Surviving the Game as a Barbarian-Chapter 742: Changed Fate (5)

One minute, two minutes, three minutes...
Time passes.
Slower than at any other moment he had ever experienced.
Four minutes, five minutes, six minutes...
The longer it goes on, the more suffocating it becomes.
The air inside the wardrobe that once felt comforting now wraps around him like a vice, tightening around his entire body. Within it, his heart beats slowly.
Nervous. And nervous again.
Seven minutes, eight minutes, nine minutes...
Is she okay?
What if she's been discovered by other Noark soldiers and something terrible happens to her?
In the pitch black, scenes of tragedy whirl through his mind.
Thump—!
That too was a kind of intuition.
Though the target of that “intuition” wasn’t himself, but another.
Ten minutes, eleven minutes, twelve minutes...
Sven Parab did not rest for even a second. He pressed his ear tightly to the wardrobe door and focused all his attention on the sounds outside.
"......"
"......"
Since the moment Riris Marone had hidden the corpses and entered the building across the street with the woman in danger, nothing more could be heard.
They must have found a good hiding spot in there...
Clack, clack, clack.
Every time enemy troops marched past the street, Sven Parab felt a chill down his spine.
This wardrobe is safe.
That intuition, which had saved his life many times before, told him so.
But...
Twenty minutes, thirty minutes, forty minutes...
Was that building across the street just as safe?
Intuition answered: No.
And objectively, the situation made that clear too.
If it were truly safe, then the woman hiding there wouldn’t have been captured in the first place...
Besides, there had already been that earlier “incident.”
Clack, clack, «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» clack.
Then, once more, the sound of heavily armed soldiers echoed down the street.
Clack—
Their footsteps stopped in front of the building.
He desperately hoped they’d just pass by—but as always, that ominous feeling turned out to be right.
"...They disappeared while scouting here?"
"Yes, their last ed position was right nearby."
"Haa... Why the hell would they go out this far to scout at a time like this?"
"Maybe they used scouting as an excuse to look for something worth money."
"Or to go chasing tail."
"......."
A vulgar exchange, full of Noark’s signature disorder and crudeness—no trace of Lafdonia’s military discipline.
Which only made Sven Parab’s anxiety grow stronger.
He could easily imagine what kind of end awaited someone who was captured by men like that.
But...
Thump—!
That’s always how the world had been.
It felt like misfortunes fed on his fears and anxieties, growing stronger the more he worried.
The more afraid he was, the more certainly disaster would appear before his eyes.
Just like this.
"...Huh? Wait a minute, I sense a presence."
"A presence...?"
"It’s faint with time, but... yes, there’s no mistake. Someone died here."
"Can you be more specific?"
"Hold on."
How much time passed after those words?
Then the man who had told them to wait spoke again.
His voice was quiet—much quieter than normal—but to Sven Parab’s ears, strengthened by divine power, it was perfectly clear.
"It was about an hour ago. Three people died here."
"Matches the number of missing. And if it was an hour ago, then it’s unlikely to be someone else."
"From what I can tell, the bodies were moved and traces of blood wiped away with magic. A cleanup."
"Can’t your black magic track where the culprit went?"
A man, likely the commander, asked—and Sven Parab silently prayed for the answer to be no.
And then...
"Hmm... Black magic isn’t omnipotent."
"...Is that so."
"But I can read where the bodies went. They were taken into that house over there."
"Then we should check it. There’s a chance the culprits are still inside."
"Of course we should check. The way the bodies were cleaned up suggests some skill... but even skilled people often don’t understand black magic well. If I hadn’t sensed the presence, I wouldn’t have noticed anything."
"Still, let’s file a before breaching. Hey, Reksten!"
The commander called someone, and that someone—frozen like a fresh recruit—responded and began babbling hurriedly.
He was clearly ing back to headquarters...
Damn it.
His mind started to race again.
Should he intervene before they finish?
Or should he stay put?
If they searched the house and didn’t find Riris Marone or the woman, that would be the best outcome...
"Captain! completed as ordered!"
While he debated, everything proceeded.
The golden time was gone. Now all he could do was watch.
