One day, while living in a medieval fantasy world.
I came to my senses… and found an evil god sleeping beside me.
…And they were completely naked in glowing white skin.
001. Where is this place, and who am I?
The inside of the field tent was dark.
A white moon was in the sky.
Only the flickering candlelight dimly lit the interior.
“…So.”
In that atmosphere, the recruiter in charge of managing the mercenaries spoke in a disinterested tone.
“You’re saying you want to stop fighting?”
His well-groomed mustache, clearly maintained with quality oil, trembled as he spoke.
He tried to maintain composure, but it was clear he was caught off guard.
The recruiter’s gaze turned forward.
“Well, let’s hear your reason then…”
He glanced at the paper on the table.
It was a roster of all mercenaries who had participated in the battle.
“Hmmm.”
But no matter how long he searched, he couldn’t find the name he was looking for.
The recruiter quickly came to a conclusion.
It was common on any battlefield to omit names from the roster to steal wages from illiterate mercenaries.
Even he had turned a blind eye to such acts to some extent.
To some extent.
…I told them to keep it reasonable.
There are some lines you don’t cross.
Furrowing his brow, the recruiter sighed quietly, imagining a few likely culprits.
Finally, he addressed the man in front of him using his most common nickname: “Barbarian.”
“…A ‘Barbarian’ known for his bravery wouldn’t be trying to run from battle, would he?”
He immediately regretted his words.
He might’ve just provoked someone known for bashing his superior’s head in.
He could end up as the next victim.
So he hastily added,
“Of course, I’m not saying you would do that. Judging by your looks, you must be from the harsh northern Torglad… and honestly, your accomplishments on this battlefield are impressive too.”
The recruiter continued to ramble excuses before awkwardly clearing his throat.
“Ahem… Anyway, that was my mistake. I apologize.”
Fortunately, the barbarian didn’t plant his twin axes into the recruiter’s head.
Just an uncomfortable silence lingered.
The recruiter sighed in relief.
There were guards posted around the tent, but against the man in front of him, they wouldn’t mean much.
…Feels like a bear is in here.
A cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck.
The man’s build was massive.
Compared to the other guards inside the tent, he was a full head taller.
His bulging muscles looked ready to spring into action, and the scars covering his entire body—except his face—told the story of how he had survived until now.
He didn’t look like someone who’d run from battle.
Gulp.
In the still silence, someone swallowed nervously.
The recruiter wasn’t even sure whether it was him or one of the guards.
He simply waited quietly for the barbarian’s answer.
What felt like minutes passed—though it was probably just a few seconds.
Just as the recruiter was beginning to wonder, “Does he not speak our language?”—the silent barbarian finally spoke.
“Simply put, I have no more reason to fight.”
“…What?”
His tone was calm—uncharacteristically so for a barbarian.
Though it carried some weight, his pronunciation and expressions were smooth and natural.
Considering some barbarians on the battlefield only communicated with grunts like “Uh” or “Oh,” it was surprising.
The recruiter felt a bit relieved.
It seemed he wouldn’t need to summon the other soldiers or barbarian war slaves waiting outside.
But still…
No reason to fight anymore?
Even the drunks at the local tavern wouldn’t buy that excuse.
A barbarian refusing to fight?
As if he ever needed a reason to fight in the first place.
The recruit officer was about to question the barbarian again over his completely nonsensical answer—but the barbarian spoke first.
“Because I’m max level.”
“…What does that even…”
“That’s all I have to say.”
The recruiter didn’t understand his answer.
Which was fair.
Because the person in front of him wasn’t actually a barbarian.
And he didn’t belong to this world.
—“Recruiter, is this really okay?!”
—“There’s nothing I can do. His name wasn’t on the list, sure, but the contract was properly signed. Hah… a literate barbarian, of all things. You really do live long enough to see everything.”
—“Even so, sir!”
When someone says they’ve reached max level,
It means their body has been strengthened to the limit.
Therefore,
Even after I left the tent, I could clearly hear their conversation from inside.
Not that I was trying to eavesdrop—
I could hear it whether I wanted to or not.
—“Fifty silver coins, seriously?!”
—“That’s what it came to, after calculating the bonuses paid to the mercs.”
—“That’s more than ten times what other mercenaries got!!”
Quite the loud voice.
It was probably the quartermaster or the accountant who had arrived late and was now having a heated discussion.
I walked slowly and casually.
The sound of the fire crackling, the drunken chatter of soldiers sneaking fruit wine, the chirp of crushed bugs beneath thick leather boots—
Even amid all that noise, their voices rang out clearly.
—“Didn’t I warn you? We should send soldiers after him right now…”
—“Enough!! Do you even hear yourself?!”
—“Still, we could at least…”
I couldn’t see them, but it sounded like the recruiter was furiously pointing a finger at him.
—“You say that because you’ve never seen that barbarian swing his axes!”
—“But it’s just one guy!”
—“Mark my words. If you so much as try to follow him with soldiers, I won’t let it slide. This conversation ends here!”
And just like that, their conversation ended.
Well… guess I won’t be getting ambushed.
If there’s one thing you learn from living in a medieval fantasy world, it’s this:
Everyone has the potential to become a bandit.
Whether it’s a street beggar, a wealthy merchant, or a noble knight in shining armor—
Gold and silver make greedy fools of them all.
