A Lost Barbarian in the Mountains
The northern barbarian Eden was lost. Getting stranded in the mountains could be a life-threatening accident. Especially when this world was teeming with monsters, demons, madmen with swords, deranged wizards, dwarves who hated fairies, or fairies who hated dwarves. But Eden wasn't fazed in the slightest. Truth be told, this wasn't the first time he'd gotten lost in this world. Plains, mountains, swamps, forests—even in cities, Eden had wandered off course multiple times. To make a short excuse, it was unavoidable. What took only 30 minutes to cross in the game turned into three full days here. And there was no minimap or world map to show his location in the area. If he had a decent quality map, maybe, but a regular barbarian like Eden wouldn't have a military-grade one. In short, Eden was like a kid separated from their parents at an amusement park in this world. A pro at getting lost, one might say.
'Not something to brag about.' The silver lining was that his enhanced physical abilities from leveling up meant he wouldn't starve to death in these mountains. Crackle, crackle. Thanks to the moisture-laden branches he'd tossed in, the campfire spat out more noise than usual. The massive sun was already high in the sky, and with Eden's night vision, he had no need for a fire to ward off the dark.
"Hmm... time to eat, I guess." Sizzling oil dripped from the flames. Eden pulled out one of the 'boar hind legs' he'd thrown into the fire. He'd roughly skinned it, but it wasn't exactly appetizing. "......" Overcooked past well-done into charred toughness. But it was necessary to minimize the gamey smell. ...One bite, and his face twisted. The ashy char hit his nose first, the gaminess clawed at his throat and surged into his brain. The texture? Like gnawing on half-burnt wood chunks rolling around his mouth. 'Beyond the worst...' Somewhere around there in flavor. But to survive, he had to eat. He wasn't knowledgeable about mushrooms or plants, and he hadn't packed travel rations like jerky. Still, he managed to fill his stomach somewhat. Stamina recovered, but his mental energy felt drained.
"Alright, time to get moving again." Eden smothered the fire with a pile of dirt. 'A city or village has to turn up eventually.' Should've asked for directions before leaving camp. For the record, it was the morning of the third day since he'd gotten lost.
002. The northern barbarian boy Damian let out a massive yawn. "Haaaaam... cough." A stray fly had slipped into his mouth, making him hack alone for a bit. But he quickly composed himself, scanning the view from the hilltop as if nothing happened. The village below was in full sight. Forests, valleys, low hills. Gray sheep grazed on one side, watched by a short-legged herding dog pacing nearby. The usual peaceful scene. But Damian, now 13, felt bored by the familiar picture.
"Sigh, nothing fun to do?" Technically, that wasn't true. There were plenty of odd jobs for a village boy, mostly minor errands. But Damian craved something different. The vague thirst of puberty, the fate of a boy in a rural village. "…Huh?" Then, something caught his eye. Huge build, robe covering shoulders and body, glint of metal at the waist. More mercenary than traveler. "A mercenary..." Damian recalled the few travelers at the village inn. Not causing trouble, but shady-looking. But they had no weapons, unlike this one. 'Not one of their buddies... probably.' He shook his head quickly. Troublemakers like that came and went every so often anyway. 'No need for me to worry.' Damian tried to ignore the mercenary heading toward the village. If the guy hadn't strode straight at him.
"…Huh?" Damian didn't bolt because of 13-year-old pride, and the mercenary's growing size sparked curiosity. 'About six feet... 180cm. No, maybe seven feet... that's giant territory, not human.' As Damian sensed, the boy and mercenary were like dwarf and giant. "U-um, excuse me?" (A bit scared) Damian stared blankly up at the mercenary who'd stopped before him. The man's shadow engulfed the boy completely.
"Hm." Clearing his throat in a low voice, the mercenary fished something from his pouch. Ting. Silver flashed in the sunlight, arcing through the air to land on Damian's head. "S-silver coin?" Not copper—actual silver. Big money for a kid's allowance. Damian pocketed it unconsciously, eyeing the mercenary awkwardly. 'Up close, his face looks even scarier.' Hard to describe, but he felt like no human Damian had ever seen. Maybe like the fairies or dwarves outside the village. And the mercenary—the lost barbarian—casually asked Damian, "Inn."
