The next morning came with the soft warmth of sunlight slipping through the wooden shutters of the room.
Axel moaned and groaned on the rough inn bed, the blanket still smelling faintly of hay and smoke. The bed didn't provide much comfort compared to the modern beds he was used to. Eventually though, he got up, strapped on his worn satchel, and stepped out into the village streets.
The early air was crisp and fresh, carrying a lingering smell of fresh bread and hay. The villagers were already hard at work, pulling carts, carrying baskets, feeding livestock. Nobody paid him too much attention anymore, though a few still glanced his way. Outsiders were rare after all in this village where everyone knew each other.
His destination was clear: the blacksmith.
It was about time he got an upgrade from his shabby, brittle short-sword. It was a miracle it hadn't already shattered in his short journey.
The forge sat near the east gate, a squat wooden shed with an open front. Heat and soot bled out from the glowing furnace inside. The blacksmith — a broad man with a beard thick enough to hide a knife in — was already at work, striking hot metal with steady rhythm. Sparks leapt and died on the packed dirt floor.
Axel waited until the man paused before speaking. "Morning," he said.
The blacksmith squinted at him, then nodded once. "Morning. You're the stranger from yesterday."
"Yeah." Axel's eyes flicked over the wall of gear displayed behind the man. Nothing fancy, iron blades, wooden shields, a few spears. Worn, but serviceable. "I need a sword and a shield. Nothing too flashy. Just something that won't break if I swing it too hard."
The blacksmith gave a grunt of acknowledgement. "You've got coin?"
Axel nodded, reaching into his pouch.
The man turned, pulled down a plain iron short sword and a round wooden shield reinforced with metal strips. "Good steel. Balanced enough. Shield's sturdy, not too heavy."
Axel tested the grip of the sword. It was rough, but solid. He gave it a few small swings. It wasn't perfect — but it was his.
"One thousand valis," the blacksmith said.
Axel didn't haggle, he handed over the coins without a word.
The blacksmith nodded in approval, as if the lack of fuss earned Axel a small measure of respect. "Good luck out there," he said as he turned his attention back to the glowing iron on his anvil
Axel nodded back, strapped the sword to his hip, slung the shield over his back, and walked out toward the main road.
He wasn't familiar with the prices in this world but he would like to say he was a pretty good judge of character, and that blacksmith didn't seem like the type to scam unaware travelers.
He left the village by midday.
The sun hung high, warm on his shoulders, and the dirt road stretched out endlessly ahead. Hunter's Intuition pulsed faintly at the back of his mind, sharpening his senses to the world around him, showing him the path to Orario. Birds chirped happily from the treeline, the wind that passed through rustled the tall grass and ferns.
Suddenly, he heard the creaking of wagon wheels, the faint sound of snorting horses, and the chatter of a group of people.
A small group appeared over a bend: three wagons covered with cloth, pulled by sturdy brown horses. A handful of people rode in the wagons while some others walked on the side, some armed with short spears, swords, and bows. Traders, most likely.
Axel raised a hand in greeting., and to show that he meant no harm. A man at the front, probably the leader, slowed his horse and eyed him warily.
"Traveler?" the man called out.
"Yeah," Axel answered. "Headed to Orario."
The man studied him for a moment, then sighed. "We're going the same way. But we're short a guard." His eyes flicked to the sword and shield. "You've got gear. You can earn your spot."
Axel smirked slightly. "Deal."
The caravan accepted him cleanly enough, they chatted about random things to pass the time, their dreams, hopes, and even things as casual as the weather. The caravan moved at a steady pace. Axel walked beside the middle wagon, keeping his eyes on the tree line while chuckling at a guard's bad joke.
The traders were more friendly than expected, they offered him bread and water as they walked. It wasn't much, but it meant a lot to Axel who was still struggling to accept his current situation in this world.
Hours passed without trouble. The sun began its slow descent. That's when [Hunter's Intuition] whispered something at the edge of his mind, there was something off with the entire situation.
Something shifted, The forest went quiet, Axel's hand slid to his sword, his honed instincts were screaming at him that something big was gonna happen.
A shadow moved between the trees, then another, and another, "Bandits," he said quietly.
The caravan's leader's face paled. "Positions!" he barked.
The bandits didn't bother with warnings, they burst out of the tree line with basic weaponry and armor, shouting. At least a dozen of them.
Axel didn't wait. He drew his sword and stepped forward fearlessly. The first man swung a regular axe, wide and sloppy. Axel ducked low, his honed instincts as a MMA Champion guiding him, he drove his shoulder into the man's gut, then slammed the shield into his jaw. The bandit crumpled to the forest floor like paper.
But the bastard twitched, groaned, and tried to push himself up again, blood leaking from his nose.
