Episode 2
“I asked who you are.”
My head is spinning.
A voice echoing through a splitting headache felt unbearably unfamiliar.
‘What… is this…?’
‘Roki’ looked ahead.
His mind was hazy; it felt as though he had awoken from a long slumber.
‘What… happened to me? Could this be an illusion? Or is this the afterlife…?’
The last thing he remembered was getting into an accident with a junior colleague while developing an indie game.
After that, his vision had gone dark, and he couldn’t remember anything else.
Within his gradually brightening vision—
He was facing an unfamiliar space and an unfamiliar atmosphere. And unfamiliar figures.
Armor and clothing like those of Vikings.
Sharp weapons held alongside filthy beards.
Dozens of such men were pressing down upon a single girl.
It was a truly bizarre sight, and the old man standing beside them looked half-mad, tearing at his hair in terror.
Everyone looked at Roki, and everyone trembled in fear.
As if they had seen a massive monster, deep-seated fear had taken root in their eyes and coiled tightly within.
“Are you not going to speak?”
Despite the chaos, his voice was calm.
A chill ran through his voice, yet it carried a weight heavy enough to press down on the surrounding air.
With every word he spoke, the men grew frightened and stepped back.
Only one person, the girl, simply stared blankly at Roki.
“I asked who you are.”
At Roki’s words, the girl stammered a reply.
“I-I am K-Kank… Kankun Ragna!”
She seemed terrified, yet looked up at Roki as if pleading for something.
Dewdrops forming at the corners of her eyes trailed down her cheeks.
She spoke as if gazing at starlight and making a wish.
“I am the priestess who serves you.”
Roki narrowed his eyes at those words.
“Aah, the demon has revived—!”
Roki raised his head at the voice.
Along with screams, the men shook violently but gripped their weapons and pointed them at Roki.
No, it was the same for the undead monsters around the sanctuary as well.
Roki gently rested his cheek against the back of his hand.
The clanking sensation of armor was transmitted from beyond his helmet.
It was a familiar gesture, as if it were only natural.
‘…Where is this?’
Even in his haze, he beheld a scenery that felt familiar from somewhere.
The game he had designed, [Ragnarok].
If he was not mistaken, it was the ‘Valhalla Palace’ where the final boss monster had been sealed away.
‘A dream?’
It might be. Otherwise, there was no way he would use such unusual speech or act this way in such a place.
He felt no aversion. It came out as naturally as if embedded in his very body, as familiar as if it had always been his own personality.
“D-Don’t be ridiculous!”
Then, one of the men shouted furiously.
“There’s no way a demon could actually exist—!”
Trembling as if denying reality, he gripped a massive mace.
“A demon like that, I’ll—!”
The man let out a shout and charged.
Raising his mace, he leaped at Roki.
At that moment, his eyes met Roki’s.
“……!”
The man’s face stiffened, and Roki naturally extended his hand and flicked his finger.
Crack—!
The weapon the man held, the arm he swung, his panic-stricken head and rigid upper body.
All of it ‘burst’ and vanished.
Thud.
The corpse of the man, with only his lower body remaining, fell to the floor.
“O-one… strike?”
“Good heavens!”
The terror of those in the sanctuary intensified.
“Aah, O Demon—! Quell your wrath!”
The old man clad in a unique black robe shouted, covering his head and prostrating himself.
Roki turned his gaze to look at the fallen corpse on the floor.
‘…So this is reality, not a dream.’
His hazy mind began to gradually clear.
Even so, he could reflect upon the strange sensations he felt in his body.
The pounding of his heart.
And the frigid chill that had settled around him.
Everything was telling him this was reality.
But even if he felt bewildered by the changed reality, he felt no fear at the sight of a corpse.
He was indifferent, as if looking at an NPC.
It felt like he was playing a game.
Roki raised his head and observed the surrounding figures in the reality before him one by one.
From most of the men, he sensed hostility.
Fear, terror, but also blatant murderous intent.
Of course. Wouldn’t they want revenge since their comrade had been killed?
However, there were two people who were different.
One was the old man covering his head and wailing; the other was the girl holding the myth-grade item called ‘Bureuteugang’ that he had designed and created.
‘…It’s even like I’m inside the game?’
The one who had called herself a priestess.
She seemed to be the only one he could have a conversation with in this situation.
Roki pointed his finger at the girl, Kankun.
The men who had been pressing down on Kankun backed away in terror at his gesture.
“Did you say Kankun?”
“Yes? Ah, y-yes!”
Kankun shrank back in fear.
“Come here.”
When he wagged his finger, Kankun swallowed dryly and tried to rise from her spot.
“Uh, w-wait… I-I’m sorry. J-just a moment… Huh? Huh?”
But her legs gave out, and she collapsed right where she was.
“T-That’s right! Priestess! Become the sacrifice! Appease the demon—ah, no, my Lord’s wrath! Only you can save the Nod tribe!”
The old man, High Priest Shaman, shouted abruptly.
Roki couldn’t help but question those words.
What was all this?
Priestess? Wrath? Lord? And what was all this about the salvation of the Nod tribe?
As far as he knew, there had been no such setting in the game’s worldview.
Roki slowly turned his head to look at Shaman.
“Eeek—!”
But before he could even ask a question, the moment their eyes met, he slammed his head straight to the floor.
