The Player Who Became a Constellation

“I asked who you are.”

His head was spinning. The voice ringing in his ears felt strangely unfamiliar amidst the blinding headache.

‘What… is this…?’

Loki looked ahead. His mind was foggy as if he had just woken from a long sleep.

‘What happened to me…? Could this be… a hallucination? Or am I in the afterlife…?’

The last thing he remembered was an accident during an indie game development session with a junior. After that, his vision went black, and nothing came to mind. All he could see now, as his vision slowly cleared, was—

An unfamiliar space, an unfamiliar atmosphere, and unfamiliar figures. The men were dressed in armor like Vikings. With messy beards and sharp weapons in their hands.

Dozens of such men were overwhelming a young girl. It was a strange sight, and the elderly man standing beside them appeared to be in a state of madness, his hands pulling at his hair in fear.

Everyone was staring at Loki, trembling in fear. It was as if they had seen a giant monster, their eyes filled with a deep terror that coiled around their hearts.

“Aren’t you going to speak?”

Even amid the confusion, his voice remained calm. There was a coldness in his tone, yet it carried a weight that seemed to make the air around him feel heavy.

Each word he spoke made the men flinch and step back. Only one person, the girl, gazed at Loki blankly.

“I asked who you are.”

At Loki’s words, the girl stuttered and answered.

“I-I’m Ka… Kankun… Kankun Ragna!”

She looked up at Loki, seemingly frightened but also pleading, her eyes filled with a strange mix of fear and hope. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes, sliding down her cheeks. It was as if she were wishing upon a star as she spoke.

“I am a priestess who serves you.”

Loki’s gaze narrowed at her words.

“Ah, the demon has been resurrected!”

Loki lifted his head at the voice that echoed through the air. With screams, the men trembled, clutching their weapons, aiming them at Loki. No, it wasn’t just Loki—they aimed at the undead monsters surrounding the temple as well.

Loki gently rested his palm on his cheek. The sound of clanking armor reverberated through his helmet. It was a familiar feeling as if it were second nature.

‘…Where is this?’

Even in his dazed state, he stared at the familiar scene. The game he had designed, Ragnarok.

If he wasn’t mistaken, this was the ‘Valhalla Palace,’ where the final boss monster had been resting.

‘A dream?’

It might be. Otherwise, there would be no reason for him to speak or act so unusually in such a space. There was no sense of rejection. The behavior that naturally flowed from him felt like it was a part of his own personality, something he was accustomed to.

“Stop… kidding me!”

At that moment, a man suddenly shouted.

“There’s no such thing as a demon!”

As if denying reality, he clenched his large mace in anger.

“I’ll take care of that demon myself!”

The man shouted and charged forward. With his mace raised, he lunged toward Loki. At that moment, their gazes met.

“……!”

The man’s face froze, and Loki naturally extended his hand and flicked his fingers.

Crack-!

The weapon the man was holding, his swinging arm, his astonished face, and his rigid body—all of it ‘burst’ and disintegrated.

Thud.

The man’s body, now only his lower half, collapsed to the ground.

“One… strike?”

“My God!”

The fear of those in the temple escalated even further.

“Ah, demon—! Please, calm your wrath!”

An elderly man in a unique black robe cried out as he fell to the ground, clutching his head. Loki turned his gaze toward the fallen man’s body.

‘…This isn’t a dream, this is real.’

His once-dazed mind began to clear. And with that, he could sense the strange feeling emanating from his body.

The pounding of his heart. The chilling temperature settled in the air.

Everything pointed to the reality of the situation. Yet, even though he felt a sense of bewilderment at the changed reality, there was no fear at the sight of a corpse.

He was indifferent as if looking at an NPC. It felt like he was playing a game.

Loki lifted his head and began to observe the people in the chamber. From most of the men, he could feel hostility.

Fear, dread, but also overt murderous intent. Of course. They probably wanted revenge for their fallen comrade.

However, two people were different. One was the elderly man, still clutching his head and wailing, and the other was the girl holding the legendary item Blutgang that he had designed himself.

‘…It’s even like in the game?’

The girl who had called herself a priestess. She seemed like the only one he could converse with in this situation.

Loki pointed at the girl, Kankun. The men who had been pressing her down recoiled in fear at his gesture and stepped back.

“Kankun, was it?”

“Yes? Ah, yes, yes!”

Kankun shrank back in fear.

“Come here.”

With a small flick of his finger, Kankun swallowed dryly and tried to rise from her spot.

“Uh, wait… I’m so sorry. Just, just a moment… huh? Huh?”

But her legs gave way, and she collapsed back onto the ground.

“Th-that’s right! Priestess! You must be the offering! Demon—ah, no, calm the wrath of the Saint! Only you can save the Nord tribe!”

The elderly priest, Shaman, shouted. Loki couldn’t help but feel confused by his words.

‘What is he saying? Priestess? Wrath? Saint? What does the salvation of the Nord tribe have to do with this?’

As far as Loki knew, there was no such setting in the game world. Loki turned his head slightly and looked at Shaman.

