Chapter 2

Chapter 2
## Chapter 2: Innocent Prisoner (1)

—

Anonymous avian silhouettes cut through the firmament. Billowing clouds drifted in a chaotic dance across the azure overhead, while down on the earth, colorful flora erupted in a wild display of life. The season had undeniably reached the peak of spring.

The hour grew late as the sun began its gradual descent toward the horizon. It was a period of absolute stillness and beauty, yet this peace was not shared by everyone present.

Specifically, the line of captives stretching across the meadows like a column of insects felt no such tranquility.

*Clink, clink—*

Heavy iron shackles locked their wrists. With every stride, the abrasive grinding of metal rang out across the open air. A thick shroud of misery masked the faces of the condemned—though they felt no true contrition for their transgressions, only a bitter rage at the misfortune of being apprehended.

“Listen to me, I’m blameless! I didn’t lay a finger on that girl—it was the baker’s lad, I tell you!”

“Dammit, are you all stone-deaf? That pathetic weakling tripped and fell on his own blade while playing around!”

“I only took a single copper ring, I swear on my life! That silver chain? Hell, I didn’t even realize it was in the haul!”

The convicts occasionally spat out their frustrations with crude oaths. The guards simply commanded them to be silent, paying no heed to the noise. These career thugs spoke falsehoods as easily as they drew breath; the escort had long since become cynical to their pleas.

However, the group was not entirely composed of criminals. Two individuals in this procession were genuinely blameless, snatched up despite having broken no laws.

The first was a wandering trader apprehended near the frontier.

“Officer, please! I am truly a man of integrity! I’ve never traded in demonic remains! Someone set me up by hiding them in my gear! Likely the same person who searched my pack…”

“Hold your tongue! Do you presume to cast doubt on a Knight of Elga?”

“N-no, but…”

The guards were far from dense. They were well aware that the arrogant young knight in command had framed the merchant. It was a simple ploy to increase the headcount of his captives and bolster his official achievements.

Yet, none of the infantry possessed the courage to speak up for the man. Risking the wrath of a knight for the sake of a commoner? There was no profit in it. Consequently, the merchant was saddled with the fabricated crime, fated to be hauled all the way to the cathedral city.

The second was a tribesman from the distant wastes.

*Clink, clink—*

He, too, served as a mere prop to enhance the knight’s reputation. But unlike the other prisoners, he commanded a different kind of presence.

The barbarian’s physique made the other felons look like children. His knotted muscles looked capable of snapping iron links like dry twigs. One glance into those wild, unreadable eyes forced a man to swallow nervously against his will.

The infantrymen silently cursed the knight for this particular capture. Had the barbarian decided to protest his innocence with violence, they had little faith in their ability to restrain him. Oddly, however, he marched along in silence without uttering a single grievance.

The tribesman, Kadim, remained cooperative for two primary reasons.

First: he had yet to fully grasp his circumstances. Second: he currently lacked the raw power to shatter these restraints with his bare hands.

A legendary champion of Atala, a hunter of high demons—or perhaps just a modern soul longing for a cold drink and a soft mattress—had emerged from a dark abyss. Waking to the piercing glare of the sun, he had found himself in this predicament.

Kadim was disoriented. His physical form felt right, yet everything else had shifted.

The madness and crushing remorse that had once plagued his psyche had vanished. The vast power he had spent a lifetime accumulating was gone. And now, his personal autonomy had been stripped away as well.

He could accept the loss of his strength and the change in his mental state. That mysterious “New Game +” notification suggested he was starting his journey over from the beginning, much like his initial experience.

But starting his new life as a chain-gang prisoner? That was an unexpected variable.

“…Did any version of the game ever start like this in the real world?”

Kadim scowled fiercely. The convicts nearby recoiled in dread, creating a wide berth around him. He reached out and snagged the merchant, who was trailing slightly behind.

“You. Why am I being marched away in chains?”

“E-excuse me? You’re asking me that?”

“Indeed.”

*Is this man delusional?* the merchant wondered. *He doesn’t even know why he’s a captive?*

The merchant kept these thoughts strictly to himself to preserve his skin, stammering out a frantic clarification.

“Well… we aren’t in the Free City Alliance anymore—this is imperial soil. As you must know, the knights and clerics of the empire are ruthlessly intolerant of outsiders, right? You are a barbarian who follows the path of Atala, so even without a specific crime, that’s more than enough to ar—ack, s-sorry!”

