Surviving the Game as a Barbarian Chapter 3

Tutorial (2)

Barbarian.

The moment I first selected this race, whose title directly means wild savage, I picked the greatsword as my weapon.

Exactly, for its sheer coolness.

Every guy dreams of swinging a massive two-handed blade, whirling through foes like a whirlwind in the heart of their camp.

Yet the issue arose: he perished far too quickly.

Intrigued by the barbarian class, I dove into studies. What was the key to building one that could endure?

Despite countless efforts, the barbarian kept falling too fast. Regardless of boosts to his durability, battles always triggered his frenzy mode.

No reliability existed, with every clash feeling like a precarious balance act.

Eventually, I started questioning my approach.

Why not treat him purely as a frontline defender?

Among playable races, barbarians boast the top endurance, plus impressive power on average, allowing even Adamantium gear.

Though dwarfs edge them out with overpowered traits, barbarians possess core tank capabilities.

Truth be told, I had little desire to run a barbarian as a pure defender, yet

All my prior investigations would prove useless otherwise, so I committed to experimenting.

Through several adjustments and tests, I crafted a solid build plan.

Isn't this outright cheating?

Without hesitation, I ditched the dwarf I'd used for tanking before.

Who cares if combats lacked thrill?

Efficiency always came first for me, and I was the type to abandon favored tactics if they led to victory.

Much like the choice facing me at this moment.

.

Back at my spot after selecting my weapon, I sensed the stares from fellow barbarians.

What, never laid eyes on a barbaegis before?

As a true barbarian filled with pride, I strode to my place with bold confidence.

This time, no pretending was required.

"Next!"

My choice brought zero second thoughts.

Three factors sealed it.

For one, the shield ranks as the priciest starter item to sell back.

Secondly, grabbing a sharp weapon now might leave me unable to wield it effectively anyway.

Thirdly, the barbaegis represents my pinnacle goal.

Today marked my sharpest logical move possible.

"With this you have become a warrior!"

Weapon picked and seat retaken, a break ensued.

As the ritual pressed on for others, I pondered the events' roots. Honestly, I should've pieced it together sooner, but

Hey, put yourself in my shoes.

Reflecting on it left me baffled.

You have reached the abyss.

Let's recap the situation.

I'd arrived at the endgame chamber.

That likely sparked everything.

Hold on, what of the one who just perished? Did he hit the final boss too?

Possibly.

Plenty of oddballs populate the world, some as quirky as myself. We'll set that aside.

Tutorial complete.

I took this notification to mean:

I've shared all essentials, now apply this to stay alive.

No clue who sent it, but what a ruthless figure.

If survival was the aim, why skip details like my spirit's nature?

My skull nearly exploded on arrival. You bastard.

"Whew"

Perhaps due to inhabiting a barbarian form? Oddly enough, curbing my feelings proved harder than usual.

Thus, I halted my dwelling here.

Unnecessary agitation could spark errors, and anyway, fretting over bygones isn't my way.

What's done is done; history stays fixed.

Far better to focus on navigating the peril ahead.

Thus

Fine, concentrate solely on that now.

How to make it through.

The coming-of-age ceremony wrapped up.

Now, I trekked through the forest.

Chieftain leading ahead, young barbarians trailing behind.

They all appeared thrilled, like kids on an outing.

Yet I couldn't share their carefree chuckles.

I knew where this path ended.

"Stop!"

We emerged from the dense woods to a spot roughly 30 meters before a substantial wall.

"Open the gates!"

With grinding mechanical noises, the entrance swung wide.

Slow as molasses, enough to induce drowsiness.

Still, the young barbarians gawked in awe, breath held in that eerie quiet. Finally, a drab city loomed past the barrier.

"Rafdonia"

For that instant, my gaze probably mirrored theirs.

Smooth roads, sturdy stone edifices.

And piercing the view, a tall spire scraping the heavens.

Never imagined I'd witness the loading screen backdrop in the flesh.

Damn.

"Warriors!"

As the portal parted, the chief spun and bellowed.

I figured he might offer warm words before release, but

"Leave! Your destiny awaits!"

Barbarians skipped tedious orations.

"Whooooo!"

