Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Strength is glory, blood is a medal, death is honor.
Northern berserkers, the Red Anvil tribe.
People who used the harsh winter as their blanket.
Who drank beast blood as if it were sweet dew.
Madmen who wore nothing but knives and animal hides instead of pens and dresses.
Warriors who knew nothing but battle from birth to death.
One day, a prophecy was spoken.
“The one who swallows fire will come!”
It was the words of a fortune-teller who had never once been right.
Yet that day might have been different.
As if guided by fate itself, a child was born in the tribe.
“The one who swallows fire!”
The child was a warrior.
The moment she was born from her mother’s womb, she bit down on the umbilical cord and celebrated her own existence.
Oooooh—
The one who swallows fire!
The tribe was in awe.
This child would become their new leader.
“There is none!”
“There is none!”
But there was something missing.
“There is no… male organ!”
“There is no male organ!”
The one who swallowed fire was a girl.
The one who swallowed fire was a warrior among warriors.
She picked up an axe before she could even properly walk.
When she threw it, it never missed.
She crushed beast skulls with ease.
No one of her age could match her.
Even those older by several years were no match.
Even berserk warriors who had once killed white bears in rage had nothing they could do when her eyes turned red.
“The one who swallows fire! She is strong!”
“Even without a male organ, she is strong!”
A new name was given to her.
The one without a male organ.
The highest honor the Red Anvil tribe could bestow.
“The one without a male organ!”
“….”
“The one without a male organ!”
“Stop calling me that!”
The one without a male organ had become a young woman.
Fair skin.
Flowing blonde hair.
A body shaped by the harsh environment.
And the strongest warrior in the tribe.
Her value kept rising.
“Sorry. The chief is calling you!”
“I said I’m not going.”
“You can’t… the chief says the strongest woman must bear descendants. He is the second strongest warrior. He likes you.”
“I don’t want that. Why would I marry some old man?”
“…uh. Uh…”
She had never thought about it.
The chief always married the strongest woman, and through that, led the tribe’s future.
She was supposed to become the mother of the Red Anvil tribe and its next leader.
But she had no interest in such barbaric traditions.
Her delicate hands held books instead of axes.
One of them had a strange title: “Why Did Lord Gong Give Meatballs to the Maid?”
“I’m going to the city, Teddy.”
“…I am the one who strangled a bear.”
“I gave you the name Teddy, didn’t I? Anyway, I’m going to the city.”
“The city… why? There is nothing there. No beasts to hunt. No blizzards.”
“That’s exactly why. I’m a girl, not a berserker. A fragile young lady.”
“…the one without a male organ killed three bears at age ten.”
His gaze sharpened.
Teddy, the one who strangled bears, quickly lowered his head.
“That outfit is too inconvenient for a warrior. Too soft. Too long.”
She smiled brightly and spun once, holding the hem of her dress.
“How is it? Cute, right? It’s called a maid outfit. In romance stories, the heroine wears this and falls in love with a handsome nobleman.”
“…is that city warrior attire?”
“No, it’s a maid outfit. Maids are people who secretly fall in love with noblemen.”
“…useful. Good for hiding weapons.”
“Ugh, it’s for romance, not stabbing people!”
She shut her book loudly.
“I’m going to find love, Teddy! A nobleman who will accept me!”
“…three bears… killed with one strike…”
“I’m not marrying the chief. Goodbye, Teddy. Don’t come looking for me.”
“You cannot leave! Without you, the tribe will fall!”
“Not my problem.”
She turned away without hesitation and packed her bag.
“And my name is Elaine! Elaine Loveholic!”
The one who swallowed fire, Elaine Loveholic.
She gave herself that name.
And went to the city.
To find love.
…
“Adventurers… are you recruiting?!”
Of course, it didn’t take long for reality to hit her.
“…what kind of character is this.”
That was my first thought.
This was Elaine’s background story.
Lom was a fully randomized RPG where every NPC had their own life and personality.
And those backgrounds mattered a lot in growth.
Depending on choices, NPCs could become loyal allies, lifelong companions, or betray you and curse your existence.
So reading their story was important.
Fortunately, I didn’t mind reading.
Berserker. Maiden-like heart. Romance addict. Love-obsessed.
That summed her up.
“…so she’s strong but pretending not to be.”
She was already the strongest warrior of the Red Anvil tribe.
A girl who crushed bears at ten years old.
The condition for her “Crimson Eyes Berserker” skill was likely rage.
So my first job was simple.
Make her angry enough to fight properly.
A cliché method.
The classic “protect the heroine from goblins” plan.
“…this should work.”
I had already adjusted her stats using dice.
Name: Elaine
Level: 8
Class: Warrior
Weapon Aptitude: Axe
Strength 14 / Agility 10 / Intelligence 0 / Stamina 0 / Charisma 0
Skills: …(more)
Beautiful stats.
Perfect balance for a warrior.
With her hidden skill, her combat stats would exceed 30.
It was basically a level 20 monster in disguise.
I had used over 1200 dice for this.
Worth it.
Everything happened quickly.
The moment we rested, Elaine stood up.
Her eyes turned red.
“Finally.”
Goblin heads flew with each axe swing.
Clean. Simple. Brutal.
“…holy shit.”
One hit, one kill.
This was the real Crimson Anvil monster.
The battlefield turned into a slaughterhouse.
I could barely keep up.
Then—
She hugged me.
Covered in blood.
Disgusting.
Romantic.
Perfect.
“This is… good.”
Her misunderstanding grew deeper.
My plan was working too well.
And I started to realize something.
“…her eyes are kind of crazy.”
Yeah.
Maybe I created a monster.
But a useful one.
Probably.
Right?
[Elaine leveled up.]
[Elaine leveled up.]
…
[Skill “Crimson Eyes Berserker” has ended.]
[100 goblins slain.]
[Achievement unlocked: Goblin Hunter.]
[300 dice obtained.]
“…this is broken.”
I muttered.
But I was smiling.
Then came the real problem.
Elaine looked at me with shining eyes.
And I thought:
Yeah.
Maybe I should stop asking “is this okay?”
And start asking—
“…am I okay?”