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I've always loved video games. They've helped me cope with the brutal truth of how little I've accomplished in this miserable life. I never achieved anything meaningful, never stood out, never earned a single word of praise. Yet in games, I could finally compete in battles that felt possible for someone like me.
In those virtual worlds, I could grow, accomplish, and become stronger in ways reality had never allowed. Whether it was a lack of willpower or simply losing life's cruel lottery, games always let me achieve more than the real world ever would.
And wasn't that the truth? One of the biggest reasons so many people loved video games.
Then there were people like me—obsessive weirdos who latched onto a single game and became total no-life shut-ins.
Why am I like this? Does it even matter? Not really. Nobody cares how a loser became a loser. People prefer to laugh at them, not hear their pathetic backstories.
Anyway, the game. That game was Barbarian Conquest. A simple name, but it was the fourth title in the incredible Genesis Saga—a masterful blend of conquest, territory building, and deep MMORPG systems that perfectly matched everything I loved.
It sold incredibly well, of course. Steam alone surpassed a million concurrent players on launch day, and this was already the fourth game in the series. That's how good it was.
And here I was, wasting my life on this masterpiece. Every game in the Genesis Saga focused on a specific faction or region within its vast fictional multiverse.
The first game, A Hero's Rise, was a top-down action RPG reminiscent of Diablo. Generic? Yes. It didn't sell amazingly at the time, but it later became a cult classic. Released in the early '90s, it was one of the earliest of its kind on PC. Some even claim Diablo drew inspiration from it.
The second game, A Lord's Reign, kept the core gameplay while adding a town-building mode where you defended your settlement from invasions. You fought alongside your avatar and villagers, equipped your people, and constructed buildings that granted powerful bonuses. The amount of customization was addictive. That was the title that truly launched the series into popularity.
The third game, The Lich Lord's Domination, cemented the franchise's mainstream success. It fused multiple genres seamlessly: Civilization-style empire building with a Diablo-like controllable avatar, sprinkled with DOTA-style elements. Insane multiplayer, a massive world to explore and conquer, countless factions, classes, and units. It was every nerd's dream come true.
Now, nearly a decade later, the fourth game—Barbarian Conquest—had arrived with stunning 3D graphics, flawless performance, and releases on every major platform. It became the bestselling game of 2026.
How could it not? The game was absolutely incredible.
Some critics complained that it restricted players to only the Barbarian and Nomadic Tribes of the Green Plains, but that limitation actually worked in its favor. It forced creative problem-solving. Every faction had unique strengths and weaknesses, and when you chose one, you created your own main character: a young Tribal Chief tasked with raising their clan to become the strongest in the Green Plains—and eventually, far beyond.
With over twenty classes, deep character customization, full online and offline modes, more than two hundred units to recruit and upgrade, and expansive city-building that let you grow towns into mighty cities, the game offered endless power progression. You equipped your soldiers, led massive wars for supremacy, and personally commanded your own powerful "Hero"—a super-strong unit you could customize or select from pre-made characters with rich backstories.
Even better, heroes you didn't choose as your main could be recruited or captured from enemy factions to join your army or your elite personal party for devastating raids.
I couldn't stop raving about it. I was losing my mind. I had been playing nonstop for three weeks, barely sleeping, surviving on energy drinks and ramen.
Why not? My real life was miserable anyway.
In those three weeks, I had been speedrunning content, relentlessly raiding other players, and looting everything I could. I developed new strategies as I mastered the mechanics, and now I was climbing the leaderboards.
The only thing standing between me and Rank 1—the greatest accomplishment of my pathetic life—was that bastard "DontTouchMe," my longtime arch-nemesis who had blocked my path since the previous game.
We had battled for the top server-wide spot for years. Sometimes I won, sometimes I lost. The ranks constantly shifted between us.
But not this time, you damn bastard. I was about to steal your rank while you were offline.
Boom! The wall crumbled—my ballistae units made short work of it.
