The Player Who Became a Constellation

The members of the Ragna tribe were running through the forest, with Kankun among them. Behind them, the Partas cavalry and warriors clad in golden armor were in pursuit.

“This direction… Could they be heading to where the priest is?!”

“They’re heading to the cursed temple!”

“Get ahead of them! We can’t let them reach the temple! Don’t anger the Shaman!”

Kankun felt a deep certainty in the panicked voices of the Partas tribe. Even her uncle, who had started the rebellion, had asked the Shaman for permission when he came to the cursed temple.

The Shaman’s influence extended across the entire Nord tribe— it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that. Even though the demon wasn’t helping her, with the Shaman there, they wouldn’t act recklessly! But—

Whoosh—

“Ahhh!”

The cursed temple that had been so close now felt impossibly far away. Even though the forest was dense with trees and underbrush, outrunning the cavalry was no easy feat.

The cavalry quickly charged, stabbing their lances into the backs of the Ragna tribe members and killing them.

‘Just a little further!’

Kankun clenched her eyes shut as screams echoed in her ears. Another attack—she began to doubt if she was the one who had brought this disaster upon them.

Could it be that the demon had let her go, and this calamity returned because of that? Everything was chaotic when it happened.

Thud-thud-thud!

The sound of heavy horse hooves rang out from behind. The rough, heavy stomps of the horses grew louder.

She could even hear the rough breaths of the cavalry. Then came the sharp sound of lances cutting through the air. Instinctively, Kankun turned and raised the sword she was holding to protect herself.

Clang!

Sparks flew as Kankun staggered back from the impact. The cavalryman who had thrust his lance looked surprised.

“You blocked it? Not bad for a kid.”

The cavalryman tightened his reins and looked at Kankun, then sneered. Before long, the cavalrymen had passed the Ragna tribe members and surrounded them.

The Partas warriors whistled and licked their lips. Kankun’s face went pale when she saw them.

The Ragna tribe members hadn’t escaped yet. Now that they were surrounded, it was inevitable that they would be killed or taken as slaves.

“But that sword…”

One of the Partas warriors pointed at the sword Kankun had wrapped in her arms. All the Partas warriors showed greed in their eyes.

“Is that really made of gold?”

Kankun flinched and curled her body around it as if to protect it, hiding it with her body.

“…I’m just holding it for a while! This sword has an owner! It’s not something you, or anyone like you, can touch!”

“An owner, you say?”

“Yes! Someone very fearsome and noble!”

Seeing Kankun shout, the Partas tribe members burst into laughter. Of course, she was just a young kid barely reaching adulthood. Who would take her seriously?

She just seemed to be bragging. One of the Partas cavalrymen approached Kankun.

“Hah, what if we just kill the owner too?”

“Oh? You want to kill me?”

“…!”

The Partas cavalryman felt his entire body press down as though his soul were being crushed by the voice that echoed through him. He doubted his own ears.

Just a moment ago, no one was behind him. And yet, a deep voice had suddenly boomed out!?

‘What is this…?’

Sweat ran down his back, a fear he couldn’t explain gripping him. The Partas cavalryman slowly lowered his gaze and looked at Kankun, who had been shouting just moments before.

“…Ah!”

The fierce girl’s eyes widened. There was no longer any trace of fear in her eyes. Instead, hope and expectation shone through.

And her gaze was fixed not on him, but behind him. It wasn’t just the kid in front of him; his comrades, who had surrounded the Ragna tribe, were now looking terrified.

Yes, something was behind him!

The Partas cavalryman gripped his lance tightly, turned around, and swung it—

Thud!

The lance was effortlessly caught in a huge hand.

“…!”

The Partas cavalryman’s eyes widened. The air itself seemed to split open. In the black void, a figure appeared with only its upper body visible. A being wearing a horned helmet, resembling a goat, and clad in black armor.

‘…The Cursed Throne!’

The demon lying dormant in the temple. The figure was now gripping the spear with a claw-like hand.

“Wait, let’s have a talk—.”

“AAAHHHH—!”

The cavalryman screamed and struggled to pull his spear free. But the spear, caught in the demon’s grip, didn’t budge.

“Hey, don’t be scared. I just want to talk—.”

The Partas cavalryman eventually gave up on the spear. He let go of the spear and drew his crossbow from behind his back. He aimed it at the goat-like helmet.

Ping—!

But the bolt bounced off as if he had shot a toy crossbow.

“Talk already—!”

He reloaded and fired again.

“Ha—.”

“AAAHHHH—!”

He reloaded his crossbow once more.

Loki narrowed his eyes, then tossed the spear in his hand toward its previous owner.

Boom—!

Crack—!

With the sound of the air splitting, a massive hole was torn through the Partas cavalryman’s chest. He collapsed to the ground.

“Let’s talk. You filthy bastard.”

Loki took a step out of the jet-black space, walking calmly. The Ragna tribe and the Partas tribe, who faced him, froze in fear. They had heard stories since they were young.

