Grimm: Ch. 3

---Grimm's POV---

"Have you thought of names for the two children yet?" The elderly woman held me with a kind expression, looking at Shirley, who seemed a bit dazed but had clearly improved significantly.

Shirley glanced at the child in her arms, thoughtfully touched the child's head, and remained silent for a while.

"Um... Gabriel."

"Let's call him Gabriel. His bloodstains aren't as fresh as the other child's, so he must be the elder brother. I hope he has the courage to face this world and protect the things he wants to protect."

Gabriel? Could it really be such a coincidence? I sensed something was amiss.

Shirley gently patted Gabriel to sleep. She seemed to recall something from the past, her expression blank as she sat in silence for a long time, lost in memories only she could see.

"And what about this child?"

Seeing that she was slipping back into confusion, the elderly woman quickly held me and asked.

Shirley slowly turned her head, her expression becoming gentle—just like a loving mother cherishing her child. For a moment, the madness in her eyes cleared.

"Let's call him Grimm. I hope he'll be as strong as his brother and grow freely like wild grass... and live a good life..."

"Hahahehe."

After finishing her words, Shirley seemed to think of something happy and started laughing maniacally. But it was evident that she was genuinely happy, even in her delirium.

I stared at the woman who had taken me in with my dark, blank eyes. I couldn't describe the feelings in my heart. Could I now call someone my mother?

---Three years later---

"Huff, huff, huff."

I swung my sword in the Trial Realm as usual. Ever since realizing that this was likely a parallel world of Akatosh, I had been training non-stop for the past three years.

Most of the novel had faded from memory, but you don't forget a world like Akatosh—a hellhole where humans were caught between bloodthirsty demons, savage monsters, and nobles who saw them as nothing but tools to be used and discarded

[System Calculating: Session complete.]
[Opponents defeated: 5.]
[Experience gained: 100 points]

[Character Status:
Name: Grimm
Age: 3
Level: 12 (XP: 22000/24007)
HP: 52/52]

[Attributes:
Strength: 11
Agility: 5
Intelligence: 6
Charisma: 6]

[Skills:]
[...]

[Weapon Proficiency:]
[One-Handed: 90]
[Two-Handed: 102 (+10)]
[Polearms: 85]
[Bow: 74]
[Crossbow: 50]
[Throwing: 69]

[Challenge Complete.]
[5-person two-handed wooden sword challenge]
[Rewards:

- Two-handed weapon proficiency +10
- Half-Sword ()
- Blue Arena Helmet () (+26 head armor)
- Blue Arena Armor (16kg) (+29 body armor, +13 leg armor)
- Beast Hide Boots () (+10 leg armor)]

"Ha... ha... ha..."

I lay on the virtual grass of the Trial Realm, panting heavily. Blood pounded in my ears, but it couldn't drown out the ache in my heart.

The splintered remains of training dummies littered the ground around me.

Seven days ago, my adoptive mother, Shirley, had developed a high fever.

Many mercenaries' families on the caravan came to care for her, but her condition only worsened day by day. Her right eye's skin began to fester and ooze pus.

She was diagnosed with the Black Death by a nun traveling with them.

"Black Death... in all my years of war, nothing kills quite like it," I'd overheard a veteran warrior say.

"Even if we had medicine... in these times..." the camp's medic had replied, shaking his head.

In an era of war, with scarce medical resources and primitive technology, there was no cure for such an illness.

All this knowledge from my past life, and I still can't save her... I'm powerless!

"Aaaargh!" I slammed my fist into the ground until my knuckles bled.

I was born to lose my mother again...

---

Dawn broke, and consciousness returned to reality.

"..."

I really don't want to wake up... Even ten years in the training grounds would be better than facing reality all at once.

Beside me, Gabriel was still at an age of innocence, though Shirley's frailty had left him visibly unsettled.

As soon as daylight came, he ran to Shirley's tent.

Today was the day of the assault on the castle. Outside, the place was filled with battle cries, the crash of falling stones, and the whistling of arrows.

Men screamed as trebuchet stones reduced them to red mist against the castle walls. Arrows found their marks in throats and eyes, turning the battlefield into a garden of death.

Gabriel ran fast, clearly frightened by the scene before him. Even at a distance, the carnage was terrifying—filled with bloodshed and violence.

