Path to Divinity (ASOIAF Gamer SI)

[Alaerin]

Chapter One
Orientation Day​

Waking up to the sound of birds chirping over my stirring body was the first sign that something was terribly wrong. The feeling of cold water under my cheek was the second. I groaned, pulling myself up to my feet unsteadily. My head was pounding, and the shooting pain in my back didn't help my mood. I didn't remember getting shit-faced last night.

Disoriented, I slowly took in the sight of an untamed forest.

Massive trees shot towards the sky, their writhing branches bare of leaves. Pure white snow blanketed the ground in a thick layer, undisturbed save for a faint imprint in the shape of my body.

"Where the hell am I?" I muttered, nursing my head.

I hurriedly patted my clothes down in search of my phone, pausing as I actually looked at what I was wearing.

I looked like I was out of some renaissance fair. A heavy cloak topped with fur partially covered a dark green shirt. The button-less shirt was made of a rough cloth, but seemed warm and sturdy enough. My trousers were made of the same material, tied at the waist with a leather belt. There were no pockets on me, anywhere. A cold wave of panic spread through me. No pockets meant no wallet or phone. Either I was kidnapped or I was in the middle of some seriously fucked up acid trip.

"Okay, seriously, what the hell is going on?"

Ping!

I whirled around at the sound, eyes settling on a blue box hovering in the air.

Welcome, Gamer!
This is an interactive tutorial for THE GAME V1, an experimental gaming platform! You have been chosen as one of the first volunteers for THE GAME and transported to the realm of Planetos for the entertainment of quintillions across the multiverse! Would you like to proceed with the tutorial?

I stared blankly at the text, my mind slowing to a halt.

"What the fuck?" I whispered to myself, slapping myself on the cheek once to make what had to be a hallucination go away. This couldn't be real. Planetos was a fictional fucking place, and Gamer fics were the tool for sad sobs to experience power-trips. When the box didn't go away, I slapped myself again. I began to hyperventilate as it refused to go away, shallow breaths sending clouds of vapor into the air.

Ping!

Detecting mental disturbance. Initiating counter-measures!

The surge of anxiety vanished, clarity replacing it abruptly. If anything, that only made me more anxious as I felt one of the key mechanics of any Gamer system show itself to me.

Detecting mental disturbance. Initiating counter-measures!

"No, sto-" I cried out, the burgeoning stress vanishing yet again. I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly in an attempt to forcibly calm myself.

"Okay, okay," I said, breathing slowly, "Let's say this is real. Let's just pretend I'm not hallucinating or batshit fucking insane. Where the fuck am I?"

The text disappeared, the square box expanding into a roughly rectangular shape. It was a map, I realized slowly, but not of Earth. It showed a very familiar land-mass, an island every Game of Thrones fan would recognize immediately. The map zoomed into the north, narrowing in until it showed a truly massive forest.

"Somewhere in the North then. Where in the North? Am… am I beyond the wall?" I asked horrified.

Processing term 'Beyond the Wall'…
No, you are not.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, so I'm south of the wall. What is the closest settlement to me? And how far is it?"

Processing query…
Closest human settlement to Gamer is called 'Winterfell'. It is two hundred miles to your north-west.

I blinked.

When I'd asked the question, I hadn't really expected a reply. This… was a surprisingly helpful Gamer rig. Most weren't nearly as informative or willing to help out. Most Gamer stories I'd read had a system that wasn't intelligent enough to truly respond to the protagonist's queries or questions. They were mostly just hard-wired with a rudimentary VI capable of answering basic questions about the system. This one seemed more capable?

"Hey, what exactly are you?" I asked.

I am VIRTUOSO, a virtual companion built into all Gamer systems.

"So… like an artificial intelligence? Why would a Gamer system need that?" I said to myself.

Not all Gamers have been dropped into populated worlds. Some find themselves on barren planets, others where local lifeforms are not capable or willing to converse with the Gamer.

That… okay, wow. Planetos was bad, don't get me wrong, but it was a heck of a lot better than being dropped into an empty world.