His army of Berserk Trolls charging forward? Dead. My Wyvern Riders shredded them mid-air; the trolls couldn't even touch flying units.
His defensive Ley Line Barrier, powered by the City Guardian he had lucked into—a "Starlight Winged Snake, Seraphin"? Gone. That snake was mine now.
"Heheh… Hahahahaha!"
I laughed like a maniac as I destroyed his Tower, then his Castle, and finally slew the slumbering Lord. His defenses were useless.
"Too bad, DontTouchMe. Better luck next time, sleepyhead! Hahaha—Ack…"
A sharp pain stabbed through my chest. I groaned, my vision swimming, head pounding.
"I need to sleep…"
As the victory message flashed—"You Won! You have Claimed First Rank!"—along with all the celebratory fanfare, I dragged myself toward my bed.
But when I glanced back at the screen, another message caught my eye.
[As the second player to reach Rank 1 Server Wide, a special reward has been prepared for you, BarbarianChad69.]
"What?"
[Do you wish to open the Reward?]
[Yes] [No]
A massive golden treasure chest appeared, studded with bright jewels and trembling as if eager for me to open it.
"Oh, I wonder what that loser got before me?"
Rubbing my chin, I moved the cursor and clicked Yes.
And then…
The chest glowed with blinding intensity, unleashing a brilliant white light that poured out from within.
The light was so intense it lit up my entire room.
"Aahh! W-What the hell is this?! Wait—is this a virus?! Fuck! I can't afford a new PC if this one fries!"
As I screamed and frantically tried to shut down my computer, the light completely engulfed me. All my senses went numb.
And I passed out.
♢♢♢♢
When I finally opened my eyes, believing my time to meet God had come, I found myself floating in the middle of nowhere.
Literally nothing. Pure white light stretched endlessly in every direction. Is this heaven? I had always thought I was a scumbag destined for hell.
I braced myself for scorching flames or the endless emptiness of the void. Either seemed like fair payment for living life exactly as I pleased, ignoring society's expectations and my family's hopes.
But I was wrong.
This was neither heaven, hell, nor the void.
This was…
"Is this really the one that won?"
"Yes, sir. He's the second to reach Rank 1. He has a long history with the other games. I believe he would greatly enrich your world."
"Hmm…"
Wait, what the hell? Voices? An old man and… a woman? A secretary speaking to her boss?
I looked around—assuming I even had eyes—and spotted something far above: a golden throne and a man composed entirely of blinding light. He had a long white beard, shining white eyes, and flowing golden hair. He gazed down at me with eyes that seemed to judge every sin I had ever committed. I desperately hoped he hadn't checked my internet history.
"Unlike the previous one, this one doesn't look that impressive. Why is he so bloated? Was he sick when alive?"
Bloated? Who the hell are you calling bloated, you damn old man? I'm just… a little big! I'm not even at landwhale level.
"I-I believe that was mostly due to his lack of self-care. But now that his soul will be reborn, that hardly matters."
The one answering him was breathtaking. Tall, slender, blonde, with bright white eyes, pale skin, a long white dress, feathered wings, and a halo. She was the girl of every man's dreams.
"Haaa… I don't know. This one just doesn't scream reliable or confident like the previous one."
Previous one? Are they talking about DontTouchMe? Don't tell me that guy got isekai'd too. I couldn't see him anywhere—just Santa Claus, Barbie, and me.
"Perhaps the next will be more promising?" the man mused, rubbing his beard.
I couldn't even speak. I had tried countless times to throw out a Christmas joke, but the old man wasn't listening. Some kind of magic kept me completely paralyzed. I could only watch and listen.
"Well, even then… as a God of Reincarnation, you should take care of every soul, sir," the angel sighed. "Do you want Goddess Sylph to punish you again? She said she wouldn't go easy on you next time."
Goddess Sylph? So this god actually works in some kind of company? Hah, that's hilarious. Not even gods are safe from being corporate slaves.
