Barbarian Quest

Yanchinus opened his eyes. His head felt heavy and dizzy like he was hungover.

‘I just wanted to lie down for a moment, but I ended up falling asleep.’

Fatigue weighed down his entire body. Since his time on the northern front, he had rarely had a proper rest.

Yanchinus sat up in his bed and reached for a water glass beside him.

Gulp.

The cold water flowed down his throat. Yanchinus wiped his mouth and looked up at the tinkling chains.

Clank.

At the end of a chain hanging from the ceiling was a woman, naked, her toes barely touching the ground.

Her long, slender body had such a beautiful natural curvature it was hard to believe she had borne a child.

Once the object of every man's courtship, the princess of Porcana had become a mere plaything of Emperor Yanchinus.

“You’re awake.”

Damia, hanging from the chain with whip marks vivid on her back, opened her eyes as if she were used to being in this position and looked at Yanchinus.

‘She’s still glaring at me.’

Yanchinus stared at Damia while holding the water glass. Any other woman would have broken and surrendered, but Damia still maintained her pride.

‘Could she still look at me like that if I threw her into the dungeon naked with a bunch of death row inmates?’

But it was all just an idea. No matter how much of a plaything she was, Damia was still royalty. Throwing royalty to the lowly was out of the question.

“Urich is dead,” Yanchinus said as he set down the glass.

“That’s good news. That barbarian finally died…”

Damia smirked, her blue eyes shining through her flowing golden hair.

“You don’t seem very concerned even though he’s the father of your child.”

“My child has no father. Perhaps my son was granted by Lou.”

“Anyone can see Salone is Urich’s child. If he inherited Urich’s spirit, he probably wouldn’t obey his mother. When he grows up, he’ll seek his destiny.”

Yanchinus chuckled.

“Do you really have the luxury to be concerned about me, Your Majesty? Even I have heard rumors that the empire is trembling. Even the maids gossip about it.”

Damia swayed her body from side to side. The chains clanged as her smooth, naked body gleamed in the moonlight.

“Haha, Damia. Your thorny tone is part of your charm, but…”

Yanchinus got up from the bed and stood in front of the hanging Damia.

Thud!

Yanchinus’ fist slammed into her stomach, making her body swing back and forth violently.

Damia barely managed to suppress her groan. The more pain she showed, the more pleasure Yanchinus derived. He was a man with twisted desires.

“You should really watch your mouth sometimes. Besides, who knows? I might depose Varca and make you queen. Or I could recognize your son as mine and make him king of Porcana.”

Even though there was a time when their interests aligned, the relationship between Varca and Yanchinus was now completely severed.

Damia glared at Yanchinus as she endured the pain in her stomach that gradually subsided.

“Right, I’m sure you’d do just that, won’t you, Your Majesty?”

Damia laughed, breathing heavily. Her laughter echoed off the stone floor.

“Damia, I like you.”

Yanchinus caressed her cheek as if the violence mere seconds ago had never happened.

“Telling me you want to kill me would sound sweeter than that,” she sneered.

“When I torment you, I find peace. Because of that damned pride, you’ll never submit to me. King Varca gave me a great gift.”

Creak.

Yanchinus choked Damia. She gasped for air as her body trembled and her eyes rolled back while her consciousness faded.

Yanchinus felt Damia’s breath slowing. Her life and death were in his hands.

Clank.

Yanchinus released his grip and pushed Damia back. She coughed and wheezed for air several times.

Her consciousness was still blurry and it felt like she had stepped back from the brink of death.

“The night is still young, Damia.”

Yanchinus pulled a box from under his bed, which contained various tools to satisfy his perverted desires. Damia’s body, having seen this box countless times, reacted instinctively at the sight of it.

‘Why haven’t I killed myself yet?’

Damia let out a small laugh. After being put through so much by the emperor, most women would have either killed themselves or gone mad. Many had been broken by the emperor.

‘Is it pride, stubbornness, or some kind of hope for the future…?’

Damia opened her eyes faintly. Yanchinus pulled out a long, sharp needle. Just thinking about what he would do with it was terrifying.

Knock, knock.

A knight knocked on the door from outside. Unless it was something very important, no one would call for the emperor at this hour.

“Ah, what a shame. Come in!”

Yanchinus called out, putting on his coat.