The demon sleeping in the temple. The legends of the accursed throne and how it would come to judge them.

For the Nord tribe, who had undergone their coming-of-age rituals with the Shaman and faced the demon statues, instinctive fear gripped them when they saw the figure before them.

When they were children, the demon was a terrifying figure, and as they grew up, they thought it was nothing but superstition. And yet, that figure now stood before them. They all froze. Only Kankun looked up at Loki with a relieved expression.

“You are like NPCs to me.”

When Loki spoke, both the Partas and Ragna tribe members flinched at once.

“And this character, Loki—”

Loki raised his head slightly, speaking in an imposing voice.

“Has no patience. So it would be best to answer my questions.”

They didn’t understand what he meant. But it was a warning. A warning about what would happen if they ignored his words. The Partas and Ragna tribe members, who understood this warning, glanced at each other.

And as the quiet silence stretched on, a growing sense of unease began to shake their sanity. For the Nord tribe, fear was something to be fought. And that indoctrination ultimately led them to—

“AAAHHH—!”

“Raise your spears—!”

The Partas tribe members, trying to resist the unknown terror, gripped their weapons tightly. The Ragna tribe, shaken by the cry, tried to raise their weapons too, but…

“No, everyone down!”

At Kankun’s command, the Ragna tribe members lowered their weapons and knelt.

“Except for you—”

Loki turned his gaze to Kankun.

“None of you can talk.”

“Kill him—!”

The Partas tribe charged toward Loki in unison.

❃

Shouts and screams echoed. Histon, dragging his personal slave Hans, burst into laughter.

“Is it because it’s been a while since the last raid? They really have no patience!”

“Still, we shouldn’t touch the temple with the Shaman…”

“We’re not foolish enough to do that, are we?”

The subordinates following behind joked. Even though they had only muscle for brains, they could at least make that judgment.

But if they got too excited and lost their rationality, they would have to face the consequences with the Shaman.

‘The elders always told us not to mess with the Shaman.’

There were many stories. The Shaman, as the intermediary of the Nord tribe, was a powerful wizard.

It was said that if one touched him carelessly, an entire tribe would be destroyed. The elders had experienced it firsthand, but Histon didn’t believe it. Half of it was probably an exaggeration.

‘But if half of it is true, then maybe the Nord tribe’s strength could be attributed to him.’

Such a being was spending time worshipping demons in the temple. How could a powerful individual believe in such superstitions?

It was absurd. Lost in these thoughts, Histon, riding his horse, suddenly became aware of something odd.

The shouts and screams that had echoed through the forest moments ago were now absent.

‘…What is this?’

Histon pulled on the reins to stop. His subordinates followed suit, pulling on their reins as well.

‘…There’s no sound at all.’

He couldn’t hear his subordinates’ voices, nor the screams or sobs of the Ragna tribe members who were being raided. But that wasn’t all, the presence of wild animals, the sounds of insects, had disappeared as well.

Even the wind that had been rustling through the trees had stilled. Histon broke out in a cold sweat.

Even in the cold northern winds, beads of sweat trickled down his cheeks. His subordinates, sensing something unusual, began looking to Histon for guidance. Soon, Histon became aware of the “hidden presence” in the forest.

“Undead!”

There were figures hiding in the forest, their bodies invisible. It was the aura of the dead.

But these weren’t just ordinary low-level undead. Unlike the usual deathly aura, their presence and form couldn’t be felt properly. This was the presence of a higher-tier undead!

Hiiiiing—!

The horse, sensing their presence, reared up in fear. Its hair stood on end as its eyes rolled in terror.

‘Even the war horse is scared!’

“U-Undead?!”

“W-Where are they?!”

His subordinates seemed to sense nothing of the undead’s presence. Histon, covered in cold sweat, scanned his surroundings.

‘Surrounded?!’

Yet, he still couldn’t catch sight of them clearly.

“Monsters—!”

But there was no one ahead. The direction of his subordinates. It felt as though the deathly figures were pushing them forward, like cattle being herded.

Eventually, Histon had no choice but to move forward. It was like he was being pulled by some unseen force. And the moment his horse’s hooves touched the ground, they came upon a blood-soaked icy path.

“…”

“…!”

Histon closed his mouth, and his subordinates covered their mouths, trying to suppress their gagging. A lake of blood. No, it was an icy path stained with blood.

Countless bodies lay scattered, their blood having frozen in the biting cold, creating an icy trail. At the center of that icy path stood a figure.

“…A demon.”

Hans, Histon’s slave, stammered as he spoke the figure’s name.

A demon.

The very being that should have been sleeping in the temple was now right before them. In the frozen cold, the figure stood tall, flicking its fingers.

It wore a goat-like helmet, dark armor, and a cloak lined with fur. It stood amidst the bodies, staring at Histon. As if it had known all along that it would be here.

‘Is that… what leads the undead horde?’

If that was the case, then the figure before them could only be a Necromancer.

❃❃❃