Axel's stomach tightened. He didn't even have time to process it before another came at him from the left, yelling. He pivoted on instinct, his fist snapping out with a brutal right hook. Bone met bone with a dull thud. The man staggered but didn't fall. A third one lunged in, and Axel spun, slamming his heel into the man's knee. A clean low kick. It buckled. The man screamed.
He was holding them off easily enough but...
They kept getting back up.
The caravan guards were slowly being pushed back, the traders were screaming behind the wagons, Axes hacked into wood, steel clashed against steel. The air stank of sweat, blood, and iron.
Axel swept another man's legs and drove his knee into his gut, hearing the air get forced out of his lungs. The bandit curled over, but clawed at Axel's vest with a desperate growl.
They weren't staying down, he wasn't fighting athletes or amateurs, He was fighting desperate men who didn't care about getting hurt, who'd keep swinging until someone stopped breathing.
A blade whistled past his face, close enough to make his skin sting.
Axel stumbled back, breathing hard. He'd thrown a dozen clean hits already, the kind that broke jaws and dropped professionals. And yet they were still standing, still coming.
His mind flashed to the caravan. The older man who'd shared his food. A young guard, barely 18, that told him that he had someone special waiting back home. He saw the guards bleeding, determined to fight till the bitter end, a woman crying as a bandit climbed the wagon.
A cold weight settled in his chest.
'If I keep holding back… they die.' Axel concluded grimly, so he decided to make a decision that was necessary.
[Tempered Rage Lv. 1] (Activated)
A man rushed him with a crude axe raised high. Axel didn't dare hold back this time. He stepped in, trapped the man's arm under his own, twisted, and drove the short sword up beneath his ribs.
The bandit fell to the floor, gurgling blood as the light slowly dimmed from his eyes.
For a split second, Axel's heart jerked in his chest but it wasn't enough to stop him, not anymore.
Another swung at him. Axel ducked low, drove his shoulder into the man's gut, and slammed him against the wagon. The man struggled, screaming curses, until Axel's sword slit his throat. Hot blood sprayed his forearm, his hands stopped shaking, his breath steadied.
The switch flipped.
This was survival.
Axel surged forward. His movements became sharper, faster. A brutal mix of trained precision and raw, efficient killing intent. He broke bones, dislocated joints, and penetrated people in a storm of brutality.
Dings and chimes filled his head as he continued on his killing spree.
(+8 Berserker Points)
(+14 Berserker Points)
(Kill streak 3x, +15 Bonus BP)
[Tempered Rage] simmered quietly beneath his skin, not flaring out of control, but burning steady — a steady engine driving him forward.
Two bandits tried to flank him, he sidestepped, drove his elbow into one's temple, then slashed upward at the other's neck, they fell to the ground.
Blood streaked his knuckles, his shirt stuck to his skin, but the caravan line held.
The bandits, once so loud, began to falter. Their charge broke under the weight of dead and injured comrades, so they ran with their tails tucked between their legs.
Axel stood in the dirt, sword dripping red. Around him, the surviving guards panted heavily. The traders peeked out from behind the wagons, wide-eyed.
He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders back, letting the tension settle into something hard, cold.
One of the caravan guards approached him, face pale but grateful. "If you hadn't stepped in," the man contiinued, "we'd be corpses."
Axel looked at the bodies on the ground. Their blood mixed with the mud. His own pulse was steady now, too steady. The line he'd crossed wasn't something he could step back over.
"…They wouldn't have stopped," Axel said quietly. "So I couldn't."
The guard nodded gratefully, not needing further explanation.
Axel wiped the blade clean on the bandit's cloak. His heart wasn't trembling anymore. Something inside him had settled in understanding.
This world wasn't going to give him the luxury of holding back.So next time, he wouldn't, as his life and the lives of others were on the line.
He helped with the damages, tending to the wounded, and repairing the damaged wagons, there were no casualties thankfully.
The journey continued on without any more trouble. As the sky began to deepen into evening, a shape appeared on the horizon. At first, it was just a smudge of stone and light. Then, as they drew closer, Axel saw it clearly.
A tower that seemed to pierce the sky itself, and massive walls spanning across the entire city. The faint shimmer of lanterns and magic light in the distance.
Orario.
His pulse quickened without him meaning to. The beating heart of the continent huh, just like the innkeeper had said.
The caravan slowed as the gates came into view. Wagons creaked. Traders murmured softly, thankful that they arrived safe. Axel stood on the road, staring at the city that waited ahead of him.
He didn't know what he'd find there. But for the first time since waking in this world, he was exactly where he wanted to be.
.
.
.
Authors Note: Apparently some people are getting the idea that this is a Berserk fanfic, I just wanted to clarify, this is not. Berserk is an anime, Berserker is a sub-class often used in video games that I wanted to expand on.