The Gnoll's Demise  

(Volume 1: Who Isn't a Princess? Let's Begin!)

"From the first stirrings of life underwater, to the towering beasts of the Stone Age, to humanity's first steps upright—you have witnessed it all..."

Leo's thoughts scattered like startled tadpoles, chaotic and disordered. Time seemed meaningless as his consciousness slowly reformed. Gradually, the familiar game narration whispered through the haze, pulling him from his nightmare.

A blinding headache! 

His entire body felt as though it were on fire, as if his brain had been put through a blender and he'd prematurely experienced cremation.

Leo groaned in pain, thoroughly displeased with his state. Was this the result of several consecutive all-nighters, followed by a round of Savage Six? The actual cause of his near-death experience was starting that second game. As a dedicated employee and former sports student, he prided himself on his physical fitness, which had been top-notch during his school days. How could a mere gaming session knock him out like this?

Ignoring the searing pain, Leo slowly opened his eyes, tasting the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. The world swayed around him, and he glimpsed flowing fabric and large... no, that was an illusion.

Leo strained to lift his head, finally taking in his surroundings clearly. For a moment, he wondered if he had been transported to the start of an Elder Scrolls game. He was bound, hands tied, being carted off to an execution.

Reality, however, was even grimmer. Cold winds howled, the road was muddy, and refugees in ragged clothes with heavy packs trudged alongside. The braying of donkeys, the cries of children, and the shouts of drivers filled the air.

Leo lay on a rickety cart pulled by a donkey, covered with a tattered blanket atop a heap of bundles and animal hides. The severe jolting of the cart, slightly cushioned by the goods beneath him, made him nauseous.

A blonde girl with emerald eyes knelt beside him, cradling his head in her lap to prevent him from choking on his own blood while unconscious.

"You're awake?" The girl had been watching Leo closely. Seeing him stir and open his eyes, her worried face broke into a relieved smile.

She shouted to those below, "Leo's awake! He's awake!"

"Damn, finally! He's been out for three days. If he didn't wake up soon, I'd have buried him alive!" A rough voice replied from below the cart, followed by a large, calloused hand gripping the cart's railing.

A bearded Viking-like face wearing a horned helmet appeared, leaning on the cart with one arm for balance, while the other hand grabbed Leo's head, turning it left and right. "I've never been this pale, even after three days dead!"

The already overburdened donkey let out a pained bray as the cart slowed and tilted to one side.

"Papa, get down!" The blonde girl scolded, pushing the bearded man away to save the cart. She then carefully wiped the blood from Leo's face.

"It hurts!" Leo groaned, the pain in his head like a blender whirling his brain. Amidst the agony, fragments of memory began to surface.

In these memories, hundreds of gnolls wielding short spears swarmed from a hidden hillside towards the refugee convoy. They resembled large, upright golden retrievers with sturdy limbs, clawed hands and feet, and vicious teeth.

Gnolls, or kobolds, were not of D&D origin, known for their low intelligence, mining skills, and omnivorous diet. They hunted small animals and gathered food. The leader stood at 1.5 meters, while the rest were about 1.3 meters tall, scrambling down the hill chaotically like children rushing to a school cafeteria.

Despite their numbers, they were intimidating. The convoy reacted quickly, herding the donkeys and gathering the women, children, and elderly behind the carts. The militia, armed with makeshift weapons and shields, formed a line in front, while those with bows climbed onto the carts to fire arrows at the advancing gnolls.

Some militiamen wore bandages, hinting at previous skirmishes. Leo Mundo, the new militia captain and the original owner of this body, remained calm. Though the gnolls were not highly skilled fighters, their sheer numbers were daunting.

The militia had repelled similar attacks before with minimal losses. But this time, things went awry.

Mid-charge, the gnoll leader barked a command, and all the gnolls hurled their spears simultaneously. The sudden barrage caught the militia off guard, wreaking havoc and causing numerous casualties.

Amid the chaos, Leo Mundo shouted for the militia to hold formation while he hurled a spear back, impaling a charging gnoll. The gnolls then crashed into the militia's shield wall, and a brutal melee ensued.

Though small, gnolls were strong from mining and hunting, with the claws and teeth of a canine predator. The militia, armed with basic farming tools, struggled against the gnolls' ferocity. Those who stayed in formation fared better, but any militiaman who broke ranks was quickly overwhelmed.

Leo Mundo fought valiantly, striking down gnolls with his sword and shield. Seeing his comrades fall, he charged the gnoll leader. Though shorter, the leader was muscular and wielded a heavy flail. The two clashed, the leader's flail smashing Leo's shield and injuring his arm. Leo retaliated, stabbing the leader in the abdomen.

The gnoll leader, undeterred by the wound, continued fighting fiercely, knocking Leo down and biting his shoulder. Despite the pain, Leo stabbed the leader repeatedly until he lost consciousness from blood loss.

The memories were vivid, the battle brutal and raw. Leo, now inhabiting this body, felt every injury acutely. This new reality was harsh and unyielding.

So, I killed a gnoll with a bite? he thought, feeling the pain course through him. This is worse than dropping dead at my desk. I want to go back!

---

As the memory faded, Leo realized the depth of his predicament. His entire body throbbed with pain, and the world around him seemed both foreign and hostile. This was no mere game; the stakes were life and death.

The bearded man, still hovering nearby, watched Leo intently. "You've got guts, kid, but don't pull stunts like that again."

The girl nodded, her expression a mix of relief and concern. "We need you, Leo. Without you, the militia wouldn't stand a chance."

Leo attempted to sit up, wincing as the pain shot through his body. "What happened after...?" he managed to ask, his voice hoarse.

"You killed their leader," the man replied, a hint of respect in his tone. "The rest scattered, but we lost many. We're moving to find safer grounds."

Leo processed this, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. He had stepped into a life of struggle, and there was no turning back.

As the cart trundled along the muddy road, Leo took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever challenges lay ahead. In this unforgiving world, he would have to fight to survive—and perhaps, one day, find a way back to his own reality. But for now, he was Leo Mundo, militia captain, and he would play his part.