"Combat formation. Proceed with caution—we don’t know how strong the enemy is."
The Noark soldiers carefully entered the building, and each passing second felt eternal.
Thump, thump, thump...
Time filled with endless anxiety and doubts about whether his choice had been right.
It ended around the seven-minute mark.
"...C-Captain!"
BOOOOOOM—!
"AAAAAAAAAGH!"
An explosion and screams shattered the silence at once.
And the battle began.
"...Kyaaaaaaah!!"
Marone, being a former military mage, resisted desperately even after being discovered—but in the end, she lost.
"Shit! Seven of ours, for one damn bitch...!"
Thud—!
A dull impact. Then another scream in a familiar voice.
"Khk...!"
"...Wait. Her face looks familiar."
"...Riris Marone! Former military mage—Bjorn Yandel’s comrade!"
"What...? Hahahah! Hahahaha! This is a massive achievement!"
"If we take her back alive, we’ll be hailed as heroes!"
Capture.
That word gave Sven Parab a fleeting hope.
But...
"Eh, what are you talking about? That’s old news. Command said ages ago we don’t need to bring her in alive."
"Oh... really?"
"Still, it’d be a waste to kill her clean."
"Of course. She killed seven of ours—we can’t let her go easy."
"I lost an arm, damn it!"
Even that tiny speck of hope was brutally crushed.
Thud—!
Another blow landed, and Sven Parab quietly closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Thump—!
His intuition beat in his chest, whispering to him.
If you plug your ears and ignore it...
Thump—!
You will survive.
Even if Riris Marone, who risked her life to save others, dies.
"...Hey! Talk! Are you alone? Any comrades?"
"......."
"Whatever. You’ll talk after some fun."
You will survive.
"Oh! Captain! There’s someone else in here!"
"...Kyaaaah!!"
Even if innocent civilians die.
"Please! Leave them alone!"
"Look at her face change, huh?"
You’ll survive.
But...
"WAAAAAAAAAAAH—!!"
"What the—there’s a damn baby?"
"P-Please! Please spare my child! Just my baby, please!"
...Is that truly the right thing?
"NOOOOOOOOO——!!"
Sven Parab no longer questioned himself.
「Sven Parab has cast [Blade of Judgment].」
Huff... huff... huff...
He ran, forcing his breath to remain steady as it climbed up his throat.
There were two reasons.
Rhythmic breathing lets you run longer.
And...
"Chase him...!!"
Right now, only running far would mean survival.
Huff... huff... huff...
Brown Rotmiller sprinted at full speed through the familiar forest path.
He wasn’t deserting.
They had been forced to fall back after the barrage of magic cannon fire from the walls, and then the overwhelming numbers broke the front line entirely—an official retreat order had been issued.
It was a logical move.
Feign a retreat, stretch the line thin, and then strike at the top brass with an elite force—
He only knew about that plan because he was a former comrade of Yandel’s.
But...
Thud-thud-thud—!
That “former” in his title carried a heavy weight.
"Yandel cherishes that guy!"
"Catch him! He’s worth at least a Tier-3 essence!!"
A relentless pursuit followed him.
That was why he was running alone through the dense forest.
He had started out with other barbarian warriors, but it hadn’t taken long to realize he was just dragging them down.
Huff... huff... huff...
So he kept running, and running.
Unlike Yandel’s true companions, he didn’t have the strength to take on dozens of enemies.
But maybe—just maybe—by running, he could keep those enemies tied up.
That was all an ex-guide-turned-adventurer could do now.
Yes. So...
Huff... huff... huff...
He forced his legs to keep moving, though they screamed to stop.
Thump, thump, thump, thump!
He ignored the pounding of his heart that shouted it had reached its limit.
BOOM—!
He detonated his final smoke bomb and kept running—
Thwip—!
But then, an arrow tore through the smoke and pierced his abdomen, knocking him to the muddy ground.
‘Running no longer possible.’
Rotmiller quickly made a decision. He crawled to the nearest decent-looking tree and began climbing.
Then...
Whoooooooooosh—!
