Barbarian in a Failed Game

“Quick, protect me—!”

The moment Georg met Berta’s eyes, he shouted in a frenzy. Crusaders waiting outside burst through the entrance.

“Cardinal!”

“Use holy arts…!”

“Wait, who are these people…?”

The crusaders, like the two who had accompanied Georg earlier, stood dumbfounded, encountering unexpected figures.

Even setting aside the red-haired half-elf, the presence of Berta, notorious as the Crusher of Carpenta, and a knight from the Istantil family who was supposed to be under house arrest, were shocking enough.

But the sight of an old man looking back at them with a similarly stunned expression was even more startling for the crusaders.

“Cardinal Zion…?!”

“Why is the Archbishop of Levant here…?”

Zion Saint Verde.

The Archbishop of Levant, who serves as the public front of the Pantheon Church in place of its hidden main sanctuary. Though he holds the rank of cardinal in name, his influence among the citizens is said to be greater due to the special status of being the cardinal of Levant, the city where the emperor resides.

“How did someone as devout as you, Georg Melchus, fall into such corruption?”

Zion sighed, witnessing Georg’s depravity firsthand.

“How can you not be shocked at this sight?”

“None of you are free of his crimes.”

The crusaders flinched at Cardinal Zion’s stern rebuke. Despite his white hair and bent back, the sheer force of Zion’s voice made even warriors who could handle a hundred men step back.

“Instead of restraining his excesses, you were deceived by his schemes. And yet, you dare call yourselves crusaders?”

“Silence, you vile hypocrite. You know the heavenly truth and yet still spout such nonsense!”

Though Georg was robust compared to the elderly Cardinal Zion, it was evident to everyone who witnessed it that Zion exuded greater presence.

“Georg, the moment you deemed yourself a shepherd, you began to stray. We are merely heads leading small flocks among many sheep. That means the heavens are our shepherd. When did you start considering yourself so noble?”

“What are you waiting for? Stop them immediately—!”

As the crusaders’ hesitation grew, Georg ceased talking and began urging them into action. Despite their clear numerical and strategic advantage, the weight of Berta’s reputation as a paladin made the crusaders reconsider their allegiance.

Crusaders who had once abandoned faith for personal gain could just as easily abandon loyalty for their own safety once more.

“You fools! Do you think you’ll walk away from here alive? Your opponents are paladins!”

“Move aside.”

Georg was pounding his chest in frustration when Leonir, who had been silently observing the scene, softly muttered and sprang into action.

Leonir’s armor was absent, and his sword was merely one acquired from an ordinary blacksmith. The difference in quality between his gear and the equipment crafted by the finest imperial craftsmen, sanctified by the highest priests, and worn by the crusaders was stark and embarrassing.

“Stop—!”

A crusader, still indecisive about the situation, raised his shield against Leonir’s sudden advance. Regardless of the turmoil, ignoring the immediate threat wasn’t an option.

But that was a mistake.

Cling—! Thud.

Leonir’s carnage did not stop there. Despite the crusader’s holy armor, Leonir destabilized his stance by body-checking him with the shield and then thrusting his sword through the armor’s gaps, felling the elite warrior in an instant.

The crusaders’ expressions hardened, witnessing their comrade’s death. Instinctively, they moved into their most practiced formation to counter Leonir.

The crusaders’ training included methods to face superhumans, and their sparring partners were inevitably paladins. In essence, the crusaders were well-versed in tactics against paladins.

Moreover, their adversary was a newly ordained paladin. The crusaders, each handpicked amongst the best, believed they could handle him.

“Move aside.”

Bang…! Bang…! Bang—!

The moment Leonir squeezed himself into the gaps of their formation, it became evident that their judgment was flawed.

Even a superhuman would bleed when slashed and suffer fatal injuries if struck properly. Therefore, they typically avoided strategies that involved unnecessary risk. But Leonir was different. Paladins were different.

“Aaargh!”

“This, this is madness…!”

Screams and shouts of shock echoed as Leonir took hits from swords and, while gripping a crusader’s helmet, shoved his blade into the visor, causing chaos.

Leonir showed no fear of the crusaders’ swords. Even if the blades were toughened by the priest’s blessings, they were not as sturdy as a paladin’s holy armor. The radiant light surrounding Leonir’s body armor was beyond comparison to his previous state.

“Move aside!”

Leonir shattered the crusader’s helmet, twisting his neck backward with a relentless charge, demonstrating overwhelming force. The crusaders finally realized their misconception. The way paladins fought in training was entirely different from their real combat methods.

Boom!

