That Shouldn't Have Happened (4)

Just as the phrase ‘a dungeon perfect for losing all sense of time’ began to take over my mind, I finished surveying every section that had already been revealed.

I had advanced the quest this far. I couldn’t tell the overall progress, but seeing that the relics I’d found were nearing half the total, it shouldn’t take much longer.

I’d even picked up a new sub-mission.

“Blocked, is it.”

Scratch.

I pulled out the map and marked off the path I’d just finished sweeping. Nearly the entire map had been filled in by now—only a single corridor remained.

Odds were high that the boss monster and the rest of the relics were clustered there, or that the way would open into additional map sections.

“Tch.”

I capped the pen I’d been holding in my mouth and folded the map carefully.

Wait for the ink to dry? Pointless. The map was already soaked in goblin blood, edges frayed and soft. The blood hadn’t even sprayed on it directly—just transferred from my hands every time I pulled it out. Still, as long as I could read it, that was enough. I’d found almost everything anyway.

I tucked the folded map into my coat and searched the dead-end thoroughly. Experience had taught me that items or objects worth recovering liked to hide in places exactly like this.

Sure enough, I found a laborer’s corpse and another adventurer’s remains. I pressed the backs of my blood-soaked hands hard against my gritty, aching eyes.

“Finding these things is a goddamn pain….”

How much easier would it have been if recoverable objects got a nice outline or a sparkle effect? If I hadn’t heard bone crunch under my boot heel in the very first alley and looked down, I would still be wandering around muttering where are all the bodies?

And if I hadn’t tested whether items still went into the inventory even without a nameplate popping up, I would have walked out empty-handed.

Still grumbling under my breath, I groped over the corpses. Taking the bodies themselves was impossible—weight and bulk made that a non-starter. Pendants, rings, adventurer badges, whatever scraps could prove identity—that was the best I could manage.

This one didn’t even get to keep any relics of his own…

Come to think of it, right after the demon took root in this class, he went berserk and obliterated not only his house but his family’s corpses as well. With the whole house gone, there would have been nothing left to collect.

That was original setting, of course; no guarantee the remake kept it. But judging by the opening cinematic, they probably left that part intact.

A little pitiful.

Kyarruruk!

“Hah….”

Well, it was thanks to that backstory that I could over-immerse myself in the roleplay this thoroughly!

I lifted the pendant carefully. A character who never got the chance to keep even his own family’s keepsakes wouldn’t treat someone else’s carelessly—and morally, it felt right.

As long as the concept itself didn’t demand I abandon all humanity, I wanted to keep as much of it as possible. Simply because it was the right thing to do.

“Come, you vermin….”

More than that, though—wasn’t there a cooler line than this somewhere?

The moment I finished collecting the pendant, more goblins appeared behind me. I raised my sword.

“I shall send you back to the homeland from which you crawled…!”

Ha. Months spent polishing these lines, and they still felt lacking. There had to be something more cringeworthy and cooler out there!

Slash!

The goblins were carved apart once more by the blade. Strange root-like growths had sprouted through the passage where the demons had nested, glistening wetly under the flickering crimson lamps.

Kiiik-kk!

The cries of rats and goblins echoed through the tunnels like a round-robin chorus. Hardly a pleasant sound; my ears ached.

But after enduring the stench, was I going to lose to mere noise?

Besides, this was one place I didn’t have to hold back my irritation. Hunting down the sources of the noise was the mission itself! I could vent without breaking character.

“Not even a trace shall remain!”

Die, you bastards! Externally, as the targets of my hatred; internally, for the sake of my ears! Hahaha.

Crunch!

I smashed every goblin skull that appeared and pressed forward. When I reached the fork where the path I’d already taken met the single unexplored corridor, I shook the blood from my armor and stepped forward without hesitation. A vast chamber opened ahead.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Kiiiik!!

The enormous space was draped in black, slimy strands. Dozens of goblins milled inside, but only one stood out.

Thud, thud!

The goblin horde parted like the Red Sea, and a staff-wielding goblin strode out.

Instead of olive skin it was blood-red, and nearly twice the size of a normal goblin. Usually even these appeared as trash mobs, but early on it was perfectly natural for one to serve as the boss of a whole zone.

“Mmph-mmph!”

Yet among the chittering cries, something odd stood out.

I rolled my eyes slightly. Behind the goblins, a child hung tightly bound.

“So you are the last of them….”

Rather than pity, a strange nostalgia rose. In the original, you could choose to rescue the captured child or abandon them.

My choice? Naturally, rescue.

Back when I first played, I’d been so deep into the demon-hunting concept that I left the kid and never looked back. This time I’d dialed the concept down a notch.

