The Stranger
Eden wasn't the type to dream, especially not when encountering new people. He wasn't talking about those hopeful dreams folks wax poetic about when discussing bright futures. It was just that after farming NPCs—he'd repeated that to himself dozens of times—in a battlefield reeking of corpses, he'd ended up that way.
[...Grulk.]
And so, Eden casually ignored the corpse lunging at him with a broken neck. He shut his mouth, plugged his ears, and covered his eyes. He just thought about other things. Usually, that meant home. Thoughts of his parents, regret over the cola left undrunk in the fridge. Silly notions like how he'd have no regrets if he could just eat one more head of cabbage kimchi. Then chicken, pizza, burgers, and so on.... Focusing on that homesickness, before he knew it—
"A-attack!!"
...he'd wake from that grueling slumber like this.
The area outside the inn was in utter chaos. Something crashed to the ground, people scrambled in panic, and intermittent screams pierced the air. Eden lifted his head from where he was buried in the bed. No glass windows here like in the city, so faint sunset light filtered through the wooden shutters. It was nearing dusk.
...The sun hasn't even set yet, so what's the big rush?
With a sigh, he finally got up. He grabbed the two axes leaning against the wall and hooked them to his belt, then perked up his ears at the sound of footsteps pounding down the hallway.
Thud!!
He hadn't locked the door, so the wooden panel burst open with a rough bang.
"...H-hey!"
The voice cut off upon spotting Eden standing there. It was the innkeeper from the counter earlier. He must've come running in a frenzy—sweat poured down his forehead in rivulets. Calming his startled expression, the innkeeper swallowed hard.
"...You're a mercenary, right? Could you maybe help us out? Bandits have hit the village!"
"What about the guards?"
Eden shot back, recalling the building he'd seen in the village.
"W-well, that's the thing...."
They were probably just a militia at best, but given the village's size, bandits wouldn't have dared attack so easily.
"...The watchpost is on fire."
"......"
Hm. From the bandits' perspective, that made sense as step one.
"Looks like a few of 'em snuck in disguised as travelers.... Even with all the traffic through our village, I kept saying we needed stricter watches...!"
The innkeeper wailed in protest. But considering this was the only inn where those 'travelers' could've stayed, it didn't sound all that pitiful.
Anyway. As Eden stayed silent, the innkeeper clutched his leather apron and pleaded.
"I-I took a quick peek. Doesn't seem like there are that many of 'em. And the remaining guards are fighting back!"
His eyes flicked to the axes at Eden's waist.
"...So if you just help out, we could end this quick! Please, I beg you!"
Made sense for a game character—they seemed awfully practiced at begging.
"A-are you even listening...? Ah, right—reward! If you help, I'll talk to the villagers and—"
"We'll talk later."
This was no time to waste. Eden shoved the innkeeper's shoulder aside and headed down the stairs.
"...Huh? He's coming down."
A few men who looked like bandits had already reached the first floor.
"No, I told you we should've taken that guy out first. Look at the size of him. Didn't even bring a spear."
From their chatter, these were the ones who'd disguised themselves as travelers. The bandits gossiped and snickered among themselves, ignoring Eden's descent entirely.
"You idiot. What about the guards?"
"......Yeah. Right after?"
"Ugh. Never mind."
They acted like they were out for a stroll, but fresh blood dripped from their weapons—daggers, longswords, axes. Varied arsenal. A closer look showed thick gambesons under their robes. That explained the confidence. Not their first raid, no doubt.
One glanced at Eden and shouted.
"Hey! Wanna live? Drop those axes first. And your coin pouch."
"Keh. Think that bulk scares him? Make him drop his dick too."
"Ah, the family jewels? Yeah, dick too. Hahaha!!"
They burst into laughter at the crude joke. But it didn't last.
An axe hurled from Eden's hand cleaved the nearest bandit's head and upper torso in two, flying straight out the door.
"......Huh?"
The unreal sight silenced their laughs. Eyes bulging, faces blood-splattered, they froze.
"W-what the...?"
Eden gripped his remaining axe. Creak—the metal haft groaned. A normal person might need two hands for it, but to a 7-foot—no, over 2-meter Northern barbarian, it was a hand axe.
Using imperial units? Primitive medieval bastards.
By the time he'd taken a single breath, the first floor held only Eden.
He stepped outside. Burning smells, fleeing villagers chased by bandits—pure pandemonium.
"Heh heh heh, come here!"
One yanked a woman's skirt, tugging at her waistband.
"Oho, silver ring. Lucky day."
Another sliced off a villager's finger, grinning.
...No need to drag this out.
Eden strode toward them, step by step. One axe swing, two, three. With each, the chaos quieted.
"What the hell. That massive two-hander. Who threw... huh?"
He'd picked up the thrown axe on the way.
"R-run!!"
"...Fuck. Why's a barbarian...?"
"P-please, just once! Mercy!!"
Seventeen in total. A fair number, but nothing special. Killing one might snap you out of a dream, but dozens dulled the reality. Hell, there was even a half-assed sense of accomplishment for saving the villagers.
If an S-rank village maiden offers marriage, how do you say no?
Turning with that inappropriately flippant thought, he was greeted—as expected—by terrified faces.
...Yeah. Of course.
No one would cheer seeing a savage-looking brute butcher bandits in seconds.
"Uh, um.... That is...."
Someone mustered courage to speak, but
"......"
"......"
Seeing Eden drenched head to toe in blood shut them up. He looked a bit scary, apparently.
Truth be told, a few days ago he wouldn't have gone so berserk. Fame brought nothing good. Ever. He'd learned that and kept a low profile even on battlefields.
But maybe because he couldn't return to his world... he'd gone overboard.
Whatever. It was done. Eden turned quietly back to the inn.
Then a quavering voice stopped him.
"...Thank you so much, young man."
A typical village granny. Tears streaming, she bowed repeatedly in gratitude.
"No problem."
Young man. Hadn't heard that in years. Eden started to turn away, but she reached out a gnarled hand to stop him. Gasps rose nearby, but she ignored them and pulled something out.
"May our god have seen your good deed...."
A wooden carving, weathered and cracked, its original shape hard to discern.
...Religious trinket? To a barbarian?
This world had a monotheistic 'Sun' faith, but others existed—especially among barbarians.
But Eden was just wearing the skin. No real heretic.
He took the offered statue, eager to escape. The old woman thanked him again.
"...Thank you, truly."
Eden hurried to the inn without replying. He fetched well water to rinse off the blood, then returned to his room.
...A god, huh.
Personally, the word sparked curses. If the bastard existed, he'd demand answers. Why drag him here? What pissed it off about his ordinary life to drop him in a game? He'd cursed it hundreds, thousands of times a day. Why no apology yet?
"...God my ass. Just a fucking prick."
A miserable, utter fucking prick.... His grip tightened unconsciously, shattering the wooden statue.
Thud. A piece hit the floor.
Eden stared and chuckled emptily.
Seriously considering it: either a deeply evil being, or a secret masochistic perv who got off on the abuse. Had to be—why else avoid him?
Show up for real and I'll kill you....
No, worse. So many questions for that trash.
But years into this game world now, as always, no answer came.
"......"
Just sleep. Eden lay back down. Blood not fully cleaned, the familiar stench clung to him. Better than stale bachelor funk, at least.
...Fuck.
He closed his eyes slowly. Something damp trailed down his cheek, but as always, he ignored it.
* * *
And when he woke.
"?"
A stranger lay in Eden's bed.