When I came to and opened my eyes, I was utterly bewildered.
Somehow, my body had become that of a newborn, and the person holding me up in delight was a Barbarian whose entire body rippled with muscle.
At first, I couldn't believe it. I thought I was dreaming.
But as time passed, I had no choice but to accept it.
If you still haven't woken from a dream after several years, then it's reality. What else could it be?
All sorts of thoughts crossed my mind.
Was it because I'd said I wanted to be reborn as a Barbarian if I ever got another life?
None of my other wishes had ever been granted, yet a wish I'd casually mentioned in passing had come true just like that.
There was no doubt I'd become a Barbarian in <World of Freedom>. The problem was that the way the Barbarians lived was a little different from the game. Something about this place felt slightly removed from the era depicted in the game.
Still, the fact that Barbarians were simplehearted battle maniacs hadn't changed.
At first, I'd thought they were savage and ignorant.
But after living among them, I began to find them strangely familiar.
How should I put it....
It reminded me of how I often felt when I worked as a carpenter.
Those war zones of construction sites, where hammers flew and vicious curses were exchanged.
This place wasn't much different from the sites where I'd worked in my previous life.
All kinds of weapons flew around here, too.
"For Valhalla!"
...Always with that damned "For Valhalla."
They'd start throwing punches at the slightest provocation, claiming it was all for Valhalla. Valhalla was the afterlife of the Barbarians.
It was known as a paradise for honorable warriors.
Apparently, only warriors who died fighting honorably could enter, but I couldn't understand why anyone would go out of their way to die in battle.
Couldn't they just grow old peacefully, die happy, and go to Valhalla that way?
But if I said anything like that aloud, I risked having my head split in two by the tribal warriors, so I always kept those thoughts to myself.
'...Ignorant Barbarians.'
Still, at least here, I was the smartest brain around.
Whenever I put even a little modern knowledge to use, everyone would slap their foreheads in amazement and break into applause.
At times, I wondered whether I'd been sent here to be showered with affectionate pats on the head in this life because I'd been treated so poorly in my last one.
What if I used modern technology to live an easy life?
I'd build a house of my own and live happily with a foxlike wife and rabbitlike children!
I'd entertained fantasies like that before.
It hadn't taken long to realize they were empty dreams.
Living that sort of life in this world was incredibly difficult.
To survive here, you needed enough fighting strength to protect yourself.
And if you were born a Barbarian, that was even more important.
Why? Because Barbarians were a warrior race of simple-minded people. If you wanted an ordinary life, you had to be strong.
Only then could you survive wherever you went.
Maybe it was because they were so stupid, but Barbarians who ventured onto the continent routinely got stabbed in the back and taken for fools.
And because of a popular superstition that eating a Barbarian's heart improved your health, Barbarians traveling alone were sometimes attacked.
'...You uncivilized medieval bastards.'
With things like this, I couldn't live an ordinary life even if I wanted to.
For a happy life, I had to become strong, too.
But just as in my previous life, learning didn't come easily to me in this one, either.
What the hell had I done to deserve this?
Unlike the era I'd seen in <World of Freedom>, having money wasn't enough to learn skills from the Barbarians here.
Combat techniques in particular were taught only to blood relatives, which meant orphans without parents couldn't learn them.
What happened if a Barbarian, a member of a warrior race, couldn't learn combat techniques?
They fell behind.
And what happened when they fell behind?
Once they became adults and ventured onto the continent, they'd have no strength to defend themselves and would end up kidnapped and have their organs trafficked.
In conclusion, by a simple syllogism, they died.
As if being an orphan weren't miserable enough, how awful would it be to suffer something like that, too?
Those poor fellows.
And I happened to be one of them.
When I was little, my parents were betrayed and killed by adventurers who wanted their Barbarian hearts.
The simplehearted Barbarians at least looked after me enough to keep me alive, but that was as far as it went.
In other words, the people who could have taught me combat techniques were gone.
Barbarians were a race with nothing left if you took away their fighting ability and pride.
Fortunately, I'd abandoned anything resembling pride back in my previous life.
Would pride put food on the table?
If it meant surviving, I could even put myself under the knife-ears (a derogatory name for elves), who were on bad terms with Barbarians.