And unlike those days, now that I was older I had become fiercely protective of minors. Even if it was only an NPC, that didn’t change. Children deserved to be happy. Period.

“Mmph-mmph!”

Still, rescuing was rescuing, and immersion was immersion. The kid looked about the same age as the little brother from the opening cinematic—perfect for getting into character.

“Vile demons.”

The space was wide enough that a true two-hander would work better than the longsword.

I sheathed the longsword and reached behind my back. Following the sensation etched into my body, my fingers closed around something hard.

Shiiing.

A sword nearly 1.6 meters long slid free with a smooth rasp.

“Count it an honor.”

Kiiiik!

Whatever the hopgoblin decided my drawing of the blade meant, it raised its staff. A few goblins that had been hanging back near the walls skittered out and began to edge toward me. Adds-spawning boss, then.

“Your deaths stand here upon this ground.”

But underestimating a gamer who had cleared dozens of titles would be a mistake.

“Victory to my blade, glory to the heavens…!”

I gripped the sword in both hands and raised it straight toward the sky. A knight’s posture.

After all, people around this class started calling him the “Demon Knight” first. Even if my nickname had been something else, certain NPCs would still address him that way.

Would such a moniker stick for no reason? Impossible—at least not to someone who valued narrative and consistency the way I did.

So I had concluded that there must be at least a few knightly mannerisms visible enough for others to grant him that epithet. This was the result.

Of course, I had no intention of overdoing the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chivalry.

Honestly, if I was going to cling to a knight’s code even while slaughtering demons, I might as well have stayed a knight. Someone who abandoned the path of knighthood specifically to hunt demons would never uphold every tenet of chivalry.

So knightly habits only this far. In battle, I would be a demon.

I charged and swung.

Slash!

The true two-hander gripped in both fists carved through the air in every direction.

Its sheer size made it awkward at first, but the memory of using similar weapons in other games plus the game’s own correction made it manageable enough.

Kiiik!

I blocked a goblin that tried to grab both the hilt and the blade, then slid the hand that had been on the blade itself lightly downward until my fingers passed the parrying hooks and settled on the ricasso—the unsharpened section just above the crossguard. Gripping it firmly, I swung: left hand on the hilt moving one way, right hand on the ricasso the other.

Slash!

I bisected the goblin mid-air, then quickly re-gripped. In one smooth motion the hand that had been on the hilt reversed its hold and drove the two-hander straight into the floor.

Thud!

The head of a goblin that had been clawing at my leg was skewered through.

I stomped the body, wrenched the blade free, and swung again. The fourth goblin died. Every add the boss had summoned was gone.

Time to pour on damage before the next wave.

While goblins poured out of both side tunnels, I advanced. The boss, who had been about to attack alongside its adds, flinched and tried to sidestep.

But a 1.6-meter two-hander had reach.

I swung before the goblins could interpose themselves. The blade, swung with zero regard for defense, sheared through the staff the hopgoblin had raised and the body behind it.

Whoa—weapon destruction is a thing in this game? Better not bring wooden weapons.

Adds were spilling out now, so I stepped back. The recovered sword became a shield, holding the goblin bodies at bay.

Then a goblin that had latched onto my back sank its claws into my exposed nape. Thanks to the lowered pain settings, it only stung.

“Pathetic….”

My HP had dropped a noticeable chunk, so I seized the thing and flung it. In that brief window another had already clamped onto my thigh.

One-hit kills, sure, but they were so small and so many that they were pure annoyance.

“Die quietly, you maggots!”

If I dealt with the one on my thigh first, the ones charging from both sides would latch onto my shoulders. So with a scowl I whirled the sword like a madman.

The two leaping goblins were sheared cleanly in half.

Only then did I snatch the little demon digging claws into my thigh and hurl it to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the ground.

Crunch!

My boot crushed its skull flat. Worth every point I’d sunk into close-quarters techniques.

Kiiik-kk!

Even after all that, the goblin adds just kept coming. Probably because the boss kept issuing orders.

Fine—priority kill on the boss, then.

I checked my remaining HP and kicked off the ground. Gripping ricasso and hilt tight, I spun the blade in wide arcs.

The long blade swept the air without a fixed target, keeping the charging goblins at bay.

After about four swings I caught up to the boss, who had been retreating while surrounded by its minions. Goblins had torn my clothes and scored my skin along the way, but nothing serious.

Thud!

Right before striking the boss I drove the blade down into a charging goblin. Two of them— the one in front and the one behind—were skewered together, pinning the blade almost solidly in place.

