Lies and Barbarian Honor

Barbarians. Fierce and hardy tribal savages. A primitive tribe with coming-of-age rites that deify warriors and worship Odin. They believe their weapons house souls, and that dying in battle allows them to fight eternally in Valhalla, the gods' battlefield, alongside their weapons.

Information on barbarians wasn't in the Layer Record Book's for the 100th floor. But it was in the comments left on his.

Probably noclipped in after the Layer Record Book cleared the 100th floor. Digging further, it seemed barbarians existed on other layers too. The for the 78th floor included methods for dealing with savages.

The Layer Record Book's deception tactic seemed pretty effective. Comments showed lots of people succeeding by fooling savages with Odin and Valhalla. But at some point, even that stopped working.

Some died posting comments.

Traces cut off after the last comment. Others too.

Still, I had no choice but to try it. No other options.

The key is detail. Crank up the resolution on the lie. Set the stage so he has to buy it.

Think... think.

The gallery was buzzing over my impending death.

I ignored them and refined the plan in my head.

As the plan solidified, the bastard returned. Dragging countless sacrifices to his sanctuary.

"No! You're alive again! Demon!"

I knew his name now. Barbarian Orkan. Combat power around 20,000 estimated. Gatekeeper of the 100th floor for the past century. A mad psycho lusting for Valhalla.

"This time, I'll kill you for good!"

Orkan reared back to hurl his massive battle axe. My head flying again ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was just a matter of time. I stared him down without flinching. Slowly, very slowly, I rose and extended a hand toward him.

"Orkan."

If my head went flying now, no helping it. I bellowed toward the ceiling.

"Odin! Are you watching? I've found your warrior!"

Orkan flinched. My words lowered his raging axe. Lips not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even wet with spit, I launched into the lie.

"I am a warrior sent down after hearing Odin's command."

No sooner had I finished than the twisting barbarian's eyes fixed on me. Checking the truth of my words, like.

Blood-smeared naked body. Lumpy muscles. Veins writhed over them with every breath. A chill crawled up my spine.

...This guy's a real monster.

My heart pounded like mad. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Gallery intel swirled endlessly in my head.

────Honor, fair fight, Valhalla, Odin, weapon, conviction, warrior... duel.

Orkan glared with bloodshot eyes.

"You, a warrior?"

"Yes."

I fought not to tremble. Pointed coldly at the ceiling.

"From up there, the gods' battlefield, Valhalla."

"Valhalla!"

"By Odin's order, to place you, Orkan, before Valhalla's gate."

"......!"

A flicker lit his eyes, then faded. He didn't buy it easily.

"...Don't lie! Demon!"

Still, no axe thrown my way.

"You're a demon! Don't try to fool me! Don't defile a warrior's soul!"

I stroked my throat and glared back.

"One from Valhalla doesn't die. You've seen it already. No matter how many times you cleave me, I return."

"You're a demon."

"Valhalla's warriors don't die—they fight eternally. How do you think I'm still alive?"

"Demons revive too. Not as fast as you, but..."

Layer regeneration, huh.

"You, Orkan. Before coming here, were you truly chosen by the gods?"

"......"

"You chose to guard this place yourself. Why? Because you couldn't open the gate to Valhalla."

"What are you saying?"

"See the shining altar before you?"

"Shining altar?"

The gallery window.

"That's... evil black magic..."

"The path to Valhalla has been open before you from the start."

"You're lying now..."

His voice softened.

"No! You don't know the gods' tongue."

"Lies... lies."

I locked eyes with him. His pupils shook faintly.

Gotcha. It's working. Now ride it to the end.

I shouted.

"You're no warrior! Orkan!"

Sudden roar made him flinch.

"Wh-what! How dare you─! What nonsense, devil!"

"A true warrior wouldn't be this cowardly!"

The fork in the road.

"How can a warrior who knows honor strike from ambush like a coward!"

His eyes began to tremble.