“Hiiiick!”

But before he could even ask, as soon as their gazes met, the man immediately bowed his head and knelt on the floor. It seemed that conversation wasn’t going to happen.

“How dare you—”

Loki felt a tingling on his skin. It was a thick, murderous intent.

It swept away all fear, replaced by an overwhelming surge of anger and hatred. Loki’s gaze turned to one of the biggest men in the group.

“Offering Kankun—”

A burly man, dressed in chainmail and wielding a massive battle axe, reminiscent of a bear, stood there.

He was the traitor who had beheaded Kankun’s father, the tribe leader and tried to take Kankun away. Kankun’s uncle, Kudan Ragnar.

“Do you think you’ll offer her!?”

His muscles bulged unnaturally, expanding grotesquely. The rug leading to the throne burst with red threads and scattered around.

He charged toward Loki with full force, raising his axe high. The veins crawling over his swollen muscles made it clear that it was a full-powered strike.

‘…But that man from earlier was weak.’

Loki’s gaze shifted to the man who had died with a flick of his finger. Just applying a little force had caused the upper half of the man’s body to explode.

‘I’ll need to control my strength…’

“Ooohhhhh—!”

Kudan strikes with all his might—But…

Boom—!!!

“……!”

The strike was effortlessly blocked. Kudan, eyes wide, stared at the demon who had stopped his battle axe with just one hand. The shockwave from Kudan’s blow made Loki’s cloak flap in the wind.

‘What… power is this?!’

A full-powered strike, blocked with a single hand. Even when Kudan tried to force it with both hands, the battle axe didn’t budge.

Loki’s red pupils narrowed, and he quickly swiped his hand toward Kudan. It was a simple motion, as though swatting at a bug.

Thud!

Clang!

The battle axe shattered like glass, and Kudan was sent flying by the shock, unable to withstand it.

He rolled on the ground several times before crashing into the wall and finally stopped, spitting out blood.

“Ahhh—!”

‘That was just a light push…’

It seemed to have had quite the effect. Loki glanced at his hand and then shook his fingers. 

And he couldn’t help but be surprised.

‘A scratch?’

A small scratch had appeared on the gauntlet he was wearing. A tiny wound on the hand of the final boss of the game.

That alone was enough to rattle everyone, and Kudan’s collapse sent everyone into a panic.

The men who had been filled with hostility now gathered around Kudan’s fallen body in fear and quickly started to flee.

“L-Lord Kudan is down!”

“Retreat…! Retreat!”

The men vanished. Loki looked at his hand again.

The small scratch on his gauntlet had already disappeared. The armor had regenerated itself.

Loki turned his gaze to Kankun. Her torn clothes and the deep despair in her eyes. She was trembling, clutching her sword.

“First,” Loki spoke, looking at the girl.

“Let’s talk.”

It seemed like they could finally converse about this situation.

What was going on, and what had happened to him…?

To find the answers to those questions, Loki began speaking with the girl.

❃

Not far from the cursed temple. Numerous tents were erected between snow-covered trees in the forest.

Fires were burning between the tents to ward off the cold, and some women were tending to golden armor.

They were all armed, and they appeared rough and unkempt. The brass armor they wore, the face-covering makeup, and their entire culture were adorned in gold.

This was a tribe called the Partas, which had begun to gain a reputation among the Nord people.

The great chieftain of the tribe, Histon. He was holding his golden helmet in his hand and stroking his beard with his right hand.

“Lackluster! Still so much is lacking! Gold, warriors!”

In front of him were reports on the warriors of his tribe. Seeing Histon frown, the slave who had written the reports, Hans, let out a deep sigh.

‘He doesn’t even know how to read, and he’s still acting like he knows what’s in the report…’

Hans clicked his tongue internally but didn’t show it outwardly. Given Histon’s temperament, speaking that way could cost him his life.

“W-What should we do…?” Hans asked, forcing a smile.

Histon shook his head.

“Hans! I plan to create a massive tribe! A great tribe that will unite all the Nord clans! No, I will create a nation of gold! So I’ll increase the number of slaves and grow my power!”

“S-So what should we do…?” Hans asked cautiously.

Thwack-!

Hans’s head turned sideways, and his body was sent flying. His nose broke with a crunch, and his teeth flew out of his mouth. Histon, who had struck him with his fist, stepped on Hans’s back.

“That’s something you should figure out. I’ve been hinting at it since earlier, yet you couldn’t say it!!”

“I-I’m sorry! I’ll think about it! P-Please… don’t hit me!” Hans pleaded, crawling and grabbing Histon’s pant leg. Satisfied with his submissiveness, Histon lifted his foot.

“Hmph, don’t touch my temper again!”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm… Is there any tribe around here that has a lot of gold or slaves? A tribe that we could potentially assimilate?”

Hans, carefully reading Histon’s expression, continued.

“Well, there is one nearby. Their influence doesn’t seem that big, though.”

“Where?”

Hans glanced at Histon’s face before speaking.

“It’s the Ragna tribe!”

It was the tribe where Kankun belonged.

❃❃❃