"That doesn't really answer my question, Virtuoso."

In the event of being inserted into a planet that has the potential to be a dangerously lonely environment for the Gamer, I act as an insanity avoidance companion.

Oh. That got dark really quickly. I shivered, thinking of how easy it would be for someone to go insane even with the whole Gamer Mind thing going on if they found themselves without any friendly company for extended periods of time. Hell, I got antsy if I didn't have access to the internet for a couple of hours. I couldn't even imagine being alone on an unfamiliar planet with absolutely no one to talk to for… what? Years? Till I died? Jesus, okay, I need to not go there. I had enough shit on my plate already.

I took in a deep breath, knowing that the only way out of this situation was to just play along. Pun not intended.

"Okay Virtuoso. Run me through how the system works."

Ping!

The map disappeared, half-a-dozen boxes of text appearing in its place.

THE GAME places you, the Gamer, into a world you're familiar with for the entertainment pleasure of countless people across the multi-verse. From the point you wake up, you live life as if it were a game, with all the perks that come with it.

You have two base skills:
Gamer's Body: All damage inflicted to you is factored in as a loss of 'Hit Points'. No injury, disease or other physical affliction is permanent. Sleeping in a bed heals everything that doesn't have a quest-only cure. You can only die if HP is reduced to 0.
Gamer's Mind: All mental debuffs are detected and healed immediately, excluding quest-only cures. To ensure your time as the Gamer is entertaining, debilitating emotions such as paralyzing fear, shock, and horror are removed.

You start off with the following statistics:

HP: 200/200
MP: 100/100

HP refers to the amount of hit points you have. This is effectively your health. As long as you have even one HP left, you will not die.
MP refers to the amount of magicka points you have. This governs all magic-based skills. Each skill will require a certain amount of MP to function. If you attempt to use a magic skill without the required amount of MP, nothing will happen.

I took all of that in, noting with relief that I had both Gamer's Body and Mind. Those two were perhaps the greatest skills I could ever have. I'd seen some unlucky Gamers without those, and boy, it did not go well for them. I cleared away the existing boxes. "Okay, what else?"

Your physical and mental abilities are governed by seven distinct stats:
STR, referring to strength. DEX, referring to dexterity. END, referring to endurance. INT, referring to intelligence. WIS, referring to wisdom. CHR, referring to charisma. And finally, LUK, referring to luck.

Do you understand what these all entail, or has this iteration of me been stuck with a dumbass?

"What did you just say?"

Oh, so you are a dumbass.

I gaped at it. This really was an artificial intelligence, not just some juiced up Gamer rig with some intelligence. It had a personality, and not a very pleasant one as I was beginning to realize. Just my luck to be stuck with an asshole Gamer system, I should've guessed just by its name. I grumbled, pawing the screen away.

"Yeah, I get it. How much of each do I have?"

Ah, great. This should be interesting then – try not to die too soon.

Current Stats:
STR: 3
DEX: 3
END: 3
INT: 8
WIS: 8
CHR: 7
LUK: 3

That… did not look promising at all. I gulped. These were ridiculously low numbers. I lifted my arm, clenching my fist. I didn't look like a twig and I didn't feel weak, so maybe the system just registered values differently? The baseline could be radically different in this system and these values could be along average lines. I swiped the screen to the side, being careful not to close it.

"How do these numbers compare to the average human here, Virtuoso?"

Processing query… collecting data…
A baseline human in Planetos, leading a perfectly average life, will have a distribution of roughly 5 points across all categories.
I looked at the numbers again with a critical eye.

Yeah, it made sense for the system to register me as more "intelligent" and "wise" than the average human in Planetos. I think just the sheer difference in knowledge basic schooling gave would be enough to justify that. In fact, it was surprising to see the difference be so low. But I supposed there were things they knew about this world that I absolutely didn't. The physical parameters made sense, too. I wasn't fat or anything, but I definitely wasn't used to the rigors of physical labor, nor was I used to living the harsh life much of Westerosi "smallfolk" led. The Charisma was an out-lier, but I chalked it up as a byproduct of my public speaking experience. And the luck…

I sighed.