“Barbarians have infiltrated the palace! Your Majesty, this way, quickly!” The knight entered and spoke without formalities.

“Barbarians?”

Yanchinus, unfazed, grabbed his sword and donned his cloak. The knight pretended not to see the hanging Damia and continued the report.

“Perhaps it’s the remnants who survived the sewers,” Yanchinus said.

“They’re targeting you, Your Majesty. It’s highly unlikely that they will make it here, but it would be best to evacuate.”

“No, I want to see their faces myself. Call the knights.”

“Guard Captain Audran is already leading the troops. They’re trapped from both ends, so they won’t be able to escape.”

Yanchinus laughed at the report.

‘This is the end, Urich.’

The palace invasion was likely Urich’s doing. He must have decided to break in, thinking that he knew the layout of the imperial palace well enough for an effective raid.

Step, step.

Yanchinus led the knights who had just woken up into the palace garden. The sound of weapons clashing was already loud.

“You let them reach the garden,” Yanchinus spoke as if holding someone accountable. The knight in command reported the situation.

“These barbarians fight incredibly well. But now that our forces have gathered, this is as far as they’ll get.”

“Is Urich among them?”

“I’m afraid that hasn’t been confirmed, Your Majesty. It was too dark to see clearly, but the prowess of the barbarian at the forefront was remarkable.”

“Capture him alive if possible.”

Yanchinus crossed his arms, tapping his forearm with his fingers. He didn’t bother to reveal himself to the barbarians. Instead, he looked down at the garden from the second-floor corridor.

“Your Majesty, please wait here.”

Leaving only the guard detail, the other knights joined the battle.

“Aaah, aaaah!” A barbarian screamed.

The garden was a mess of blood, with human entrails dangling from the carefully tended trees.

“Kill them aaaaall!”

A warrior with an arrow lodged in his shoulder howled like a beast. His eyes were bloodshot, making him look less than human, but the soldiers hesitated at his fierceness.

“Olgaaaaaa! Where are we supposed to go?” The warrior cried out at the top of his lungs as he slashed at the approaching soldiers.

Olga looked around. He had been blindly tearing through the palace by instinct, but finding the emperor without any real information was never going to be easy. None of the warriors present even knew what the emperor looked like.

“If we kill… them all, the emperor’s… corpse should be among them!”

Olga paused to catch his breath. Though each warrior seemed to have killed at least five soldiers, new ones continued to spawn from somewhere.

“There are so goddamn many of these sons of bitches, kagh!”

A cursing warrior was shot down by an arrow from somewhere.

The advantage of raiding at night had run out. The Imperial Army was responding with their armor on with their crossbowmen loading their weapons at the windows and armored knights advancing from the front.

‘At this rate, we’re going to be wiped out.’

Though they had come prepared to die, they had no intention of doing so in vain.

—Fire will determine your fate.

Six-Fingered’s words flashed like the wind.

‘Fire, fire, fire.’

Olga looked around for fire. He grabbed a torch he saw on the wall and threw it into the garden.

‘Please burn!’

But the summer garden didn’t catch fire easily. The damp soil and branches did not readily ignite.

‘What does Six-Fingered mean by the fate of fire?’

Olga struck an advancing soldier’s head with his spear, knocking him down. He then raised his foot and stomped hard on the fallen soldier’s head.

Crunch!

The sensation of the soldier’s neck breaking traveled up his foot.

“Hooo.”

Olga rolled his eyes. Being open on all sides, the garden put the warriors at a disadvantage. It was not a good place to fight.

Peeee!

Olga whistled to signal the warriors and then leaped through a window into the building.

“Kuuuugh!”

Only about ten warriors managed to safely follow Olga inside. The rest were killed by the pursuing imperial soldiers.

“Come on, you piece of shit bastards!”

The warriors shoved back the soldiers climbing through the windows, stabbing them with their swords. Blood dripped from the windowsill.

“Is there anything here that can start a fire?” Olga muttered.

“What the hell are you babbling about! They’re coming!”

The warriors couldn’t even catch their breath as they faced the attacking soldiers, but fighting in the narrow corridor was still an improvement.

“U-uhh.”

The advancing soldiers hesitated and retreated, lacking the courage to charge at the growling barbarians in the narrow corridor. It was evident that whoever charged first would also be the first to die.

“Move aside!”

Armored knights pushed through the soldiers and advanced.

