The Genius Necromancer of the Barbarian Race

I Strike, Therefore I Am.

Dawn broke, and it was time to leave the village of the Red Wolf Tribe.

"Dmihtan, I've been waiting for you!"

When I arrived at the meeting place, kaldrak was already there waiting for me. It was hard to read his expression under the skull helmet, but his mouth was stretched wide with a smile.

He hadn't brought as much luggage as I expected.

"Barkal."

"What is it, Dmihtan!"

"You have too many axes."

The problem was that he disgustingly brought far too many axes, his weapon of choice.

One, two, three... eight.
No, what kind of idiot brings eight axes with him?

"I'm only taking two, counting spares, Barkal."

"L-listen to me, Dmihtan!"

With a flustered tone, he started to lay out his axes one by one.

"This is my main weapon. The one I'm most used to!"

He pointed at the sharpest, most well-maintained axe and I nodded in response.

"T-this one is a spare! The second best in my grip!"

I nodded again.

Seeing that I understood, Barkal's eyes, visible through the bone helmet, widened.

"This one is for chopping wood!"

You can just use what you have on you, you maniac.

"This one's for fishing!"

Why would we need that?

"This one's for sleep!"

What, for sleep?

I stared at Barkal in disbelief, and he began to babble.

"If I don't have this one near me, I can't settle down!"

Settle down from what? It's not like it's a comfort doll.

"Fine, then take only two—including that one."

"Dmihtan...!"

"If you have too much baggage, it'll be inconvenient to move. We may have to walk a long way, Barkal."

Barkal looked at me with resentful eyes but soon nodded as if resigned.

So in the end, he packed just the main weapon and the 'sleeping' one. He's really taking his comfort axe.

"Dmihtan!"

As Barkal was organizing his belongings to take, someone called out to me.

I turned my head and saw familiar faces.

"We heard you're embarking on the Journey of Proof!"

"Dmihtan, you're a true barbarian!"

Geodude, squirtle, bulbasaur.

I'm sorry. I still don't know your names.

Whether they knew what I was thinking or not, the Bakemon took a step forward and held out their hands. They were clearly requesting a handshake.

One by one,
I shook their hands.

"We believe you'll finish your Journey of Proof quickly and return!"

"Brother, we'll follow soon enough!"

The more sincere their encouragement became, the more not knowing their names felt like a guilty conscience.

I've just been using you guys and never even learned your names. Sorry, everyone.

"We're ready, brother."

Just then, Barkal had finished packing. He and I turned toward the entrance of the village.

As I looked back, I saw the barbarians waving.

We hadn't even been here that long to feel attached, but for some reason, I felt a pang of regret.

* * *

A few hours after leaving the Red Wolf Village, as we were walking, Barkal asked,

"So, brother, where are we headed?"

"It's a journey of proof. We are heading for our proof."

"Brother, I have no doubt you will become the greatest barbarian of the Red Wolf Tribe!"

There was so much trust in his voice that I could feel it without even looking.

"Still, I wish you'd tell me where we're going!"

"We're going to the city."

"The city...?"

"That's right."

One of Thrag's faiths, 'Short Tongue', kept nagging at me, but I continued,

"You mean we're not going straight to the dungeon to kill monsters right now?"

"Barkal, think wisely."

"Wisdom is Dmihtan's role!"

"What's your role, Barkal?"

"I strike things!"

Honestly, I wanted to say something, but I barely held back. After all, even I could count as one of the things he 'strikes'.

"At least think a little, Barkal."

"Hmmm..."

"It's true that striking dungeon monsters for the Journey of Proof is correct."

"Hmph!"

He sounded confident.

"But do you know where the dungeon is?"

Barkal shook his head.

"That's why we're heading to the city."

"There's a dungeon in the city?!"

He just wouldn't let it go.

"Do you trust me, Barkal?"

"Brother, of course I do!"

"Then just remember these two things."

I held up two fingers.

"I think."

"Understood."

I pointed a finger at Barkal's axe.

"You strike things."

"That, I am confident in."

His skull head bobbed vigorously.

