"Beydia!"
"Yeah?"
After another grueling day of battle, Beydia and Chief Yastora found themselves alone, the other warriors busy regrouping and tending to the battlefield.
In the time they’d fought side by side, their bond had grown rapidly, transforming from comrades to close friends.
"Why do their numbers never dwindle?"
Yastora’s question, laced with exhaustion, caught Beydia off guard. He could sense the weariness in the chief’s voice, something uncharacteristic for the warrior he idolized.
Yastora had been relying on forbidden techniques to amplify his strength temporarily—methods that drained his life force and body each time they were used. Now, his once-imposing figure seemed diminished, his strength waning. Meanwhile, their warriors were dwindling in number, supplies were running low, and the relentless Imperial forces continued to press on, seemingly without end.
The Empire had three full legions at its disposal for this campaign, a staggering force. Beydia, knowing there were even more troops stationed in the Empire’s heartlands, couldn’t bring himself to voice that fact. It would only deepen the hopelessness of their situation.
"Beydia. We can’t go on like this anymore."
"Are you giving up already?"
Beydia’s heart sank. Was Yastora, the indomitable warrior he admired, truly thinking of surrender? That shouldn’t happen. It couldn’t happen.
"Giving up? Ha! Do you think Yastora, the greatest warrior, would do that?"
Yastora clenched his massive fists.
"I’m Yastora, the strongest of warriors. No matter how many weaklings they send, I’ll crush them all. But... my people are a different matter."
"Yastora..."
"The prolonged war has drained us. Our warriors can’t even hunt anymore, and without enough food, winter will be our undoing."
The air was growing colder with each passing day, yet the tribes’ food reserves were dwindling as the young men were drafted into battle, leaving no one to hunt.
"We can’t afford to waste any more time."
"So what do you plan to do?"
"We’ll retreat. Take everyone beyond the Great Snowy Mountains where the Empire won’t be able to follow."
The Great Snowy Mountains, situated in the far north, were an inhospitable terrain that Imperial soldiers, unused to harsh cold, would struggle to traverse.
"Do you think the Empire will just sit back and let you cross?"
The retreat would require moving not just the warriors, but the entire tribe—women, children, and the elderly. Their slow pace meant the Imperial forces would inevitably catch up long before they reached safety.
"I’ll hold them off."
"Damn it, Yastora!"
Beydia squeezed his eyes shut. He knew exactly what Yastora meant.
In history, Yastora had single-handedly held off the Imperial forces for seven days and nights, giving the Germania tribes enough time to cross the mountains. His incredible endurance and ferocity, coupled with periodic snowstorms, allowed the tribe to escape unscathed and establish a new homeland.
Yastora’s stand had earned him the status of a legend, a warrior so revered he was elevated to the rank of Constellation.
Now, he intended to repeat that history.
"Yastora, are you planning to sacrifice yourself?"
"Beydia."
"If you stay behind to hold them off, you won’t survive. You’ll die."
"It’s the right choice for my people."
"And what happens to the tribe without their leader? Do you think they’ll make it across the mountains unscathed without you?"
"Better that than all of us dying here."
"If you die, do you think the tribe will remain whole? Do you think they’ll survive without their chief?"
"What else can I do? Their forces are endless! They haven’t even used half of their strength yet! If we keep fighting like this, our people will be slaughtered, the survivors enslaved!"
"Yastora, you..."
Beydia had always thought of Yastora as strong but simple-minded—a brute who didn’t truly understand the Empire’s power.
But he was wrong.
Yastora understood the Empire’s might better than anyone. He knew just how dire their situation was. Yet, he had thrown himself into this losing battle for the sake of his people, trying with all his might to shield them.
"I am the chief of this tribe! The wall that stands to protect my people! If sacrificing myself is what it takes, then so be it."
"......."
Beydia felt anger and frustration well up inside him.
This might have been just a game, but the weight of Yastora’s resolve, his determination to protect his people, was real.
Yastora wasn’t just another character. He was alive—breathing, fighting, and standing beside him.
"Why are you taking this burden on alone?"
"...Beydia."
"I am Germania too! I am a warrior too!"
In the original history, Yastora had fought alone.
But if two of them fought together...?
Beydia clenched his fists. He was a player. He didn’t have to run or worry about preserving his life.
"It’s suicide, Beydia."
"Yastora. Are you dismissing my spirit as a warrior?"
"...Damn it. You win."
Yastora slapped his forehead and let out a bitter chuckle.
"Did you really think you could take them all down alone?"
"Why not? I’m Yastora. The great warrior Yastora."
"But our warriors are strongest when we fight together."
The two men stood facing each other, their grins spreading.
They placed their fists against each other’s chests, a silent vow exchanged between them.
"You’re ready, right, Beydia?"
