Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Logout After 20 Years in Another World?
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"Milord, it's time for your cough medicine."
A calm voice wakes me from sleep.
I rise from my seat and do some light stretching. Head maid Flower offers me the washbasin she's holding. After a quick rinse, I wipe the water from my face with the towel draped over her shoulder, and another maid helps me into the clothes she has prepared.
"What's on the schedule?"
"The merchants from the trading company have requested an audience at the morning assembly. And this afternoon, you have training with the soldiers."
"Ah, so the Mark Company's visit is today."
After Flower helps me get dressed, I take the bastard sword she offers last and head out of the room.
"Did you sleep well, milord?"
"Good morning, milord."
The gardeners tending the courtyard and the servants cleaning the manor remove their hats in greeting. I nod casually in response and make my way to the office.
The day before my discharge.
I had no idea what was happening when I was dropped into this medieval land, and now twenty years have passed.
In those twenty years, a black-haired outsider who arrived with nothing became the lord of a territory.
'It was tough.'
The journey had been nothing short of tumultuous.
I slaughtered the nobles who hunted commoners like game and led the mountain folk they preyed on deep into the hills.
I gathered slash-and-burn farmers hiding in the mountains to avoid taxes, territory folk who fled unbearable exploitation, and fugitives who had fallen afoul of the powerful. Together, we built a stronghold in the forest.
I trained my men and repelled regular army expeditions time and again.
I formed a mercenary band, joined territorial wars, and charged alone across battlefields to claim enemy commanders' heads.
And finally, I earned a noble title and a fief.
'It was a long road.'
As a result, I became the idol of every commoner in the kingdom, a living legend of success from nothing.
To the nobles, I was a thorn in their side, the shame of every lord.
Black Lion of the Killians Mountains.
Bronze Sword Baron.
That's the name they call me in this world.
'He looks so young. They said he's forty, but doesn't he look twenty?'
'H-Huge presence.'
'Is that the Black Lion of the Killians Mountains?'
'Who would've thought a barbarian could claim a fief.'
I circulate my qi to sharpen my senses, catching their whispers. But even those fall silent the moment I take my seat at the head.
I look down at the man standing at the front of the group.
"Long time no see."
"I knew you were a great warrior, but to claim a fief as an outsider… This humble merchant can't help but be impressed. I thought no matter what feats you achieved, the nobles would ignore you."
"When your neck's on the line, you do what you have to."
I chuckle softly and ask,
"Anyway, what brings you to this remote borderland?"
"As you've probably guessed, it's the dragon vein."
This place, Ardenia, is a massive continent formed from a single landmass. Nothing unusual there, but it has one peculiar feature.
The continent's shape is a perfect square. Lines are even drawn on it.
'It's artificial.'
The world looks like a go board, crisscrossed with straight lines—mostly rivers or mountain ranges.
Those lines are spirit veins, channels of the earth's energy.
Spirit veins hold immense power on their own. The fact that the continent's magic beasts dare not approach them is proof enough.
Where spirit veins intersect—where lines meet—massive spiritual energy converges into a dragon vein, transforming the spot into a unique, special space.
Fields that yield eight harvests a year, all bumper crops.
Veins rich in magic crystals.
Sanctuaries where spirit herbs grow.
Dragon veins are universally valuable sites, rarely hidden—rivers and mountains make their locations obvious—so naturally, they all have owners.
The empires of Ming and the Holy Empire, the Crystal Alliance, and even the eight smaller kingdoms that can't be dismissed lightly (including the Chrome Kingdom where I've settled) all built their power on dragon veins.
And of course, my territory has one too.
"We'd like to use the Garden of Peace."
My fief sits in the continent's corner—like the upper-right 3-3 intersection on a go board.
It's a fringe territory, so the dragon vein's power is weak, but calling the Garden of Peace our most precious asset wouldn't be an exaggeration.
'The Garden of Peace's effect is [Status Maintenance].'
As a rank-4 trait, the lowest grade, its effect on status maintenance is simple.
"You don't look like you have any injured."
Anyone who enters the Garden of Peace has their condition [prevented from worsening].
Even a patient on the brink of death from a stab wound won't die once inside. It won't heal major injuries, but some mystical energy keeps things from deteriorating.
'On Earth, it'd just be a haunted spot.'
But in this medieval land, the Garden of Peace is a miraculous life-support device. No matter the curse, incurable disease, or fatal wound—at minimum, you won't die there!
The previous idiot lord turned this precious space into a noble lounge, but I've been gathering surgical experts and establishing a [hospital] to make proper use of it.
"Of course, we have no patients, milord. We'd like to use the space differently."
"Differently?"
"Yes. We recently acquired some sun grass spirit herbs, but the problem is they die too easily…"
That starts a flood of proposals and reports from the merchants and retainers.
