Surviving the Game as a Barbarian Chapter 5

Give and Take (1)

Reflecting on it, I was quite the amusing fellow.

Even though I viewed life as dull, the idea of ending it never crossed my mind.

That sense of tedium was merely a fleeting feeling, and to me, existence held more value than anything.

In various respects, I just deemed most pursuits unworthy of the effort.

That notion lingers even now.

And that's precisely why

I'm dragging myself through the blackness on all threes.

I realize what's running through your head, but I mean it literally.

Right at this moment, I'm scooting across the ground using three limbs, dragging my utterly mangled right foot along.

If anyone spotted me like this, they'd probably picture a forsaken pup with a busted limb.

How am I so certain?

Because that's exactly what's crossing my thoughts at present.'

This taste of triumph cost me my last shred of human pride.

For starters, there's no pain since I'm avoiding the damaged foot, and movement is quicker than it was.

Plus, there's zero risk of triggering yet another snare.

In exchange, my elbows and knees ache, but this level

Stays within my tolerance. I can handle it.

What wouldn't one do for survival?

I'd even scarf down canine waste grinning if it meant staying alive.

Granted, after steeling my resolve a tad, it'd surely be doable.

But whatever became of that uncle?'

'Uncle' is merely a label I slapped on casually.

I have no clue about the individual's sex, age, or identity.

I'm merely inferring from the speech patterns.

The mental picture I have is of a bespectacled Caucasian in his thirties, oddly enough.

Or perhaps not.

[Bleeding] persists.

In any case, what fate befell that soul who awoke inside the frame of Kadua's offspring, Oreum? Did demise claim him? Or did he return to his prior form?

It's a query that's nagged at me since consciousness returned.

Though I deliberately avoid dwelling on it, conditions worsen and thoughts inevitably drift his way.

[Bleeding] persists.

It's clearer to me now why folks cling to faith.

The truth is, facing solitude proves overwhelmingly tough.

When hopelessness descends, a focal point for the mind becomes essential. Much like what I'm doing presently.

[Bleeding] persists.

[Bleeding] persists.

Alert: The character's vitality has dipped under 5%. Without swift intervention, death may ensue.

Following that, I persisted in crawling, mulling over various matters.

Faintly, the ambient light begins to intensify.

This development proves advantageous in several regards.

For one, it confirms the proper course, and validates my assumption that the initial level isn't entirely shrouded in gloom.

Simply head toward illumination.

There, humans should gather. Offer them this mana stone and seek aid. Somehow, then

That's ridiculous nonsense, you dimwitted fool.'

While murmuring self-motivation and chasing phantom incentives, my alter ego emerged.

You moronic jerk, use some logic. You're bargaining aid for a mere slice of bread. They might snatch the shield and mana stone, then finish you off.'

Is this alter truly me?

This version's sharp as a tack.

What if you encounter yet another goblin scum prior to locating a person? Is that cranium merely decorative, or does intellect reside within? Eh?'

I won't abide further barbs.

Fine, so what alternative exists? Forward motion remains necessary. At minimum, visibility improves ahead. Should a goblin appear, wouldn't combat in light surpass battling in shadows?'

Indeed, valid point.'

The inner voice concurs, and mental chatter ceases once more.

Crawling resumed.

"Kahahahahaha"

I'm losing my mind.

No, perhaps madness has already set in.

After all, blood loss has been profuse, hasn't it?

Lately, awareness splits into dual streams, reuniting sporadically, with cognition lagging.

Resembling a vicious cycle.

A touch more, and revival might prove impossible.

"Kahahahahaha"

Laughter erupted audibly.

Energy was scarce, yet I chuckled regardless.

Eventually, brightness enveloped the area.

Far off, at the corridor's terminus, a radiant crystal gleamed.

Moreover, a figure holding a torch stood before it.

No illusion of goblin for human.

Undoubtedly human in silhouette.

