Barbarian in a Failed Game

Chapter 070: Rebellion (2)

Tududududu…!

Where horses should normally be grazing, a single carriage dashed wildly over the grassy hilltop as if it might collapse at any moment.

“Keep going─!”

“I am, even without you saying…!”

“Ugh, I feel like I’m going to throw up!”

“If you’re going to do that, at least cast another spell!”

Desperate voices emerged from the carriage’s cargo space, mirroring the chaotic state of the carriage itself. One side was riddled with arrows, and the other side had been torn open, leaving the inside exposed.

“Spread the screen!”

“Ughhhh…!”

Amidst this turmoil, a barbarian lay flat on the carriage roof. It was Khan, who had garnered infamy as the servant of a demon spreading curses in the north.

Woooom─!!

The moment a gray screen formed in mid-air, covering the carriage’s rear, arrows launched from behind traced arcs before forcefully embedding themselves into the ground.

The volume of arrows was alarming, far surpassing what could be easily counted.

Of course, not even half of those arrows reached Khan’s party’s carriage.

Yet, even so, the threat was substantial, and the screen created by Jan trembled precariously.

‘Damn. This won’t last much longer either.’

Jan had already cast the screen multiple times.

Considering the sheer exhaustion from casting spells on a moving carriage, it was no surprise he was nearing his limit.

They had been relentlessly pursued for days without proper rest.

In fact, Jan’s endurance deserved praise for how long he held out.

“Little one! Are your arrows not flying straight?!”

“It’s being blocked by magic, dummy! Just keep firing! It won’t last long!”

“Catch them! If we catch those, we’ll have enough money to live in leisure for a while… or even for life!”

That’s when dozens of riders and horses appeared on the horizon.

“Damn. Don’t they ever get tired…!”

Khan, who had been lying flat on the roof, grudgingly got up.

With the unique senses of a barbarian, he barely stood on two feet and quickly looked up to see a pile of rocks, slightly smaller than a human head, being hurled down with rather precise trajectories.

“This time, I’ll do it!”

“No, stay put!”

Khan, holding back Elena who attempted to summon a blessing, extended his hand. A scorching sensation emanated from the sigil on his right chest. A pure white radiance then engulfed the rocks.

After being depleted in the battle with the wyvern, Khan had not known how to recharge the ‘Mark of the Depths’, rendering it unusable.

‘It should be good for one or two more blocks…’

Though the conditions were unknown, divinity had started to slowly recharge after the battle with the puppeteer- albeit at a painfully slow rate.

“How much farther do we have to go?”

“Not yet! A bit more to go! This hill is the Eight-part ridge!”

Damn, still a long way off. Khan grimaced, estimating the remaining amount of divinity in the Mark of the Depths. The enemies’ strength was beyond imagination.

Not just a group of mercenaries… Their level was not to be underestimated.

Their armor combined chain mail with thick leather from magical beasts, suggesting their familiarity with combat.

Moreover, their weaponry was particularly troublesome.

Actively utilizing slings and javelins, along with the noticeable presence of magustek among them, suggested they had plenty of resources.

‘I could face them if I really had to…’

But doing so would tie them down. If the enemies scattered and launched an offensive, even Khan would lose significant time.

And that was the dilemma.

They were just the vanguard. Their role was to either capture Khan’s group if they could, using hired blades in a relaxed attempt, suggesting there was a more formidable chasing group yet to come.

‘But… we’re reaching our limit.’

The carriage couldn’t hold out much longer.

The horses, already pushed to their limits for days, would surely collapse soon. In that case, perhaps-

“The Eight-part ridge, huh. There might not be a need to cross it, after all.”

The slope of the hill grew steeper, increasingly challenging for Khan’s party.

Abandoning the carriage had been an inevitable outcome. What mattered now was how they would utilize this situation. And that decision rested solely on the shoulders of Ron, their guide.Abandoning the carriage? If that’s the case, then fully escaping the hill would also be a poor strategy. It would be better to actively utilize this hill to our advantage…”

Identifying a position that maximises the geographical advantage while imposing disadvantages on the enemy. Finding that perfect spot would be difficult without a familiarity with the surrounding terrain.

Even the most adept guide would deem it impossible on the spot.

But for Ron, it was within reach.

His intuition, which confidently asserted that Khan would possess high-level skills, was incredibly sharp.

“Boss!”

Without the need for detailed explanations, Khan understood Ron’s signal. As the slope of the hill became steeper, the speed of the carriage naturally decreased, narrowing the distance with their pursuers.

“Javelin—throw!”

Clank! Crunch! Crunch!

The accuracy was astonishing.

The javelin thrown by the thrower riding behind the horseman lodged precisely into the back of the carriage. As if to say all previous throwing attacks were just a feint.

It’s no wonder they were a famous mercenary band in the north. In the north, where there were more thieves than magical beasts, an expensive mercenary band would inevitably be experts in person-to-person combat.

“Tear them apart!”

The horsemen, javelins still lodged, began to spread out diagonally. Rumble! The carriage shook violently, as if it could split apart at any moment.

Naturally slowing down the progress.

“He has an axe imbued with demonic power! Do not give him any distance!”

“Prepare to throw—!”

“Conserve the spears! Take them down with slings!”

The distance between them had closed significantly.

Yet, the mercenaries did not let their guard down, maintaining a reasonable distance while planning to finish with ranged attacks.

“Come out!”

At that moment, Khan reached out from the carriage’s cargo space. The party members, who had been huddling due to the shocks, grabbed his hand.

“Huh…!”

