Medieval Fantasy Barbarian

Hunting is more difficult than one might imagine.

Only after having physical strength, perseverance, knowledge of prey, and the ability to detect traces can one be called a proper hunter.

However, even skilled hunters may sometimes fail to track even the shadow of prey on days of bad luck.

If those who have dedicated half their lives to hunting can experience such difficulty, it goes without saying for a novice who learned hunting from YouTube.

To get to the point, Ivan had not yet caught a single animal.

“Tsk, this is screwed up.”

The sun was beginning to set with no results. In darkness, far from hunting, it would be fortunate just not to get lost. It seemed certain that he would go hungry today.

He was looking around for anything edible, even some weeds.

“……!!”

A deer was eating berries from a small tree.

Ivan, grateful for this incredible stroke of luck, tried his best to conceal his presence.

Had he ever been this focused in his life? Holding his breath, Ivan slowly aimed his hand axe.

The tool he was holding for the first time in his life felt as familiar as if it were a part of his body. The moment a drop of sweat fell to the ground after trickling down from his forehead, over his eyelids, and along his jaw, the axe flew through the air.

“…Gack!!”

The hand axe precisely sliced the deer’s neck. The deer fell, bleeding profusely from its neck.

A strange sensation lingered at his fingertips. Ivan felt an indescribable joy.

His heart pounded with the primitive desire of having solved his immediate food concerns, the pleasure of taking the prey’s life, and the sense of achievement of having accomplished something for the first time in this place.

Ivan hummed as he hoisted the deer onto his back. A pleasantly heavy weight pressed down on him.

His steps back home were incredibly light. At this moment, he was the happiest person in the world.

“Grrrr…”

At least until he encountered a group of goblins wielding weapons.

“Oh fuck. What kind of shitty rigged game is this.”

If he had known this would happen, he would have brought a knife. Once again, Ivan was overwhelmed by yet another unfair situation.

Goblins are universally considered among the weakest monsters even within fantasy worlds.

Their height comparable to elementary school students, with negligible strength—just cannon fodder. But if they’re armed with weapons, the story changes slightly.

Unless one is wearing armor, a knife is equally deadly to anyone. In games, you might lose some HP after taking a few hits, but reality isn’t so forgiving.

Moreover, the spears and daggers the goblins were holding were covered in rust.

As someone from the modern world, Ivan understood the danger better than most.

‘If I get even a scratch from those, wouldn’t I die from infection?’

A vivid tension crept up his spine. Ivan was not a barbarian warrior, and he had no interest in the afterlife one might enjoy after an honorable death.

For Ivan, surviving this moment was far more important.

The goblins were gradually tightening their encirclement. What if he threw the deer to them and ran away?

If he gave them a satisfying prey, they might not chase him. That would increase his chances of survival somewhat.

In exchange, he would have to endure hunger and cold tonight. Perhaps for several days.

But is that a better life than… dying miserably from tetanus?

A sudden sense of self-loathing gripped Ivan’s soul.

Are you really going to throw away the trophy you obtained through sweat and effort and run away? Really?

If you’re going to give up and surrender every time you face a difficult situation, what meaning is there in such a life?

Fight. Though you may groan in pain and be covered in blood, protect what is yours.

A mysterious voice whispered in his mind.

Was it the barbarian warrior’s thoughts imprinted on his body? Or a divine revelation? If not, it might even be a form of mental illness.

What does it matter? Ivan surrendered himself to the fighting instinct spreading throughout his body through his veins. He threw the hand axe with all his might while simultaneously kicking the ground.

“Gurk?!”

The hand axe crushing the skull of some unfortunate goblin was the signal.

Ivan swung his fist toward the closest goblin.

His clumsy posture reeked of an amateur’s inexperience, with no real technique behind it. But it carried enough force to kill a mere goblin, and that was sufficient.

Thud-. Ivan felt the sensation of the goblin’s skull cracking.