"He lp"

An utterance attempt failed; vocal cords faltered.

Desperate crawling ensued, eyes blinking furiously.

What's occurring?

The humanoid silhouette advanced abruptly, as though displaced instantly.

Startled, another blink followed.

[Bleeding] persists.

Nearer now.

Five or six figures loomed ahead.

Hallucination? Eyes shut, then reopened.

Achievement unlocked

Requirement: Vitality falls to 2% or lower.

Prize: Mind boosted permanently by +1.

Suddenly, a fair-haired male knelt nearby.

Eye contact held noses apart, yet he averted after a brief intrigued glance, scanning environs sans inquiry.

Trusting personal insight over testimony, a seasoned judgment formed swiftly.

"You're a newbie."

Damn, if you grasp it, assist already, you rogue.

Evidently, I'm a mere barbarian armed with a shield, possessing only a goblin mana stone to barter for leg mending.

Hand it all over if desired. Thus

"Incredible. How did a novice outpace us to this spot?"

Eager response parted my lips, but emitted was a hacking or expectorating noise.

"Grrreu"

Truthfully, it echoed more goblin-like, yet

Sufficient to convey speech incapacity.

Shortly, the fair-haired queried an ally.

"Priestess Ersina. Would you mind healing this young one?"

Priestess? A healer graces your group?

Gaze locked fervently on the side, miracle-eyed. Verily, a white-robed priestess stood there.

Meeting my stare, she uttered curtly from exquisite lips

"I must refuse."

Eh? Pardon?

"Understood. Very well."

What's agreeable? Why consent?

This ordeal is dire. Blast, unclear why rejection persists upon arrival.

And amid rising inner fury

"Parthran, might I borrow a potion?"

"Isn't that reserved for divine power shortages?"

"You possess plenty regardless. I'll compensate upon departure."

"Tch."

The sword-belted man tsked, retrieving a potion from his pack and tossing it.

Vital hope's casual handling plummeted my spirits.

Luckily, the fair-haired secured the vial adeptly.

"It pales to holy magic, so anticipate discomfort."

The fair-haired uncorked and doused half the contents over the injury, funneling the remainder into my maw.

Instantly, excruciating agony surged.

Did suppressed bodily torment erupt simultaneously?

Swift regeneration via recovery (medium) takes effect.

Felt like total corporeal dissolution.

This explains in-game mid-combat potion bans.

Assumed mere mechanic, yet mirrors authentic torment aptly.

Curses.

"Heuk, heuk, heuk, heuk"

How much time elapsed?

Agony ebbed, well-being returned gradually.

"Now, speak, barbarian? How did a fledgling precede us here? If a fresh route's known, I'd purchase the details."

Ah, so that motivated aid?

No offense taken. Relief bloomed knowing purpose drove benevolence.

Gratuitous kindness harbors deeper peril.

Yet, faint guilt stirred.

No hidden paths known.

" Upon labyrinth entry, I spawned here."

Circumstances relayed truthfully.

The fair-haired cocked his head, then affirmed knowingly.

"Recalled from texts. Rare spatial flux occurs sporadically."

Heart raced fiercely.

Queried as if doubting ears.

"First encounter for you?"

Incredulity overwhelmed.

Listen, group boasts priest and sorcerer. Suggests mid-tier competence at least.

Yet inaugural instance?

"Yes, per the tome, a centennial rarity. One dropping to the fringe thusly."

Ah, comprehensible. Centennially possible at peak. And my debut labyrinth venture yields it.

Now grasps why fellow barbarians shun torches.

Who frets lightning amid drizzle?

"Evidently unique ordeal, yet catastrophic for enduring such anomaly."

The fair-haired regarded me pityingly.

"Not sought intel, but intriguing regardless. Waiver on potion cost; onward."

Tone bore regret, yet core decency shone.

"Oh, reclaim that shield yonder."

Gaze followed his gesture to a grounded shield. Roughly 20m distant. Believed secured at hip, yet evidently loosened.

