Barbarian in a Failed Game

Chapter 032: Draupnir (1)

“Father…!”

The moment after the young lord let out a scream, a brutish hand grabbed Jan by the nape of his neck.

It was his barbaric escort, Khan.

“Dangerous!”

In the meantime, the young lord’s panicked voice was heard just after seeing a red blade rushing towards where Jan had just been.

“That, that is.”

“Grrr!”

Jan’s puzzled voice overlapped with the sound of a beast growling.

After sending a knight clad in full plate armor flying, the being called father by the young lord, Count Hefeldt, was glaring at Jan, eyes filled only with whites and brimming with murderous intent.

Holding a red-tinged, ancient-looking sword.

“Cough. your grace…!”

Feneth, who had been slammed against a wall, belatedly rose to his feet.

As if trying to calm the count who seemed ready to rush at Jan at any moment, he swung his sheathed sword.

Crack!

The count stood his ground, blocking Feneth’ strike.

He even showed the power to push back, locking swords and muscling through.

“How…!”

Even Feneth, surprised, let out a shocked voice as the count, with a terrifying roar, body-checked Feneth with all his might.

It was a blow that Feneth, unable to exert his full strength for fear of injuring the count, could only take helplessly.

Thud!

The count’s gaze then shifted back towards Jan.

“Dragons must be—killed—!”

“You’re insane! Warrior!”

Then, as if losing all reason, the count charged with a meaningless roar.

Jan, in panic, forgot even to act, retreating behind Khan…

“Die—, vile dragon—!”

“Damn it.”

The realization that the count’s madness stemmed from the dragon scale fragment in his possession darkened Khan’s expression.

An ancient sword enveloped in red aura, showing signs of aggression when encountering anything related to dragons and granting its wielder excessive strength—it was unmistakably a magic blade.

This had to be Draupnir, the dreaded dragon-slaying blade that appears much later, in the fifth act. A supreme weapon attainable only through a hidden quest available in the sixth act.

Among weapons shaped like swords, it boasted unparalleled performance, regarded by some as an almost supreme-tier cheat item.

The first thought that came to Khan’s mind was this.

‘Why is it appearing at this time?’

The Dragon-slaying Sword, Draupnir, consisted of eight replicas and one main body.

Gathering all of Draupnir’s replicas spread throughout the empire and merging them with the main body lying dormant in ruins beyond the northern territories of the empire was the objective of the hidden quest.

And yet, here was Draupnir, in the hands of a noble scion of the Argon Kingdom, at a time before even the first act had concluded…?

‘What’s happening here? What’s going on?’

The storyline was already twisting with Khan defeating Darkin, that much was certain. However, the matter of Draupnir was entirely different.

The quest’s stakeholders weren’t humans but dwarves.

Could this also be the doing of someone who retrieved the dragon scale fragments in the Western Great Mountains before Khan, and handed some to Darkin?

‘Not enough information.’

“Dragons must be killed—!”

“This is just—awful, really.”

‘First… I have to deal with the count bedark mageed by Draupnir’s curse.’

Khan instinctively moved to punch and send the count flying but halted abruptly. It wasn’t out of concern for potentially killing the noble.

Quite the opposite.

Whizz—! A chilling sound of cutting air passed as the red blade barely grazed Khan’s earlobe.

Khan, reflexively about to counter, drew back.

‘This is damn tricky.’

It was due to the effect of Draupnir.

The damned sword sucked the blood of its host, fortifying the body as though turning it into hardened flesh, while also inflicting a curse of ‘wound aggravation’ on those it cut.

Without a proper weapon at hand, it was a truly disastrous matchup.Should I push it away using the Shield of the Depths? I don’t like the idea of revealing an artifact for just this. Or maybe crash into it with a leap…?

Several methods to thrash the Count flashed through my mind in an instant. However, I was robbed of the chance to actually demonstrate any of them by Feneth.

“I apologize, your grace!”

With a bite in his voice, Feneth charged with agility that belied the weight of his plate armor, swiftly maneuvering to the Count’s rear.

“The dragon slayer…!”

However, the Count seemed unbothered by whatever was behind him. More accurately, it was the will of Draupnir controlling the Count’s mind that didn’t care.

“Sword!”

Khan, feigning a clumsy manner of speech, offered his advice with utmost subtlety.

Feneth, not being a complete fool, swiftly caught on to Khan’s meaning.

And there was light.

Literally, a light. A mass of blue enveloped Feneth’s sword like a coating of luminescence. Khan’s gaze darkened.

‘Aura.’

The power granted to knights who had sworn ‘Oaths of Loyalty’ before the gods of the pantheon. Unlike mana and divine power or dark magic that required incantations, the Aura moved at the will of its user.

Depending on the wielder’s skill, it was possible to shape the Aura into something larger than a building and wield it. For Feneth, however, coating his sword was the extent of his capability.

Still, it was a formidable threat.

Clang! Crash!

The Count, charging as if he became a greenskin warrior himself, staggered.

It was the backlash from Feneth’s sword, intent on shattering Draupnir.

Decorations hung along the mansion’s corridor fell to the floor, unable to withstand the collision’s aftermath. Yet, the Count held on to Draupnir.

Instead, the recent strike seemed to have stoked the sword’s spirit, intensifying the red aura.

“Must slay the dragon…!”

Should I cut off his arm or something? The thought crossed the head housekeeper’s mind, trembling hands and all, as he watched the battle unfold.

Then Jan, who had been holding his breath, completed his spell.

“Hold!”

Despite his unreliable tone, the spell’s potency was remarkable.

Indeed, becoming a magus’s disciple seemed a fitting reaction.