"Tell me, Orkan! Before warriors duel, what's the first thing they must do?"

"......"

"Answer!"

Glum-faced, he spoke.

"...Declare... the challenge."

"You knew that—why ambush me? I hadn't even drawn a weapon!"

"I-I thought you were a demon..."

"Do I look like a demon!"

"N-no. But... your garb... it resembled the demons', not a warrior's..."

"Valhalla's warriors all dress like this! Is Valhalla's attire strange?"

"I didn't know."

"Ignorance isn't sin. But it's no excuse."

"......"

Orkan couldn't lift his head. Breath ragged, but axe hung limp, powerless.

I stepped closer. One step. Another. Heart about to burst. Sweat poured down my back nonstop.

"Orkan. Have you... forgotten honor?"

I whispered.

"I-I know honor. I've lived by it. Without it... I'd have broken long ago."

"Does that honor still live in you?"

"It does."

"Do you want to go to Valhalla?"

"I... I want Valhalla. Waited 100 years."

"Then your final battle must be just. Odin's way. Fell me. Fair and square."

Orkan raised his head.

"Here and now? You're challenging me to a duel?"

"When did the demons last revive?"

He folded fingers on his left hand, calculating. Then spoke.

"Last revival... when the warrior slept thrice."

Warrior's sleep? What?

I desperately recalled. Oh yeah, gallery mentioned barbarian terms. Warrior's sleep—about 10 days per sleep, right? Three's roughly 30 days. Layer regen was right around the corner.

"The second revival day. When demons reborn, the gods watch the duel. That day, here, warrior vs. warrior."

"...Second revival day?"

Orkan's face twisted complexly.

...Fuck, did I blow it? No. Shit. This dumbass can't count for sure.

"When the warrior wakes thrice more from now."

"...I see."

"That day, fell me, and Valhalla's gate opens for you."

"The day the gods watch... Odin..."

"That day, I'll come here. Formally challenge you. Accept my duel then."

Orkan nodded, face flushed with emotion.

"Good. On the day the gods watch, this axe will fell you."

I gave him no time to think.

"What is a weapon to a warrior, Orkan?"

"Soul."

"Lose it?"

"Warrior loses soul."

"A weapon's as precious as life to a warrior. Right?"

"Right."

"What if lost?"

"Warriors don't lose weapons."

"Mine was taken. Orkan. My weapon's still with you."

He flinched. At his waist. My rapier sheathed.

"That's my sword. Warriors fight with their own weapons."

Orkan drew and inspected the rapier. Gripped it, then silently handed it over.

"A warrior's weapon returns to the warrior."

I took the rapier, gripped it. Familiar weight. Fingers tensed stiff, then relaxed.

"And one last thing."

"What. Warrior of Valhalla."

"Need an offering for Odin. Ritual to have the gods recognize the duel. No offering, Odin won't acknowledge it."

I pointed at his piled corpses.

"Give me the heart of the strongest monster you've slain here. For Odin's offering."

Moments later, Orkan rummaged the corpse pile and pulled out a massive heart.

"Heart of the strongest monster. Offer to Odin."

I took the heart from him and fled his sanctuary. Slow and heavy steps at first. Then near-running speed.

Layer regen truly imminent. No monsters the whole way.

...Actually, perfect.

I observed terrain, headed for a narrow, alley-like passage. Arrived at a dead-end space, three walls.

Confirmed safe, sighed in relief.

"Lived... for real."

Insane stunt.... But succeeded fooling the psycho barbarian. Bought 30 days. Maybe less if he catches on. But those trembling eyes and thrilled face? Low chance.

Best I could do. Gallery said straight persuasion while fleeing = axe to face. Deception fails first try, no second chances.

"Hoo."

I pulled out the 100th floor boss monster heart from Orkan. Basilisk heart. Steady breath, slowly put it in my mouth.

Experience says... the more it hurts, the better the power.