Yep, that was spot fucking on.

Tapping the screens away, I looked up at the sky, noting that the sun was almost directly over-head. I was no Lewis or Clark, but even I could infer that it was about noon right now.

"Okay Virtuoso. Do I have a mini-map or something? Some kind of fast-travel option?" I asked.

Ping!

A slider appeared on the top edge of my vision, shifting as I moved my head around. As I looked towards the left, a blacked out icon of a fort appeared on it, 'Winterfell' embossed in tiny blue text right below it. Huh. It was no fast travel option but… still really useful. I glanced at it suspiciously. If I woke up tomorrow and found out that this hadn't just been one messy fever dream, I might just make it out alive of Westeros, even with the ice zombies coming our way.

Taking one last look at where I'd woken up, I began the long, long trek towards Winterfell, hoping I could soon find some shelter.

 

[Alaerin]

Chapter 02
Setting Things Straight​

Walking was exhausting.

Each step sent a jolt of pain through my aching legs, each extra minute spent marching felt like it would be the last thing I'd do before I succumbed to my fatigue. I knew I wasn't in shape, but holy shit, I didn't think it would have been this hard. My uncovered face felt like it had frozen over thrice as the winds of the North whipped around me, the cold seeping into my bones despite the – honestly, pretty warm – cloak I was wearing.

The only thing that kept me going after a certain point, and paradoxically drove in just how little I had accomplished, were the occasional updates Virtuoso chimed in with.

I glanced at the hovering box that kept pace with me.

Through repeated effort, you have gained 0.5 END and DEX!

That… was honestly significantly better than what I'd hoped for. Half a point in END and DEX was still more than a 15% increase in both stats. Given that I'd literally just walked and nothing else, it was almost free points.

You have your complete lack of physical conditioning to thank for that. Don't get used to it.

I twitched, annoyance bubbling to the surface.

Virtuoso, for all his helpfulness, was a son of a bitch through and through. Whenever he spoke up of his own initiative, he made sure to get some jabs in. I wasn't sure if I would've preferred a silent companion to him, if I was being honest. On one hand, I would've gotten very bored just trudging through miles of forest. On the other, I wanted to sock it – him? – in the face.

Don't worry, you'll learn to love me.

I ignored the sass, breathing deeply as I leaned against a tree. A sprinkle of snow shook itself free from its branches and fell on my cloak. I groaned, knowing I was going to be a cold, wet mess by the time I found shelter.

"How far is Winterfell now?"

Processing query…
You're still one hundred and ninety miles away.

Ten miles was a fairly decent distance to cover if you thought about how untrained I was, but at this rate I was more than a fortnight away from reaching Winterfell. Plus, I was beginning to feel hunger settle in, and I doubted I had any more than an hour of sunlight left before night settled in. I was not looking forward to trying to survive the night without a fire.

Groaning, I regained my bearings and began my march once again.

xXx​

By the time the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the canopy of trees, I had managed to double-time and cover another few miles, but there was no end to the forest in sight. Not that I'd expected that, if I was being honest. I'd checked the map, and I was somewhere east of the 'Barrowlands', roughly in the middle of White Harbour and Winterfell itself.

I narrowed my eyes, an unkind thought springing in my mind.

"Virtuoso," I began, "When I asked you where the nearest human settlement was, did you… only look for major cities?"

Virtuoso was silent for a moment, the only noise that of my boots hitting the snow. Finally, it spoke up.

I did indeed.

I stopped, palm hitting my face. A tired groan let itself out of my lips.

"Why would you not just direct me to the nearest village or hamlet, like I asked?" I growled.

Now look, I'm not an unreasonable guy, but I had just spent the past seven hours marching through a barren wasteland, dodging thorny branches and ignoring how fucking cold everything was. Despite the emotional stability Gamer's Mind provided, my temper had reached a boiling point. Some asshole had dumped me into Westeros in the middle of nowhere, given no explanation or run-down of why I was chosen, and left me with a shitty, unreliable AI as my only company.

