Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: A Four-Star Warrior Appears
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The [Berserker] was a trait possessed by heroes that appeared very rarely in the game [Overlord], with a statistical probability of 0.1%.
What was unique was that it only appeared when playing as Carlyle's younger brother, Frey van Sigmund, making it no exaggeration to call it a unique hero of the Decaron faction.
The problem was that it was impossible to predict when, where, or how a hero with the [Berserker] trait would appear, so the standard approach was to not expect it at all.
Moreover, even if a hero with the [Berserker] trait did appear, they had different grades, so it was uncertain whether they would be useful until the late game.
And yet…
‘If a specific action can trigger the Berserker state…’
According to Carlyle's game knowledge, a [Berserker] would typically awaken through excitement during battle.
For example, by getting injured or becoming exhilarated from killing too many enemies.
But to awaken by being terrified and pissing one's pants…
‘At least S-grade or higher.’
Carlyle's eyes gleamed.
If the specific condition was not just unusual but utterly absurd, it was no exaggeration to say that the potential it held was immense.
The probability of a normal [Berserker] appearing was about 0.1%, so the probability of an S-grade or higher appearing was…
‘Would it even be 0.01%?’
He couldn't be certain.
He could only speculate.
Even Carlyle had never seen an S-grade or higher [Berserker] while playing as Frey van Sigmund…
“Kill them all… all…”
Having sliced through the barbarian warriors who had surrounded him in the blink of an eye, Russell's eyes darted about, searching for his next prey.
“Can he tell friend from foe…?”
“He can, so you don't need to worry.”
Begman said, as if to reassure him.
‘Definitely S-grade or higher.’
Carlyle was certain after hearing Begman's answer.
For a [Berserker], the most important virtue was distinguishing between friend and foe.
Low-grade [Berserkers] couldn't tell friend from foe, and in severe cases, it was common for them not to even recognize their own parents or siblings.
Because of this, a [Berserker] could easily become a nuisance, and it wasn't uncommon for players to execute them.
They would often go on a rampage on the battlefield, attacking the player or killing allies—a classic troll move that no player would tolerate.
‘I'll know in due time.’
Carlyle looked away from Russell and refocused on the battle.
Since he could distinguish friend from foe, there was nothing to worry about, just as Begman had said.
He just had to let him run wild.
‘Focus.’
Carlyle steadied his stance.
“That's it! Yes! That's the way, rookie! Even if you glance away, you don't lose your focus!”
Begman praised Carlyle.
This meant that Begman was an excellent leader as the reconnaissance captain.
Amidst this chaotic situation, he wasn't taking his eyes off the rookie who was experiencing his first real battle.
A pleasant smile touched Carlyle's lips.
Though he himself was completely unaware of it.
* * *
Amidst the melee.
The Decaron forces were fighting well.
Thanks to [Mud Swamp] and Helen's command, the entrance was secure, and the barbarian warriors who crossed the palisade were unable to exert much force and were picked off one by one thanks to the reconnaissance team's efforts.
Meanwhile, Carlyle was gradually beginning to stand out.
*Swoosh!*
“Argh!”
Every time the Soul Soother Sword's [Genesis] was unleashed, someone was cleaved in two and fell.
*Thrust!*
When [Devoted Strike] was used, someone's heart, neck, or head was pierced.
‘It's as easy as breathing.’
Carlyle thought as he cut and stabbed the enemies.
It was so effortless that it almost felt like he was swinging his sword thoughtlessly, carelessly, and the enemies were walking right into it.
Of course, his thoughts didn't go any further than that.
Carlyle pushed aside any thoughts about whether it was right to kill people so easily, or any guilt about killing, even if they were enemies.
As Begman had said, those were things to think about after the battle was over.
‘Let's push a little further.’
Carlyle decided to be a bit bolder.
“Rook…”
Begman stopped himself from trying to hold Carlyle back.
“I don't know who should be worried about whom. A mere Sergeant like me.”
It wasn't for nothing that the saying existed.
People even said they were born with swords in their hands.
Begman thought that the thick swordsman's blood in their lineage seemed to be no exception, even for an unparalleled scoundrel.
‘Slash, thrust, and thrust again.’
*Swoosh!*
*Stab, stab!*
“Keuk!”
“Argh!”
“Va-Valhal… keuk!”
In the blink of an eye, three barbarian warriors fell.
‘Push forward more.’
One step, two steps.
Carlyle continued to advance, cutting down every barbarian warrior he saw who had crossed the palisade.
Carlyle's advance had a significant tactical effect.
As Carlyle pushed forward, the combat engineers filled in the space around him, creating a sort of area-control effect.
‘Keep pushing so they won't even dare to cross the palisade…’
Just then.
“Kyaaak!”
A scream from somewhere pierced Carlyle's ears.
He turned his head to see Gwen on the ground, and a barbarian warrior was just about to bring a giant hammer down on her.
‘Danger!’
Carlyle instinctively kicked off the ground.
“Continent wench! I'll smash your head in!”
The barbarian warrior swung the hammer down at Gwen with all his might.
‘…It's over.’
*Flinch!*
Gwen squeezed her eyes shut.
As a combat engineer, a non-combat role to begin with, and with not an ounce of athletic ability, she had no way of escaping this crisis…
*CRASH!*
The hammer fell.
“Th-this is.”
Gwen was startled to see the hammer that should have crushed her skull had instead hit the bare ground.