Unlike him, my mood was heavy as I stepped out of the tent. The chaos of screams, clashing blades, and tearing flesh hammered home the truth. It wasn't a dream.

This was a living nightmare—a world that bared the savage violence of human nature.

How cruel this world was. And now, it was about to take away the last shred of warmth I had there. How ironic. I really was a harbinger of misfortune, wasn't I?

I mocked myself as I approached Shirley's tent, listening to the words of encouragement from those inside. The stench of decay and disease grew stronger with each step.

"Stay strong, Shirley," urged the elderly woman.

"Gabriel, go outside!"

Just as the elderly woman tried to send Gabriel away, I entered the tent as well.

"You two, get out! This is the Black Death. If it spreads to you, you'll both be doomed!"

"Ah... ah... Gabriel... Grimm..."

Shirley's hoarse voice struggled to call our names. She realized that her time with us was coming to an end.

Tears welled up in her swollen right eye and slid down from her left. She reached out, as if trying to bid us a final farewell.

My pupils constricted. I suddenly realized that my she was at death's door.

"Where's Gunther?!" The elderly woman seemed to understand the gravity of the situation.

"Calling him won't help; he's attacking the castle," replied a woman carrying a basin of water.

"Ridiculous! A so-called man, not by his woman's side in her final moments!"

"Stuff her mouth with something..."

At that moment, as if by instinct, Gabriel and I slipped past the two women. I grabbed Shirley's hand. Perhaps my past life as a medical student gave me stronger nerves—I had seen worse wounds before. Yet, seeing the festering pus on herr right eye filled my heart with sorrow.

"Hey, you two?!"

"Grimm..."

Shirley looked at me. Then, she turned her gaze to Gabriel.

"Gabriel..." Her voice was even weaker.

Gabriel, perhaps unfamiliar with such a horrifying sight, trembled but mustered his courage to hold her other hand.

With both of us by her side, Shirley smiled faintly, tears sliding down her cheek. She closed her eyes, her final tear falling, never to awaken again.

Through the tent's opening, a crow watched with cold eyes.

I knelt, tears streaming uncontrollably—my first tears shed for someone in this world.

Gabriel stared blankly, thinking Shirley had merely fallen asleep, though a vague unease stirred within him. As an older brother, he decided to comfort me.

"Don't cry... Grimm."

He patted my trembling shoulder, gently placed Shirley's hand back under the covers, and separated my grip from it. The, he hugged me.

"Don't cry, Grimm. Mama's just sleeping..."

---

"Mm, mm, mm..."

The deep sound of horns echoed across the battlefield.

"We've failed. Let's go. Gather the remaining and retreat!" Gunther shouted as he drove his blade through an approaching enemy's throat.

"Cut through these bastards! Don't let them regroup!"

Gunther finished off the last of the pursuers, wiped the blood off his face, and gave orders to the comrades by his side.

"Retreat!"

Bodies and broken weapons crunched under their boots as they withdrew.

"What a mess. I lost so many brothers. Hopefully, they won't cut the compensation because of this failure..." Gunther muttered.

Pulling his sword out of a corpse, he whistled sharply, mounted his horse, and left the battlefield.

The ride back to camp was silent, broken only by the occasional groan of the wounded.

"Captain, the nobles short-changed us again," a mercenary reported as they reached the camp.

"What a bastard... Over a hundred dead, and this is all the gold they give?" Gunther stormed back to his tent. "They send us to die and can't even pay proper coin!"

"Hey, Shirley, feeling any better?"

As soon as he stepped into the tent, he noticed something off—the sound of a child's sobbing and the grim expressions on two women.

His heart skipped a beat. He didn't even realize his tightly wound nerves were affecting his composure. He hurried over to see Shirley, who now lay peacefully, having passed away.

It felt as if something irreplaceable had been lost. Yet he pretended not to care, masking his emotions with disdain.

"Tch, died of illness, huh? Just find a place to bury her." Throwing out these words, he left to drink with his comrades.

---Three years later---

"You want to eat? Then learn to kill." Gunther's words had become our daily bread.

During the day, he taught me swordsmanship.

Sparring with Gabriel helped me improve rapidly, thanks to my innate advantages. With just a bit of training, I could apply the techniques I learned in the Trial Realm with ease.