The newly adult barbarians charged the city with roars. I hated joining, but yelled alongside as I pursued.

Folks might slumber in shadowy homes, but so what?

I'm a barbarian!

The barrier sealed shut with a thud behind our group.

Naturally, these brutes paid it no mind.

The hyped horde dashed wildly for ages before settling to a trot, allowing me to resume my reflections calmly.

Currently, mixed feelings churned inside.

""

Sure, dread of what's coming gripped me.

Yet excitement too, for stepping into my favorite game's realm.

Kind of absurd.

So soon after vowing to focus on survival, these sentiments sprouted anyway.

Guess I'm no ordinary soul.

Still, nothing tops these barbarian lunatics.

"Stop!"

The front-running barbarian chief halted, faced us, and declared with pride.

"I must have lost my way!"

The group howled at this stunning admission.

"Faruns third son, Karak, has led us astray!"

"He has no qualification to be our leader!"

"You have to take responsibility!"

Damn. You eager followers now grow spines to complain?

Is this barbarian culture's raw underbelly? Utterly filthy.

"Stop. I get it. I admit that I am not worthy of the leader's position, and will step aside."

Karak, or whatever his full name, lowered his head low and rejoined the crowd.

Next up, a female barbarian claimed the leadership role.

"Penelins second daughter, Ainar!"

"Wise Ainar who will lead us on the right path!"

The woman beamed at the praises and guided the pack forward.

But soon, she echoed the prior chief's error.

"I must have lost my way."

Shockingly, her phrasing matched word for word.

"It can't be! We must get to the labyrinth within the set time!"

"Ainar has no qualification to be our leader!"

"Right!"

Flustered, the brutes debated earnestly over the third pick.

"I think the second son of Tetran would be good."

"No, I do not think so. Rather"

Are these idiots totally witless?

Haven't they grasped that swapping leaders won't reach the goal?

My slot might arrive next.

""

I slipped to the rear and neared the second chief.

A giantess nearing two meters, she lingered apart from the throng with a dejected look.

"Bjorn son of Yandel? Have you come to blame me too?"

No chance.

To me, the whole lot shared the fault evenly.

I shook my head, prompting her puzzled tilt.

"Then why? I don't need consolation."

"No. I've come to show you how to find your way."

"Really? How?"

I gestured toward a spot.

"You just have to follow them."

"Can I just follow them?"

Disbelief etched her features.

Calmly and methodically, I broke it down for her.

A midnight cityscape. Roadside structures all dark inside. Still, nighttime streets host plenty of walkers.

All clad in battle gear, not casual wear.

Where might they head?

"Surely. Now that I see it, I agree. I will give it a try."

The woman rejoined the pack and announced, 'I found a way!', halting the third-leader vote as cheers erupted.

"It's Ainar after all!"

"The wise female warrior!"

The band resumed marching anyway.

Heading correctly? As we progressed, armored figures multiplied nearby.

Suddenly, distant glows fanned out in every direction.

Now, no more wrong turns loomed.

"It's the labyrinth! I see the labyrinth!"

"The Dimension of Sacred Battles!"

I picked up my stalled inner monologue.

A major worry nagged: is diving into the labyrinth wise?

"I feel it! The labyrinth is calling my soul!"

The frenzy-fueled mob wouldn't spot my quiet exit.

Then, no need to brave the depths.

No clashing with beasts, no wounds.

Yet despite knowing the perils best, indecision lingered.

For fleeing solves nothing.

[Dungeon and Stone] imposes taxes.

From age 20, residents must pay up, or face execution.

At first glance, it screams bizarre tale genre, but the lore explains it somewhat.

Not a current concern, though.

"Ainar! Let's speed up!"

"Wooooooooo!"

Regardless, earning coin was essential.

Sure, labyrinth monster hunts weren't the sole path.

Tavern jobs could cover basics.

Unless you're a barbarian.

Game start grants barbarians alone a weapon.

For straightforward motives.

[Barbarian? I'm sorry. I just got a guy.]

[Aren't you going to leave? There's nothing I can do for a barbarian! You're just going to break something again!]

Barbarians handle no regular labor.

Per settings, their sole income route was labyrinth beast slaying.

Admittedly, real-world rules might differ.