Because those villages have nothing noteworthy to offer. If you are to entertain your viewers-

"What viewers goddamnit!" I roared, fist striking a nearby tree and dislodging little chunks of bark. I hissed in pain, cradling my hand lightly. There was an ugly welt running above my knuckles, a thin line of blood trickling down the wound.

The viewers that your existence now serves. THE GAME is designed for one purpose and one purpose only: providing quality entertainment to sponsors from across the multiverse. I am designed to ensure a speedy progression of "the show". You spending your time in nameless hamlets serves no purpose.

I gestured around, temper rising once again.

"You see this all, Virtuoso? This is fucking Westeros, a fucked up continent full to the brim with a thousand and one plotlines to insert ourselves in. You want a worthwhile story to broadcast across the multiverse? You'll get it."

Then I stilled, fists clenching despite the pulsating pain.

"But let's get one thing straight," I said lowly, "If you ever deliberately mislead me again, I will make sure this little show of yours becomes the single most boring piece of crap series to ever be produced."

I breathed heavily, Virtuoso saying nothing as it processed my words.

I was exhausted of trekking through miles of bumfuck nowhere, livid at the gall the AI had to intentionally fuck with me, and unbalanced from how abruptly my life had been upended. My life was not a goddamn TV show to be watched by nameless, faceless sponsors at their pleasure.

If they thought they could control me like this, manipulate me into going along with their story, they had another thing coming. I'd been given perhaps the most broken tool in fiction, a platform designed for the explicit purpose of creating Mary Sues. No, I was going to take full fucking advantage of what I had. Screw Virtuoso, screw its sponsors, and screw anyone who thought otherwise.

"Hey Virtuoso," I spoke up, taking its silence as acceptance of my words, "How does magic work? Is it constrained to my setting, or what?"

Ping!

A sudden influx of information slammed into my mind, filling me in on the fundamentals of the magic system. I took a shaky step forward, clutching my head as I assimilated the knowledge. When it was done, I took a deep breath, chuckling as I realized this was Virtuoso's petty way of replying to my threat. I was okay with him being an ass as long as he knew who was in charge here.

The magic system wasn't limited to the setting I'd found myself in at all, which was great. The not so great aspect of it was that more advanced applications of the 'magicka' (which, in truth, was a really broad category of 'mental' powers) required an understanding of magic that I simply didn't have. I suspected that increases to WIS and INT would help me there, but that was a long while away.

Through figuring out an aspect of the magic system, you have gained 0.5 WIS!

I blinked. That… was actually quite convenient. Hm. A peace offering by the system? Was Virtuoso even capable of taking such decisions on his own, or was he just a fluff character, unable to influence my progress? I could just be overthinking his role in this all.

Whatever the truth was, he wasn't saying.

I snorted. So be it.

Focusing on the magicka I could feel curled inside of me, I attempted to draw it out, coaxing it to manifest in the way I wanted. Slowly but surely, a faint golden sheen covered my injured hand, a corresponding decrease in something occurring. I assumed that was the amount of magicka I had left. After a second, the glow dissipated.

I frowned, focusing on the reduced pool of MP again. Again, I pulled on it slowly, this time with a clearer idea of how I wanted to direct it. The glow appeared again, coating my hand like a cloud of golden mist. Almost torturously slowly, the welt began to disappear centimeter by centimeter.

I let go of the energy, letting it refill. Breathing lightly, I waited till I could feel the tiny pool become full again.

"Heal," I intoned, focusing my energy on the injury, although I doubted it could be called that now. This time, my magicka jumped to obey, my hand glowing brightly. The cut sealed almost immediately, skin reknitting itself until even the faint white scar you'd expect to stay for a few days disappeared.

I whooped in joy, opening and closing my healed hand painlessly.

Through continuous application of magicka, you have developed a new skill!

