Chapter 5

Chapter 5
Duncan found himself in an incredibly precarious situation, no matter how one looked at it.

While having a traveling partner was generally a benefit—especially since Duncan had already deemed it too dangerous to navigate the imperial territory alone—the presence of a guard meant that common street thugs or minor creatures no longer bothered him.

The true source of his distress, however, was the companion himself.

He didn’t fear the outlaws on the road because the barbarian was a thousand times more terrifying. It was impossible for a rational person not to feel paralyzed by someone who consumed the marrow of demons and could butcher dozens of foes without breaking a sweat.

Duncan lived in a perpetual state of anxiety, terrified of inadvertently insulting the barbarian. He spent every waking second on a knife’s edge, weighing every syllable before it left his mouth.

“M-my lord, would a bit of nourishment suit you? I have some cured meat and dried tubers.”

“Should I arrange a place for your rest here, my lord? I shall ignite a warm blaze immediately.”

“B-but, my lord, what brings you to the imperial territory…? Ah, please forgive me. I shall remain silent.”

It was an exhausting existence. No matter how much he studied the man, he couldn’t decipher the barbarian’s thoughts. The warrior only permitted speech when it was strictly functional, leaving no room for comfort or the building of rapport.

The man was a man of few words who radiated a subtle, persistent bloodlust. He didn’t feel like a human being so much as a predatory animal. Every passing hour felt like Duncan was performing a high-wire act inside a tiger’s den. As the days blurred together, Duncan’s face grew gaunt and his eyes sunken from the relentless psychological strain.

Yet, if the fear were his only burden, he might have found a way to cope.

The true misery lay in the barbarian’s staggering pace of travel.

As a professional merchant, Duncan prided himself on his stamina and speed; he was rarely outpaced by others on the road. But compared to this barbarian, Duncan felt like a clumsy infant struggling to take its first steps.

The moment he pointed out a direction, the barbarian would surge ahead, leaving a massive gap between them. By the time Duncan caught up, gasping for air, the man would offer only a curt command before starting again.

“Move.”

“Forward.”

“Laggard.”

“Hah, huff, haaah, haaaah…”

The barbarian would then simply stare at him until he arrived, his gaze heavy with the unspoken threat of violence for the delay.

Duncan was only thankful that he was the one serving as the guide. Had the barbarian known the way, they would have been separated by fifty kilometers by the first afternoon. Watching the man move without a hint of fatigue, the merchant could only marvel in silent despair.

‘Lord, this is the end of me… Are his legs forged from solid iron?’

He lacked the internal fortitude to ask for a slower rhythm. The combination of the brutal physical exertion and the barbarian’s icy glares reduced Duncan to a shell of a man within days.

Finally, Duncan reached a breaking point. To preserve his life, he had to disappear. He began to watch for the slightest opening to slip away.

That chance arrived sooner than he anticipated.

It was a night where heavy, dark clouds smothered the moon, leaving the world in a gloom lit only by the faint glow of dying coals. The barbarian had settled down against a fallen trunk. Though Duncan had applied medicinal pastes to his spear puncture earlier, the man showed no sign of discomfort and appeared to be in a deep slumber.

Duncan held his breath, remaining motionless for nearly half a watch. There was no movement—the warrior was out cold. This was the moment of liberation.

‘Hmm…’

His gaze flickered toward the heavy pack resting by the log.

That bag contained the sum of his worldly wealth. It held lamps, fine wool blankets, fire-starting tools, expensive soaps, rations, polished silver, and ancient jewelry. It was enough stock to open a respectable shop in any major city.

But his life was worth more than gold. To move toward the log was to risk waking the predator. Duncan chose to leave the fortune behind without a second thought.

Moving with agonizing slowness, he pushed aside dry leaves and began to crawl. Once he hit the soft grass, he rose to a crouch and then broke into a fast walk, which quickly turned into a desperate sprint once he cleared the immediate campsite.

The sky was a blanket of black; there was no difference between having his eyes open or shut. It was a blind, frantic dash into the unknown. Duncan simply propelled himself forward through the void.

Perspiration soaked his collar, and his lungs felt like they were ready to rupture. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird, and his joints screamed in protest. He lacked the strength even to keep his mouth closed, letting saliva trail down his chin as he ran.

