The Cause of the Problem
Eden wasn't used to situations like this. He thought frankly, 'This is a real pickle.'
A max level barbarian's transcendent strength was a power meant for mighty foes—like demons or dragons. It wasn't suited for fresh-from-the-grave ancestors in a village cemetery. And to top it off, he'd just received unexpected kindness from the villagers. Sometimes goodwill weighed heavier than malice, leaving Eden in quite the bind.
He knew handling these corpses wouldn't be hard—after all, he'd unwittingly decapitated one of their loved ones earlier. But if it came to that, the villagers' gazes would sour fast, and he might end up branded the "Ancestor Slayer" or some nasty title like that.
'Yeah, no thanks.' Ancestor Slayer? Not when he was Dragon Killer, Troll Butcher, and Demon Hunter. He had to stop that at all costs.
So Eden needed to resolve this without violence. Even as he pondered deeply, the villagers' ancestors—the walking corpses—shambled slowly toward him.
"Grrraaah…."
Every one was badly decayed. Were their lungs and vocal cords even intact? Eden couldn't fathom how they made noise.
And it wasn't the only weird part. Just then, the corpse a villager had called "our father, gone three years now," lurched toward him.
"Grooo…."
Three years was plenty of time to turn to bone. Yet this one still had flesh—enough to recognize its living face.
'Does that even make sense?' A barbarian versed in normal science knew better.
Eden turned toward the forest. It was far off, but his barbarian senses pierced the gloom, spotting the lurker within.
"There you are."
"Huh?"
Neb, clueless about the situation, looked puzzled. Eden picked up a loose stone and hurled it into the dark.
An axe would've been better, but he'd left them at the inn.
"…Eek!!"
The stone, like a cannonball, shook the woods. Eden caught a tiny scream amid the rustle.
Missed. Pity.
He had the Throwing ExpertTrait, but without the Axe ProficiencyTrait's bonus, accuracy suffered. Close, but no cigar.
He didn't know who hid there, but they were tied to this corpse parade. Proof? The moment the stone flew, every nearby corpse collapsed.
Villagers rushed to the fallen bodies.
"Father!!"
"Aigoo, gran… Wait, wrong guy."
"…Someone grab a shovel."
"Hey, whose elder is this headless one? Man, it's gruesome."
Eden pretended not to hear that last bit and acted casually.
"Looks like a mage's handiwork."
"A mage? Why would one hit our village?"
"Who knows. Time to check."
Eden headed home for his axes. Reasons for desecrating ancestors, midnight raids, or decapitations—he'd ask the culprit himself.
"You mean the one who decapitated—"
"Shh."
Eden hushed Neb and strode into the forest.
The wicked mage threatening the village, Fade, found himself in dire straits.
'…Fuck!'
Cursing inwardly, he puzzled over the sudden reversal.
Simple, really. He'd seen the barbarian as pocket change and thanked his luck. Using his "walking corpses"—research byproducts—to ambush the guy seemed perfect.
Corpses were near-undying, too numerous for one man, and the night attack should've been undetectable.
Then it all went to hell.
The barbarian wasn't surprised, didn't struggle against the undead. Fade recalled a casual punch sending a head flying. He'd rubbed his eyes in shock.
Still manageable—plenty of corpses left, and he was deep in the woods, hidden.
Then he nearly became history's first mage killed by a rock.
'…Was that even a rock?'
Maybe the foe was a musclebound barbarian-mage. That boulder—rock—grazed his head and felled a tree.
Locking eyes with the monster, Fade bolted without looking back. Corpses down? Tough luck—he had no time to care.
Luckily, distance favored him. He raced to his workshop, a deep forest cave on the village outskirts, to plot a comeback.
"…Just bail?"
The thought tempted, but he shook it off. Ten years buried in this backwater for research? No fruitless retreat.
Grabbing notes? Too rushed. That barbarian was probably hunting him now.
He refused to bet his life on chance.
"…Right."
He remembered the "other corpse" in the cave corner. Heart removed for study, but hearts weren't needed for movement anyway.
"Y-yeah. Why run?"
Fade chuckled lowly.
* * *
Eden and Neb found a cave hidden between cliffs.
"Perfect spot for a cowardly spell-slinger to hole up like a rat."
"…Spell-slinger?"
"Fancy talk for arrogant mage."
Unlettered barbarians calling mages "spell-slingers" was cliché. Not that Eden was venting about isekai'd into medieval times without mage class. Probably.
Neb gave a bemused reply.
"To this goddess's eyes, you earning the 'barbarian' label makes sense."
"I am one right now."
"No, I mean…."
Neb shook her head, thumping her chest in frustration.
Eden scanned the cave. Barbarian senses probed for traps. In-game, barbarians rivaled rogues at spotting them.
He pictured the fleeing mage—desperate strides, weight forward. Worn soles suggested one pair of shoes for ages.
"This is it."
Poor mages hiding near villages for secret research? Classic random encounter. Quest starter or loot piñata—Eden always cleared it.
Moments like this hammered home the game's reality. Too vivid for mere code, stressing him out.
Eden sniffed the dusty air and ventured in.
"Ew, weird smell."
Neb pinched her nose. The cave widened inside—three times the entrance. Scattered papers, shovels, pickaxes everywhere.
"Confirms the spell-slinger's the corpse desecrator."
Eden muttered at a Sun God tombstone etched with holy symbols. Shoddy work, like most mages.
Presence deeper in. Flickering candle shadows danced on the breeze.
"Puhaha!! Boldly sniffing me out, eh? Or just dumb?"
The voice hid behind thick rock, too scared to show.
"Figures—barbarians are all alike. Heh. Blind to their graves."
"Says me."
"What the…."
Eden advanced toward the voice. Plan: axe on sight. Hiding? He'd drag 'em out faster.
Thud. Thud.
The barbarian's approach—no greeting—prompted a yelp.
"You idiot fuck! Think I came unprepared? I was gonna graciously explain!"
Eden wondered at the mage's bravado. Not the guy who'd fled a pebble.
Something charged him.
Thud!
Eden whipped out an axe, grimacing instinctively.
Blocking him: a man covered in bizarre tattoos. Ice-cold, no warmth. But the muscle power was real.
"……."
Eden held ground, wrist tingling from the rare heavy impact.
"…Barbarian?"
The man stared blankly, skin ashen, massive chest scar glaring.
Conclusion: corpse.
Hearing Eden, Fade cackled.
"Yup, your kin! Just as dumb. Hence, dead and mine to puppet."
Eden had a question. This barbarian corpse felt different from the villagers'. A true warrior—odd it'd fall to a hack mage.
"…Hmm."
He connected it: the missing Torgard barbarian. Villagers called him kind, but Eden saw otherwise.
In Ascending Hero, barbarians tattooed post-battle. Eden skipped custom looks as a fake, but this guy was inked head to toe.
"Kill! Bring me his heart, you arrogant prick!"
Fade shrieked. Pressure mounted. Cold, bloodless, yet muscles bulged. No match for Eden, though.
"Dead? No fixing that."
"……."
Not seeking reply. Just a walking corpse.
"…I'll tell the villagers about you, though."
Eden redirected the force, stepping back. Warrior or not in life, now a stiff puppet. Slow, predictable.
The axe swung horizontally—left to right. Warrior's head hit the floor.
Thud.
Done.
"…Huh?"
Fade peeked out, shocked. No change.
Eden beckoned.
"Come here."
"…Pardon?"
"Don't wanna get wrecked? Get over here."
Of course, showing up wouldn't save him.