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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Who Am I? (1)
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By the time my brief thought on how to deal with them had drifted into idle speculation, all the slaves were free.
"Thank you. Thank you."
"Run on your own. Don't get caught. I won't help you if you die or get captured."
"And you…?"
A few of them looked like they wanted to follow me, but it was better to be alone until things became clearer.
I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do. I had too little information.
Besides, in this situation, I couldn't trust anyone. This whole ordeal had taught me one thing for certain.
Trust no one until you are absolutely sure. And even then, doubt them one last time.
And wasn't there something more important left to do?
"I have some business to take care of."
Very important business, at that.
"Ah, by any chance, do you know what year it is in the Empire?"
"It's the 11th year of the Imperial Calendar. I don't know the exact date, though."
Someone answered the question I'd thrown out just in case. The 10th year of the Imperial Calendar.
So, about ten years after I died…
I thought I had woken up right after being poisoned, but a full decade had passed.
What would this place be like after ten years? Did the world simply move on as if nothing had happened, even after my death?
Had the seeds of the magical revolution I'd sown sprouted properly? All sorts of questions filled my head.
But for now, I could only be sure of a few things.
First, the Empire was clearly still around, given the use of the Imperial Calendar. Were the bastards who killed me living comfortably, eating and sleeping well?
And the second important fact: I had definitely abolished slavery.
In the past decade, this world had clearly changed, yet it was also the same as the one I knew. For sure.
"Thanks. Everyone, get ready. I'm going to set a fire."
***
Once everyone seemed ready, I took a torch illuminating the inside of the tent and set it ablaze.
There was no weapon better for sowing chaos than fire.
"Fire! Fire!"
Not even a few seconds after I lit it, I heard the guards shouting, and the slaves rushed out, adding to the confusion.
"The slaves are escaping!"
"Get them! Get them!"
"Don't let them get away! They're all money, you bastards!"
Screams and the shouts of the slave traders echoed from all directions.
It was pure pandemonium. The flames spread to other tents, burning fiercely, while dozens of slaves scattered in every direction.
Despite the late hour, the fire brightened the surroundings enough to distinguish friend from foe.
These people were clearly the 'enemy.' My enemy, who needed to be crushed.
*Swoosh—*
*Thwack—!*
I smashed the skull of the guard right in front of me.
"Urgh-!"
With a strange noise, one of the guards collapsed. A sudden surge of confidence coursed through my body.
This was the power of the Heracles clan.
"So strong."
A smirk escaped me as memories of my past life flooded back—a time when I had to survive using only my wits, with no physical abilities to speak of.
Those were truly difficult days. Ransacking every memory I had for something useful, applying it, and solving problems.
I thought getting some kind of ability after being transported from Earth to another world was a cliché, but I was literally powerless.
*'This is so much easier.'*
With this body, there was no need to rack my brain to the point of exhaustion just to survive. Of course, I might need to later.
But at least for now.
Isn't it just a matter of crushing the skull of anyone I see?
*Swoosh—*
*Smash—*
Another head burst open along with the swing of the crowbar. The head is a weak point for over ninety percent of all living creatures.
In other words, one blow to the noggin, and it's a one-way trip to the afterlife for anyone.
"Form up! Bring out your weapons! Shields to the front! Archers to the rear! There's only one enemy! Porters, put out the fire!"
It seemed they weren't complete amateurs.
At someone's command, the mercenaries who had been dying in disarray began to take their positions.
"You damn slave. I'll finish you right here."
"If you can."
"I'll make you pay for your sins."
Not everyone had managed to escape. I could see the bodies of a few dead slaves. But it seemed the majority had succeeded.
The reason I decided to wipe this place clean, even though I could have escaped myself.
First, their military strength wasn't that great.
I had seen hundreds, even thousands, of incredible knights in the Empire. Gauging their level was a piece of cake.
"A lot must have changed in ten years. Slave traders talking about the price of sin. Hehehe."
"What the hell is that bastard spouting? Kill him!"
Second, the fact that they were traveling this route with so few mercenaries meant they didn't care if they were discovered.
In other words, they were either officially sanctioned or so well-connected that getting caught didn't matter.
Just what in the world had happened in the ten years since my death?
"Right, ten years is enough for mountains and rivers to change. Of course it is."