"Of course. I’m stronger than you, after all."
"Ha! That’s a bold claim. I’m pretty sure I killed more Imperials than you yesterday."
"Mine were tougher than yours."
The two men burst into laughter, their camaraderie lighting up the grim night.
***
"Die, you Imperial scum!"
"Agh! Why won’t these monsters die?!"
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Boom!
Another wave of Imperial soldiers fell, reduced to a sea of blood.
"Hah... hah... hah..."
Beydia panted heavily, his chest rising and falling with exhaustion.
Time seemed to crawl.
Seven days that felt like seven years.
Every single day had been a living nightmare.
He hadn’t rested, hadn’t slept, and the endless tide of enemies left him utterly drained.
The only consolation was that, by now, the other tribespeople had likely crossed the Great Snowy Mountains.
"Get a grip, Beydia."
A familiar weight pressed against his back.
"Yastora."
The battered figure of Chief Yastora leaned against him, just as beaten and bloodied.
"What’s got you so winded? Are you already at your limit?"
"Hah. Don’t make me laugh. You’re the one who looks like he’s ready to drop."
"Tch. I’ve still got enough left to crush those cowards sneaking over there."
"Is that so? Then let’s make a bet—whoever takes down more wins."
"Hah! Two minutes. That’s all I need."
The two men launched themselves into the fray, charging straight at the Imperial forces.
"Aaaaah! Help! These monsters won’t stop!"
"Retreat! They’re demons!"
Despite their bodies being in tatters, their remaining strength was more than enough to obliterate the enemy.
If not for Yastora’s presence, Beydia would have collapsed and given up long ago.
"How did this guy survive seven days of this on his own?"
Even with the powers of countless heroes at his disposal, Beydia felt like he was barely holding on.
Yet, in history, Yastora had endured this very battle alone.
Not for seven days—but seven weeks.
Boom!
After another rampage, the surrounding Imperial forces were reduced to pools of blood.
Even the supposed "Swordmaster" lay dead, his skull crushed.
The remaining soldiers retreated in fear.
"Yastora."
"What?"
"By now, the tribespeople should have crossed the mountains."
"Hah. I hope so."
Yastora smirked, as if the thought alone brought him peace.
"We can fall back now, can’t we?"
Seven days had passed.
The tribespeople had the time they needed to escape.
There was no longer any reason to keep fighting.
They just had to retreat into the oncoming snowstorm, and Yastora could be saved.
"The storm is coming from that direction. Let’s fall back into it."
"Fall back?"
Yastora paused, deep in thought.
...He wouldn’t, would he?
Beydia had only agreed to help Yastora hold the line because he thought they’d retreat together when the time came.
But if Yastora planned to stay and fight longer... Beydia had no idea how to convince him otherwise.
"Alright."
Yastora nodded, to Beydia’s immense relief.
"Phew. At least we’re retreating together."
But then Yastora stepped closer, placing a hand on Beydia’s shoulder.
"...Yastora?"
The chief’s muscles suddenly swelled, his veins bulging unnaturally.
"I’m sorry, my friend."
The moment Beydia heard those words, he understood.
"W-wait, Yastora! Hold on!"
He spun around, desperate to stop him.
Boom!
A surge of immense power exploded from Yastora’s body, launching Beydia into the air and sending him hurtling toward the snowstorm.
"No! Yastora!"
As Beydia soared high above the battlefield, he watched the ground below blur before he was swallowed by the raging blizzard.
"Come to me, you Imperial cowards!"
Yastora charged into the heart of the Imperial forces.
Trapped within the storm, Beydia struggled to break free, using every ounce of strength he had.
But not even the powers of the heroes could pull him out.
He could only watch, helpless, as Yastora’s presence began to fade—his final stand burning like a lone beacon in the storm.
He could feel it.
The chief’s life force, once blazing like an unstoppable inferno, was now flickering away.
Yastora’s last act was to burn out completely, giving everything to ensure the survival of his people.
***
"Curator, the players are singing praises of my story! The divine energy flowing to me has skyrocketed beyond belief!"
"Congratulations, Chief!"
"But... I have a question."
"Ask me anything, my esteemed deity."
"It’s true that I met my end in such a manner, but... was it really necessary to dismiss the efforts of those who tried to save me?"
"Oh, great Chief, you see, tragedies like this are what leave a lasting impact in stories. Look at the reactions! Your glorious sacrifice has left people in awe and admiration. Doesn’t that speak volumes about the power of your tale?"
"Is... is that so?"
"Absolutely."
"I see. My apologies for the strange question, Curator."
With a sheepish scratch of his head, the divine [Great Chieftain] turned and left.
As I watched his broad back disappear, I clenched my fist in silent triumph.
The first episode was an overwhelming success.