"Eugh… I don't want to see that woman again." The bearded old man smirked viciously. He waved his hand and summoned a strange red metallic cube—rusty and faulty-looking. "I could kill two birds with one stone and deal with this idiot and this thing."
Idiot? You literally brought me here! Why are you insulting me now? Are all gods this disrespectful to mortals?
"Sir, isn't that the War God—"
"Yeah, let's give him this one. I don't like it, and it would be a pain to restore. Here—grab it."
The old man hurled the cube at me. It fused straight into my soul. Sharp roots spread through me like hundreds of needles stabbing into my eyes and body. It hurt like hell.
"It's done. Now go, BarbarianChad69. Make sure to entertain my new clients."
"Clients?! Wait—I can talk!"
Suddenly something dragged me away. I thrashed helplessly as I moved farther from Santa Claus and Barbie.
In that final moment, I had to leave an impression.
As I flailed wildly, I brushed against something solid.
"Huh? The hell is this?"
It was a golden orb glowing with mysterious energy.
"Aaaahhh! My Divine Soul Orb! Return that to me! Why is everything so damn bright in here?"
"But sir, how could you lose something so important?!"
The angel rushed to stop me, but the force pulling me was faster. I had grabbed something valuable.
"No!" Barbie cried.
"Sorry babe, skill issue."
As I saw their stunned faces, I laughed. Beings so high and mighty never expected to get out-skilled by BarbarianChad69.
That was my last pathetic act before I fell into deeper darkness.
And I still have no idea what the weird orb does…
♢♢♢♢
When I finally regained consciousness, the first thing I felt was incredible warmth enveloping my entire body, along with wetness. I was floating in warm water. It wasn't difficult to realize I was likely inside the womb of my new mother. They had spoken of rebirth and a God of Reincarnation, after all.
Still, how long would I have to stay here? I should just sleep until—
"Push! Push, Frigga!"
"Nnngh! I'm pushing, you damn oaf!"
"Ouch, don't slap me, woman!"
"Shut up!"
Ah, never mind. Judging by the voices and the giant hand reaching for me, I had regained consciousness just as I was being pulled from my mother's womb.
Before I knew it, I was already out, screaming as if my life depended on it. The reaction felt instinctive to this new body. I couldn't stop crying or flailing my tiny limbs.
Damn it. Being a baby again is disgusting. I wanted to vomit but had nothing in my stomach. Then a fierce hunger hit me, as if I could devour a whole horse.
"Ah, a girl again?! Come on, Frigga, when are you giving me a second son?!"
"I've already given you three children with this one, you damn old oaf! Stop asking for a second boy—it'll come when it comes! You think I can control these things?"
"Stop screaming! You're going to scare the girl!"
"Then shut the fuck up already, idiot!"
"Okay, that's enough. Take the girl and breastfeed her!"
"Why don't you do it? You've got huge-ass boobs yourself!"
"I'm a man, Frigga!"
"Then stop complaining like a pussy!"
Oh my god. Are my parents fighting right after I was born? This can't be real.
And when I finally saw them… what the hell? I had expected normal humans, but these two were giants.
My father was a towering mountain of muscle with long white hair and emerald eyes. Scars covered his massive frame, making him look like a discount Conan the Barbarian on steroids.
My mother was no different. She was enormous, especially her chest—an important observation for my future as a baby—with striking white and red hair. She had bright blue eyes, tanned skin, and a huge scar running down the center of her face. She roared and screamed as loudly as my father, if not louder, and he genuinely seemed afraid of her.
Wow.
Just… wow. I don't know what to say. Did I hit the lottery, or am I completely screwed?
"Come on now, Brunhild, drink up!"
Once they finally stopped yelling, my mother pulled me to her chest and began to breastfeed me. I can't complain about this part of being a baby—maybe it's the only good thing. Yet the milk seemed to carry some kind of sedative. The more I drank, the sleepier I became.
Before I could even process where I was, I drifted off again. Being a baby and doing nothing is truly exhausting work.