"Again! Your enemy won't wait for you to get up!" Gunther would shout as we practiced.

When not practicing archery or crossbow shooting, I spent the rest of my time mastering two-handed sword combat. 

Three years ago, two-handed weapons were just for beginners getting started—basic puppet fights, nothing more. Seeing how weak I was pushed me to get better. Things got a lot tougher once I made it to Apprentice Gladiator.

Initially, it was hard.

The pain in the Trial Realm was all too real. Though my physical body remained unharmed, the experience was a form of mental conditioning. While combat techniques could be learned in there, my real-world body still required significant training to align with those skills.

"Ugh..."

With two apprentice gladiators down, [Victory confirmed] appeared.

[Two apprentice gladiators defeated]
[Experience gained: 80]

For now, defeating three opponents simultaneously was still too challenging for me.

Wiping away imaginary sweat, I opened my attribute panel and reviewed my progress.

[Attributes:
Strength: 16
Agility: 10
Intelligence: 10
Charisma: 10]

[Skills:]
[...]

[Weapon Proficiency:]
[One-handed weapons: 120]
[Two-handed weapons: 166]
[Polearms: 115]
[Archery: 104]
[Crossbows: 90]
[Throwing: 96]

He allocated an extra point to Inventory Management as his item slots were becoming insufficient.

---

Before dawn, the surrounding area was already filled with noise.

"Get up! Today, we're launching the final assault. Midland's cavalry could abandon the city and break out at any time. The commander has ordered us to set up barricades and prepare for battle in the trenches."

"Keep those trebuchets firing! Don't let them reform!" A veteran shouted as they took their positions.

Groggily opening my eyes, I got up from the straw bedding. Gabriel was already awake. We were always ready to head to the battlefield.

Since Shirley's death, Gunther had no intention of supporting us for free, so he taught us swordsmanship and made us help on the battlefield.

Before my reincarnation, I had only watched the animated adaptation and didn't know the details—just a few critical timeline points.

But with endless training and the harshness of daily life, even those memories were beginning to fade.

"Hey, hurry up, you two brats! I'm not feeding you for nothing. Grab something to eat, quick!"

"You two better not slow me down today," Gunther growled as he tossed two pieces of bread to us before putting on his helmet and heading out.

Sensing the heavy atmosphere among the adults, we quietly picked up the bread and followed him out.

Artillery flew everywhere while cannons fired down from the towers at the enemy. Our trebuchets kept hammering away at their walls. When their commander gave the signal, their light cavalry charged full speed at our trenches and barriers.

"Aim for the horses! Bring them down first!" Gunther ordered as the enemy closed in.

Whizz! Whizz! Whizz!

As the distance closed, he fired his last few crossbow bolts.

"Hey, Gabriel!"

"The spear! Bring the spear!" His sharp gaze urged us.

Seeing Gabriel struggling to lift the spear, I rushed over to help. Having trained almost since birth, I already appeared much stronger than Gabriel.

"Idiot! Hold your ground! Did you forget how I trained you? Stop dawdling!" Gunther snapped, snatching the spear from our hands.

"Hold the line! Don't let them through!"

My potential had earned me special permission to carry a crossbow and a spear this time.

Compensate for wind... just like training... I adjusted my aim carefully.

Whizz!

After nearly exhausting my bolts, the enemy was closing in. Just as I was about to switch to the spear, I was momentarily distracted.

Thud!

Neighhh!

A horse screamed nearby, followed by the wet crunch of a spear hitting flesh. Gunther's spear went right through the charging enemy, bursting out his back in a spray of blood.

Schlurp!

As he pulled the spear out, the rider's intestines spilled out along with his body, crashing onto Gabriel. The soldier's eyes rolled back, his face twisted in agony as blood trickled from his mouth.

Death had come for him.

"...Ugh...ah...!"

Gabriel was paralyzed with fear. His body trembled, drenched in cold sweat.

Death up close was nothing like I'd imagined. The stink of blood was everywhere.

When I saw the guts spilled out on the ground—and that smell—I couldn't hold it. My legs went weak and I dropped to my knees, heaving up nothing.

That close call hit me all at once. I shook like crazy, cold sweat soaking my clothes.

Then it hit me, like ice running through my whole body—this wasn't some Trial Realm or game.

This was real. One slip-up here meant death, plain and simple.