Exactly what I wanted. I released both the hilt and the ricasso, and with my left hand drew the longsword at my hip.

Abandoning a weapon didn’t worry me. Earlier I’d accidentally dropped one, and it had simply stayed where it fell.

The smooth-drawn blade cut through one goblin the instant it cleared the scabbard, then sought the target beyond.

Slash!

A spray of blood painted my cheek, my throat, the vest and shirt beneath my coat. That was the price for letting a few goblins sink their claws into me—the blood of the boss hopgoblin.

Kiiik!

Kkiik-kii!!

Whether as payment for the blade through its skull or simply because the weapon had won, the boss hopgoblin died on the spot.

The goblins even grew agitated at the death of their superior.

“Feeble things.”

I yanked my sword free of the boss hopgoblin and kicked and carved through the terrified survivors.

Along the way I recovered the true two-hander. In a wide space against a horde, it outperformed the longsword.

“Crawl back to Hell.”

Once the boss was dead, its minions followed quickly.

In high spirits I let a sinister voice drip from my mouth as I slaughtered them one by one. I let none of the fleeing ones escape either.

If even one got away and I failed the quest completion, life would get miserable.

“Utterly dull.”

After the last of them died, I flicked the blood from my blade and muttered.

Truthfully, nothing about the fight had felt dull, but that was how bluster worked—you started by inventing or exaggerating.

“To think they left such trash unattended all this time….”

Still, pure bluster was boring, so I layered in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a touch of the character’s personality.

Someone who put on a strong front to hide weakness yet was soft-hearted at the core—I made the voice a little bitter, laced with quiet regret.

“Tch….”

And finished with a tongue click of regret. Perfect! This year’s Award for Over-Immersion was mine!

“Ugh….”

Around then a groan drifted from one side of the chamber.

Only then did I remember there was someone to rescue. I hadn’t exactly forgotten—just shoved it so far to the back burner it had almost fallen off.

“You’re lucky, kid.”

I approached the wall where the child hung with a deliberately chilly expression. The child was pinned there by strands that might have been plant roots.

Crunch.

I tore them all away by hand. My grip strength was stronger than expected, so they came free cleanly without any awkward struggling.

“Th-thank you….”

The child I’d freed looked a little older than the brother from the opening cinematic. Still small enough that their head only reached my chest, though.

The dead brother would have been even smaller.

“…No need to thank me.”

Remembering that only made me sink deeper into the role. A child even smaller than this one had died, that child had been my brother, and the thing that killed him was sealed in my arm?

A miracle I hadn’t gone completely mad. If it had been me, I would have drawn my sword and sworn to slaughter every last demon too.

“Protecting the weak is….”

Anyway, right now I was delivering lines. Looking at a child who reminded me of the dead brother, in the position of having saved them this time unlike before.

What would the feelings be in that situation?

“…as a knight, simply natural.”

I let the end of my voice tremble just a little as I raised a hand to stroke the child’s head.

But I was closer to right-handed ambidexterity, so the right hand rose first on pure instinct.

Unacceptable. The concept I’d locked onto treated this right arm with absolute revulsion—enough to switch even my dominant hand. There was no way I would touch another person, much less a child, with that hand.

“A knight… you’re a knight?”

A brief internal debate.

Should I stay prickly with the kid too, or go gentle only with children?

The latter felt right, didn’t it? The thorns I put up to avoid looking weak had already ruined any manners with adults. In the past this character had aspired to knighthood specifically to protect the weak—the elderly and children.

So I wouldn’t treat a child the same way. Pushing them away was another matter entirely.

“Yes.”

I reached a decision quickly.

Keep the voice frosted over, but soften the phrasing a little. When the voice itself was cold, even normal wording made most people decide you were a total bastard.

Of course, character interpretation wasn’t the only reason I chose this route. The NPCs here were simply too well-made; I didn’t want to act like an asshole toward a kid, adult or not. That reason weighed heavier.

Kids… kids absolutely had to be protected and happy….

“…Why were you captured here?”

“Mommy… Mommy went to clean the sewers and never came back… so I came looking for her. I’m sorry….”

Oh, baby. You came looking for your mom and got caught instead. Uncle’s crying, he really is.

“…That isn’t something you should have done, kid. You should have trusted the adults and waited.”

“I’m sorry….”

“Don’t apologize to me. I’m not the one who needs to hear it.”

Even knowing it was a game, moments like this left a bitter taste. Parents who often died in a dangerous world, and the children left behind.

Hmm. Once the game was over, maybe I should give Mom and Dad a call for once.

It even made me feel like doing some long-overdue filial piety. One of the positive side effects of gaming.