Or maybe not? Would the other Barbarians beat me half to death?
Anyway, by using modern knowledge, I'd earned the Barbarians' recognition and survived!
And so I'd spent ten years living by reading the room and keeping in everyone's good graces.
Drawing on my experience of learning by watching from the sidelines, I made a living by copying their techniques little by little.
I was practically the Copy Ninja....
No, the Copy Barbarian.
Still, perhaps because I had a talent for physical work, I hadn't fallen behind the others.
But there was a problem.
I hadn't fallen behind, sure, but could I survive once I became an adult and went out onto the continent?
Not at my current level.
I was someone who could assess his own abilities fairly well.
As soon as I completed my coming-of-age ceremony, I'd have to leave the tribe.
And I wouldn't be allowed to return for about a year.
With my current skills, my chances of surviving on the continent were probably close to zero.
Still, I'd come up with a plan.
I'd save money, enter a martial arts school on the continent, and learn their techniques.
Unlike the Barbarians, who only taught their skills to family, I'd once heard from a passing adventurer that there were kind people on the continent who gathered disciples and taught them their techniques.
I intended to find those people and become their disciple.
Barbarians were said to have the finest combat instincts of any race. If I asked someone to take me as a disciple, there was a good chance they'd accept.
On the other hand, Barbarians were so proud that none would ever bow their heads and ask to be taken on as a disciple. That was the problem.
I'd never even heard of a Barbarian lowering their head to someone of another race.
It was all because of that damned pride, no doubt.
But I could throw away my pride at any time if it meant learning a skill.
To survive in this damned world, the strength to protect myself was essential.
So I absolutely had to learn.
If they looked down on me and turned me away, I was even prepared to kneel and beg them to accept me as a disciple.
Before that, though, I needed to get through today's coming-of-age ceremony.
"Uldar, what weapon are you going to choose at the coming-of-age ceremony?"
Grom asked as he swung an axe vigorously beside me.
He was an annoying fellow, but he was also the tribal chief's only son.
That was why I'd made friends with him.
"Uldar, for me, it's always been the axe and nothing else."
He went on talking even though I hadn't asked.
He was chattier than usual.
His ability to ask questions and answer them all by himself was remarkable.
Then again, it was only natural. We were sixteen this year.
Today was the day the tribe's Barbarian boys and girls would undergo their coming-of-age ceremony and become true warriors.
All the normal Barbarians were brimming with excitement.
And I, the abnormal one, was stuck among them, having the life drained out of me.
"Don't know."
"You must be having a hard time deciding."
"No."
"Of course. You can't become a great warrior unless you carefully consider which weapon suits you. No wonder you're troubled."
"That's not it."
"Just what I'd expect from the cleverest man in our tribe."
"...That's not what I said."
"Warrior of Wisdom."
"Stop it."
"...WisWar."
"........"
I'd at least completed high school back in South Korea.
Among these ignorant Barbarians, I was a genius among geniuses.
Maybe that was why so many of them pestered me every day, just like Grom.
Barbarians were so ignorant that teaching them simple addition and subtraction was enough to have them praising you as extraordinary.
So when I used the building and interior carpentry skills I'd picked up by watching others work to make them a decent wooden house, I became the wisest man in the tribe.
Anyway, everyone here worked hard every day for the sake of fighting.
It wasn't a place where you earned special treatment for building houses well.
They might sing your praises, but if you wanted to be treated with genuine respect, the only way was to grow stronger in combat.
And for that, I needed to go to the continent.
'...Those damned rules.'
Under the tribe's rules, anyone who hadn't reached adulthood was forbidden to leave the tribe.
I should've been getting a proper education from an early age.
Well, I suppose with this Barbarian body, I'll still be able to learn martial arts even when I'm older.
My goal in life was modest.
To build a happy family and live in a house I'd made with my own hands.
But to achieve such an ordinary life in this world, I needed one thing: fighting strength!
Wars that broke out without end.
Demonic beasts swarming everywhere.
There were so many threats to one's safety.
Unlike the modern world, where we'd start every day at the construction site by shouting about safety, the Barbarians went around spouting nonsense like "Let's die fighting!"
Naturally, I put safety first, and I wanted even less to die in battle.
On the continent, a Barbarian who was all brawn and no brains was an easy mark.
