Ep 1. The Monster With Three Legs (2)

"I'm depressed, so I killed a goblin...."

But there wasn't a single goblin head nearby to club.

Depression +1.

"My name is Lee Sejun. Age twenty-four. My hobbies include enjoying a glass of wine while listening to classical music. And I despise barbarians more than anything else in the world. Ugh, those savages disgust me just thinking about them."

Hm.

Even after spouting that garbage, nothing different came out of my mouth.

So that last bit must have been a trait that only triggered in front of other people.

It wasn't like I lacked traits that forced actions or choices on me, but this was the first time even my manner of speech had changed.

'Well, come to think of it, game characters do spit out lines that match their traits even without being forced to.'

For instance, a knight with the Dignified trait wouldn't suddenly bellow 'MWAHAHAHA!' and a girl with the Fool trait wouldn't start spouting dull, pedantic lectures.

But I'm someone who transmigrated into a game carrying all the memories and habits of real life.

It wasn't strange to have this level of constraint.

No — if anything, it was a good thing.

It would have been far more humiliating for my mouth to produce words unworthy of a barbarian.

'Though I'll probably be mistaken for a pervert instead....'

The barbarian was attractive and perfect in every way — but if you had to pick out a flaw in such a magnificent specimen, what would it be?

In this game, at least, it was social skills.

Ignorant wretches who couldn't appreciate the charm of a true male would slander him as a savage.

And this problem was amplified for female party members, to the point that the wiki actually recommended that anyone picking a barbarian protagonist quietly build an all-male four-person party as the optimal strategy.

And now a trait was going to force me to sexually harass women on top of that?

A gut feeling told me my labyrinth party this life would end up being all men, too.

'...Wait, it's not going to do this to men too, is it?'

I'd wanted a sweaty, romantic medieval fantasy, not a marine corps fantasy.

But that worry, I decided, could wait until I'd actually laid eyes on a man — because the next people to appear before me were women as well.

"Fucking... where'd that bitch run off to?"

"Who knows? Don't worry, though — she can't have gone far. That paralysis poison cost us a fortune, so even Cure won't fix it easily."

"Should've just ravished her right away instead of whining about waiting until she woke up... huh?"

They looked like different races, but all three of them were women.

Judging by appearances: a rogue, a spearman, and an archer.

A fairly solid early-game party composition.

If only they had one more support class, like a priest or a nun.

'So they weren't being chased by a monster after all....'

It seemed the homage to the previous game had manifested somewhere else entirely.

It wasn't me — that nun from earlier had been betrayed by her party members and was fleeing from them.

Which meant my job here was—

Play ignorant and gather information first.

'Hey there. By any chance, do you know that black-haired woman who just ran past?'

"Hoooh, is today some kind of festival? I didn't expect such delicious wenches to come flocking in a group. That black-haired wench with those plump tits just now, too."

No, you son of a—

That's not even the worst of it?!

Aaagh!

This goddamn piece-of-shit game.

It was giving me a very vivid, up-close demonstration of what ultra-hardcore sadistic difficulty looked like.

And this trait didn't stop at just correcting my speech.

"...!"

Before I knew it, my eyes had drifted to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the bare skin of the three women standing in front of me, and my heart began hammering.

The blood coursing through my whole body started rushing rapidly toward one particular region.

And there was no hiding it.

It wasn't a size that could be concealed, and I didn't have a stitch of clothing to conceal it with.

"KYAAAAAH...! MONSTER!"

The first to scream was the archer.

She seemed about to raise her bow — then simply spun on her heel and bolted.

"Shit, it's a Manster...!"

"Let's go! Hey, I said let's GO!"

The other two weren't much different.

Without so much as a first-mover advantage to fight over, they shoved each other aside as they sprinted back down the path they'd come from.

"Wait a moment...."

No answer.

I probably could have caught them, running with this body.

But from a woman's perspective, a huge man chasing you with his cock standing at full attention is genuine horror material.

Plus they were headed in the opposite direction from the nun.

There didn't seem to be any reason to chase them.

"......"

Tsk.

Fine, this time they can call me a monster all they want.