Anyway—
I passed even the tents where the soldiers were staying.
Eventually, the scattered torches thinned out, and I was greeted only by shadow.
Walking a mountain path in the dead of night is extremely dangerous.
But my character—Warrior Supreme Barbarian, level 10, the game’s level cap—was beyond human.
And I wasn’t even wearing some magical skull mask or anything.
So the darkness was no issue.
The night had grown so deep not even birdsong remained.
Once again, I found myself thinking about something I’d mulled over dozens of times already.
“How the hell did I end up like this?”
All I did was play a game.
It was on sale for 75% off on some digital store, so I picked it up.
Ended up loving it—played through all the endings multiple times.
I’d only meant to raise one last character before moving on to a new game…
And then, suddenly—
I became that character.
If I knew this would happen, I would’ve made a rich, handsome noble character instead…
Or maybe—
I just wouldn’t have played the game at all.
“…Shit.”
Why’d it have to be the barbarian?
Probably because some part of me wanted to play the game without thinking too much.
Just relax and bash stuff.
Still, compared to some of the bizarre characters I’d made before, this one wasn’t so bad.
At least I didn’t make him some glowing blue undead, or give him a face shaped like a chad meme.
Anyway, even though regret came quickly, the reality that I had been thrown into a game world didn’t change.
Thankfully, perhaps because I had installed the Korean language patch, I could speak and read without much trouble.
But that didn’t solve the more fundamental problem.
This world… had progressed decades beyond the game I played.
(I don’t know the exact date.)
Which meant that most of the knowledge I had was now useless.
And worse, it also meant that the original endings I knew—the ones that might’ve led me back to my world—were no longer available.
Naturally, I was devastated.
Sure, I love fantasy games.
But that doesn’t mean I wanted to actually live in one—surrounded by monsters and demons, getting racially abused as a “barbarian” by medieval bigots.
So in the end, the only hope I had left…
Was my level.
Since I couldn’t reach any of the endings through the main story, I had clung to this vague hope:
“Maybe something will change if I hit max level.”
“…That hope’s gone now too, huh.”
I slowly closed my eyes.
Even though I was walking a dark forest path, it was a natural motion.
In the pitch black behind my eyelids, red lines branched out like lightning.
They looked like tree roots.
Or like pulsing veins.
At the end of each root, unfamiliar symbols floated—though not in Korean, I could still understand them intuitively.
[Quick Movement]
[Poison Resistance]
[Throwing Expert]
[Axe Mastery]
[Efficient Sleeper]
[Disease Resistance] …and more.
All the traits I had accumulated so far.
These were the reason I’d survived this brutal world as a so-called barbarian.
And at the peak of all those branches was the final trait I had acquired:
[One Who Has Touched Transcendence]
It sounded grand, but in the actual game, it was just a generic final-level perk—giving stat boosts across the board.
It was a trait that any class could take at the level cap.
I thought something would change after I got this.
But nothing did.
I was still stuck in this muscle-bound body,
And the world was still crawling with lice-ridden, plague-infested medieval savages.
Game, game, game… this damn game.
I clenched my teeth without realizing.
…Man, I miss Mom’s kimchi.
And then—
Something tripped across the spiderweb of senses I had developed.
A flare of rage ignited in my mind.
I clenched my fist.
Thick veins bulged along my arm, tracing every ridge of muscle.
“This goddamn hellhole… can’t even let me have a moment alone.”
In the game, barbarians gained +2 Sensory every time they leveled up.
Maybe because they didn’t wear much armor?
Anyway—my senses were sharp. Extremely sharp.
Ffwt.
A faint sound of wind cutting stopped just in front of my face.
A crossbow bolt quivered in midair, caught in my hand.
It couldn’t go any further.
“…Did I hit him?”
A voice whispered from the shadows.
I turned toward the sound.
A middle-aged man in a thick robe.
Even in the dark, his face was pale as a ghost.
That shot had been accurate.
Which meant he had experience doing this sort of thing.
Thunk.
I let the crossbow bolt drop and walked toward him without hesitation.
“W-Wait! I’m just in charge of supply—!”
I recognized the voice.
He was the guy arguing with the recruiter earlier in the tent.
Before he could finish his sentence, I grabbed his mouth.
Crack—
A noise like squashing thick rubber vibrated through my hand.
All this… over a few silver coins.
Well, from his perspective, it was probably as easy as picking money off the ground.
Dodging or catching a crossbow bolt in total darkness?
That should’ve been impossible.
“Mmph! Mmmgh!”
He probably had a lot to say.
But I wasn’t in the mood to hear excuses.
If I heard him beg for his life, I’d end up having nightmares.
Especially now that I had no way back home.
Crack.
A quiet pop—and a dull ache in my fingers.
That was all that remained of him.
Even in the medieval world, murder is a serious crime—
But only if you get caught.
There was a chance the recruiter might send someone after me,
But once I left this region, that risk would disappear.
Especially since no one around here even knew my real name.
I sighed and shook off the faint remnants of guilt.
I was getting too used to this world.
“Whew.”
I searched the body.
Found a coin pouch that jingled and a gold ring he’d been wearing.
I took both.
No point leaving them behind.
And then I continued walking along the dark road.
I didn’t have a specific destination.
I just let my feet carry me forward.
Same old night, just like any other.
…Except now I was lost.
“…Wait, where the hell am I?”