A strong wind blew away the smoke, and the pursuers entered the area below.
"Damn it, where’d he go?"
"You think we lost him?"
"Judging by that arrow, it hit. He won’t have gotten far!"
"Search every inch...!"
The pursuers scattered below.
Rotmiller stayed calm and made another decision.
What do I need to do to survive?
He might not have reached the upper floors, but after years of exploring the labyrinth, he knew how to make the right call.
‘I need to treat this wound.’
If the search took too long, he’d be found. And in this state, he’d be helpless.
So first, treat the injury.
But since the enemy was right beneath him...
‘As quietly as possible.’
Rotmiller pulled the arrow from his abdomen with his own hand.
Then bit down on the arrow like a gag—
Ssssss—
—and poured potion over the wound.
"......!!"
It always made him wonder whether healing was worth the pain.
And it reminded him how amazing Yandel truly was.
That man had endured this kind of pain and kept fighting.
How was that even possible?
‘Ah...’
Even as he asked himself, he knew the answer.
To survive.
His jaw clenched instinctively. Blood rushed to his head. His veins bulged. But he held back the scream.
But—
"...Huh?"
He was unlucky.
He had made all the right decisions.
But...
"F-Fuck! You scared me!"
He was simply unlucky.
The one who spotted him wasn’t even searching—he was slacking off, pissing on the ground.
Thwip—!
The moment he looked up mid-piss and saw Rotmiller, he fired his crossbow. The bolt pierced Rotmiller’s thigh.
Thud—!
He fell to the ground, broken and defeated.
By the time he came to, he was completely surrounded.
"Nice. That’s at least a Tier-3 essence. What should we do, captain?"
"Capture order was revoked. Just take his head and ID."
The conversation, devoid of emotion, felt more like logistics than execution.
And so, his fate was decided instantly.
"Mind if I do it?"
"You?"
"When will a guy like me ever get to kill Yandel’s buddy?"
"Suit yourself."
A sly-looking man stepped forward, twirling a dagger as he approached.
"This might hurt a bit. Knife’s short, so I’ll have to saw."
Rotmiller didn’t beg.
He closed his eyes.
He figured he had maybe a few dozen seconds left.
And in that time, memories flashed before him.
His parents, who died in his childhood when they couldn’t pay taxes.
The orphanage director who raised him with love.
The old guide who taught him his skills with no strings attached...
Gratitude. Regret. Bittersweet memories.
His life had been hard—but not without joy.
And if he had to pick one joyful moment—
"I think... that was the best time of my life."
"Huh? What’s this bastard muttering?"
How’s Hikurod doing in all this chaos?
Did he evacuate safely? He hoped so.
Even if their blacksmith shop got caught up in the war, safety came first.
He should’ve visited more.
Regret surged.
And other companions came to mind.
Misha Kalstein.
Bjorn Yandel.
And...
‘Riol Worb Dwalke.’
Would he welcome him with a smile?
Or scold him for coming too early?
He didn’t know—but he laughed.
"You’re laughing...?"
Of course.
Only now, with death right in front of him, did he truly understand.
"Man..."
He used to think:
If that moment ever came, maybe he’d finally understand what that friend felt back then.
What a naive thought.
"...He really was something else."
And what about him?
Brown Rotmiller.
A man too ordinary, left behind while those he cared for moved forward.
Even his end as a former explorer was utterly ordinary.
"You done? Keep talking and I’ll start cutting."
He wanted to live.
He didn’t want to die.
There were too many things left undone. Too many things yet to do.
But...
Shing—!
Now it really was the end.
"......."
Rotmiller closed his eyes.
One last face passed through his mind.
Not his savior. Not a dear comrade. And not someone he’d known for long...
‘I should’ve been more honest.’
Damn it.
Why were there so many regrets?
"The star that rises at twilight shall guide us all..."
Like any ordinary person facing death, he called the name of the divine in his final moment.
And then—
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM—!!!
A sudden explosion roared.
He opened his eyes.
He didn’t know what was happening.
But he was grateful.
"Hey... what the hell do you think you’re doing to my guide?"
It seemed...his story wasn't over yet.