Small mercy that it wasn't a man who'd seen me in this state — if you could call it a mercy.

But still.

'Not a monster... a Manster?'

...Did I mishear?

Well, tongues do get tangled when you're screaming your head off.

Maybe it was a new monster type introduced in the sequel.

That wasn't what mattered, though.

'Paralysis poison.'

I turned my head in the direction the nun had fled.

They seemed clearly preferable to women who'd poison their own comrade and then go chasing after her.

And I'd definitely heard it.

What the elf archer with the bow on her back had said.

— Should've just ravished her right away instead of whining about waiting until she woke up... huh?

Guess this really is a Finnish game, because this world seems awfully open about that sort of thing.

Who knew the tutorial would open with a gang of serial ball-biters aiming for polar bear extinction.

Scary stuff. Very scary.

"...Let's go take a look."

I didn't know where the exit was anyway.

I needed at least one person who could speak my language, didn't I?

Of course, whether the nun would believe I could actually hold a conversation was a separate question entirely.

I wanted to throw some clothes on, but why couldn't I even find a scrap of fallen cloth anywhere?

And so I set off.

It didn't take long.

Before I'd gone far, the sound of sobbing drifted from beyond a fork in the passage.

"Hh, ughh...."

The nun was there, slumped against the wall.

She had one hand braced against the stone, the other clutching her own leg as she groaned.

She rocked herself upward again and again as if trying to rise, but her knees simply wouldn't obey.

"Cure...!"

A pure white light shimmered at her fingertips.

Naturally, it didn't seem to be working.

The kind of people who'd poison their own priest wouldn't have skimped on preparations for exactly that contingency.

I was thinking that as I approached her when—

"...Hkk!"

The moment she spotted me, the nun's face drained snow-white.

"Don't come! D-don't come any closer...!"

She flailed so desperately that watching her made my heart ache.

Her back was already against the wall, yet she kept shoving her palms against it, frantically trying to push herself even further away.

"......"

I stopped walking, exactly as she asked.

Now then — what could I say to make her understand I wasn't a dangerous person?

'It's all right. I'm not here to hurt you.'

...That was a properly barbarian answer, but I had a feeling it wouldn't cut it.

'Smelled a woman, so I came running... and she's practically advertising for me to ravish her. I won't hurt you, so don't worry. I prefer my wenches alive when I fuck them.'

Because that was OBVIOUSLY the kind of reply my mouth would produce!

That was the professional opinion of a man with twenty-four years of barbarian expertise.

So I chose a different method.

"I-I-I don't want to die. Please, spare my life...."

First, I crouched down in front of the nun, who was already streaming tears.

And then.

Swipe. Swooosh.

"...Huh?"

What's a pathetic little trait going to do against written words, huh?

Of course, I couldn't just relax without a care in the world.

The longer I delayed, the bigger the penalty grew — my body really might start moving on its own and rape the woman in front of me.

And apparently she wasn't entirely sane either.

Staring at me, the nun began spouting this nonsense:

"A-are you... human...?"

That one stung a little.

Not even 'are you a monster or what —_-', but asking if I'm human?

Wasn't this straight-up anti-barbarian hate speech?

Barbarian-dissing — is it just me, or is this uncomfortable?

For the last one, I pressed extra hard with my finger to write it out in firm, upright strokes.

"A b-b-barbarian...? You mean the warriors said to carry heroic blood in their veins, who tear monsters apart with their bare hands...?"

Yes! She knows barbarians!

For those of you unfamiliar with the subject, allow me to explain—

"But they all vanished five hundred years ago...?!"

I'm sorry, what?

My brain froze on the spot.

Granted, a thousand years passing since the previous game with nothing changing would be strange in itself.

A particular race or class going extinct — sure, that can happen.

Whether for story reasons or behind-the-scenes executive meddling, that part I could accept.

But how could they abandon cool, lovable pals like the barbarians?

That's the foundation of the entire fantasy genre, isn't it?

No wait, then what does that make me, standing right here?

I hurriedly began scratching at the floor ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with my finger.

"It isn't just the barbarians. Every man in this world has...."

Every man, what.

I began straining to listen to the nun's utterly incomprehensible words.