“Gurk!! Grrurk!!”

Enraged by the death of their comrade, the goblins swung their weapons at Ivan.

A dagger tore his ear, and a rusty spear narrowly grazed his side, followed by a terrible, searing pain.

Instead of screaming, Ivan swung his fist once more. One less goblin.

With each new wound, large or small, etched into his body, he felt his senses endlessly expanding.

In a sensation as if time was flowing slowly, Ivan continuously moved his body to hit, kick, trample, and crush the goblins.

At this moment, what dominated Ivan’s body was not the fear of death, but the pure desire for struggle.

Having chased down the fleeing goblins and crushed the very last one, Ivan exhaled hot breath. Steam rose from his body, drenched in blood.

“Huuu…”

Collapsing onto the snow like a fallen tree, the snow seeped into the wounds carved all over his body. Though Ivan groaned in pain, he enjoyed the coolness.

Ivan noticed that he had been laughing for some time.

He realized that he had completely crossed a line that he had unconsciously been keeping. And that he could never go back to what he was before.

In any case, Ivan was quite pleased with that fact.

After that, Ivan’s daily life flowed very simply.

Usually, he trained from sunrise to sunset, and went hunting when food ran out. If he encountered monsters, he killed them, and sometimes he went looking for them.

This amazing body honestly grew stronger with each training session, as if there were no limits.

Choosing the barbarian class was indeed the right choice. Ivan nodded with satisfaction.

Magic? Highly developed muscles are equal to or greater than magic. It was almost shameful that he had once admired the life of such spellcasters.

Now, three years later, Ivan felt the results of his training throughout his body.

Ivan grabbed a thick tree as if embracing it and applied force.

Amazingly, with a cracking sound, the tree was uprooted.

Ivan casually threw the tree away and punched the rock in front of him.

The large rock split exactly in half. He had already reached a level that was difficult to call human.

‘At this rate, I could just go back and destroy everything…’

Though three years had passed, Ivan still had not returned to the tribe.

While Ivan hadn’t paid much attention due to his focus on training, over the past three years, Habel’s face had noticeably darkened.

“…Ivan, I’m truly sorry. It’s shameful, but could you wait just a little longer?”

Ivan looked at the bowing Habel with slightly disgruntled eyes.

‘Didn’t he say the exact same thing three years ago?’

Ivan thought that Habel might be unexpectedly incompetent, but held his tongue. At least he was making an effort.

“Well, I can certainly wait that long. As I said before, don’t push yourself too hard.”

“But…”

“And don’t bow your head over something like this. We’re brothers, aren’t we?”

“Sniff, Ivan!!”

Habel shed tears of emotion. Unlike his appearance, he was surprisingly sensitive.

After some time, Habel put on an awkward expression and changed the subject.

“Um, by the way, I saw trees and rocks smashed randomly on my way here. I wonder if a giant has entered the forest. Be careful not to encounter it.”

“…Thanks for the advice. Being careful certainly can’t hurt.”

Ivan awkwardly avoided eye contact. Habel sensed something subtle but didn’t press the issue.

After confirming that Habel had left, Ivan began training as usual, turning the forest upside down.

Then suddenly, he wondered if there was any need to increase his strength further.

Now that it was difficult to find even an opponent who could withstand a punch or two, let alone one who could match him in a life-or-death battle, what was the point of becoming stronger? The forest was too small for Ivan.

“Ah… so this is how Saitama felt.”

Ivan spouted whatever came to mind. What did it matter when no one was watching?

‘Aren’t there any monsters like trolls or ogres?’

Having had this useless thought, his mind only became more complicated. Today, he would give it all up and rest while drinking some alcohol.

Ivan craved new stimulation. A ray of light to entertain him in this boring daily life.

But he didn’t really expect anything to happen.

Ivan wasn’t naive enough to harbor such groundless hope.

“……?”

At least not until he discovered an old man collapsed, half-buried in snow.