Perhaps jobs came easier than expected.

But betting the group split on mere optimism was another matter.

"Ten minutes left till it closes. Come on in!"

The labyrinth unlocks monthly in-game.

Thus, skipping entry meant a full month city-bound.

What if employment evaded me?

What if barbarian status barred hires?

Prospects looked grim.

Chief's rations might last a week, then scavenging scraps.

Starvation might claim me before next chance.

One guarantee: survival would wreck my current form.

"I will be the first to go in!"

"No! I come first!"

Starvation, chill, filthy rests.

I grasped their toll on flesh intimately.

Hence, if entering, now in top shape made sense.

The snag: deadly risks.

A dire juncture.

"Bjorn son of Yandel!"

A hand clamped my shoulder.

Glancing over, it was her, the barbarian lady.

Surely her name was

"Ainar, third daughter of Penelin."

"I'm the second daughter."

Whatever, what did she want?

"All the other warriors have already entered the labyrinth. The only ones who haven't entered yet are you and me."

"Ah."

Oddly, the area hushed.

Looking around, few lingered in the plaza, no other barbarians. As deputy leader, Ainar came to fetch me.

"You must hurry. We're late, so we don't have much time."

I lifted my gaze to the forefront.

The once-blazing portal had shrunk noticeably.

"5 minutes left until closing!"

The announcer reiterated the countdown.

Five minutes—tighter than anticipated.

Decision time neared fast.

"Go in first. I will follow you right away."

"I get it."

Ainar assented and approached the gateway, intensifying my dilemma.

Now, what to do?

As a peak pragmatist, I favor swift actions, but this choice defied ease.

Unlike virtual play, my existence hung in the balance.

"Bjorn son of Yandel!"

I stepped back on reflex.

Ainar, midway gone, had pivoted suddenly.

"Thank you for that."

"There's nothing to be thankful for."

"And there is one thing I want to ask you."

Spare me family trivia, ideally.

I nodded, and Ainar queried in pure earnestness.

"How can I be wise like you? I've never seen a barbarian as smart as you in my life. I want to be like you too."

Tough one to field. Becoming sharp? Frankly, reincarnation might speed it up.

No, irrelevant musings.

Toss a vague reply, dismiss her.

"You always have to think and act."

"Hmm, that's right!"

A casual line, yet she absorbed it gravely.

Then uttered something peculiar.

"Thank you for your advice. If I come back alive from the labyrinth, I will repay you."

Come back alive?

Odd phrasing from a barbarian.

Thus, an extra query slipped out.

"Are you afraid of dying?"

"Isn't it obvious? Of course, I'm afraid to die. Perhaps all the other warriors are as well. I wouldn't say it out loud, though."

Really?

Frankly, it clashed with my view.

Game barbarians knew no terror.

Reality seemed little changed.

As I paused, Ainar elaborated further.

"We were born warriors. If you don't fight, you die."

Her delivery felt rough and rigid, yet her intent rang crystal clear.

"Right."

Like myself, choice evaded them.

Born barbarians.

Skip labyrinth hunts, and city life crumbles.

Hence, they mastered fear-conquering early on.

Indeed, that defined their wild image.

"See you alive. Bjorn, son of Yandel."

Ainar vanished through the portal.

"One minute left until closing!"

Nothing restrained me anymore.

Solely my call.

Echoing the endgame prompt, two paths branched.

Yes / No

This simplified my tangled mind.

In gaming, I optimized for purpose, always.

Pre-move, I'd weigh outcomes, planning ahead.

Short gain but long loss? Select No.

Else, Yes.

No real options ever arose.

"The gate will be closed soon! Back off!"

I dashed ahead.

Deep terror surged, akin to the chief's summons.

No surprise, lifelong frailty meant zero brawls.

Versus monsters now?

Fear petrified me gradually.

"It's dangerous!"

Yet odds weren't zero.

In a barbarian shell, superhuman might coursed through.

I wielded game-honed expertise from endless builds.

And crucially, survival burned as my aim.

Thus, this path compelled me.

Aware as any of the terrors lurking beyond.

Yet it stood as the soundest pick.

You entered the Crystal Cave on the first floor.

That summed my stance.