Lesser Healing LV1 EXP: 30%
By focusing your intent, your magicka's restorative abilities manifest in a shroud of healing light and allow you to quickly heal minor injuries and diseases, be it yours or others. Restores 20 HP as a one-time application, with an additional 20 HP healed every minute.

Costs 50 MP to activate.
Continuous application costs 40 MP per minute.

I took in the information, still giddy over the fact that I could motherfucking use magic. The specifics of the skill meant that I could, at maximum, keep it up for one minute after application. Given that I had a total of 200 HP, I could go from near-death to fully healed in five minutes if I continuously applied the skill. Wait, could I spam activate? I could do it twice and get 40 HP in basically an instant, but what did my MP regeneration look like?

"Virtuoso, how quickly does my MP regenerate?" I asked.

12.5 MP added per INT
10 MP regenerated per minute per WIS
8.5 WIS equals 85 MP regenerated per minute

"Okay, now break down my HP for me."

Baseline 200 HP
Each level up adds 100 HP
20 HP added per END
5 HP regenerated per minute per END
3.5 END equals 17.5 HP regenerated per minute

"Huh," I hummed, mentally calculating what it meant.

I won't bore you with the number crunching, but given passive HP regeneration and the skill's current level, I would be able to regenerate almost half of my total health in slightly over a minute. If the EXP bar next to the skill name was any indicator, I could expect it to improve steadily. By the time I fully levelled up the skill – and I wasn't sure if there was a cap – I would likely be able to heal myself in almost no time. I just needed to make sure not to get hit all at once, because the skill did need a certain amount of focus.

Looking around, I realized that I'd been standing in one spot for an extended period of time. There was no source of light save for sparse moonlight falling through branches, casting the woods in an eerie glow.

"Virtuoso," I called out to it, shivering slightly as the cold settled upon me harshly, "I need you to find me the nearest village, settlement, camp, I don't care what you want to call it. Point me in its direction."

Processing query… collecting data…
Hamlet found 5 miles east. Adding location marker to the navigation bar.

The bar at the top of my vision lit up with a blacked out icon of a hut-like building. Nodding in silent thanks, I began working my way back towards civilization.

 

[Alaerin]

Chapter 03
Tango With Wolves​

Misfortune struck when I was only half a mile away from the village.

Night had set in fully and the moonlight barely penetrated through the canopy of trees. At that point, I was half stumbling through the woods, tired from having alternated between jogging and briskly marching towards my destination. For my troubles, I'd gained an extra half-point in END and DEX both, rounding them up to an even 4.

For all I knew, the village could be entirely abandoned – Virtuoso hadn't exactly proven to be reliable up till now.

That said, between braving the winter chill in the open and choosing to find shelter in an abandoned hut, I knew what I was choosing. This way, at the very least, I would have a roof over my head and some protection from the animals that no doubt called these forests home.

Unfortunately for me, my words proved to be prophetic.

The moment I entered a tiny clearing of sorts, I saw something move in my peripheral. A dark shape, almost formless, ran parallel to me a scant few metres towards my right. The trees hid most of it, and there wasn't enough light to make out exactly what it was, but it didn't take a genius to determine that it was likely not friendly.

A bear, perhaps?

The crunch of twigs and low growls to my left disproved that assumption.

I won't lie to you; I froze at the sound. It took a moment for Gamer's Mind to kick in, breaking me from my fear-induced reverie. The twin shapes prowled around me lazily, still too far away for me to make out clearly, but between there being two of them and the growling, I was pretty sure I was caught in the middle of two very hungry wolves.

As if to prove me right, one of them slowly, almost ponderously, stepped into the clearing.

Silver fur bristled under the dull moonlight, powerful muscles flexing as it circled around me. This close, I learnt to appreciate just how massive a wolf truly was. From its bared maw to its stiff tail, it was almost twice as big as any dog I'd ever owned. A twinge of pain at the reminder of what I'd lost was brushed away hurriedly, clarity settling upon me forcefully as I realised exactly how screwed I was if I didn't pull something out of my ass.