Conversation itself seemed impossible.
“How dare—.”
Roki felt a stinging sensation on his skin.
It was intense killing intent.
Murderous intent that drove out even fear erupted forth, brimming with rage and hatred.
Where Roki turned his gaze, there stood the largest of the men, a middle-aged man.
“Using Kankun as a sacrifice—.”
A bear of a man in chain armor, wielding a giant axe one might doubt a human could lift.
The traitor who had beheaded the chieftain, Kankun’s father, and tried to take Kankun away.
Kankun’s uncle.
Kudan Ragna.
“Do you think I’ll offer her up—!?”
His muscles swelled and expanded abnormally.
The carpet laid out toward the throne burst its red threads and fluttered about.
He sprinted and rushed at Roki, raising his axe with all his might.
The veins writhing over his swollen muscles made it clear this was a blow backed by his full strength.
‘…But that man from earlier was weak.’
Roki turned his gaze to the man who had died from a mere flick of his finger.
His upper body had burst from just a slight exertion of force.
Therefore—.
‘I need to control my strength….’
“Ooooooh—!”
Kudan’s all-out blow…!
However….
Boom—!!!
“……!”
That blow was blocked far too easily.
Kudan glared with wide eyes at the demon who had stopped the battle axe with his hand.
The wind pressure from Kudan’s strike made the hem of Roki’s cape flutter.
‘What… strength…?!’
Not only had his all-out blow been suppressed with one hand, but the battle axe caught in Roki’s grip didn’t budge an inch even as Kudan tried to wrench it free with both hands.
Roki’s red eyes narrowed, and he quickly swung the back of his hand toward Kudan.
It was a single gesture as if swatting a nearby insect.
Thud!
Shatter!
The battle axe shattered like glass, and unable to withstand the impact, Kudan was sent flying backward.
After rolling across the floor several times and crashing into the wall, Kudan finally stopped and vomited blood.
“Uaaaargh—!”
‘I had only lightly pushed him….’
The effect had been considerable, it seemed.
Roki looked at his hand and tilted his head.
And he couldn’t help but be surprised.
‘A scratch?’
There was a small scratch on the gauntlet covering his hand.
He had left a small wound on the hand of the game’s final boss.
That went to show just how famous a warrior this man named Kudan was, and everyone was shaken by his fall.
The men who had harbored hostility, now stained with fear and terror, hoisted the fallen Kudan up and began to flee.
“L-Lord Kudan has fallen!”
“Retreat…! Retreat!”
The men disappeared.
Roki looked at his hand once more.
The small scratch on the gauntlet was already gone.
The armor had regenerated on its own.
Roki turned his gaze to Kankun.
Torn clothes. And deep in her eyes, despair had taken hold. She gripped a sword and trembled.
“First.”
Roki looked at the girl and spoke.
“Let us hear your story.”
Only now did it seem possible to have a conversation about this situation.
How this situation had come about, and what had happened to him….
To find the answer to that….
Roki began his conversation with the girl.
***
Not far from the cursed sanctuary.
Numerous tents were erected among a forest dense with snow-covered trees.
Between the tents, men lit fires to endure the cold, and in some places, women tended to golden armor.
They were all armed and looked extremely rough.
Whether the brass armor they wore or the face paint covering their faces, they possessed a unique culture of adorning themselves in golden hues.
They were a tribe called Partas that had recently begun making a name for itself among the Nod people.
The Great Chieftain of this tribe, Hiseuton.
He took off his golden helmet and stroked his beard with his right hand.
“Not enough! It’s still far from enough! Gold, warriors, everything!”
Before his eyes lay information regarding his tribe’s warriors.
At the sight of Hiseuton furrowing his brow, the slave who had recorded the information let out a deep sigh.
‘He doesn’t even know how to read, so he doesn’t know what any of this says anyway….’
The slave, Hans, merely clicked his tongue inwardly. He didn’t show it outwardly.
Given Hiseuton’s personality, saying such a thing would obviously get him torn in half.
“Th-then what should we do…?”
The slave Hans spoke with as much of a smile as he could muster.
Hiseuton shook his head.
“Hans! I intend to build a great tribe! A great tribe that unites all of the Nod people! No, I intend to establish a nation made of gold! So I will increase the number of slaves and expand our power!”
“Th-that’s all well and good, but how will you—.”
Smack—!
Hans’s head snapped to the side as his body was sent flying.
His nasal bone was crushed. Teeth broke and flew from his mouth.
Having thrown the punch, Hiseuton stomped on Hans’s buttocks.
“That’s for you to figure out. I’ve been giving you hints, yet you couldn’t even say it!!”
“I-I’m sorry! I-I’ll think of something! S-so… please don’t hit me!”
Hans crawled on the ground and clung to Hiseuton’s pant leg, begging. Satisfied by such an obedient display, Hiseuton lifted his foot.
“Hmph, don’t ever provoke my temper again!”
“I-I’m sorry.”
“Hmm… Are there no tribes around here with plenty of gold or slaves? Ones worthy of proper subjugation!”
Hans continued speaking while gauging Hiseuton’s mood as best as he could.
“Th-there is one tribe nearby. It doesn’t seem to be very powerful.”
“Where?”
Hans spoke while watching Hiseuton’s mood.
“It’s the Ragna tribe!”
It was the tribe where Kankun was.