♢♢♢♢
Ah, a baby's life. So relaxing. All you do is rest, poop, drink milk, and repeat—endlessly—for a year or two before you start eating solid food and moving around. That is my life right now, here in this nomadic camp.
In the month I've spent observing my surroundings, tribal items hung everywhere: colorful fabrics woven from sheep wool, wooden toys, and roasted meat my father sometimes brought back. They could clearly cook.
Their clothing consisted entirely of leather and beast pelts—vintage, almost medieval. I don't know the exact term for it, but the style looked striking. Both men and women wore very little. My father proudly displayed his massive pectorals, while my mother barely covered her chest and hips. Given how hot it was every day, I understood why they dressed so lightly.
I soon learned my mother's name was Frigga and my father's was Ragnar. From the pieces I gathered, it seemed I had reincarnated into the world of Genesis Saga. It was only an assumption—I didn't recall any characters with those names.
My mother had named me Brunhild. I liked the name. I was a girl now, but that didn't matter much. I was already dreading the day I no longer needed diapers and would have to relieve myself in the wild. That sounded awful. We need bathrooms, man. And proper paper—they barely had any, only using it for old-looking scrolls. Very medieval.
I wanted to see more of the outside world, but as a one-month-old, I could do nothing but sleep. I would have to be patient. No system, no magic power, nothing—just emptiness. That was fine. I could wait. Sleeping made time pass quickly.
♢♢♢♢
"Happy birthday, Brunhild!"
"Now that you're one year old, you can finally see the outside world! Aren't you excited, girl?"
"Look, she's frozen in place!"
I stood on the grassland, supported by my mother and my big sister, gazing at the breathtaking scenery. Vast, endless plains stretched before me. Snow-capped mountains rose in the distance beneath a bright blue sky dotted with white clouds. The sun shone warmly overhead.
"Wow..."
I couldn't hold back the soft exclamation. After more than a decade trapped inside a room, and a lifetime before that spent in a dull concrete jungle full of miserable people, this felt overwhelming.
The fresh air, the vivid skies, the distant sound of a river, the colorful leather tents of the nomadic camp, and the herds of cattle moving with us—this wasn't bad at all.
If anything, this was everything I had ever dreamed of. It finally hit me: I had reincarnated into another world. Isekai was real. Not because of Truck-kun, but because of Santa Claus. I used to tell everyone he didn't exist. I take it all back.
He is real. Hallelujah!
"Poor thing, she's scared..." my sister sighed, stepping closer.
"Bwuh..." I always stared at my big sister with my mouth open—she was stunning.
She resembled Mom but younger: tanned skin, bright blue eyes, and short white hair that reached her neck. Scars marked her skin, and like every other "Warrior" in the tribe, she bore red tattoos shaped like a wild beast.
My father had an ox, my mother a wolf, and my sister a hawk. The tattoos appeared in different positions—Mom's on her stomach, Dad's on his chest, and my sister's on her right arm. They sometimes gleamed with mysterious light, something I didn't remember from the game.
"Come on now, come to Papa!" my father called. He had warmed up to me and no longer blamed me for not being a boy. He lifted me gently and carried me through the village with my mother and sister.
"Waaoh," I muttered, looking around.
"Woow indeed, hahaha!" He chuckled and tickled my belly. "Welcome to the Red Fang Clan, Brunhild! We worship the Crimson God of War, Tyr! We wander, we fight, and sometimes we run so we can live to see another day. Heheh, we've been careful so far and haven't met anyone too dangerous. Don't worry. Papa will make sure you grow up big and strong before anything comes your way!"
"Papa..." I muttered, trying to impress him with that single word.
"Uoooohh?!" His eyes widened. "D-Did you hear that?! She said Papa! It's her first word! Unlike my other two ungrateful kids, Brunhild said my name first! She's the one! The chosen one!"
"That's so cute—she already said her first word?!" my sister laughed. "Come on, say Astrid! That's your sister's name, little one!"
"As... Ass!" I giggled.
"Pfff... Hahahahaha!" My father burst out laughing. "Yeah, you heard her—you're Ass!"
