Chapter 1

Chapter 1. The Damn Barbarian Tribe
It might have been only natural that so many people enjoyed hobbies like leaping off cliffs with nothing but a safety rope, skiing across wild snowy mountains, or climbing sheer rock walls.
Men were creatures that reveled in danger by nature.
But Park Minho, a young man from South Korea, was nothing like that.
Why in the world would anyone risk their life for something like thrills? Why would anyone do something so recklessly dangerous, something that could get them killed?
'I will not do dangerous things!'
Minho had lived his entire life with that mindset.
He was the sort of man who even shied away from harmless little things most men accepted without hesitation, like betting ice cream on a game.
Competition, wagers, duels, fights to the death, and all the countless other things that made men's hearts boil with excitement...
Those concepts simply did not exist in Minho's brain.
In other words, his head contained only choices that were certain and safe.
That was how he had lived until now. It was how he was living even now, and how he believed he would continue to live in the future.
But how could he have known? After suffering an unexpected accident, he would be born again in some fantasy world.
Honestly, that part was not the problem. Reincarnation? Fine. No one had ever experienced the afterlife, so who was to say another world could not exist?
Minho did not hate the idea. It was a new life. All he had to do was live it well.
The problem was where he had been born.
"Waaah! Waaah!"
He had not even hoped for a great family.
A noble house of high standing? The home of a wealthy merchant?
That would have been too much to ask, but even an ordinary middle-class household would have been nice enough.
Or at the very least, he would have been fine being born into a normal farming family.
A plain household where both parents were alive and their marriage was decent enough.
Of course, they might have been a little poor, but what did that matter? They could have lived peacefully together, farming the land as a family.
But this damned world seemed to have no intention whatsoever of granting him what he wanted, and instead screwed him over completely.
Because the place where he had been born was somewhere he had never expected at all.
"Hear me, warriors all! Ktam, the brave warrior of the Red Fang Tribe, and his wife Rana have borne the fruit of their love! Let it be known to all that a new sprout of a young warrior has been born into our tribe!"
The Red Fang Tribe.
A barbarian tribe that made its home upon the vast grasslands.
Minho had been born again as one of them.
"Therefore, I, Turgan, the chieftain, shall bestow upon this young sprout, who will bear the future of our tribe, the name 'Balun'! It means the fang of a wolf! Welcome our new family with all your fervor, so that with the wolf's fang he may tear all our enemies apart!"
"Wooooooo!"
"Balun! Balun!"
"That cry is thunderous!"
"A brave warrior!"
That was right.
He had been born as one of the barbarian warriors—those who were also called barbarians.
Was he about three years old when he first became aware of that fact? He had been so stunned then that the memory still lingered.
In his tiny body, still too young to even clench a fist properly, Balun lamented his fate.
'Ha. Life.'
There had to have been countless possibilities, so why had he been born in a place like this of all places?
Into the arms of these savages, who did not even enjoy the benefits of civilization.
Well, yes. It was miserable beyond words, but what could he do? He had been given a new life, so all he could do was live it as best he could.
So Balun did. He worked hard. He truly tried to live well.
But it was not easy.
He really could not understand it.
Why in the hell were these damned barbarians so brave?
Did they not even have the concept of safety?
"Young warriors of the Red Fang, I ask you this. If a tiger appeared before you, what should you do?"
"We fight it!"
"Exactly! What is your name, young warrior?"
"Kortan!"
"Yes! Brave warrior Kortan speaks the truth. We fight. The warriors of the Red Fang do not know how to retreat! No matter who stands before you, face them and fight! Claim victory! That is the spirit of the Red Fang!"
Look at this.
They were teaching children to charge headfirst at a tiger and die.
'...'
All he could do was sigh.
No wonder every last one of them was like that...
"We are going bear hunting! Which of you will come with me? Only three! I will allow only three young warriors!"
"I will go!"
"No, I will!"
"What are you talking about? I should go!"
Do you know how old these young warriors were?
At most, they looked about twelve.
They were shoving children barely old enough to be in elementary school out to hunt bears.
And they were handing them real bladed weapons to do it.
Was this for real?
This was not a dream, was it?
"Balun. Why are you not joining them?"
"Excuse me?"
"Do you not want to hunt a bear? Do you not want to earn the honor of being called a bear hunter?"
"Uh, I do not really want something like th—"
"What did you say!"
"No, I do want it! A mighty warrior who protects the tribe! Behold, Bear Hunter Balun! I will step forward!"