With a resounding crash, the last crusader’s helmet caved in.

It took Leonir just a few seconds to eliminate the twelve elite crusaders, a feat impossible for a newly ordained paladin, especially considering his inadequate armor and weaponry. It was an extraordinary occurrence, but there was no time to ponder it.

“Damn it…!”

The moment Georg saw the crusaders crumble so easily, he turned and fled. And in the direction he ran stood Elena.

“Stay right there; you’ll be my hostage…!”

Georg’s eyes gleamed, thinking he had found a way to save himself upon seeing her. He thought he could easily overpower an ordinary priestess with his robust physique.

“Really, everyone thinks the same.”

Elena spoke. Naturally, a robust elderly man who had only been dedicated to the clergy his entire life was no match for Elena, who had honed her skills as a warrior under Berta.

Thud!

With a swift motion, Georg was slammed from mid-air to the ground, his back hitting first. His silent scream filled the air.

Thud.

“Well, I’ll give you this; you did put up a fight, Cardinal Georg.”

“Ugh…!”

“Thanks to you foolishly falling for our trap, things got a whole lot easier.”

Elena scoffed at Georg, who groaned beneath her foot pressing against his chest.

“You’ll regret this…!”

“Regret? You’re slow to understand the situation….”

“You’ll never be able to prove my corruption! How can you possibly link the Paradise Bank to me─!”

It was a desperate but not entirely baseless outburst. Executing a bishop-level cardinal like Georg on the spot was unthinkable; the evidence was limited to witness testimony and circumstantial proof.

If he persisted with his denials, he might manage to save his life. However, one among them would not allow even the slightest chance of escape.

“We already have the evidence in hand.”

The plan was to deploy their strongest asset at the crucial moment.

“Our Sword of Justice, who has been holding back all this time.”

“……!”

***

“Haha! The Deputy Manager surely has a fine taste for liquor. This traditional elven brew is simply extraordinary!”

“It’s a pleasure to hear that. The brewers among my kind would be delighted to know that the lord of the empire himself appreciates it.”

“Wahaha…! Indeed! The artisans who crafted such precious liquor deserve all the praise from me!”

Roun chuckled softly, downing the special medicinal wine procured from Paradise.

‘Got him completely.’

While the elven concoctions are highly beneficial to elves, they are extremely toxic to other races—especially short-lived ones. Even an allegedly wise noble of the empire has become a fool, utterly enthralled by elven wine, allowing his mind to be manipulated at will.

‘That foolish cardinal is already halfway under our control…’

“By the way, it seems about time to inform the church. What do you think, Koeltz Lord?”

“Hmm? Ah, yes, you’re right. But I believe we should wait until the other matter is resolved. Given the gravity of the situation, they should ensure it’s handled thoroughly.”

“You mentioned that the one chosen as a prospective apostle by the Goddess of Justice might become a hindrance?”

“Hmm. It’s more of a conflict due to differing perspectives rather than an outright obstacle. Hopefully, the entire church will come to understand soon. So let’s wait until tomorrow. Besides, we still have plenty of wine left, don’t we?”

Despite the Lord of Koeltz’ gluttonous gulping of the wine, lacking any persuasion, Roun nodded with a smile. The fact that the lord was heavily dependent on the elven concoctions was, after all, not a disadvantage for Paradise.

“Well, moving on…”

The lord, who seemed intent on replacing all the fluids in his body with wine, finally turned his attention to the new guest after draining yet another bottle in one go.

“Is it not to your taste? The chef at the mansion put a lot of effort into preparing it. Is there something you find displeasing?”

Surprisingly, the Koeltz Lord, who had maintained a dismissive attitude even towards the deputy manager of Paradise Bank, now spoke with humble respect.

Even more surprising was that the recipient of this respect accepted it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I’m fine. I’ve never been much of a drinker.”

“That’s a shame. Such delicious wine… You must be very disciplined to regulate even your diet for the sake of maintaining your physique. As expected, your reputation precedes you.”

“Let me step out for a bit of fresh air.”

“Of course, take your time.”

As the man stepped out, leaving the Koeltz Lord behind, Roun followed him outside with a smiling face.

“You seem hesitant, acting master.”

“… Shut up.”

“Coming all the way from the Mountains to Koeltz in such secrecy must mean you’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

The man who had extracted such courteous treatment from an imperial noble, Cain Lichtaff, scowled at Roun’s serpentine eyes.

“Found you. Elf.”

“…!”

But before he could respond, a pristine puppet-like figure burst through the terrace floor with such speed and force that it surpassed Cain’s perception.

Boom!! Crash! Crash!