The Next Morning
I was jolted awake by loud banging at the door.
Thud-thud-thud!
Groaning, I pried my eyes open, I dragged myself out of bed, still half-asleep, and shuffled over to the door. Slowly, I opened it, blinking against the morning light.
No one.
Just the quiet chill of morning air… and then—
"Daddy, I'm hungry!" a small voice piped up from below.
I looked down.
Sigh.
It was just Moon, staring up at me with big, expectant eyes and bedhead that could rival a dragon's nest.
"Morning, muffin," I mumbled, patting her on the head.
I turned and headed toward the bathroom, too tired to respond properly. She followed close behind like a duckling trailing its mother. My body ached in places I didn't know could ache. Last night had taken more out of me than I'd thought.
I reached the bathroom and pulled out the small wooden stool, placing it in front of the mirror. Moon scrambled up onto it like it was a throne and grabbed her toothbrush. I grabbed mine beside her, and together we brushed in silence—well, I brushed in silence. She hummed some weird little song between foamy bubbles.
20 Minutes Later
"Hungry hungry hungry!"
The chant echoed through the house like a curse.
Moon and my father sat at the table, pounding their hands rhythmically on the wood like wild animals. My eye twitched.
Sigh.
"When did Dad become so childish?" I muttered under my breath as I finished plating the food.
I carried the dishes to the table, but they didn't even wait for me to set them down properly. Moon grabbed a piece of toast mid-air, and my father was already reaching for the eggs like he hadn't eaten in days.
"Y-you…" I started, then just let out a tired sigh.
I took my seat as they tore into breakfast like a pair of starved wolves.
Despite myself, I smiled.
It was chaotic. Messy. Loud.
But it was home.
Right—the notifications.
I opened the system interface and scanned the backlog. One particular message caught my eye.
[Epic Achievement: Become Chief]
Title Acquired: Chief
— When protecting your people:
• Power +10%
• Improved decision-making
• Intelligence +5
Rewards:
• 40 Summoning Tickets
• 100,000 System Points
Not bad, I thought, raising an eyebrow. That title boost could come in handy—especially the decision-making part. I had a feeling I'd need it sooner than later.
But what came next made my breath catch in my throat.
[New Feature Unlocked: Summoning]
My eyes widened. I leaned back slightly in my chair.
System, I thought quickly, what can I summon with this?
Host, there are 7 summonable classes available:
— Saber
— Lancer
— Archer
— Caster
— Rider
— Assassin
— Berserker
Each class possesses unique skill sets and combat styles. Units are ranked from 1 to 10. Higher-ranked units have superior stats and more advanced abilities.
An example interface blinked into my vision.
[Archer – Rank 1]
Status:
• Strength: 10
• Defense: 10
• Dexterity: 10
• Stamina: 10
Before I could ask, the system answered my unspoken question.
Note: Summons do not possess independent intelligence unless specially evolved. Only the Caster class begins with magic. Other classes unlock magical ability at Rank 3 or higher. Summons can be synthesized to increase their rank and potential.
"Woah… for real?" I muttered aloud, staring into the glowing interface.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my father staring at me, one eyebrow raised in confusion. Across from him, Moon was mid-bite, her cheeks stuffed with food, eyes fixed on me like I'd just started glowing.
Cough.
"Ah—my apologies," I said, trying to look normal, which clearly didn't work.
My father cleared his throat between bites. "Erik, you might want to head to the village hall. You've got your first council meeting today, remember?"
My eyes went wide.
Oh no.
"Holy shit—I'm gonna be late!" I shouted, nearly knocking over my chair as I scrambled to my feet.
Moon giggled through a mouthful of toast while my father just shook his head, muttering something about "youth" and "irresponsible chieftains."
30 Minutes Later
I sat at the head of the village hall table, barely holding onto my sanity as the elders rambled on—each word another nail in the coffin of my patience.
They droned on about alliances, traditions, and expectations, their voices overlapping like squawking gulls during a storm. I rubbed my temples, glancing around at each of their wrinkled, self-important faces.
Then came the introductions. One by one, they announced themselves like I didn't already know them.
House Hoferson.
House Jorgenson.
House Thorston.
House Ingerman.
Every elder from each house had shown up, probably hoping to put their stamp on the new chief—or marry me off like I was some kind of prize hog.
Sure enough, the shouting began.
"You must choose a bride from House Hoferson—"
"—House Jorgenson's daughters are of fine blood—"
"—Thorston women are sturdy and strong!"
"Quiet!" I snapped, slamming my hand down hard enough to make the table rattle.
Silence fell like a hammer.
"I already have a bride."
Their mouths fell open in unison.
A dozen voices immediately burst into questioning uproar, but I raised my hand again.
"She is the princess of Dunbroch—Princess Merida."
That earned a heavy silence… until Spitelout leaned forward, frowning like he'd just smelled something foul.
"Erik," he said gruffly, "you're a Viking. If you marry a weak woman, your descendants won't be strong. Your bloodline will suffer."
The others muttered in agreement, nodding solemnly like a group of sagely buffoons.
My eyes narrowed.
"It is not for you to decide," I said coldly.
A wave of pressure seeped out from me—just a taste—and the room instantly tensed. Several of them shrank back. Even Spitelout shut his mouth.
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. "Now… what else?"
They looked at one another nervously, until finally Spitelout cleared his throat again.
"With a new chief, tradition says we must invite all our allies and the other tribes for a great feast. A formal celebration of your leadership."
Sigh.
"Another one?" I muttered.
"Fine," I relented. "Send the invitations. Begin preparations. Keep it clean, no over-the-top nonsense."
They all nodded like well-trained sheep and slowly shuffled out of the hall.
Once they were gone, I turned to Gobber, who'd been standing nearby the whole time, his arms crossed and a faint smirk on his face.
"Start letting in the villagers," I said.
"Aye, Chief." He turned to the door and bellowed, "NEXT!"
The door creaked open… and in came a large Viking dragging two much smaller ones by the scruffs of their necks—Ruffnut and Tuffnut, of course.
I exhaled heavily. Here we go.
The burly Viking dropped the twins in front of me and immediately began pleading his case.
"Chief, I was just eatin' breakfast with my wife and daughter, peaceful like—"
I held up a hand. "Please. Just the important part."
"They broke into my chicken coop and released all the hens. Now my family won't have eggs for the rest of the week."
Tuffnut snickered. Ruffnut elbowed him, whispering something about "liberating the poultry proletariat."
Sigh.
"Gobber, get a training log. You two—shoulder it and stand off to the side until my work is done."
Tuffnut opened his mouth to protest. "No, Erik, you can't just—"
I shot them a glare. Both of them immediately shut up and shuffled over, grumbling as they took their place with the log.
I turned back to the Viking.
"Do you have a dragon?"
"Yes, Chief."
"Good. Assign it to guard your coop. Make sure you reward it properly. A bored dragon is worse than a hungry one."
He gave a grateful bow. "Yes, Chief."
He turned and left, muttering praises and complaints in equal measure.
I slumped slightly in my seat.
This is going to be a long day.