Kadim’s expression darkened, prompting a panicked apology from the merchant.

But Kadim wasn’t offended. He was simply struggling to reconcile the merchant’s information with his own memory.

“Imperial soil? There is an empire on this landmass?”

“…Pardon? You’ve never heard of the Lucaonia Empire?”

“Lucaonia? Isn’t that just a kingdom located in the central territories?”

At this, the merchant could no longer hide his look of utter bewilderment. A guard who had been monitoring them finally shouted.

“Quiet back there! Do you think this is a stroll through the park? No talking during the march!”

“Y-yes, our apologies! We’ll be silent!”

The merchant scrambled away like a frightened animal. Left to his own devices, Kadim fell into deep contemplation.

Something was fundamentally wrong. He had assumed this was merely a difficult scripted event for his second playthrough, but the situation seemed far more distorted than a simple difficulty spike.

“Have I been placed in a divergent world with altered history…?”

It didn’t feel like an entirely alien realm. The prisoner recognized him as an Atala-worshipping barbarian, and the name “Lucaonia” existed. To truly understand the state of the world, he required more data.

However, survival took priority: he needed to evaluate his current status and the path ahead.

Kadim moved closer to a nearby infantryman.

“Tell me, where is this column headed? A dungeon? Or the slave blocks?”

The soldier shivered. He had been trying his best to look past the barbarian. Trying to intimidate him like the others felt suicidal, but showing his fear was a blow to his ego.

Now that the barbarian had initiated contact, he had no choice but to respond. He swallowed hard, trying to sound authoritative.

“Mind your place, heathen. You are a convict. You do not speak unless granted leave.”

To Kadim, the trembling in the man’s voice made the act seem pitiful.

“My mistake. I apologize, soldier. Just answer this one query, and I shall remain silent. Where exactly are you taking me?”

“…You are being taken to Lucaon, the seat of the Lucaonia Empire. There, the others will be judged by the magistrates of Elga and punished accordingly. But as a practitioner of false gods, you will likely be handed over to the Heresy Inquisitors.”

“I see. That is a relief.”

Kadim felt a slight sense of ease. In his memory, the clergy of Elga were rigid but generally followed a code of justice. Once they heard his explanation, they would surely let him go.

To everyone else, his reaction was lunacy. A convict nearby let out a mocking laugh.

“Relief? You’re joking! Those Inquisitors are sadistic freaks who live for torture! For a pagan like you, they’ll drive spikes into your gums and pour molten lead into your skull!”

“Shut your mouth! How dare you speak ill of the holy servants of Elga?”

“What, am I lying? Be honest—has anyone ever returned from their halls? Even the toddlers in my village know: if the Inquisitors take you, you’ll spend your final days being carved into a vegetable before dying like a stray dog…”

The prisoner’s tirade was cut short. A gleaming spearhead was suddenly pressed firmly against his windpipe.

“Such a reckless tongue. Do you wish to lose it?”

“…G-ugh.”

“Tch, what a disgusting stench. The foul odor of a non-believer. Truly repulsive…”

It wasn’t a common soldier wielding the weapon. A youthful figure had appeared seemingly out of thin air.

He looked younger than any of the infantrymen, yet the prisoner was paralyzed with fear. Even the men who had been talking back to the guards fell into a deathly silence.

He wore cobalt-blue plate armor engraved with the Decagram symbol. It was far more substantial than the standard-issue gear of the guards. His spear was clearly a masterwork—strange ripples decorated the metal, and a supernatural chill radiated from its azure blade.

Kadim recognized the type immediately.

“A Knight of Elga. A novice, though…”

The way he gripped the spear was far too stiff. And that look of arrogance, savoring his dominance over the crowd? No seasoned knight would behave so transparently.

*Thrust—*

The knight did more than just threaten. He drove the spear through the prisoner’s throat.

“…!”

Even the infantrymen were taken aback. Executing prisoners on the road was a privilege reserved for the Inquisitors. This was a blatant violation of protocol.

The knight remained indifferent.

“One who blasphemes against a representative of Elga must pay the price in blood.”

“Gurgle… grrrgh…”

The man clutched his throat, blood bubbling from his mouth as he collapsed. He did not move again.

The knight traced a jagged holy symbol with a smirk and pulled back his weapon. He then redirected his malice toward the guards.

“What are you fools doing? Why are these captives allowed to wag their filthy tongues? Have you grown fond of them after a few days of travel?”

