I Became the Only Tanker in a World Where Tankers Are a Crude Joke

In a world where tankers were nothing more than a crude joke, I became the only one.

In the game Path of Guardians, the Guardian blessing ranked among the top three most broken, overpowered blessings — the kind that made the game boring.

But in this world, where the game had become reality, the Guardian blessing was treated like absolute trash.

A world that called tankers lunatics.

And I became the sole tanker in that world.

Silence.

Everyone held their breath, every gaze locked on me.

Today was the day I, Edwin, second son of the Revan Viscounty, would undergo the rite known as Elysion’s Blessing.

My chest felt tight.

I didn’t need to look back to know.

The entire household was waiting on my choice.

The Revan family had, for generations, been a house of knights who took up sword and spear and carved their names on the battlefield. What they expected of me was obvious — a blessing suited to a close-range dealer.

In my previous life, I had been a veteran of Path of Guardians — or POG, for short. A true endgame player.

Even if I chose the melee dealer path the family wanted, I was confident I could climb high enough to stand among the strongest in the world.

But that alone would never be enough.

So I chose the thorny road on purpose.

A decision this weighty was the sort of thing one ought to discuss with family first —

But it’s always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

I quietly dropped to one knee and bowed my head.

The world around me fell away into stillness, as if I had been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cut free from everything else. A hush so complete that even breathing seemed to vanish.

Strangely, no fear came with it.

A long shadow stretched out before my lowered head — then split into many branches.

I stared at those shadows.

They took on the shapes of people.

One swung a sword. One thrust a spear. Another loosed an arrow. There was a figure hewing with an axe, another chanting magic, and still another summoning living creatures into a legion.

What unfolded before me was possibility itself.

In the game’s lore, Elysion assessed a character’s potential and revealed the blessings that suited them.

I did work hard all these years.

Aside from a few blessings that required special conditions, virtually every blessing available at the start had appeared.

But the path I would take was only one.

I slowly straightened my knees and rose.

Then I fixed the image of Guardian in my mind and poured strength into my eyes.

Something wondrous happened.

A legendary warrior clad head to toe in armor, axe in one hand and shield in the other. A man who began as a slave gladiator, achieved great deeds, and was later worshipped as a god — the immortal who claimed divinity through combat alone.

The Immortal Cretus.

The scattered shadows gathered into one, shaping his massive, solid form.

The helm pulled low hid most of his face, but the eyes visible through the slits burned with an intensity worthy of the name Immortal.

— What is it you desire?

At his words, I glanced back for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a moment.

My family stood frozen, as if time itself had stopped. Father — sharp as a well-honed blade, yet always solid and dependable. Beside him, Mother, lines of age upon her face but still beautiful, still full of gentle grace. And my older brother, the heir who would one day lead the house, the one I had always treated more like a friend. The household retainers making the sign of the cross.

Ten years had passed since the memories of my past life returned. I had wrestled with this choice for a full decade.

The conclusion had already been reached long ago.

I turned back to Cretus, who waited quietly for my answer.

“I want to become a shield.”

Cretus regarded me in silence.

This was the last chance to turn back. That was what the pause seemed to say.

But I did not yield, and at last Cretus opened his firmly sealed lips.

— A path of hardship awaits you.

Only if I didn’t have the knowledge of the game.

“I am prepared.”

I had steeled myself for this more than ten years ago. I would not waver now.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

Cretus drove a shield large enough to cover half his body into the earth. It was a signal that war had begun — a rallying cry to lift the spirits of allies who would stand against a great evil. An answer to the road of hardship and adversity I had chosen.

So I answered his call in kind.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I struck my chest three times.

Cretus nodded as if deeply satisfied, then turned his back. He vanished with the shadows, leaving no form behind.

A warm current rose in my chest at the same moment.

…If this were the game, notifications like those would have popped up.

Unfortunately, this was reality — no status window, no alerts.

Still, that wasn’t a problem. Years of experience had burned the stat gains from every major event into my memory.

Just in case, I checked the back of my right hand.

Just as the game’s setting described, a mark symbolizing a god’s blessing had appeared there.

The emblem of a shield.

This is enough.

I couldn’t track skill proficiency in real time the way the game allowed, but this mark would serve as a guidepost, revealing much the same way it had in the game’s lore. Confirming that it had appeared was all I needed.

After checking the shield crest on my hand, I slowly turned around.

Every eye locked onto the back of my hand.

“Kyaaaaah!!!”

Mother clapped both hands over her mouth and let out a scream.

It was always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission —

But I was starting to suspect even forgiveness wasn’t going to come easy.

The study of Viscount Revan.

In a room permitted only to the head of the house, Father sat with his usual tight-lipped silence.

I stood before him with both hands folded respectfully, waiting for the words of the man who was both my father and my lord.

Slowly, he rose from his chair, turned his back to me, and fixed his gaze on the window where bright sunlight poured in.

“I was a curious child,” he said. “To a boy like that, the study reserved for the head of the house was a secret base — or a treasure vault.”

He had only just entered his forties, yet Father remained an active knight. He carried himself like a man forged by the sword, but even he must have had a reckless childhood once.

“So I threw a tantrum, ready to be scolded. My father gave me a wry smile — and then freely granted me that secret space called the study.”

His hand, thick with calluses and scarred from old wounds, opened the window.

“What do you see, Edwin?”

I carefully stepped to his side. Through the study window, the people of the territory could be seen throwing themselves into the start of a vigorous day.

“I see the people of the domain, Father.”

“Yes. That is exactly what I answered as well.”