"Onward then."

They bypassed sans gratitude allowance.

In the maze, duration equals wealth; comprehension came easy.

Nay, mere time investment bordered miracle.

Gazed briefly at their departure, then hastened to retrieve the dropped shield.

Survival rejoiced indeed

Yet, unease lingered.

Bjorn Yandel

Level: 1

Body: 25 / Mind: 36 (New +1) / Abilities: 1

Item Level: 24

Combat Index: 68 (New +1)

"Fortunate barbarian, that one."

"Well, labeling it fortune seems excessive. Enduring that on debut"

The fair-haired replied with ambiguous grin as the blade-wielder scoffed.

"Even sans that, goblin snare victim fares similarly. Luck lay in our encounter initially."

"Luck in meeting Drusz, not yourself. You resisted potion use, recall?"

The silent female bowman interjected, prompting the blade-wielder's shrug.

"True, such novices abound. Short lifespans await. Our priestess concurred, yes?"

The priestess offered wry smile, silent, while the female bowman retorted heatedly.

"Lady Ersina would've healed absent temple edicts. Nay, sans potion, rules might've bent. Assume all mirror your cynicism?"

"Uncertain. Facades mask true natures often."

" Parthran, emulate Drusz somewhat."

"Like prioritizing care over secret route queries?"

"Precisely. Barbarians spurn aid, rumor holds. Hence his upfront courtesy perhaps."

" Hey, avoid inflating my virtues."

Topic shifting, the fair-haired grinned sheepishly, head-scratching.

Yet denial evaded.

"Ah, shortcut demands direction shift here."

"Truly, invaluable having a navigator."

"Lady Ersina! Guides typically know mere portal bearings. Drusz excels; first-floor markers etched in memory."

The blade-wielder eyed the female bowman, shaking head.

"But whence does this sanguine trail conclude? Considerable distance covered already?"

"Indeed. Doubts his mere fortune now. What willpower sustains such protracted crawl?"

"Huh, mere trifle. Yeah, vicinity approaches."

The group, tracing crimson marks, veered midway to bypass. After roughly quarter-hour, destination attained.

"Pioneers this path; haste rewards. Advance."

Fair-haired's monolith touch unleashed blinding radiance, forming orb.

Second-floor gateway manifested.

"Hold."

As immersion neared, female bowman halted all.

"Isn't that the barbarian's prior garb?"

"What?"

Gaze aligned with her indication, collective muteness struck.

Portal glow cast half-shadows revealing gore-smeared snare and tattered sandal amid debris.

" Matches precisely."

The mage displayed curiosity, conjuring luminous orb to sweep the corridor.

!

Trap-originating stains snaked through winding path.

Orb's sweep failed to trace terminus remotely.

Silence prevailed momentarily.

" Hey, Drusz. Distance from here to our prior meeting?"

" Absent detours, approximately 15 km."

"Heh heh heh, monstrous physique. Solo crawl through such expanse in pitch."

The mage chuckled in astonishment.

Yet adjacent blade-wielder couldn't join.

" Insanity."

Mental fortitude, not physical, struck him. He pondered.

Hours of propulsion in uncertainty? Doubtful aid awaited?'

Unknown.

Certainty: Upon discovery, the barbarian persisted in locomotion, limbs propelling instinctively.

And subsequently?

Inarticulate, he extended palm.

A diminutive mana stone clutched therein.

Initially overlooked, now import dawned.

This for your aid, please.'

Naught else to proffer.

Thus, traversing afar, the mana stone remained gripped firmly. For instant presentation upon chance encounter.

Resolution formed promptly.

" Retract prior words."

Solely fortunate?

Doomed fledgling?

Impossible.

Experience affirmed.

"Drusz, that barbarian's moniker?"

Such zealot evades easy demise.

Regardless of adversity or despair.

For demise signals no reprieve from strife.