But then—

"KYAAAAAAAK—!"

A shrill scream rang out from beyond the fork in the passage.

One person?

No... it didn't sound like just one.

"......"

"......"

Thud.

Footsteps.

Thud. Thud.

They were coming this way.

"A M-Manster... a Manster...."

There it was again.

Calling it a Manster instead of a monster.

At this point, it made more sense to assume the terminology had changed than that I'd misheard.

And when the creature rounded the corner, I could see why they'd use that word.

'...Wow.'

It was genuinely horrific-looking. No — it looked like a colossal dick.

A half-crushed face.

Where its mouth and nose should have been, everything had slid to one side, and its single remaining eye rolled about in its socket, fixated on me.

Its left arm, swollen lumpy as if pumped full of steroids, pressed against the ground and propped up the creature's body.

But.

Most eye-catching of all was the grotesque thing dangling between the monster's legs.

Cock. Dick. Genitals.

Call it whatever you like.

And no, it wasn't a joke about carrying three legs — the thing was genuinely bigger than the monster's own legs.

So that's what makes it a 'Man'-ster, huh.

"Hurk."

At the sight of the monster's grotesque form, the nun began to retch.

And it wasn't just because of that third leg.

Dangling from the end of its right arm — the one that at least still looked human — were the heads of three women, slack and glistening with tears.

The very women who'd screamed at the sight of me and run off in the opposite direction.

"......"

Sure, their crime was trying to drive innocent polar bears to extinction.

But did that deserve to have their heads torn off and hung ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up like trophies?

No — torn off isn't even right.

Ripped off, like trophies strung up on display.

Had they really sinned that much?

A beast-like, rasping sound slowly scraped its way out of the thing's mouth.

Apparently not the type to win on speed, then.

Heavy... no, ugh, even saying 'heavy' feels gross in this context.

"Hey. Wench."

"Yes?"

"How strong is that thing?"

This time, those words had genuinely come from my own mouth.

Maybe the threat had cooled my arousal.

Or maybe the urge to fight was also one of the [Pent-up Lust] trait's triggers.

"S-strong. It's really strong. Any adventurer who works the first floor should never fight one — they have to run, absolutely—"

'Then what am I supposed to do?! This is literally my first fight...!'

"Ha. If it's only that strong, this'll be easy."

...Clearly that last guess was correct.

I'd barely started the game and already met something like a boss mob, and yet bravado came pouring out of my mouth.

But why was that.

'That thing is genuinely ugly as sin....'

"Come at me. I'll pop that revolting thing of yours first."

Not a single thought in my head said I might lose.

Whoooosh—!

Clutching the heads in its right hand, the monster swung its left arm in a great arc.

I twisted my body slightly, and the massive arm whooshed past right before my face.

It wasn't so much that the monster was slow — I was just fast.

'I can do this?'

Even as I thought it, my body was already moving.

It was a strange sensation.

How should I put it — like being a fighting game character whose inputs were being entered for me.

CRUNCH!

Thud!

Losing its balance, the monster staggered.

"So one hit won't pop it, apparently."

Not even I could bring myself to smash that colossal cock with my bare feet.

Instead I kicked out at the bloated left arm, and the monster's flesh dented inward as if struck by an iron hammer.

Either that thing was softer than it looked, or my body was just that sturdy.

"L-look out...!"

And that was when it happened.

A thick, sticky white fluid erupted from somewhere on the monster's body.

SQUIIIIRT—!

Accompanied by a sound so disgusting it defied description.

"......!"

Fortunately, I'd listened to the nun's warning and thrown myself sideways, so the fluid never touched my body.

Where it splashed against the floor came a sizzling, hissing sound, like something boiling.

It bubbled and foamed on the stone.

A bastard I despised from head to toe, with not a single redeeming feature.

"You fucking piece of shit...."

Gritting my teeth, I swung my arm back in a great arc.

Target: its head.

Shoulder to forearm.

Wrist.

And finally, every single finger.

I could feel every muscle in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the chain snapping taut.

Along with the log blinking faintly into the corner of my vision—

CRUNCH—!

The monster's head went flying.