“Huff, huff, huff… Ack, hack, haaah…”

He had no idea how much time had passed.

Doubled over with his hands bracing his knees, Duncan convinced himself he had put enough distance between them. In this darkness, tracking him would be nearly impossible. He was finally his own man again.

It was a hollow hope.

“Where is it you think you’re going in such a rush?”

A gravelly voice seemed to snag his very soul. Duncan’s legs gave way as if the bones had turned to glass. A freezing shiver raced up his spine.

Turning around, he saw a towering, dark shape stepping out of the shadows.

‘N-no… how is this possible?’

It defied all logic. He had run with everything he had—how had the man overtaken him? Especially in this absolute darkness? Had he moved through the night like a silent owl?

Logic mattered little now that he was cornered. Fighting back the urge to retch, Duncan stammered out a response.

“Huff, urk, n-no, you see… I…”

“Trying to desert? To what end?”

“Hah, huff, m-my lord, it isn’t what it looks like…”

“Have you lost interest in the coin I promised?”

The clouds shifted, and a pale moonlight washed over them like silk. The weapon at the barbarian’s hip caught the light with a lethal shimmer, a cold reminder that Duncan’s life was held by a very thin thread.

Choking back his terror, Duncan threw himself onto the dirt in a full prostration.

“P-please, my lord! I have failed you! I am a fool who forgot the debt of my life, acting with such cowardice…”

Kadim dropped into a crouch to look him in the eye, cutting him off mid-sentence.

“I have no use for an apology. I require the reason. If the cause isn’t addressed, you will simply bolt again. Speak. Why did you run?”

After a moment of trembling hesitation, Duncan let the truth spill out.

“I-It’s… your speed is simply too much for me, my lord… I felt as though my heart would stop if I kept up that pace…”

“…”

Kadim went quiet. Duncan squeezed his eyelids shut, waiting for the cold steel to find his neck.

But the blow never came. After a long, pensive silence, Kadim spoke simply.

“We are returning to camp. I will adjust my stride from here on.”

“…!”

The matter was closed.

Kadim stood and walked back into the darkness. Duncan remained frozen for a beat, stunned by the mercy. As the moon vanished behind the clouds again, he scrambled to his feet and hurried after the barbarian’s wide shoulders.

—

The core of his being was governed by urgency. His rapid pace was a lingering instinct from his initial journey through this world.

In the desolate, lethal reaches of the demon realm, resources like water and food were fleeting. Even the act of consuming demon blood slowly chipped away at his sanity.

Rest was a myth in that place. To linger was to invite death. Never knowing when the madness would take hold, Kadim and his former allies had learned to do everything—even eating and sleeping—with a sense of desperate haste.

But the world here was different.

‘…Hoo.’

Kadim took a slow, deep breath to settle his pulse.

This land was not currently a death trap. They had plenty of supplies. While the madness might return, it wasn’t hovering over him at this exact moment.

Furthermore, there was a practical reason to slow down: the merchant was a competent pathfinder.

Kadim possessed an intricate map of the lands in his memory, but it was three centuries old. Three hundred years was enough time for borders and landmarks to shift a dozen times over. Without a guide who knew the modern terrain, he would be lost.

Kadim began to match the merchant’s slower tempo. Duncan finally found the energy to breathe. Before long, he even felt comfortable enough to consult his charts and offer tactical advice.

“The border between the empire and the alliance is often a flashpoint for conflict, my lord. We run the risk of encountering the Knights of Elga. To avoid being swept up in their nets… perhaps we should take a less-monitored detour?”

The Knights of Elga were notorious for seizing anyone suspected of heresy. It was only within the territories of the Free City Alliance that a man of the barbarian’s stature could move without constant harassment.

‘The Church of Elga was not so fanatical three centuries ago…’

Once again, Kadim felt the friction of being a man out of time. He preferred the direct path, but he conceded to the merchant’s logic. With a quiet click of his tongue, he gave a nod of approval.

The duo turned their steps toward the south. Their luck held steady for several days, and Kadim found no reason to draw his steel.