The illegal slave trade became legalized. A dead man could even be reincarnated through possession.
*Swoosh—*
The crowbar swung again, and its immense force dislocated the mercenary's shoulder along with the sword that had blocked it.
Rage boiled within me.
At the same time, the sound of bowstrings being released was followed by a shower of arrows.
This body's skin can easily block arrows, of course. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.
I picked up a corpse and used it as a shield against the arrows, then hurled it at the enemy.
I threw myself forward at the same time.
It was a method the Heracles clan often used. A reckless charge. A tactic only possible because they trusted their ridiculously insane physical specs.
"Khahak— This is awesome. A real Heracles. They say if your head is no good, your body has to suffer, but when your DNA is this broken, who needs brains!"
"Gah—!"
"Get out of the way! He's insane!"
"He's a madman! Everyone, be careful!"
With a manic laugh, I swung the crowbar, and with each swing, a mercenary's bone was either fractured or severed.
As for whether you can cut off a limb by swinging a blunt crowbar…
Because I'm absurdly strong, it just… works?
Well, to be precise, it was more like tearing than cutting.
Ugh. I'm so damn hungry.
It might seem out of place in this situation, but I was genuinely starving.
Agh, at this rate, I'll collapse from hunger before I kill these guys.
I put a ton of power into my legs and leaped forward as if jumping. I blocked only the weapons aimed at my face and swung.
I repeated the very simple motion.
Swing. Pick up a corpse or a guy writhing in pain on the ground and use them to block the enemy's weapons.
Like a human shield.
"A… a monster."
Before I knew it, the number of remaining enemies was in the single digits. They were terrified.
"Nothing is more important than your life."
The crowbar, dripping with a mixture of blood and flesh, was still held firm.
Channeling Xerxes from the movie *300*, I spoke.
"I am merciful. I will spare those who drop their weapons and flee now."
More than ten mercenaries were already dead. And now, an offer of salvation. How sweet that must have sounded.
There's a reason they say it's better to live, even if you have to roll in dog shit.
A few mercenaries glanced at each other and subtly began to lower their weapons. In a situation like this, the desire for survival is contagious.
"Keuk—!"
But before even two of them could drop their swords, a scream came from behind.
Damn these clichés.
"Anyone who drops their sword dies. Anyone who runs dies too!"
"Oh! Is this the mid-boss appearance?"
"I don't know how you got free after all those drugs we gave you, but you're going to regret it."
In gaming terms, this should be the tutorial. Why is he so long-winded?
As they say in the martial arts stories, refusing a toast only to accept a penalty.
While the mercenaries hesitated awkwardly, I leaped into the middle of their formation and swung the crowbar.
Was there really a need to persuade them again? I had given them a warning, and they were the ones who hadn't listened.
"Ah, I'm hungry."
"Is he crazy? He's hungry in a situation like this?"
What could I do? It was the truth.
"Alright, guys, let's finish this quickly. I'm hungry."
I swung and swung again. Taking the hits meant I got a few scratches, but it was a very effective strategy.
The specs of this body are truly on another level. The very definition of being naturally born strong.
"You bastard, do you have any idea whose merchant caravan this is?"
"I don't want to know, and I don't care."
*Clang—*
"Keup. What kind of power…"
Still, being a mid-boss, he had some skill, managing to block my swing with his sword. Of course, the sword he blocked with began to show hairline cracks.
I could probably finish him in three exchanges.
*Swoosh—*
The mid-boss swung his sword. When I blocked it with the crowbar, the cracked sword shattered, and the blade flew toward me.
"Hahaha. It doesn't hurt."
The flying blade grazed my forearm, but it only left a small scratch.
And the bleeding stopped almost immediately.
*Clang—!*
*Clang—!*
*Craaang—!*
The third swing, struck with all my might, sent the sword flying and dug deep into the mid-boss's chest.
Stage clear.
"A tutorial mid-boss is just a mob, a nobody. What do you expect when I'm playing with cheat codes on?"
Soon, there was no one left around. It seemed they had all fled, including the caravan master. I was hoping to at least get a look at his face.
*Grrrrumble—*
My stomach was growling like crazy.
*'Agh. I used to wonder why those Heracles bastards ate so much. Turns out it was instinct.'*
In the past, during the war, whenever we raided a Heracles clan stronghold, it was always packed with food.