“Our apologies, Sir Linton. We did not intend…”

“Spare me the excuses. Who instigated this? That giant pagan?”

The soldiers looked toward Kadim with apprehension. The knight took their silence as an affirmative. Without hesitation, he lunged forward once more.

*Stab—*

Kadim’s eyes snapped open wide. The blade buried itself deep into his shoulder. A cold, bone-chilling sensation flooded the wound along with the sharp spike of pain. The blood began to freeze, stopping the flow, but it was followed by a searing, toxic agony.

“…”

Kadim didn’t make a sound. He endured the pain in silence, his gaze fixed on the knight with chilling intensity.

“…Uh.”

The knight flinched instinctively.

Regardless of his inexperience, he was still a trained knight. He recognized the pure, cold killing intent in Kadim’s stare—it was the look of a predator sizing up its prey.

He retracted his spear with haste. He backed away while attempting to hide his sudden fear, making it look as though he was simply finished with the matter.

“Ahem. Dispose of the carcass and keep a sharp eye on that heretic. Kill him at the first sign of defiance.”

The soldiers nodded with hesitation.

Meanwhile, the barbarian warrior came to a firm conclusion: he had to break free from this escort immediately.

That single spear thrust had changed everything. The followers of Elga were no longer the people he remembered. Being delivered to the Inquisitors would be a predictable catastrophe.

The situation was grim. He lacked the strength to snap his bonds, and now he was injured. Escape, which was already a challenge, now seemed nearly impossible.

“If I had retained even a fraction of my former power, these chains would be nothing…”

There was no time for self-pity. He cleared his mind and began searching for any advantage in his surroundings.

His eyes eventually settled on a massive wooden crate at the very back of the procession.

A soft breeze drifted from the rear toward the front. Within that wind, a faint, wrong scent was carried. Kadim recognized that nauseating, metallic smell instantly.

The stench of a demon.

His eyes narrowed. With his chains rattling, he moved toward the back, grabbing the merchant once more.

“Listen. What is inside that crate at the rear?”

“A demon’s remains. The knight purchased it for gold in the last village we stopped at. Hey, are you alright? That shoulder wound looks terrible…”

Kadim didn’t hear the merchant’s concern. He was stunned. *Purchased* a demon corpse? It was madness.

“…In my previous life, demons were rarely seen outside their own domains. Here, they are common enough to be sold as commodities?”

Kadim wasn’t sure if this was a blessing or a curse.

His unique ability, Blood Berserker, allowed him to consume demon blood to gain a temporary surge in power. A world full of demons meant he could power up more easily.

However, it came with a heavy cost.

The more demon blood he consumed, the faster the madness from his previous life would return to claim his mind. Easy access to power meant a faster descent into mental ruin.

But he had no other options left.

To shatter his chains and escape while wounded, he required the strength of a demon.

“…Still better than the Inquisitors.”

The barbarian made his choice. He slowed his pace significantly, drifting toward the rear crate.

“…”

“…”

The guards exchanged tense, nervous looks.

The knight had ordered his death if he caused trouble. Lagging behind was certainly “trouble.” Yet, none of them wanted to be the first to engage him.

While they hesitated, the barbarian reached the wooden container. The leader of the rear squad could no longer look away. He leveled his spear and issued a stern warning.

“Stop right there, heathen! Get back in line…”

Kadim completely ignored him.

He planted his feet, surged upward in a powerful leap, and brought his joined, shackled fists down with everything he had.

*Krunch-crack—!*

The air filled with flying splinters. The massive, reinforced crate shattered as if it were made of thin glass. The surrounding soldiers and convicts scrambled back in a panic.

“Aah!”

“Gaaah!!”

“What? How…?”

The display of strength was impossible. Even a professional soldier would struggle to break a single plank—this man had pulverized the entire structure with bare hands while bound in iron.

But the shock was only beginning.

Kadim looked down at the demon remains with a cold, analytical eye. Like a veteran who had slaughtered countless monsters, he assessed the specimen instantly.

“Dead for three days… No horns, so a lesser class. A Primal type? I’m not sure what the exact enhancement will be…”

If he had a blade, he would have neatly drawn the blood. Lacking tools, Kadim bared his teeth in a savage snarl.

*Crunch, crrrack—*

On that peaceful spring afternoon, in the middle of a beautiful meadow, a bloody spectacle began.

The soldiers could only watch in paralyzing horror as the barbarian began to devour the demon corpse like a ravenous beast.