The lack of conflict suggested a lack of military presence, which usually indicated poor local security. Duncan, however, saw it as a blessing, smiling at the “miracle” of their peaceful trek.

Kadim viewed it through a different lens. He looked at the drying, dark crusts of blood inside his leather container and felt a pang of concern.

‘This supply is failing. I need to find fresh demon blood soon, just in case…’

Locating demons across the continent wasn’t a simple task. Duncan had explained that the fervent Knights of Elga were busy scouring the countryside of monsters to earn prestige. Kadim merely tightened his jaw.

They pressed on. After crossing through rolling azure plains and thickets of ancient trees, the sun began to dip. In a field of purple blossoms, they found a small brook, at the end of which sat a cluster of humble dwellings.

It was the first sign of civilization since they had set out. Duncan smoothed out his tattered map, tugging at his beard.

“Hmm, this village isn’t marked… likely a group of frontier pioneers. It would be wise to seek a bed and a meal there for the night, my lord.”

The prospect of a dry floor was far more appealing than another night in a damp ruin or out in the elements. Duncan beamed at the thought.

But Kadim’s instincts were firing. He squinted at the settlement, his expression devoid of relief.

“There is no smoke.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

“The sun is setting, yet not a single hearth is lit.”

The observation was undeniable.

A dozen homes stood with chimneys cold and dark. That simply didn’t happen in a functional village at the end of a workday.

Duncan’s optimistic expression withered.

“…A ghost town, my lord?”

“We won’t know until we look.”

“Y-you intend to enter? What if something terrible drove them out…?”

The barbarian’s mouth twisted into a fierce, predatory grin.

“Then it’s exactly what I’m looking for.”

It was a smile that would make a brave man’s blood run cold. Without waiting for the merchant to protest, Kadim walked toward the silent cluster of huts, leaving Duncan standing frozen in his wake.

—

As they drew closer, the abnormalities became more pronounced.

The silence was suffocating. There were no people to be seen, yet the farming tools leaning against the walls were free of rust. The paths were clear of overgrowth, and there were fresh tracks in the dirt. It was clear people had been active here very recently.

‘No signs of a struggle or corpses. This wasn’t a slaughter… did they flee a perceived threat?’

Perhaps it was a localized raid. Frontier life was a gamble; it was easy to settle on land that monsters considered their own.

Suddenly, a high-pitched rasp echoed from a nearby cabin.

– Kieek… Kiii…

Kadim recognized that sound instantly. His hand clamped onto the grip of his weapon. Sliding the blade free, he kicked open the door and stepped inside.

A small, wiry shadow sprang at his midsection.

– Kieeeek!!

A frantic, uncoordinated swing of a blade came at him. Kadim didn’t flinch; he had been expecting a hidden attacker. He brought his sword up in a sharp, rising arc, parrying the rusted weapon away.

Clang—!

– Kiik!?

The impact was negligible to Kadim, but it sent the creature reeling. As the goblin stumbled back from the force of the parry, Kadim brought his blade down in a devastating vertical strike.

Kwajik—

The creature didn’t even have time to scream. The heavy blade split its skull in a single motion. The sheer power behind the blow didn’t just cut; it crushed, deforming the creature’s head as if it had been hit by a falling anvil.

The green-skinned monster crumpled to the floor, its limbs twitching. The ruined muscles of its face pulled in different directions as blood and gray matter pooled on the wooden planks.

Kadim let out a dry, mirthless laugh. A goblin—how predictable. It seemed every journey began with these pests.

However, a thought gave him pause.

The goblins of this era were typically not this aggressive. They were known to be as skittish as prey animals, fleeing at the slightest sign of trouble. The old tales said a crying child was enough to send a pack of them running.

For one to occupy a home and launch a suicide ambush was highly irregular.

Such a change in behavior suggested an external force.

Kadim looked at the creature’s eyes, which were filmed over with a dull red tint. That was the unmistakable mark. When monsters fell under the influence of *that* presence, their eyes always burned with that specific hue.

His grip on the sword tightened.

‘…Hah, the timing is perfect.’

The prospect of acquiring fresh demon blood pulled the barbarian’s lips into a dark, satisfied smile.

Would you like me to continue paraphrasing the next chapter for you?