Even though I had knowledge about this world, the reason I wasn't heading straight for a 'dungeon' but rather for a city was simple.

In the game, Dungeon God, the locations where 'dungeons' appeared could never be memorized.

Dungeon appearances are random!

Time, place, all random!

You couldn't find a more luck-based, busted game than this one—everything is left to RNG.

At best, one could deduce where dungeons would appear through omens. To do that, you needed information, and where information gathered was invariably—in the city.

'If I consider where this Red Wasteland is located...'

I anticipated it would be quite a distance to the nearest city.

Ideally, we should have been on horseback, but what you were allowed to take when beginning the 'Journey of Proof' was restricted solely to your weapon.

Armor or even something like a pouch—maybe, by trickery—but a horse? No way.

"Mmmm..."

It was a considerable distance, so I frowned but kept walking.

Standing around whining wouldn't close the gap. Annoying as it was, there was nothing for it but to walk.

"Brother."

While I was silently walking, Barkal's voice called from behind.

I turned to him, and Barkal was gazing out into the far-off wasteland.

"What is it, Barkal?"

"A carriage."

A carriage?

I was surprised by Barkal's words.

So, you even know what a carriage is!

"Where is it?"

"That way."

Barkal pointed out across the wasteland with his hand. When I turned my gaze that way, I could make out something carriage-like as well.

Being able to recognize that at a glance—are you Mongolian? No, come to think of it, you're even more savage than a Mongol.

"So what's the problem with the carriage?"

Barkal, still in his skull helmet, didn't take his eyes off its direction.

"It seems to be coming this way."

Towards us?

* * *

Just as Barkal said, the carriage was coming toward us.

Since they were chasing us on horseback, there'd be no shaking them. I told Barkal to be ready to respond.

As the carriage approached, the driver—a coachman—spoke to us in a hurried tone.

"B-barbarian friends! Please, stay calm!"

Seeing me and Barkal's attire, he seemed to immediately recognize us as 'barbarians'. The coachman raised both hands high and stopped the carriage, speaking cautiously.

"We're not here to fight! Could we talk for a moment?!"

"Talk?"

Barkal looked at me. Apparently, he wanted me to make the call.

"We have nothing to discuss."

"W-wait! It looks like you're heading to the city, right? To Iushil, right?!"

The coachman, adopting a submissive attitude, mentioned 'Iushil', which caught my attention.

He was correct.

We were indeed heading to Iushil, as it was the closest city to the Red Wasteland, and belonged to the 'Kerval Kingdom'.

"We're on our way to Iushil as well!"

And so?

"Would you travel with us?"

"Oh."

At the suggestion to ride together, Barkal looked positive. Even barbarians, it seemed, did not like walking for eternity.

But I frowned.

'What's the catch?'

The continent of Atheran, the setting for Dungeon God, was a lawless land where 'Kingdoms' and 'Empires' were rampant.

Many countries claimed their territories, but actual control seldom extended more than a few kilometers past their city walls.

Thus, the land between cities belonged to no one, and to everyone.

Nomads, bandit gangs, and wild tribes.

It was commonplace for them to kill to survive, and the 'Red Wolf Tribe' was probably seen as one of them.

In that context, the 'charity' of a first encounter must be treated warily.

"Y-you seem to be wary. That's only natural."

As I frowned, the coachman indicated the carriage and spoke.

"It's not just kindness. We'd like you to act as escorts until we reach Iushil!"

The coachman said 'we', and another man appeared from the back of the carriage. He had swarthy skin.

"We're merchants. The carriage is packed with spices to sell in Iushil. The problem is, due to an issue at the last town, we couldn't hire escorts."

"So you'll take us as far as Iushil if we agree to protect you?"

When I summarized bluntly, the coachman stared at me in astonishment.

"Y-you have quite a head on your shoulders for a barbarian!"

Their prejudice against barbarians was massive. Actually, it made sense.

"My brother, Dmihtan Elvar."

To this, Barkal shrugged his shoulders at the coachman.

"As you said, friend. So, do you accept our offer?"

I hesitated a little. The stated purpose was 'escort', but it could be a ruse.