The gaze that had seemed to look through the glass into the past returned to the present. A keen, honed stare bored straight into my eyes.

“You have been a sharp child since you were small. I do not believe you did this as some prank.”

Under ordinary circumstances, he would have been well within his rights to explode. That was how wretchedly the Guardian blessing was regarded in this world.

But rather than anger, Father seemed to have chosen first to trust his son.

“Still, if I am to speak only the truth without falsehood — I have decided to accept this as your final act of childish indulgence.”

His heavy hand settled on my shoulder.

“Remember this, however. To reverse that choice ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of yours would require an enormous donation — and every coin of it would be tax wrung from the lifeblood of the people you are meant to protect.”

Why did you do this?

That was what his eyes asked.

A joke would have been fine. But he wanted a reason he could understand.

Lying to a trust like that felt wrong. And yet I doubted he would believe talk of a past life or a game. So I chose words that were a lie and not a lie at the same time.

“When I closed my eyes and offered a prayer, shadows spread before me. Forms that seemed to guide the path I should walk. Sword, spear, bow, axe — even shapes that wielded magic or commanded summoned beasts.”

A tremor ran through the hand resting on my shoulder.

Most people saw three or four forms at most during Elysion’s Blessing. To claim I had seen essentially every path was, by this world’s common sense, the mark of a genius. Unlike me, who knew the exact requirements from game knowledge, the people of this world found those thresholds vague and hard to pin down.

“And still you chose the shield?”

Regret, and a disappointment he could not quite hide. Reproach flickered in his eyes.

“Yes. The shield was the only path.”

“Why?”

“I saw my brother — a little more bearded than he is now — commanding the family’s soldiers. I saw those thick walls come down. Soldiers losing their courage, trembling in fear, begging the gods for mercy. The pitiful voices of the people outside the walls ringing out. My brother, helpless, shedding tears of blood as he threw himself into the fray to save even one more life.”

“…Is that true?”

It was a lie.

But it was also something that would actually happen.

This world was set ten years before the main story of Path of Guardians began. Exactly five years from now, the Revan Viscounty would fall.

Play a game for five years and people start calling you a fossil; you can clear it so many times that counting on your fingers feels pointless. But five years in a world that has become real is nothing like a game you can click through. Without fast travel, you cannot outrun the limits of space and time. There is no guarantee you will obtain the items essential to a specific build. Recruiting useful NPCs is hard. And the Revan house, though noble, was not flush with coin — so the so-called money-dump strategies were limited as well.

Considering all of that, the best move available to me now was to take the blessing of the tanker the world treated like a cripple: the Guardian.

“Yes. Receiving the Guardian’s blessing was the only way to stop that nightmare.”

“So you were chosen as a great warrior of the War God Cretus…”

“Do you believe me, Father?”

Honestly, I had already accepted that he might not. Even so, Father patted my shoulder with a calm expression.

“I am your father. I know better than anyone that you are not a child who speaks such words lightly.”

He said it, then put force into his eyes.

“There was a man of the Cretus Church who chose the shield over the axe. He was called the greatest talent of his generation — the hope of the Cretus Church. Even he, I am told, could not overcome the trials.”

Thirty years ago, a man had voluntarily chosen the Guardian blessing to prove his faith. In the end he abandoned his belief in the god and took his own life. That incident had driven a stake through the heart of any remaining reason to choose Guardian.

“I do not know if a knight such as I has the right to say this, but… I would rather you lived long and happy, even without honor.”

Even if I turned my back on a god’s task, he meant to bear every consequence as a father.

“Words that should not leave the mouth are best kept in the heart, Father.”

“…Insolent brat.”

Father gave a short laugh and withdrew his hand from my shoulder.

“I am fond of this view as well,” I said. “Fond enough that I would stake everything in my life to protect it.”

“Do not stake everything. I still intend to see grandchildren, you know.”

Father chuckled again.

“Do your best. If you need anything, speak of it at any time.”

“Yes, Father.”

I turned my back on him and left the study. Now that I had chosen my class, it was time to grind proficiency without rest.

First up — some Pill Bug Training?

Father would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠soothe Mother well enough. I headed for the hunting grounds owned by House Revan.

……

……

…

His sharp-witted son, from childhood on, had been chosen by a god.

As a father, it would have been a lie to say he was not glad — yet worry outran joy.

Even the man once called the reincarnation of Cretus had failed those trials. Now that burden had fallen on a child he would not harm even by placing a finger near his eye.

Worry could not help but come first.

I’ll have to put off retirement a little longer.

Aren, the eldest, was as reliable a son as Edwin. But with the coming ruin in mind, it was still too soon to hand the house to an heir not yet fully seasoned.

The family’s standing must be raised.

Even if Edwin someday fell to his knees before the trials, a father had to stand as a solid wall — something he could lean on to rise again. That was the weight of the name Father.

First…

Viscount Revan pushed back the retirement he had planned for three years from now, setting it ten years out instead. Then, bracing for the future, he clenched his teeth and recalled the days when he had first become head of the house.

The first piece of news to reach him after that was —

“What did you just say?”

“Young Master Edwin is… er… surrounded by a pack of Horn Rabbits and getting beaten up…”

“……”

Horn Rabbits were monsters that differed from ordinary rabbits in only one respect: a thumb-sized horn sprouting from the head. And his son was surrounded by a pack of them, taking a beating?

Viscount Revan felt the world spin; black spots danced before his eyes.

“Haa…”

And with that, he pushed his retirement plans back another five years — to fifteen.