In an instant, Khan pulled the party onto the roof of the carriage and held them by his side.

‘What is he doing?’

The actions, seemingly abandoning the carriage, baffled the pursuing mercenaries. It was an incomprehensible decision by common sense.

Jumping off the carriage? Jumping off a moving carriage would naturally lead to injury, and before they could regroup, the mercenary cavalry would have been upon them.

“They’re practically rolling into our mouths!”

Ericson, one of the leaders of the five mercenary bands organized for the pursuit, smiled, revealing his yellow teeth.

“Tear them! Kill them!”

As the horsemen tore apart in the middle.

Those bearing spears closed the distance for the first time, intending to strike the unprotected adversaries openly.

“Jan! Hang in there for the last time!”

“Ugh…!”

Then, Khan, laden with people like baggage, stepped on the partially destroyed roof of the carriage.

Crack—The already half-destroyed roof completely collapsed under him. Maintaining an impressive balance, Khan leaped up.

Thump—!!

“Argh…!”

“Damn it! What the hell is that crazy—!”

The sound of horses colliding and tangling, the sound of necks breaking upon falling, and the screams as limbs were snapped mixed together.

An unimagusnable blow.

With one leap, he literally exploded the carriage. Essentially using the to-be-abandoned carriage as a sort of shrapnel mine.

Being hit with hundreds of wooden splinters left no chance for survival.

Despite being skilled in combat and wearing several layers of armor, their faces were unprotected without helmets, and the horses, not equipped with armor, were exposed to the wooden splinters first.

“Jan! The magic!”

“Ugh…!”

In the meantime, as Khan was about to touch the ground with his feet, Jan, slung over Khan’s shoulder like baggage, reached out a hand towards the ground, muttering a spell.

Whoosh—!

An unseen force enveloped Khan’s falling body, weighed down with his companions. It was the effect of a desperately cast spell by Jan.

The effect of a leap skill that reduced fall damage added to it. Khan, having significantly reduced the shock, let go of his hanging companions and immediately grabbed his axe.

Thud, thud, thud…Suddenly, the cavalry spread out broadly, enclosing the area in a siege.

It was Khan, capable of splitting an averaging knight in half with a single blow. At least in one-on-one combat, Khan’s monstrous strength was almost akin to cheating. However, this was not the case in battles against multiple foes.

‘Troublesome.’

Especially against an elite group with a high average martial prowess, he seemed rather vulnerable.

This was the innate limitation of the warrior class.

Unlike mages who could obliterate dozens or even hundreds with a single spell, the warriors could only exert their strength within the reach of their weapon and arm, no matter how powerful they might be.

Of course, it was possible to overcome this inherent limitation to some extent with artifacts that had cheat-like options or high-grade skills, but-

‘Regrettably, that doesn’t apply to me.’

“Everyone, get ready. Jan, recover as much as you can.”

What else could be done?

One had to prove that for barbarian, an axe and two fists were sufficient.

[You have me too. You crazy human.]

And indeed, he also had a bloodthirsty magic sword.

*

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“Insane.”

“Terrifyingly strong. Is that the notorious Executioner?”

“It must be. It couldn’t possibly be the Great Warrior of the Black Wing Duke, after all.”

This was the conversation among the leaders of the mercenary band.

Ericson of the Iron Teeth murmured softly to himself.

‘Could that really be a half-penny species with no mana?’

The overwhelming brute force that not only confronted but also dominated the cavalry’s charge was breathtaking, and his agility, improbably pairing with his orc-like bulk, felt almost like a disaster.

Crack─!

As the Executioner’s axe once again sprayed blood in all directions, Ericson jerked forward involuntarily, the victim being one of his subordinates.

‘A mad monster.’

While Ericson grimaced, the barbarian darted backward swiftly, tearing apart two cavalrymen with a single blow.

Luckily, they were from another mercenary band.

The next moment, the barbarian crushed the head of a charging cavalryman underfoot.

A single individual was seemingly blocking enemies from all directions.

Were the barbarian’s companions easy opponents, then? Far from it.

“Come at me─!!”

A woman who appeared to be a cold beauty at a glance wielded her spear with extraordinary skill.

She dodged the cavalry’s charge with nimble movements, and accurately threaded her spear through their necks or hearts.

Unlike other mercenaries who learned their swordplay through brawls, her movements clearly came from formal spear training.

‘Could it be, the Spearholder of Palam…?’

With such distinct features, identification was easy.

She was known as one of the guild’s ghosts, appearing out of nowhere to punish mercenaries who broke its rules.

And there was another familiar face.

“Take this, hammer!”

‘That idiot Ron…. Why is he there?’

There were many mercenaries who used large combat hammers, but few matched the combination of an incredibly dumb face and a loud voice.

Among them, that idiot was the most infamous.

Why was someone who should be stuck in the West now in the North, and moreover, accompanying a barbarian proclaimed a minion of demons by the duke? Ericson’s limited imagination couldn’t begin to speculate.

But he was faithful to his task, as a mercenary should be-.

“Yes. Just like a mercenary.”

As Ericson laughed, showing his yellow teeth, the other mercenary band leaders around him did the same.

They all noticed the slowing movement of their prey, running as if their feet were on fire.

The effort of sacrificing their men to drain the enemy’s stamina was proving worthwhile.

It was a strategy befitting mercenaries, and it was incredibly successful.

Ericson donned a helmet molded after an orc’s face.

The helmet’s ornament, mimicking the elongated fangs of an orc, glittered in the sunlight as the Iron Teeth shone.

“Let’s go, friends. Time to catch our prey.”