NTR: Barbarian Harem Conquest

Kane followed the familiar mental map of the No-End Woods until the trees began to thin out near a rocky riverbank.

Information is the best weapon I have right now,’ Kane thought.

They were hidden deep in a section of the forest players used to call No-Life Woods because the drops here were usually terrible.

The camp looked miserable, even worse than the low-resolution textures in the game.

Dozens of starving warriors sat near the edge of the water, sharpening chipped weapons with dull stones.

Sick women coughed quietly inside tents made of rotting animal hides.

The morale was practically nonexistent.

A central fire pit burned low, offering very little warmth, and a large chieftain’s hut sat awkwardly on a small dirt hill in the center.

’This is depressing,’ Kane thought, adjusting the leather strap on his shoulder.

’The developers really wanted players to feel bad when these guys got wiped out in Chapter two.’

He did not feel bad.

He just saw a group of highly exploitable NPCs waiting for a real leader. He needed a fast-starting army to raid the local dungeons, and these barbarians would be perfect meat shields once he leveled them up.

Two scarred guards spotted him approaching the tree line.

They immediately raised their spears and stepped forward to block his path.

"Halt," the guard on the left grunted.

"State your business, outcast. You don’t carry the Bloodfang mark."

Kane did not slow down.

He just kept walking right toward them, letting his high Charisma stat and natural barbarian intimidation aura do the heavy lifting.

The guards tensed up as he got closer.

They could clearly feel the unnatural power rolling off him and actually took a nervous step backward when he stopped directly in front of them.

"My business is taking over," Kane stated calmly, his voice carrying over the crackle of the fire pit.

"Move out of my way before I use your spears to pick my teeth."

The guards hesitated, glancing nervously at each other.

Before they could decide whether to attack or run, the leather flap of the chieftain’s hut was pushed aside.

Chief Lain stepped out into the dying sunlight.

He was a level twenty-eight brute, aging but still built like a brick wall. His chest was covered in old war scars, and he carried an iron warhammer that looked too heavy for a normal man to lift.

Two women, clearly his wives, stood nervously in the shadow of the doorway behind him.

They wore slightly better furs than the rest of the camp, but they still looked hungry.

"Who dares walk into my camp and speak of taking over?" Lain bellowed, walking slowly down the dirt hill.

The rest of the warriors stopped what they were doing and gathered around the square.

They formed a loose circle around Kane, muttering quietly to each other.

Some looked angry at his disrespect, but others seemed genuinely curious.

’Level twenty-eight,’ Kane thought, analyzing the red text floating just above the chief’s bald head.

’He has high strength, but his agility is terrible because of that old knee injury from the goblin war. This is going to be embarrassing.’

"I am Kane," he announced, turning to face him directly.

"And I am here because this tribe is dying. You are leading these people straight into death."

Lain stopped a few feet away and slammed the head of his warhammer into the ground.

"You have a bold tongue for a dead man. I led this clan through the harsh winter. We survive because of my strength."

"You survive by hiding," Kane countered, taking a few steps closer to the angry chief.

"I know exactly why your people are starving. Three weeks ago, you ordered a raid on the eastern trade route, but you misjudged the merchant guard patrols. You lost twelve good men because you ignored the scout reports about the new mercenary hires. Your leadership is weak, and your tactical decisions are worse."

A loud murmur rippled through the gathered warriors.

The failed raid was supposed to be a closely guarded secret among the elders. Hearing an outsider call out the specific details of their defeat struck a raw nerve.

"How do you know about the eastern road?" Lain demanded, his grip tightening on the handle of his hammer.

"I know a lot of things," Kane smiled, enjoying the rising tension.

"I know you traded your best hunting grounds to the Shadowclaw tribe just to secure a peace treaty that they are currently planning to break next week. I know your people are eating boiled tree bark while you hoard the last of the dried meat in your personal hut."

The crowd grew restless.

"What is he saying?"

"Our chief would never."

Several warriors exchanged looks, their loyalty clearly wavering under the weight of Kane’s accurate accusations.

The meta-knowledge of the game’s lore was a very powerful weapon when used correctly.

Lain realized he was quickly losing control of the narrative.

He ripped the warhammer from the dirt and pointed it directly at Kane’s chest.

"Lies," Lain roared, trying to drown out the whispers.

"You are a cowardly spy sent by the Shadowclaws to sow discord in my ranks. I will crush your skull and mount it on a pike to show them what happens to traitors."

"Are we really going to do this the hard way?" Kane sighed, crossing his arms.

"I just offered to save your dying clan. But if you want to get humiliated in front of your wives, I am more than happy to oblige."

"Blood Duel," Lain shouted, his voice echoing through the quiet camp.

"Fine by me," he said loudly, making sure every warrior heard.

"When I win, I take your throne, your women, and your clan. I’m going to fuck both your wives right here in front of everyone while you watch... before I decide whether you live or die."

The entire camp went dead silent.