It wasn't a person holding the hammer.
To be precise, no one was holding the hammer.
Only a pair of severed human arms were gripping the hammer's handle.
“My, my arms… my aaaaaarms!”
The barbarian warrior shrieked, looking down at his severed forearms in disbelief.
*Thrust!*
The blade of an unremarkable sword pierced the back of the barbarian's head and emerged from his mouth.
“Brother…?”
Gwen seemed more surprised by Carlyle's appearance than by the barbarian's gruesome death.
“Who's your brother?”
Carlyle retorted in a cold voice, his brow furrowed.
“Then why are you talking to me so casually?”
“Ah?”
Carlyle's expression showed he'd made a slip.
It seemed that in the heat of the moment, he'd forgotten about rank and spoken informally without thinking.
“Get up, quickly. Private Gwen.”
“Y-yes.”
“I said, get up.”
“Y-you have to give me your hand…”
“Haaah.”
Carlyle let out a deep sigh.
‘This person is so much trouble.’
Thinking this, Carlyle extended his left hand—the one not holding Grimungandr—toward Gwen.
It wasn't that she was exaggerating; it seemed she had seriously twisted her ankle, so he had no choice but to help.
“Pick up your spear first.”
“Yes, Brother.”
Gwen picked up the spear that had fallen on the ground.
“Why did you even enlist if you can't fight?”
“Hee…”
Instead of answering, Gwen gave an awkward smile.
“This way.”
“Ah, yes.”
Carlyle also chose to lead Gwen to where the combat engineers were gathered instead of continuing the conversation.
There was no time for idle chat in the middle of a raging battle.
‘They're ridiculously persistent. It seems about time for them to retreat.’
Carlyle clicked his tongue, seeing that the enemies weren't letting up their assault.
He didn't know who the enemy commander was, but despite having already lost more than half of their deployed forces, they seemed to have no intention of retreating.
Of course, perhaps due to their cultural traits, the barbarians were a race that rarely retreated.
Indeed, it was common for them to fight to the last man, even when defeat was imminent, resulting in the annihilation of their entire unit…
‘Are they really planning to keep fighting?’
Just as Carlyle was thinking this.
*Whoosh!*
Something huge and heavy fell from high up in the sky and crashed down on a member of the reconnaissance team.
*BOOM!*
A shockwave swept through the area.
*Rumble!*
The impact was so powerful that the ground shook as if a small earthquake had occurred, accompanied by a sound like thunder.
‘That's…’
Carlyle's expression hardened as he realized what had just happened.
Thunder Leap.
A skill that could be used by 4-star barbarian warriors—that is, those with four or more tattoos.
* * *
The barbarians were a race far behind the continentals in not only civilization but also technology.
However, they were able to compete on equal footing with the continentals through their innate physical abilities, their population numbers boosted by high fertility, and their own unique methods of shamanism.
In particular, the [Spirit Possession Imprint] bestowed by barbarian shamans through tattoos was immensely powerful.
The ink used to create the tattoos containing this [Spirit Possession Imprint] was made by processing magic stones.
It wasn't for nothing that the barbarians and the continentals had been waging war over supremacy in Kuberin for hundreds of years.
As the thick dust slowly began to settle.
*Ssk.*
The barbarian warrior who had used [Thunder Leap] slowly rose to his feet.
[Thunder Leap] was a mobility skill that allowed a barbarian warrior to jump a minimum of 10 meters and as far as 50 meters, and it was also an attack skill that dealt immense damage to the landing point with a clap of thunder.
And being able to use [Thunder Leap] meant…
‘He's either a 4-star or a 3-star close to becoming one.’
Carlyle watched the barbarian warrior, recalling the knowledge he possessed.
“De-Deriiiiick!”
Begman cried out the name of the reconnaissance team member who had been crushed by the [Thunder Leap].
Derick's corpse was… beyond gruesome.
Crushed by a 100-kilogram giant who had flown from a height of nearly 15 meters at an incredible speed, it would have been a luxury to hope for the body to be intact.
“You son of a bitch!”
Enraged, Begman charged at the barbarian warrior who had killed Derick.
And that was just the beginning.
“I'll… kill you… I'll kill youuuuuu!!!”
Russell let out a monstrous roar and dashed toward the barbarian warrior who had killed Derick.
“I'll turn your corpse into the same thing!”
Wilson was the same.
*Thwip, thwip!*
Marder, watching the situation from the watchtower, must have been equally enraged, as he fired arrows in rapid succession.
“The price for killing a member of the reconnaissance team will not be light.”
Kudo, arriving late, also approached the barbarian warrior who had killed Derick.
The reconnaissance team was a group of elite soldiers, a small, select force with a strong sense of pride.
As such, their bonds were tight, and their camaraderie was inevitably stronger than that of regular soldiers.
Having killed one of their own, it was only natural that the barbarian warrior who used [Thunder Leap] would earn their enmity.
However, the barbarian warrior who killed Derick simply grinned at the enraged team members, baring his healthy teeth.
“You pathetic continent worms… Do you minnows really think you can face me!”
The barbarian warrior who had used [Thunder Leap] roared.
‘Could it be… Bjornsen?’
Carlyle frowned, thinking he might know who he was.
If that barbarian warrior was ‘that’ Bjornsen…
‘What are you doing here?’
Carlyle's expression turned peculiar.