"Haha! That is more like it! No matter how much you pretend otherwise, you too are a man with Red Fang blood flowing through your veins!"
Minho—no, Balun—really did try his best.
It meant that a man so lacking in testosterone that even if you searched the depths of his soul you would not find the concept of courage anywhere, still threw himself earnestly into the crash course curriculum called Becoming a Warrior of the Red Fang Tribe.
Maybe it was even producing results.
Bear hunting? In the old days, he would never have dreamed of such a thing.
He had once been the kind of guy who hated even betting ice cream with his friends, the kind who lowered his head and pretended not to hear when people taunted him with things like, "So what, you really are not going to bet? Scared?"
"Spotted a huge bear up ahead!"
"Ohhh!"
"Young warriors! Who will provoke the beast? I shall grant the first young warrior to raise his hand the honor of facing it first!"
"I will do it!"
"Good! Young warrior Kortan, go!"
"Yes!"
Just look at that.
They were sending a twelve-year-old child to strike first against a bear four times his size.
And Balun was out hunting with these lunatics, these child abusers.
"Next, Balun. You go."
"Excuse me?"
"Our brave warrior Kortan has landed a fine blow upon the bear. Follow after him and fight. With your courage, you should be more than capable of wounding the beast!"
"No, sir. W-wait a moment."
"What is this? Are you retreating?"
"No, that is not it. I mean..."
"Everyone, look. It seems Balun has grown afraid, so I shall cut off his left heel. Then he should recover his courage. After all, he will not be able to run away."
"I am going right now! You damned bear! Come and face me in single combat!"
Human beings were truly astonishing creatures.
Things you believed were absolutely impossible somehow became possible when you were forced into them.
"Uahaha! I knew you would do it, Balun! Well done!"
"Yes, well..."
How had he done it?
Because he did not want to die, he squeezed his eyes shut and somehow made it work.
Although he did not remember much of it.
He had been scared out of his mind. How was he supposed to remember anything?
Honestly, if no one had been standing nearby, he would have burst into tears and wept like a child.
"Did you all see? Balun, the youngest warrior among us, has cut off the bear's breath!"
"Wooooo!"
"Balun! Balun!"
"Bear Hunter Balun!"
"A brave warrior!"
Balun had been ten years old at the time.
To be honest, he had felt relieved.
He had killed a bear at the age of ten, so surely that was enough to earn some recognition, was it not? Surely they would stop forcing him to join hunts.
"Balun, the youngest yet bravest of warriors, came with us on the hunt. We cannot go hunting without a warrior like you."
"Chieftain, could you please leave me out just for one day? I think I might be coming down with a cold today..."
"A cold? Then an evil spirit has taken root in you. For that, an axe is the cure. Do not worry. I shall kill the evil spirit dwelling in your body."
"Let us go hunting! We should leave at once!"
Nope.
If anything, he had become even more popular.
They dragged him into hunts at all hours, without fail.
And that was not all.
He got dragged into wars with other tribes too.
...God damn it.
He learned later that killing a bear at the age of ten had been the first time in the tribe's history, and the youngest age anyone had ever done it.
That explained why the tribe's elders always lit up whenever they saw him.
"Hear me, brave Red Fangs! Balun, the youngest yet bravest warrior, has slain a tiger alone!"
"Ohhh!"
"Balun! Balun!"
"Amazing!"
"The tribe's future is bright!"
As he grew older, Balun's standing within the tribe rose higher and higher, but meanwhile his heart was rotting away inside him.
The life-and-death battles he fought every day simply did not suit him at all.
Honestly, he admitted it. He had a talent for fighting.
It was embarrassing to say it out loud because it sounded like bragging, but this body of his? It was insane.
But what did that matter if it did not suit his nature?
He was anxious. His heart pounded with the feeling that he might go out hunting tomorrow and get bitten to death by some wild beast at any moment.
Well, sure. By now he was used to bears, so let us say they no longer frightened him. But what about the other predators? The monsters?
What about wolves charging in packs? Goblins shooting poisoned darts from a distance?
And what about lizardmen? Those bastards were fairly intelligent. They even wore crude armor and carried weapons.
The Red Fang Tribe did not wear armor at all... fuck.
Everything in this world was dangerous from every direction. That was just the kind of world it was.
...A damned fantasy world.
***
Time passed, and Balun turned sixteen.
Turning sixteen meant he had reached the age to undergo the coming-of-age ceremony.
The Trial of the Fang, the traditional rite of passage passed down through generations in the Red Fang Tribe.