Enough to feed our main force, which was dozens of times larger, to their heart's content.
It seemed that immense strength and this ridiculous body required a corresponding amount of calories.
Clutching my starving stomach, I entered the most lavish tent. It was likely where the caravan master had been staying.
"Just as I thought."
A feast was laid out, as if he had been in the middle of dinner. Of course, some of it had fallen to the ground in his haste to escape.
"Mmm. This is fantastic."
I tore off a piece of the golden-brown roasted chicken breast and put it in my mouth. The fat between the fibers tickled my tongue, a delightful tease.
"Did they sous-vide this or something? It's incredibly tender."
The seasoning was perfect, too. After finishing the chicken, I devoured the other dishes nearby.
Only when the lavish spread was reduced to scraps did the hunger finally begin to subside.
*Buuurp—*
After eating, it was time to loot. Looting the tutorial area is the most basic of basics, isn't it?
It seemed they had already taken everything important, as the chests were in disarray.
With a piece of jerky in one hand, I smashed open every chest I saw.
Something was bound to turn up.
***
The looting was rather disappointing. Not that I came up empty-handed. What I got was a considerable amount of gold trinkets that could be exchanged for money. And some clothes?
What great haul could one expect from a tutorial area? This wasn't a real video game, after all.
Still, it was better than nothing. You need money no matter where you go.
Then, as I was breaking open chests in a tent used for storing goods…
I found a box that screamed, 'I am a valuable item,' to anyone who saw it.
A box within a box.
*Crackle—*
Just bringing my hand near the box sent an electric current through it, making my fingertips tingle.
"Wow. What kind of treasure is in here?"
I endured the current that discharged strongly enough to feel like it was burning my fingertips and grabbed the top and bottom of the box.
"Ughhh—! Just open!"
It seemed it wasn't just a simple defensive spell to keep people from touching it. For such a small box, it was incredibly difficult to pry open even a tiny gap.
If I could just create that small gap, I was sure I could apply more force.
My fingertips split, bleeding, and the biceps in both arms bulged as if they were about to burst.
*Creeak—*
By the time my fingertips were charred black by the defensive magic, smelling of cooked meat…
The box finally opened, revealing its contents.
"What? A book? Ow, that really hurts."
The current still crackled at my fingertips, as if lashing out in anger at me for violating the box.
Well, what could I do?
I expected something quite valuable, but it was just a book. No, to be precise, it wasn't even a book, just a bundle of papers.
"Hoh?"
A quick glance revealed it wasn't a simple bundle of papers. It was a cipher.
"Resistance? Huh? Why is the Resistance showing up here?"
That was the result of a clumsy attempt to decipher the first part.
Wasn't that the resistance movement we had against the oppressive Empire back when we were still a kingdom?
The one I modeled after the French Resistance in World War II.
But the Resistance still exists?
How was I supposed to take this? The Resistance had definitely fulfilled its purpose and was disbanded.
Suddenly, I became curious about who was leading this Resistance.
Ah, now that I think about it, I got the inspiration after watching Emplix's World War II documentary.
That was a good one.
I had to take this with me. There was no time to leisurely decipher it here.
***
"Find it! Find it!"
In a camp strewn only with corpses.
A group of people began to search every corner of the camp, but the search showed no signs of stopping, as if they couldn't find what they were looking for.
"It's not here! It's not on the bodies either."
"Damn it! Damn it all!! What about the tracking?"
"We're looking, but it's difficult. With so many people scattering in all directions, it's hard to distinguish the footprints."
"I found the box!"
Someone ran over urgently, holding a broken box.
"So it was here. Find it, no matter what. You have to find it."
The man muttered, his mouth feeling parched.
"A monster army is approaching. We should retreat for now."
"Damn it. We're pulling back! For now, track the footprints heading south as best you can!"
He could have easily wiped out a measly monster army. But that wasn't the problem right now.
If that thing fell into the wrong hands, the fallout would be unimaginable.
***
Late in the evening. Outside the city gate, shrouded in twilight. The guards raised their guard at the sight of a faint silhouette, tightening their grip on their spears.
"Identify yourself!"
At their words, the man scratched his head and slowly opened his mouth.
"The name's Kratos. I'm a mercenary."
It was a powerful name, one that sounded like it could slay even the gods themselves.