His name was Levi Hartman, someone who grew enraptured in the world of the Lonely Peak created by advancements in virtual technology. It was a world where anything was possible, and he'd immersed himself in it to the point of idolizing the pros in the pro-leagues.
He played whenever he could, and for a moment, he thought he was in the game.
There was no way else to explain it as he was certain that he'd been out in the streets and not in some unfamiliar forested area.
Pain receptors were generally kept at a minimum, but right now, it felt way too real… just as real as the sensation of numbing pain when he'd crashed his car over the road and entered a death role.
Could anyone ever imagine what its like to know you died, then suddenly wake up as if jolted from a horrifying nightmare?
Well, it isn't exactly pretty, and his current circumstances weren't the best either.
"Run! He's dead so leave him behind!"
Voices echoed in his ears while he struggled to compose himself. He was dizzy, confused, and feeling nauseous. When he looked down at chest, all that he could see was blood seeping from an open wound at his stomach area.
Three shallow marks were clawed across his torso from his right shoulder all the way down to his left hip.
"He's still moving! We can't just leave him!"
The voices from before were getting louder. From the sound of things, there were two people nearby speaking. Blearily, he craned his neck upwards to see two boys no older than ten with panicked looks on their faces.
One of them had his hair tied up into a rough pony tail while the other's hair was short and cropped. His vision was too unfocused to make out the exact details of their faces, but the familiar sight of their attire was unmistakable.
Rough fur vests and loincloths, that was it.
Despite being children, their arms, legs, and chests were packed with lean muscle, a common trait of the tribal warriors of the Lonely Peak's Barbarian Lands.
W-Was he in the game? Then why wasn't he in his character loadout?
The scene of his death in reality was still vivid in his mind, and the confusion of what was going on nearly killed him when something rammed into him and sent him sprawling over the dirt.
Tiny rocks and bits and pieces of gravel pressed sharply against his skin, the sensation way too life-like and immersive to be any kind of virtual reality.
He groaned, his body aching.
Looking back in the direction of where he'd once been, a creature stood on all-fours growling at him. It was a mix of sharp talons and feathers that formed a crown over its beaked face. Standing at over two meters tall, it resembled a beefed-up ostrich.
He knew this monster.
He knew it all too well.
The Player community dubbed it endearingly as 'Chicken feed' due to how plump its body was and the way it clucked with every step. It was a tutorial level monster of the lowest level, and he'd killed hundreds of them while grinding when he'd first started playing the Lonely Peak.
Its official name was 'Terra Bird.'
Their levels generally ranged from 1 – 10 in the beginner stages, and their numbers were abundant out in the Lonely Peak's wildlands.
He'd never heard of a player who'd ever died from one.
In short, they were mobs.
Fingers digging grooves over the dirt, he balled his hands into fists before tucking his arms under him and pushing himself up onto his feet.
There was a standard wooden spear strapped over his back, the tip made of sharpened stone. It was primitive, and not what he was used to in game, but he could make do with it.
"What are you doing? Run!"
The two boys called out to him, but running was making a mistake.
The thing about Terra Birds was that even if they appeared vicious and imposing due to their size and appearance, they were all cowards easily affected by 'fear' status.
If he was assuming correctly, and he really was in the Lonely Peak and related to the two boys near him, then he was a Tribal Warrior. He didn't know which tribe he belonged to, or which affiliation he hailed from, but it didn't matter.
One thing was universal for all members of the barbarian tribes.
He stabbed the butt of his spear into the ground, puffed up his chest, and stood tall despite his injuries.
-Never retreat. Never surrender.
This was the creed of the Barbarian Lands.
A notification window popped up near the edge of his peripherals.
[Activating Skill: Tribal God's Blessing]