There were four candidates for the trial that year, and Balun was one of them.
"At last, the time has come! The time for you young sprouts to cast off your youthful softness! You shall test yourselves and become true warriors of the Red Fang!"
"Wooooooo!"
The tribe held a grand feast.
There was a mountain of meat, and they lit a bonfire and danced in circles around it.
Everyone ate, drank, and celebrated. Even the candidates were smiling.
There was only one person who could not smile.
Balun.
The brave young warrior who had killed a bear at the age of ten. The Red Fang Tribe's greatest prospect. The future of the tribe, expected to become the greatest warrior in its entire history.
That future looked utterly ruined.
'I'm fucked. I am absolutely fucked.'
Quite a few boys of the Red Fang never made it past sixteen, and the reason was that the pass rate of the Trial of the Fang was less than half.
Among those who failed, many died.
"Candidates, step forward!"
At last, the trial began.
When the chieftain called their names, they stepped forward one by one and were assigned their tasks.
If they completed those tasks safely, they would pass the trial and become true warriors who protected the Red Fang Tribe.
"Karnik, you are swift of foot and quick-witted. You also have sharp ears and a silver tongue, so I shall grant you the Trial of the Messenger."
"Yes, Chieftain."
"Karnik, Messenger-to-Be. You are to climb the Moonrise Mountain Range at once. At its peak, where the crescent moon is engraved, there blooms the Moon Wolf Flower."
"The Moon Wolf Flower..."
"Yes. Bring it back. That is your trial."
"Yes!"
The first candidate, Karnik of the Swift Feet, received his orders and departed.
"Tarkunan, you are nimble and skilled with a sword. You are not especially brave, but you fight well with your speed. Therefore, I shall grant you the Trial of the Warrior."
"Yes, Chieftain."
"Tarkunan, Warrior-to-Be. You are to climb the Frozen Mountain Range at once. Go there and kill a Frost Boar, then bring it back."
"Yes!"
The second candidate, Tarkunan of the Cutting Wind, departed as well.
"Bolker, you are skilled with the bow and the trap. You also understand the habits of beasts. Therefore, I shall grant you the Trial of the Hunter."
"Yes, Chieftain."
"Bolker, Hunter-to-Be. You are to enter the Dark Forest at once. Deep within that place lives a Saber Tiger. Kill it and bring it back."
"I understand."
The third candidate, Bolker of the Eagle Eyes, received his command and disappeared into the night.
Then it was finally Balun's turn.
"Balun."
"Yes."
"At last, it is your turn."
"Yes, it is."
"You already know your destiny, do you not?"
"Excuse me? What do you mean by—"
The chieftain changed his tone, unlike with the others before him.
"You are already a mighty warrior in your own right. Strength, endurance, reflexes—you lack nothing. And that is not all. Your axe technique has already reached a level unmatched by any other. Even without taking the Trial of the Warrior, your skill and worth have long since been proven."
"Thank you."
"However, that does not mean you can forgo the trial."
Something about the way he was talking was suspicious.
Just how difficult a task was he planning to assign that he needed to preface it like that?
"I shall grant you the Trial of the Greatest Warrior."
"What?"
"Balun, outstanding warrior. You are to enter the Valley of Death at once. Travel deep within, to the ravine where no light seeps in, and kill a Rock-Cleft Troll. Bring it back."
"...?"
Balun doubted his ears.
He wanted him to kill what?
'Are you out of your mind?'
"What is the matter? Why are you not going?"
"Chieftain, I think there must have been some mistake with the assi—"
"Are you saying you refuse the trial?"
In that instant, Balun felt hundreds of vicious stares bore into him.
It felt like he would be murdered on the spot, so he changed his answer immediately.
"No. Of course I will go. I will head over there and beat that troll bastard to death."
"Yes! That is how it should be! Go!"
"Yes, sir!"
***
To start with the conclusion, Balun passed the trial.
He went to the Valley of Death, fought a life-and-death battle against the Rock-Cleft Troll, and after finally defeating it, returned with its head.
"Hear me, all tribesmen! Today, a warrior who may be the greatest in the entire history of our Red Fang Tribe has been born!"
"Wooooooo!"
"Balun! Balun!"
Balun returned grievously wounded and drenched in blood.
Then he lay unconscious for two full months.
And then, two months later.
When Balun finally opened his eyes again, he made a vow.
He would leave this place and escape to the Central Continent, to the civilized world.
'If I keep living here, I will die long before my time. No matter what, I am getting out of here.'