Chapter Text
Chapter 0: Preface
"Hey pal, you were in charge of testing game-world 'HL-ROX-16', right?"
"Yes, and we got great results. What of it?"
"Well, maybe they were a little too good. Some are saying that your subject selection might have been biased."
"What? I used ShinShift Corp, just like usual. I had no direct hand in who got picked."
"Well, did you order through the 'Transit' or 'Online' division?"
"C'mon, the waiting time for 'Transit' was really long. Anyway, why would that matter?"
"Well, 'Online' cherry-picks test subjects based on suitability for the intended world."
"Oh, so that's why it ran so well."
"Yep, sounds like it. You should reset and make a new run before the higher-ups find out."
"Yeah, you're right. OK, I'll go order a new rat."
"Don't call them that. Anyway, you won't have time to go through ShinShift — better use a Noctis Gate."
"Ugh, manual selection? What a bother."
"Use the same species so it'll be the same planet. Just pick a spot far from the original's home to avoid the previous bias."
"Fine, fine. I'll carefully select exactly the right rat for a perfectly unbiased test run."
"Um... yep, that sounds right."
Chapter 1: Reality
Day 1
After a comfortable night's sleep, I wake up on a bed of straw. I feel a light breeze and hear birds in the distance. A wooden beam is overhead and sunlight is slanting through gaps in the walls. Sort of looks like a barn.
"A barn? Why the hell would I be in a barn? Where the hell am I?"
No one else is here. Just me in my pajama pants and t-shirt. No head injury, dizziness or hangover, so I sit up and look around. Everything seems quite normal, other than the barn, of course.
Let's see, a horse, piles of hay, farm junk lying around. Shabby enough to look real but still, something's off. Ah, that's it, the smell. It smells... fine. Fresh hay but otherwise, just clean air. No horse crap, mold, or even dust. So, not at all like a real barn.
"Yep, not at all suspicious."
This situation is turning from weird to creepy. Better figure out what's going on, like, right now! Possibilities: Dream? Nope, too detailed. I don't have the imagination for all this. Same with hallucinations, coma-induced or otherwise. Too real and, frankly, too peaceful. Computer simulation? With this level of detail and tactile feedback? Nah. Even if it were possible, who'd go through the trouble?
Alright, I can assume that this place is real, at least in the physical sense. But almost certainly staged... and oddly familiar. It's like something I've seen before maybe only indirectly. Could this be an elaborate prank? Maybe. A TV show? OK, finally something plausible. A network would have the budget and they're crazy enough to actually do it.
Interrupting my inner monologue, the horse whinnied. "What was that?" Turning towards the sound, a little HUD appeared over the horse's head:
[Horse]
"What the...! Nope, no. No way. That did NOT just happen!"
I spring to my feet and quickly grab my head. No VR helmet. No AR glasses. Seriously, this can't be real.
"OK, this is not the time to panic." An obvious lie but still true. Act now — panic later.
"What the hell is happening? Insanity? Did I die and re-spawn?" OK, that's ridiculous and not even relevant. Instead, "What do I actually know and what should I do first?"
Well, the TV-show theory is out, along with pretty much anything even remotely rational. Time to entertain the really bad ideas. Painful to admit, but this feels like the start of an isekai manga. (I could just die of embarrassment — assuming I'm not already dead.) But not just any manga, it's one I know. This barn, this situation is just too familiar. I've definitely read this. Seen it. Actually, this looks a lot like, um, Horny teen raids labyrinths by day and sleeps with adoring slaves by night, or something like that. I forget the real title.
"Wait, was that story pulled out of my head to make me feel comfortable?" Nope and wouldn't matter. Just focus. For now, I'll accept that being trapped in a game is the most likely of the absolutely impossible possibilities. What's important now is to get a good start. I need to find tools, weapons, gear — anything useful.
Scanning the barn for loot, I see something buried in the hay:
[Holy Sword Durandal]
"Oh, hell yes! The legendary Durandal. Gotta be OP." It's certainly heavier than a fake but feels OK to swing. This should be perfectly usable as long as I keep a tight grip. But, finding exactly this sword basically confirms my guess. It's not like I've memorized the details or that this world has to be the same, but this could bring extra advantages.
Let's see, I should be able to ID myself:
[David Moreau]
[Male, Age: 19]
[Villager: 1]
Yep, that's me and it's thankfully more detailed than the horse's ID. Anyway, what else can I find around here?
[Ring of Determination]
Don't really remember that one but I'll grab it too. Otherwise, it's just bugs and junk. Then, on the other side,
[Sandals]
"Nope. Not taking someone's stinky, old shoes. Don't care if this is real or not, I've learned my lesson. Still got Robert's foot stench from when I borrowed his sneakers.[1] Besides... I know that those sandals are a trap.
OK, that's it for the useful stuff in here. Now, unless I'm completely delusional (still a real possibility), as I step outside (barefoot), I'll see... Yep, a small, peaceful village. Fields of what look like cabbages. Nothing suspicious here — just a farming sim, right?
Thankfully, no one seems to notice the weird guy walking out of their barn, carrying a big-ass, fancy sword. Because, right on cue, here they come from out in the distance, bad guys. Hmm, did walking out of the barn trigger this event? Well, whatever, the action will start soon. Total cliché moment but at least the story arc is consistent so far.
No time to organize a proper defense but the villagers scramble to prepare a little barricade. Well, into the fray I go...
Wait! What the hell am I doing? This is obviously fake — no one needs my help. It's just a bunch of NPCs fighting another bunch of NPCs. I should just hide in here till they thin out and either cut down the stragglers or run like hell.
