After ages without seeing my buddies, I ignored my limits, got blackout drunk, and passed out.
When I came to, I'd become the eldest son of a count's family.
"Fuck, what the hell."
It was only later that I learned the name of the guy I'd possessed: Ian Balthazar.
The firstborn son of the Balthazar count family, shrouded in darkness and curses.
The first time I heard the family name, it was just a vague sense of déjà vu.
The kind where you feel like you've heard it somewhere before, but you can't quite place it.
That nagging familiarity turned into dead certainty when I met the girl claiming to be my little sister.
"Congrats on the broken engagement, you worthless shit of a brother."
That cocky bullshit came from my so-called little sister.
Or more precisely, the sister of the body I'd taken over.
Sisters are supposed to hurl insults at their big brothers as a matter of course, but this felt off somehow.
If a normal sibling bond is a love-hate thing, this was pure, one-sided contempt.
Like staring down a blood relative who'd tanked the family fortune on illegal gambling.
"Broken engagement? What're you talking about?"
"Ha! What, now you're gonna pretend you forgot? Piss off, you make me sick."
She shoved my shoulder hard and stormed off without answering my question.
Once she was gone, I turned to the attendant trailing behind me.
"Who was that again?"
"...That is Silvia Balthazar, young master's younger sister."
Silvia Balthazar.
The moment I heard that name, déjà vu solidified into certainty.
The Balthazar family was one that only existed in the game I'd been hooked on.
I tried to deny the possibility rising in my mind and asked the attendant,
"The family head's name is Tyran Balthazar, right?"
"...Yes, it is."
Family names might overlap sometimes, but it was rare for the head's name—or his kids'—to match too.
I denied the rising possibility and checked the family tree anyway.
It wasn't just the head or the little sister. My cousin was named 'Emilio,' my uncle 'Gerhard.'
And the Balthazar family motto went like this.
[Even if the soul shatters, the bloodline endures.]
Every last detail matched the setup from that game of mine.
I clutched my head and let out a hollow laugh.
If this were a standard game possession, I could've dreamed of thriving with my meta knowledge.
Too bad this world was a souls-like dark fantasy nightmare.
I'd died thousands of times just to clear it once, barely scraping by.
And now they wanted me to do it again? For real?
After agonizing over it, I reached a decision.
"I'm outta here."
The Balthazar family was doomed to fall.
The patriarch, driven mad by his wife's death, would turn every last member into a monster.
No matter what choices the player made, it always ended the same.
The mad patriarch, Tyran Balthazar, inevitably transformed everyone into monsters.
Stick around here, and I'd either become a monster or get eaten by the ones who did.
That night, I raided the armory for leather armor and a steel sword.
Silvia blocked my path as I tried to leave the estate.
"Where do you think you're going? Hit rock bottom and now you're running? You've really burned every bridge, huh."
"This family's done for. Better bail before it happens. Silvia, come with me."
Stay in this family, and she'd probably turn into a monster too.
Silvia's eyes went wide.
"Fuck, answer me. What the hell did you do to our family?"
"I..."
I opened my mouth to explain, then shut it again.
The Silvia right now wouldn't believe a word, no matter what I said.
Trying to convince her like this was just a waste of time.
"Take care."
Silvia didn't try to stop me.
That day, I left the Balthazar estate behind.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The place I headed after ditching the Balthazars was the north.
Ever since the first Great Beast appeared four hundred years ago, the north had been crawling with monsters.
In the game lore, the central Empire was holding the north in check, keeping the other nations safe.
But come mid-to-late game, the Northern Frontline collapsed, and the Empire fell.
The result? The whole continent turned into a monster-infested shitshow.
I tossed another branch onto the campfire.
I didn't kid myself into thinking I could do jack shit alone.
No way could I believe that clearing a game once or twice meant I could pull it off with my actual body.
But that didn't mean I shouldn't try.
If I wanted to survive the continent about to go down in flames, getting stronger was non-negotiable.
"Fuck, why's the only place to learn Aura Energy techniques up there?"
Aura Energy techniques.
The new power humanity cooked up after the first Great Beast nearly wiped them out.
By building up 'Aura Energy' inside you, you could unleash superhuman strength.
Crafted to fight monsters, these techniques could only be learned in the monster-ridden north.
There were academies as an option, but getting in required family backing.
Either way, it meant heading to the north's monster frontline.
"Enlistment, round two. My head's spinning already."
What a dogshit situation.
But without that, surviving the even bigger shitshow of a continent was impossible.
Once the central Empire crumbled, lunatics would fill the void.
Intelligent monsters, cults luring people into becoming monsters, heretics spilling in from the east.
Aaah, fucking dizzying.
Could I even survive this?
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
True to its post-apocalyptic dark fantasy vibes, the road north was long and brutal.
Sometimes bandits jumped me; other times, I crossed paths with monsters by dumb luck.
-"Hey, you! Hand over all your coin!"
-"Grraaawr!"
Every time, I'd either bolt like hell or, sobbing inside, draw the sword I'd swiped.
I'd never properly swung a blade before, but weirdly, my body had a full swordsmanship system ingrained.
I realized too late that the Balthazars were a prestigious knightly house.
They never produced Aura users, but generation after generation, they churned out elite knights.
Had to be Ian Balthazar's childhood training etched into the muscle memory.
Still, since I hadn't trained with the sword myself, I struggled.
I'd hesitate to finish kills I could've, getting stabbed or having my arm bitten as a result.
Each time, I'd grit my teeth, hold onto sanity by a thread, and flail away wildly.
Were there physical gifts embedded in this body? Every brush with death sharpened my swordplay.
By the time scars riddled my body, I could cut down bandits without a scratch.
"Not much farther. Just a bit more..."
I checked the map and shut my mouth.
The Empire was Russia-sized, and the Northern Frontline was a filthy long way off.
Goddamn it.
Why no buses or anything?
Even carriages barely helped with the distance.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
After a grueling year and a half trek north, the end was finally in sight.
Having waded through countless bloodbaths, I looked like a bum.
My beard was a scraggly mess; the leather armor hung in tatters.
Even the famed Balthazar sword was cracked.
I stopped in a nearby village to regroup.
At the smithy, I grabbed new leather armor and a steel sword.
Plenty of cash from slicing bandits and monsters along the way.
As I climbed the snowy mountains again, I spotted a carriage under monster attack.
Getting closer to the north meant more monsters popping up.
Figured I'd hitch a ride and lend a hand.
"Ugh, uwaaah!!"
"It's a monster!"
It had a wolf's shape, but looked like a kid's sloppy clay sculpture.
A frontline-grade monster, but way below average.
Probably weak enough to slip through to here.
I spun to its flank, slashed the foreleg, rolled it into the snow, and severed its neck.
Mastering the Balthazar secret sword arts made trash like this a joke.
"Sorry, but could I hitch a ride on the carria—"
"Thank you, thank you! You saved the young lady!"
"...Pardon?"
I turned to see a fiery red-haired girl slumped on the ground.
All I'd wanted was a ride...
Turns out, the assaulted carriage belonged to the daughter of the Nordelheim Ducal House.
She was rushing a letter to the duke's estate without escorts.
Luckily, our destinations matched, so I got the ride.
"Benefactor, may I ask why you're headed to the Northern Frontline?"
"To bash monsters there."
"Whoa, perfect! I'll ask my dad to hook you up!"
Wait, something felt off.
By the time I realized, it was too late.
"Truly grateful for saving my daughter. You want to defend the north? Haha! No worries, lad—I'll make sure you shine out there!"
Ian Balthazar.
Frontline deployment.