched in.

Breathing heavy, clearly upset, and radiating pressure.

I gave a small nod.

‘She heard about what happened in town.’

Getting hit hurts a lot more when you didn’t see it coming. But at least I had time to brace for this one.

“…I thought you were a decent person.”

She glared at me with contempt and muttered under her breath.

“…Trash.”

All the favorability points I’d built up were completely obliterated.

***

Driven out of the house to avoid Mei, we returned to the Sanctuary immediately.

Sometimes, if there was business, I stayed in the city overnight. Elwen even gently suggested that maybe I do the same, but…

“I’d rather sleep at home.”

Especially not during a festival, when people were crammed everywhere.

And I didn’t feel like wasting money.

‘Only two days of the festival left…’

Sitting in a wall-mounted carriage as it rolled down the city road, I looked out over the festival and let random thoughts drift through my head.

Even though the sun had fully set, the city below glowed bright. The sound of laughter and cheering was so loud it reached all the way up here.

“Elwen, aren’t you going to enjoy the festival?”

“Hm, I’m not sure… I don’t really like loud crowds…”

“Is that so?”

“I mean, if I were walking around with you, it might be fun… but next year. I’ll wait till next year.”

“Why?”

“I’m fine with it… but I can tell you’re not ready.”

“…What kind of preparation does a festival need?”

“Oh, come on… it needs some! It did for me, anyway.”

Her bright voice didn’t match her quietly bitter smile, and it left me speechless.

“So let’s go later. Later… when I’m tired of being sad and finally want to laugh and shout again.”

“…Alright. Let’s do that.”

“Okay. I once heard something from my sister—a superstition. That if you get married during the festival, you’ll live happily ever after without ever worrying about money.”

“Ah… is that so?”

I didn’t know about the superstition. But one thing was clear: she’d changed.

No one brought it up—but she herself mentioned her sister with a smile.

Click-clack—!

And so, sharing idle conversation, we eventually arrived at the Sanctuary.

Naturally, the Sanctuary was loud and lively.

Barbarians weren’t above enjoying a festival.

Some warriors headed to the city, sure—but most stayed home in the Sanctuary for such events.

“I’ll go rest now. I’m tired…”

“Alright. I had fun today. Sleep well.”

As I walked back to my tent after parting ways with Elwen, the surroundings gradually grew quieter.

Not that it was silent—just quieter compared to the forest square where the festival raged.

“Beheeeell—raaaaahhhh!!”

“Shut up! This is a quiet zone! If you keep yelling, Emily Raines is gonna show up!!” (That was what the warriors called Amelia Rainwales.)

It was thanks to Amelia that this area managed to stay relatively calm.

She’d insisted that since people might want to sleep, we needed to keep it quiet here.

It made perfect sense, but… the real reason was probably to accommodate me—

“That woman’s too cruel!”

“Yeah! Who bans shouting during a festival?! Nobody even wants to sleep!!”

Just then, I heard familiar voices among the noisy warriors.

“…What did you just say?”

“Eeeeeek—! It’s Emily Raines!!”

As Amelia appeared like a ghost, the warriors all panicked and fled in every direction.

“I didn’t say anything! Really! I’m a good barbarian who stays quiet in the quiet zone!”

“It was Merik’s second son, Kizan! He’s the one yelling!”

“You bastards…!!”

“Merik’s second son Kizan is a foolish warrior! If you want to laugh and shout, go to the loud zone! Why make noise in the quiet one?!”

I couldn’t help but wonder—what the hell did she do to make them tremble just from eye contact?

But then again… it made sense.

Even Ainard couldn’t stand up to Amelia. No ordinary warrior could.

“Sleepers stay. Loudmouths, go to the noise zone.”

“Y-yes ma’am!! I’ll go yell somewhere else! Sorry!!”

Her words had barely left her mouth before the warriors scattered like frightened animals.

It was pretty funny, though.

Barbarians, sure. But hearing Amelia herself talk about “quiet zones” and “noise zones” like it was official terminology…

“…You just got back?”

“Ah, yeah…”

“Get some rest.”

“Yeah…”

We made brief eye contact, exchanged a short greeting, and I went inside.

I washed up and laid down on my bed.