And, if this is real, a total noob like me, who's never even held a real sword before, should not jump head-long into a horde of murderous villains.
But, if it's really real, most of the villagers will get slaughtered and the survivors will... fare worse. All this will happen while I keep myself safe, huddled in this barn, like a coward. And afterwards, do I just say "Sorry, don't mind me" and expect that they'll let me go?
I'm such a sucker to fall for this obvious setup, but real or not, I can't just do nothing. OK, time to psych myself up. It's just a game and I'm good at games. This is just a really immersive game. An OP sword makes up for lack of practical experience. Ugh, gotta purge this otaku-crap from my memory afterwards, assuming I survive the day.
Sword at the ready once more, I see that the attackers have reached the makeshift defense perimeter. Despite my new bravado, I have to admit that I can't take them all at once. I'll cut off the head of the snake, so to speak, and the others will hopefully scatter. Ah, there he is, Hugo, the Bandit Boss, wearing his gang-style headscarf. Confident that mere villagers are no threat, he's leaving himself completely vulnerable. Well, at least vulnerable to attack by an uninvited lunatic wielding an OP sword. Like this, he's practically inviting me to take the shot.
I walk out there, trying not to attract too much attention. (Just out for a casual stroll.) Still dressed in pajamas, I slip unchallenged through the chaos. And then I swing! The sword literally rips through the boss' neck. So much for needing talent, not that much is needed to hit a stationary target from behind. As expected, a fountain of blood erupts. With this volume, it looks fake, not that I'd actually know.
What I just did, and what I imagine they planned to do, fills me with considerably more aggression than I've ever felt before. These murderous scum must die for their presumed crimes.
Now that my stealth is effectively deactivated, the other thugs start heading towards me. They seem surprised but mainly pissed off. Good. It's too soon for me to deal with a calm, coordinated attack. A quick stab and I take down the closest bad guy. I duck, swing, nearly drop my sword but get another. I need to maintain focus and not go too wild since no one's got my back.
Seems like my video game experience actually does count for something, especially FPS. The next highest ranked Bandit comes at me, but I shove a small fry at him and stab through both. (Why are these guys so short?) Fortunately, the rest are low-leveled, weak and unskilled, according to the now veteran swordsman I am.
A few seem to have finally caught on and are starting to flee. Another stab followed by a slash and down goes another. (Fall to my cheat-level sword and non-zero talent!) This is just like a manga — totally unrealistic and overwhelmingly in my favor.
Now, only slain enemies lie around me. Still buzzing from the feeding frenzy, I chase after the cowards who dare try to deprive me of EXP. With the last guy too far away to chase, I collapse to my knees, exhausted. OK, maybe I started to get a bit reckless but I didn't get a scratch on me, at least, nothing visible through the layers of blood. Damn, I think one of those bastards tore my PJs.
Sitting on the ground, breathing hard, hands trembling from the repeated impacts, I feel that the adrenaline is starting to wear off. The villagers quickly came out to loot the bodies. Watching them go at it so easily, this probably isn't their first time. Actually, the villagers seem more disturbed by my presence than the dead bodies. Most nervously look away, but one old fart approaches. Let's see, his name is Somal with a job of Village Chief.
Smiling diplomatically, the old guy says, « ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ».
In other words, something completely unintelligible and in a completely unfamiliar language. That's OK because it's probably just the local, commoner language. In the manga, the chief also knows the upper-class language, which to the MC sounds exactly like... Oh Crap! I am so screwed! I only watch dubbed.
Well, at least I can introduce myself, "Um, « Konichiwaa, Dabbido dess! »"
Nothing but an odd stare from the chief. Even if my accent isn't perfect, he should still understand me. So, maybe they don't use Japanese here — that's a relief. But wait, what if it isn't English either?
Hesitantly, the chief asks, "Excuse me, but do you speak « ■r■■m »?"
"Bremen? Or, Ramen? Nah, doesn't even make sense. Maybe it's Brahman. Hmm, that's actually possible."
"Are... are you feeling alright? Were you injured?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry. Yes, I do speak... this language. I was just surprised to hear it again."
(The rest was obviously English, dumb ass. Let's pretend that didn't happen.)
"Ah, wonderful. I am Somal, the chief of this village. May I get your name?"
"David Moreau."
"Oh, please pardon my rudeness, Lord Moreau. I didn't realize..."
Oops, forgot that having a last name is a class thing. "No, just 'David' is fine."
"You're too kind. Thank you, Sir David."
Meh, whatever. It was my mistake anyway. Hmm, should I claim to be a foreign noble? Nah, probably get the death penalty for that sort of thing.
"I was just passing by when I noticed the attack. I hope you didn't suffer too many losses." (May as well sound a bit upper class.)
"Far fewer thanks to your arrival. You have our sincere thanks, Sir David. With such great skill, you must be an experienced Adventurer, or perhaps, a wandering Knight?"
"No, but I've fought some battles," I lied. Don't want to admit that it's all thanks to my OP sword. Not willing to give away all the credit, I added, "Good that I got here when I did. Seems you were in some serious danger." Maybe a bit bold to say this, but it's true. I really did save their asses.
With a little hesitation, the chief responded with, "Yes, you are indeed correct. We are in your debt, Sir David."
Why is he starting to sound even more formal? Bothersome, but I'll let it slide. Oh, maybe I'm still a bit wound-up from the fight.
[1] Apologies to the real Robert who kindly gave his old shoes to the author.