'... Still.'

Looking at the two men's bodies, they really did look like merchants. Even if trouble arose, Barkal could probably knock them out with a one-two punch.

"Fine."

I accepted the offer.

* * *

Riding in the carriage, watching the landscape blur by, I let out a sigh of relief.

On foot, even for barbarians, it would have taken five days at least. Getting a ride on a carriage covering such a distance so easily was nothing short of lucky.

'Hm.'

Yet my temperament was strange. Good things were happening, and yet...

Why did I feel so uneasy?

"Brother, what's wrong?"

Barkal seemed to have sensed my mood and asked. I shook my head.

Could anything really happen? That kind of thought started to fill my mind.

"By the way, have you eaten?"

The coachman called out from the driver's seat after I calmed my idle thoughts.

"We've still got some way to go, and we're planning to eat. How about you two?"

"We haven't."

"Well, then let us prepare enough for you as well. Sound good?"

"If you're willing, we'd be grateful."

When the merchants said they'd prepare food for us too, I nodded willingly.

The merchants soon stopped the carriage, lit a fire, and began to cook. They filled a jar with water and enthusiastically tossed in various ingredients. Before long, an appetizing stew was ready.

I felt my mouth water. Naturally.

'Finally, real food...'

One barbarian tradition was especially insane: strict 'raw eating.'

They believed that by consuming life in its untouched state, they could wholly absorb its power—an utterly crazy local faith.

Because of this, I'd only eaten bloody raw meat and hard grains.

So of course, human food made my eyes bug out.

"Here you go."

The merchants offered dishes of food. Seeing their naive smiles, I accepted a bowl of stew.

Barkal didn't take a bowl. This 'raw food fanatic' seemed not interested in cooked food after all.

Not that he'd eat it anyway.

Warm Chicken Stew
Grade: Normal

【Warmth】 1
【Deadly Poison】 1

I knew it.

Seeing the stew's options, I sighed.

Even though I only ever played Dungeon God as a game, the merchants' behavior was suspicious from the start.

You're in need of an 'escort' but set out just because of delays?

And in such a situation, you actively approach barbarians wandering the road?

Above all, simply sharing food was odd. On a long trip, you'd usually ration supplies.

'Seems like their food stocks were plenty.'

My suspicions were likely correct. If I were a 'merchant' crossing a lawless zone, I'd never do it without an escort.

Thus.

"The original carriage owner was killed by his escorts."

Is that it?

Lost in thought, I ended up saying that out loud.

When the two men, claiming to be merchants, heard me, their expressions hardened.

At the same time, the man in the driver's seat drew his sword.

"Hyaaaaaa!"

Shouting, he charged at me, but Barkal's thick fist sent his jaw spinning.

Damn, his neck looked half broken.

"B-brother. Why are they suddenly attacking us?"

"Barkal, these men are our enemies."

"Enemies...?"

"H-hiiiick!!"

On hearing the word 'enemy', Barkal turned his head and looked at the lone survivor. Seeing the red glow through the skull helmet's eyeholes, the man panicked and tried to flee.

But soon, Barkal caught him and dragged him back.

"Dmihtan, what do we do with our enemies?!"

Barkal asked me.

"Dmihtan thinks. I strike. If brother tells me to strike, I strike!"

Barkal laid both men on the ground and lifted his (comfort) axe.

He seemed to be waiting for my judgment, recalling our earlier conversation.

'What should I do?'

I was a modern person, a coward—almost no experience killing, or even harming, living beings with my own hands.

Thus, I doubted I could face the guilt of taking a life.

Even if it would be Barkal doing the killing, the decision would be mine.

I'd merely be wielding the weapon called 'Barkal,' but even so, I'd be the killer. My mouth went dry at the thought.

Well, whatever.

"Strike."

Better this than leaving any loose ends.

"For Thrag!!"

Barkal swung his axe.

* 〈Thrag rejoices in slaughter.〉
* 〈Thrag accepts your offering.〉

Such a petty god, seriously.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=
At least MC got 1 Bakemon left.
【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】