"Ugh!" Astrid gritted her teeth and slapped his shoulder.
"Ouch! What! Don't hit your dad!" he protested. "Can you believe this, Brunhild?! She hits her own father! What kind of family is this?! Are you going to be nice to your dad, unlike your crazy sister?"
"I'm right here, Dad!" Astrid snapped, crossing her arms.
"Eek! She's scary, isn't she?! Let's run!" My father took off while my mother and sister chased after us. "Run! Run away, Princess Brunhild! Here come the two she-beasts!"
"Okay, you've earned yourself some knuckle sandwiches, honey!" my mother growled.
"I'll grab him and you beat him, Mom!" Astrid shouted with a wicked grin.
"Hahaha! Wait! Don't hit me!" he laughed even as he ran.
I wasn't sure if they truly got along, but it felt like they did. Maybe this was just how nomadic tribes were—rougher, with fewer boundaries, more brutish. Yet they didn't seem to hate each other. They fought, they laughed, and then they ate together. It was simply part of who they were.
And I kind of liked it.
Red Fang Clan… I was fairly sure I had heard that name in the game. Some kind of faction?
While my family ate together and I looked toward the horizon from my mother's arms, the sight of the clan banners suddenly brought everything back.
Red banners with a wolf fang.
This was...
Ah, I remember now.
I had been born into the cannon-fodder clan that gets slaughtered at the beginning of the game's story—almost guaranteed to die in the First Green Plains War.
Oh, I'm screwed, aren't I?
What the hell do I do? And how long until it happens? Ten years? Fifteen? One? I can only hope it doesn't come while I'm still growing up.
Ugh...
"Brunhild, is something wrong?" my mother asked gently, touching my forehead. "You don't have a fever—why are you trembling?"
"Wuuh... Mama...!" Overwhelmed by the fear of losing this life I had already come to love, I hugged my mother tightly and refused to let go.
I finally had a family I loved. I finally had a life I loved. I was finally in the kind of world I had always dreamed about.
I didn't want it all to disappear. It felt like a cruel joke—giving me a taste of true happiness only to rip it away and make the loss hurt even more.
"Aw, baby, it's fine. Everything's alright," my mother whispered, hugging me tenderly and kissing my forehead. "Don't listen to Papa. There won't be any wars. Everything will be okay."
Please, Mom, stop setting red flags.
"Hmm, I wonder what she'll awaken when she turns ten," my sister said. "She seems energetic. I bet she'll get a strong Spirit Root or a powerful Beast Spirit Tattoo. Maybe even a special Physique."
"Maybe, maybe not," my father shrugged. "Let's not get our hopes too high. Last time it was a disappointment—Ouch!" He winced as my sister punched his shoulder.
"I still got a Hawk Spirit Tattoo and a Wind Spirit Root—isn't that good enough?! You always want more, old man!" she snapped.
"Hahaha, I was joking, honey. Come here." He pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "It's just that your grandad is the real asshole, always expecting my kids to be like my brothers. That damn old man never knows when to shut up. I should beat him."
"You'd lose like always, honey," my mother sighed. "Anyway, just nine more years. Let's wait until then."
Awakening Ceremony? Elemental Spirit Root? Beast Spirit Tattoos? I didn't recall those things from Barbarian Conquest—only stats and skills. Maybe they were connected?
Huh...
Whatever the case, I would start training however I could from now on. I couldn't let my family get massacred.
If I had to, I would use every bit of game knowledge I possessed to rise up and change our fate.
I knew of several secret early-game spots scattered across these vast grasslands. From the landscape, I was almost certain we were in the Green Steppes.
If the tribe continued moving west to escape the winter cold, our next stop would be the Crescent Forest, home to countless goblins.
Deep within that forest lay a goblin nest containing a powerful early-game item: the Goblin Ring, which granted +10 to Movement and Attack Speed. A total game-changer this early.
I had to get it no matter what.
Yeah...
The only problem was figuring out how—when I was still just a one-year-old baby.
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