The warriors fought desperately until the end. Even as they fell, they did everything in their power to take the enemy down with them.

“Keke, damn you, Six-Fingered.”

Olga laughed, tilting his blood-soaked head back.

‘There’s no fate of fire anywhere.’

Only cold steel stared back at Olga. He was tangled in Six-Fingered’s prophecy, lost in meaningless thoughts.

Bang! Bang!

Olga and the warriors occupied a reception room and blocked the door with furniture.

“Olga, did we do it?”

A warrior who was bleeding heavily from his stomach muttered before collapsing. He died without seeing the operation succeed.

Olga looked out the window, but there were no significant signs at the gates of Hamel just yet.

Thwip!

An arrow shot through the window, fired by the crossbowmen waiting below the window. Olga dodged it just in time.

‘Including myself, we have… five left.’

Blocking the entrance with heavy furniture gave the warriors a moment to catch their breath.

“Six-Fingered... predicted my fate would be determined by fire. In the sewers... the moment I saw the flames, I thought I would die…”

Olga looked at his side which was stinging from a lesion. It seemed he got the wound while tangling with the soldiers.

Olga held his side and stood up.

“But... even after seeing… the flames, I didn’t die...”

Breathing was only becoming more difficult. He felt his body cooling down as the blood flowed out of his side like a broken dam rather than stopping.

“Maybe Six-Fingered is just a quack.”

The warriors laughed as they sensed that their death was imminent.

Thwack!

A spearhead burst through the door and furniture. The warrior who was blocking the door with his back fell forward, pierced by the spear.

Crash!

The barricaded door broke down and the remnants of the furniture scattered everywhere. The knights who rushed in mercilessly grabbed and beat the warriors while their steel armor deflected the warriors' weapons.

“Capture that one alive!”

Olga swung his weapon while watching the other warriors die. The shaft of his spear broke against the armor, but he grabbed the floating spearhead and thrust it between the knight's faceplate, piercing the eye and reaching the brain.

“Hup.”

A single breath was all he managed to breathe in. He bent down and picked up an axe from the ground, then rolled on the ground to strike another knight's leg.

Thud.

The knight who was struck in the back of his knee knelt. Olga grabbed the knight's helmet and rammed his knee down on it.

Crunch.

Olga's kneecap broke, but the knight also couldn't regain his senses due to the concussion.

Limp.

Olga limped backward toward the window, startling the soldiers who witnessed his combat prowess, having taken down two knights in an instant.

“Are you all dead?”

The warriors who had vowed their last stand moments ago were now all bloody corpses. Alone, Olga leaned against the window.

Thwip!

An arrow embedded in Olga’s back. He flinched and looked back. It was quite high, but the ground below was soft dirt.

He threw himself out the window and absorbed the impact by rolling on his shoulder and back. The arrow in his back wobbled and broke, but the arrowhead dug deeper.

“K-kugh.”

He exhaled heavily as he rose to his feet. Three crossbowmen stared at him. One was reloading, and the other two aimed at Olga.

Twang!

The crossbowmen pulled their triggers. Olga focused on just one of them as he didn’t have the strength to pay attention to both.

‘Just focus on one and leave the other to fate.’

Olga read the trajectory of the arrow coming straight at him and leaned to the side. However, the arrow that was shot from the side pierced his armpit.

“I-is he a monster?!”

Even after being hit by the arrow, Olga did not fall. He threw his axe and killed the crossbowman in front, then climbed over the wall and wandered the imperial palace.

“He’s over there! He went that way!”

The soldiers who arrived late chased Olga to the end. It wasn’t hard to track him down.

Wheeze, wheeze.

There stood Olga, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. He was practically a walking corpse, yet the soldiers dared not approach him carelessly.

“Go and bind him!”

A knight pushed a soldier forward. The soldier hesitated as he approached Olga.

Schluck.

Olga stretched out a hidden dagger and stabbed the soldier in the neck, but not even having the strength to shove the soldier away, he let the body fall onto him.

“T-that barbarian bastard!”

If it weren't for the order to capture him alive, they would have already killed him from a distance with a spear.

Step, step.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind the soldiers. The soldiers and knights nodded in respect.

“...It’s not Urich.”

Emperor Yanchinus looked at Olga and murmured with disappointment evident on his face. He had thought Urich was leading the remaining warriors.

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