"A bear-type magic beast was sighted near Mount Northpeak…"
"Seventeen vagrants have applied for asylum in the territory. We're screening them per your prior instructions…"
"The tax calculations are complete. Even with a 20% reduction, the territory's wealth has grown this much—your foresight is astonishing, milord."
The morning assembly ends, and the merchants and retainers disperse. I say to Flower, standing by my side,
"Wait here."
"Yes, milord."
I leave Flower and head to the terrace. The manor is sizable enough to give a full view of my territory from there.
"My territory…"
It's not large. Around 3,000 residents, mostly mountains, so agriculture struggles. A harsh land plagued by beasts and magic beasts.
But even so… just looking down at it fills my chest with pride.
Twenty years brought many events. Many experiences.
I killed people and led them. Trained them, protected them, commanded them.
There were times I lay gravely wounded, staring death in the face, and times I negotiated with nobles alone, without allies. I bargained with savages who saw me as one, swore false loyalty to that backstabbing king who'd strike at any chance.
"Looking back, it's incredible."
Truth be told, it wasn't peaceful or happy. Where's that in this barbaric world?
Even Korea's dime-a-dozen NEETs live more peacefully than this world's kings.
Restaurants packed with every food imaginable within stumbling distance, hot water gushing from a tap.
Connect to the net via smartphone for movies, dramas, novels—endless entertainment. Everyone has a soft, clean bedroom.
If someone else had been dragged here instead of me, they'd have lost their mind in Ardenia. Dreaming of burgers and cola, retching at filthy outhouses, suffering 24/7, seething with rage, crying through sleepless nights.
But I'm different.
Because here… I could finally be [me].
Rumble rumble rumble!
"What… an earthquake?"
A sudden tremor startles me into a crouch. Flower, waiting outside the terrace, rushes in.
"Milord! Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. But what's going on…"
Rumble!
The ground shakes again. I sense the epicenter and turn.
And see it.
"What… is this?"
The Garden of Peace, right beside the manor, is warping.
Yes, literally distorting.
Whoooosh—!
The dimension itself twists, and the garden vanishes.
Then, right after.
Flash!
The warped space erupts into a pillar of light piercing the sky.
[Checking resources. Update in progress.]
[Downloading… 88%… 89%… 90%…]
[Balkan Orc Fortress (Advanced~Heroic)]
[Dungeon generation in progress.]
"What the… a dungeon?"
My jaw drops at the absurdity. What nonsense is this?
This is.
This looks just like.
"Something out of a game…"
Even as I gape, the light pillar expands.
"Evacuate! Buildings are collapsing!"
"Argh! The ground's pushing in!"
I see territory folk screaming and scattering.
And from the pillar behind them.
"Ooo~rororororo—!"
"Urgh! Ha! For Balkan!"
Hulking green-skinned monsters emerge.
Crack!
A crude iron axe cleaves a resident's skull; the body rolls limply without a scream.
"…Orcs? Real orcs?"
I blink in disbelief.
Ardenia is fantastical, sure. Dragon veins, magic, auras, magic beasts.
But orcs?
Thud!
I leap from the terrace. I can't just watch those crazy green monsters butcher my people.
But even as I charge, my mind reels.
"Not a game—what are orcs doing here?! No warning signs till now… No, what game is this? Do I need to log out?"
In that stunned moment.
The world freezes.
"Huh?"
And my consciousness shoots into the sky.
Up.
It.
Goes.
"...!"
My body jerks as I bolt upright, trembling. I don't scream, but the violent awakening alerts the night watch nearby.
"Bad dream, sergeant Han?"
"…"
I stare blankly at him.
Early twenties, young.
A familiar face, but the name escapes me. Naturally—it's been twenty years.
"Why the face? It's discharge day. Oh, right, Sergeant Han's from 34th Earth? Guess discharge isn't a big deal then."
"What… what year is it?"
"Still groggy?"
"What year."
My voice drops low; he frowns slightly but answers.
"2089. What year? Dream you enlisted as a rookie? Woke up thinking it's 2087?"
His casual tone makes my breath quicken.
"…Insane."
I'd always thought about it.
Just as I was suddenly dragged to another world one day, I might suddenly return to reality someday.
But… after twenty years in Ardenia, not even a day has passed here?
No—not even a day. Maybe not a single minute or second.
"What did I do? Say logout?"
"Sergeant Han?"
Ignoring his puzzled look, I mutter,
"Then the opposite… login?"
The words leave my mouth.
And the world changes.
"Argh! Run!"
"Kyaa! Spare me!"
Orcs pour out, axes hacking residents. Blood sprays, flesh flies.
I sprint toward them, groaning.
"What bullshit is this…"
I draw the gem-encrusted bastard sword and roar.
"What bullshit is this?!"