"Y-yes…?"
"Pub too, if possible."
Blunt words, but Damian got it. He jumped up. "Got it! Leave it to me!"
"......"
"Hehe, welcome to High Mountain Village!" An unstoppable grin spread across Damian's face. 'One good silver coin'll last me a week if I save it...!' Jackpot. Damian stifled his rising laughter and volunteered to guide.
* * *
The kid talked more than expected. "Village is pretty big, right? I know you know. Adults say it's 'cause of all the nearby cities. Some kinda... hub? Trade center? Something like that."
"......"
"That's why merchants come a lot. Lately, fewer 'cause cities are fighting... If you need anything later, just tell me!"
"......"
"If you're heading elsewhere, you could hitch with a caravan! Y-you're a mercenary, right? I'm interested, so maybe later you could tell me sto—"
"Shut up and walk."
"Aw, but you paid big... N-no, I'll be quiet. Sorry…."
"......"
The kid finally hurried his steps. "H-here it is!"
"Hm."
As expected, the inn wasn't large. Not a city, and guests were mostly passing merchants. Plaster on the first floor, wood on the second—classic medieval build.
[Barley and Oats, Soup]
A crooked sign hung above the door—definitely not pro work. Rice porridge, not stone gruel. At least the letters suggested proper beer. 'Probably lukewarm ale at best.' No higher hopes anyway. Eden brushed past the gawking kid.
"Ugh." The boy eyed him expectantly for another coin, but as someone who might scrape by in this world forever, Eden's max charity was one silver. He'd have given copper if he had it. Only silvers now, though. Anyway, Eden patted the kid's head lightly and entered.
No doorman bell or service culture expected in a medieval inn. State was average. A few folks at tables, counter man stirring soup-like stuff in a jar. Clearly unhygienic, sticky everywhere. Sensing Eden, the man looked up. "Lunch ain't ready yet. Want food, pay coin fi—" He stopped, staring. Mistook him for another guest.
"Ahem, my bad. Guest?"
"......" Eden nodded, and the innkeeper—cook?—pulled a paper from under the counter. He started to hand it over, then pulled it back.
"Uh... you speak the language, right?"
"Obviously."
"Whoops, struck out twice."
Not really apologetic, but Eden didn't mind. Racial bias wasn't new. He was tired anyway. Eden held up three fingers. "Three days first."
"Lodging? Meals too?"
"Yeah."
The innkeeper counted on fingers. "Meals three times a day included, three silvers. Food runs out when it's gone, so watch that. We don't make extras for one or two, so don't be late."
"......" Pricier than expected, but no haggling. After days of raw boar and camping, options were gone. He'd pay ten if asked. After some thought. Eden handed over three silvers; the innkeeper nodded, smile slipping through.
"Generous! Oh, well behind is free use."
Shampoo? Body wash? Eden asked idly, "Room?" Bed was priority. Even worn, no fleas or bedbugs.
"One sec..." The innkeeper scribbled on the ledger: '3' and something.
No name given... Sure enough.
Northern Barbarian – 3
At least not 'fur pelt', 'rockhead', or 'mountain pig'? Good for the innkeeper. "Key here. Upstairs, third right. Lose it, five silvers compensation."
Eden took the key silently and headed up. Room barely fit his head to ceiling, but irrelevant now. Dropped gear and robe, crashed onto the bed. Dirty clothes and body? Medieval life dulled such concerns. His body sank deep into the bed. Like a swamp. No springs, expected. At least iron-heated early; no bugs felt.
"Whew, beat..." Max level meant no physical fatigue buildup, but mental wear was real. Plus, future worries.
"......" If stuck in this game world forever, what now? Hoard gold for a mansion? Pfft. Absurd thought drew a laugh—not funny, just ridiculous. Eden slowly closed his eyes. His preset trait [Skillful Sleeper] brought sleep swiftly.
For now. 'Nap first, think later.'
* * *
"R-raiders!!"
"Block the entrance!"
"Where the hell are the guards…!"
...Thick veins bulged on Eden's forehead. After just a few hours, it seemed.