So if I wanted to live a comfortable, elegant life as a Barbarian, I needed enough strength to protect not just myself but my entire family.
'What if I earned a noble title?'
I'll become the first Barbarian noble and build myself a happy family, no matter what.
For now, though, I'd better get through the coming-of-age ceremony.
"Uldar, it's your turn now."
Grom, who had come out of the temple carrying an axe, nudged me in the side to let me know it was my turn.
"Got it."
The coming-of-age ceremony began with entering the temple and choosing the weapon you would use.
After that, you had to enter the Land of Demonic Beasts and hunt a demonic beast to prove your strength. An ordinary Barbarian could pass the trial easily.
'If they're ordinary, that is.'
That meant the ordinary kind who'd been taught how to hunt demonic beasts by their parents from an early age and grown up strengthening their brotherly bonds with siblings who exchanged punches every day.
"Damn it...."
"Uldar, are you still thinking it over? Your wisdom never fails you, even at the very end. You're going to be an incredible warrior!"
"Shut up, Grom. I'm thinking, so keep quiet."
"Sorry. I interrupted you at an important moment."
"........"
He apologized so readily that I had nothing more to say.
This was why I couldn't bring myself to hate these stupid but goodhearted Barbarians.
"I'll be back."
"I hope you make the best choice."
"I know."
"Hurry back. Let's go to the Land of Demonic Beasts together."
With that, Grom grinned and held out his fist.
Instead of answering, I lightly bumped my fist against his and entered the temple.
Perhaps because it was a temple, it was remarkably clean and tidy by Barbarian standards.
'It's my first time here.'
Huge statues stood in rows.
With nothing but small torches illuminating the vast temple, the statues seemed to make the atmosphere even more oppressive.
Their overwhelming size and indescribable presence almost felt as though they were pressing down on my mind.
But that was just how it felt.
Right now, I had a weapon to choose.
I couldn't let myself be consumed by that feeling.
"What should I choose?"
All these statues had been modeled after the greatest warriors in Barbarian history.
Each looked several meters tall, and I'd heard that the Barbarians had captured dwarves and forced them to make the statues.
'Isn't that exploitation of labor?'
Then again, it's not as if there are labor laws in the Middle Ages. Still, kidnapping people of another race and forcing them to work is....
'Does it even matter?'
When there are bastards who cut out Barbarian hearts, boil them, and drink the broth, is a little labor exploitation acceptable by comparison?
Ahh, I'm being corrupted by these uncivilized medieval ways.
Enough distractions. I need to finish my coming-of-age ceremony.
"Now, what should I pick to make everyone say I chose well?"
In front of the statues lay the weapons those warriors had used during their lives.
The young Barbarians undergoing the coming-of-age ceremony simply had to choose one of them.
Up until now, I'd watched the Barbarians' techniques and learned by observing them, using all sorts of weapons along the way.
There was practically no weapon I hadn't tried.
[This one already looks like a warrior who's spent years fighting, doesn't he?]
[That fellow's really just reached the age for his coming-of-age ceremony? Looks like he's lying about his age.]
"Huh?"
I thought I heard voices coming from somewhere.
Was someone still inside the temple?
I looked around, but there was no one there besides me.
"What was that?"
Were temples the kind of place where ghosts just appeared and things like that?
Well, this was a place that honored warriors who'd accomplished great deeds, so I supposed it was possible.
...But if that was really the case, it was a little frightening.
I'd better just pick a weapon and get out of here.
[Who do you think that fellow will choose?]
[Let's make a wager. I'll bet three challenge tickets that he chooses me.]
[Then I'll bet on myself as well.]
[Me too! Me too!]
"Who's there?!"
This time, I'd definitely heard them.
If those were auditory hallucinations, then there was definitely something wrong with my head.
"Come out! Why are you betting on someone else's coming-of-age ceremony?!"
[........]
I'd shouted so loudly that my voice echoed throughout the temple.
But there was no reply.
What the hell? Have I gone insane?
Has the thought of leaving the tribe finally knocked a screw loose in my head?
Just as I was thinking that....
[Hey! You there, kid!]
I heard the voice again.
"...?"
And then it said something strange.
[Kid! Can you hear our voices?]
Holy crap! It's a ghost!