But no matter how long I kept my eyes closed, sleep wouldn’t come. I tossed and turned, trying to empty my mind—

“Bjyooooooorn—!!”

“…Ainard? What is it? It’s the middle of the night.”

“What are you # Nоvеlight # doing in the quiet zone?! Everyone’s having fun! And it’s not like going to bed early makes you grow taller anymore!”

“…I’m tired. Just got back.”

“You said that for three days straight!! Come on! Join us tonight!”

I smiled, watching Ainard go into whiny mode.

‘At least she doesn’t threaten to leave the Anabada Clan like some others.’

Still, that didn’t mean I was planning to join the festival.

If I couldn’t sleep, I’d probably just go for a walk in the graveyard like I had the last few nights.

But…

“Bjorn, the warriors need you.”

Those words moved me.

“…Haa.”

It was the first festival after the big event. And as the de facto chieftain, it wouldn’t look great if I never showed my face…

“Fine, I’ll go. Just stop whining.”

“Oh! Really?! Awesome! Everyone’s gonna be so happy!!”

After sending Ainard out, I quickly got dressed in traditional barbarian attire.

Well—“dressed” might be the wrong word.

More like “undressed.”

Traditional barbarian clothing starts with going shirtless.

“Let’s go!! The moment they see you, they’re gonna lose their minds!!”

Honestly, I hoped they wouldn’t.

“Yeah…”

Dragged along by Ainard, I arrived at the forest square—the “loud zone”—where the festival was in full swing.

“Beheeeell—raaaahhh!!”

“Oh!! It’s the chieftain!! The chieftain’s here!!”

“Bjyooooooorn, son of Yandel!!! The strongest warrior on the surface!!”

“The ultimate genius monster!!”

If not for barbarian eardrums being naturally tough, the noise probably would’ve ruptured them.

Now I understood why 99% of Sanctuary dwellers were barbarians despite the high number of humans.

“Look! Over there! I think they’re fighting!!”

The first place Ainard took me was a circle of warriors fighting to the death.

“Kill him!! Rip out his teeth!!”

“Break his arm!!”

“It’s fine!! That won’t kill him anyway!!”

Two warriors locked in a brutal brawl, surrounded by a cheering crowd.

I grabbed a random nearby warrior and asked:

“Why are they fighting?”

“Dunno? Never thought to ask.”

He gave me a look like what a weirdo, then went back to watching.

I guess the fight was more important than talking to me?

They were calling me a great warrior one second, then totally ignoring me the next. But I kind of got it.

Dueling was our biggest form of entertainment.

‘They say the number of fights during a festival is the measure of how good it was…’

Well, it was entertaining.

Our warriors really were monsters in melee.

Even PvP tends to be more intense when you’re lower level.

“Waaaahhhh!!”

The victor was a red-haired warrior who landed a clean elbow to the jaw.

But just as I was thinking it was time to move on…

“Everyone, listen!!!!”

Ainard suddenly shouted, gathering the crowd’s attention.

“As you can see, our chieftain is here!!!”

I had no idea what she was planning, but the warriors all cheered instinctively.

“Ooooooohhhhh!!!”

“Beheeeell—raaaahhh!!”

I just stood and watched, clueless.

‘…Why do I feel a bad premonition?’

As always, I was right.

“The chieftain will face every warrior here tonight!!!”

Who the hell made that decision—

“Ooooh…?”

“But… the chieftain is a great warrior…”

“Even I couldn’t beat him…”

Thankfully, the reaction was lukewarm.

If that mood held, the idea might fizzle out…

“Don’t worry! It doesn’t matter where you hit! If you draw even a single drop of blood from the chieftain—you win!!”

Ainard quickly implemented a balance patch.

“Oh…?”

“That might actually be possible…”

But of course, one major question remained:

“Why should we be the ones fighting?”

“We’re still human! Getting hit hurts!! Especially if it’s by the chieftain!!”

The warriors suddenly sounded unusually rational.

But Ainard clearly wasn’t ready for this turn.

“U-uh… it’s a chance to fight the chieftain! A true warrior should want that… shouldn’t they…?”

Flustered, she closed her eyes and shouted her final offer:

“Prrrrize…!!! Winner gets three houses!!”

No further explanation was necessary.

“…Three houses?”

“Worthy of risking one’s life…!”

And the warriors’ eyes—changed.