A low-tier spell, Silent Thread of Arachne, unraveled. Gray, semi-transparent threads cascaded down like an overflowing river. The head housekeeper, only accustomed to the spells of mercenary mages, was taken aback.

Under Jan’s direction, the spell’s threads began to bind the Count entirely.

Even the monstrous strength that had flung an armored knight was unable to break free when every limb and joint were bound.

Khan seized the opportunity and reached out for Draupnir.

As Khan closed the distance, the Count, glowing more intensely, attempted to sever the threads, but Feneth rushed in, grasping the Count’s arm.

‘Got it.’

Khan’s rough grasp covered the Count’s hand holding Draupnir. With a strength of 61, he pried the fingers open, making the will’s resistance seem irrelevant.

“Roar…!”

As if refusing to be easily subdued, the will roared out using the Count’s mouth.

Draupnir attempted to resist by absorbing more blood. However, to surpass Khan’s strength, not a human, but at least a troll would have needed to wield Draupnir.

Finally.

Draupnir slipped from the Count’s hand. A sound of fingers breaking was heard, yet Khan deemed it an unfortunate accident.

Thud!

“Your grace!”

Feneth caught the Count as he fell, freed from the will’s control, and quickly checked on his lord. Fortunately, he was only unconscious, not the worst-case scenario.

But there was no room for relief.

Whirr! Whirr!

Feneth’s face turned stern at the vibrating sound emitted by the enchanted sword that had charmed his lord.

The magical sword that turned even the aristocratically trained Count into an outstanding warrior. In the hands of a barbarian, its potential power was unfathomable.

“Warrior, are you alright?”

Jan, forgetting his act, inquired about Khan’s wellbeing in his usual tone, but Feneth, still grasping Draupnir, concentrated all his attention on the silent barbarian.

“Stand back. Should this barbarian rage, he must be subdued immediately.”

“Oh… It would be better not to! You’ll get hurt!”

“It cannot be helped. Let’s try to preserve the life of the your guard to the utmost. Cutting off an arm will do.”

“That’s not what I mean…”

‘I meant that the your head will be cut off!’

Jan screamed internally.

* * *

“What exactly is going on now?”

With a bewildered voice, Khan muttered as he looked around. What used to be a familiar scene… now seemed strange to him.

A bleak studio apartment of roughly 14 square meters, with nothing but a bed, a desk, and a high-spec computer flashing with LED lights catching his eye.

‘This is my place, isn’t it.’

Scratching his head, Khan was suddenly struck with a thought and headed towards the computer. Not sure if it was some bizarre dream, but just in case, he moved his hand towards the mouse, and the monitor lit up.

[SoysaucePepsiMintChocoKimchiSoup.]

On the screen was a gaming community forum he used to share information on. He immediately clicked on the forum to search for a summary guide of the story.

“Tch. As expected. The screen won’t change…”

It was the outcome he anticipated. He sighed and stepped back, then headed towards the fridge. His face, scrunching up in disgust, brightened up as he saw the contents.

Grabbing the zero-calorie soda he used to gorge on, Khan gulped it down in one go.

Immediately, the cool carbonation that couldn’t be tasted in the bitter Middle Ages coursed down his throat…

Ugh.

“Shit. It doesn’t taste like anything.”

Khan’s face twisted as if he had been cursed, and he crumpled the soda can as if it were paper.

Irritation surged, recalling the situation he had momentarily forgotten.

‘It’s a hallucination shown by Draupnir.’

In the game, being forcefully equipped with the curse-state Draupnir would afflict one with hallucinations due to the sword’s grudge.

Now that the game had become reality, he wondered if it manifested in this manner.

“It’s not much of a big deal, is it?”

While Khan was muttering to himself, the surroundings began to blur and distort as if shrouded in mist.

The grudge seemed to realize that its current hallucination wasn’t much of an impact and decided to show something else.

The ordinary apartment instantly softened like malleable clay and began to take on a new form. This time, it was an interior. Not of Earth, but a room reminiscent of an ordinary medieval style…

“Damn it.”

Feeling a frustrating familiarity with the new scenery, Khan’s face hardened more than when he tasted the flavorless soda.

Click. Clack.

The sound of footsteps from behind made Khan turn around involuntarily, like a moth drawn to flame despite knowing it would burn.

Golden eyes gazed at Khan. The moment their eyes met, a voice was heard.

[■.]

It was an incomprehensible language. Yet, Khan understood. She was calling my name.

“Tilly.”

He called her name in return.

Click… Clack…

She approached. Khan, somewhat numbed, rolled her name off his tongue again.

Tilly. Her beautiful eyes crinkled into crescents. It was the same smile as before. He reached out his hand towards her face.

Unlike the tasteless soda, warmth was felt on her cheek, as if she was truly there before him.

His chest felt tight.

[■■ ■.]

She spoke.

This time too, Khan understood. Hence, he followed her words. His hand stroking her soft cheek moved lower.

Her slender neck was grasped by the barbarian’s hand.

And then.

Khan corrected the regrets of his past.

Crack…

* * *

[Aaaagh! How do you know that monster…!]

Khan fully regained his senses at the voice that rang directly in his head. The hallucination from Draupnir was shattered for reasons unknown.

[Damn it! Let go! Release me right now! Do you intend to make a host connected to that monster…!]

Had Draupnir’s grudge spoken in the game too? Having never equipped the curse-state Draupnir, Khan couldn’t be sure.

He couldn’t understand why it was tormented after showing him the hallucination.

But one thing he was sure of.

‘It seems we have a lot to talk about.’

[Aaargh! Let go! You crazy human!]