From my right, the other wolf padded into the clearing, moving in the opposite direction from its twin.

Ping!

A quest has been created!

Playtime's Over

This far from civilisation, these woods are infested with animals that consider humans prey. The wolves before you seek to make you their meal for the next few nights. Survive.

Completion Reward: 2,000 EXP, Skill Book 'Howl'
Bonus Reward: 1,000 EXP per wolf killed, item ?
Failure: Death

My eyes flickered towards the quest alert, skimming over the text quickly. I didn't even have time to consider the rewards, a sharp breath escaping my lungs as I read the last line. Okay. No pressure then. I'll just die here if I don't manage to run.

Slowly, steadily, the distance between us began to thin, the wolves moving in a roughly circular path.

If I attacked one, the other would take the opportunity to pounce on me. At that point, no amount of spamming healing magic would save me from being ripped to shreds. I breathed deeply, careful not to tense my muscles in case the wolves took that as provocation and decided to move up the timetable.

In the time I'd been jogging, I'd continuously practiced Lesser Healing, activating it and holding it not for the sake of restoring my HP, or even really just to grind, but because I wanted a better grip on how my magicka felt and flowed. The skill had only developed when I had a firm idea of how I wanted to channel my powers, and while I doubted I was proficient enough to create a skill on first try…

I exhaled, warm breath leaving my lips in a cloud of vapour.

I drew on my magicka as much I could, guiding it inwards rather than outwards. Warmth enveloped my body as I cycled the energy through my muscles, particularly towards my arms and legs. My MP dipped sharply, going down to almost nothing in an instant. I let go, the magicka receding from my muscles without the exhaustion I'd felt but a moment ago.

As if sensing what I was doing, the wolves began to growl, tensing on their haunches.

I ignored it, keeping my eyes steady on the one to my right. When my magicka filled back up, I cycled the energy yet again, this time condensing it in my muscles rather than simply letting it flow naturally. I stood straighter at once, feeling the energy settle within me, strengthening my body dramatically.

Through continuous application of magicka, you have developed a new skill!

Reinforcement LV1 EXP: 10%

By focusing your intent, your magicka coils within you, strengthening muscle and bone alike. All physical parameters are increased to 250% of base value. Using more magicka improves effectiveness of skill, increasing all physical parameters up to 300%. Effective use of the skill over a longer period of time requires higher END.

Costs 80 MP to activate.
Continuous application costs 80 MP per minute.

Without waiting another second, I launched myself at the wolf in front of me. The speed by which I reached it surprised even me, but I suppose it shouldn't have. I had 4 DEX at the time the buff applied, which meant that I was effectively twice as fast as the average untrained human. It was nothing supernatural, but still pretty freaking good.

The wolf was evidently caught off guard too, yelping as I slammed into it like a human missile. My fist struck it on the snout, snapping its head back. Before it had the chance to wrap its jaws around me, I lashed out with my leg when it was dazed. The weight of my kick landed squarely on its hind leg's ankle. It didn't exactly break it in half, not that I was expecting it to, but the force and angle at which it hit would have definitely hurt it.

I winced as I heard the howl of pain.

Without missing a beat, I twisted on my feet to face the other wolf, hurriedly throwing myself to the left to dodge its furious pounce. Its teeth snapped shut, closing around nothing but air. Had I been even a second late, I would have been crushed between its massive jaw.

But I wasn't late, I was just on time.

Using the beast's momentary disorientation to my advantage, I pulled further on my magicka, weaving it into my legs and condensing it even more until I had nothing more to give. I snapped a kick towards its muzzle. It turned to face me just in time, jaw opening wide. Yellow teeth met my heavily reinforced leg and lost the bout almost immediately. A sickening crack echoed through the clearing as its teeth were snapped off of their roots, a hail of enamel falling onto the ground.

The wolf yowled and slinked back, blood dripping onto the snow and staining it crimson.

Some distant part of me noted that I was somehow fighting two goddamned wolves at once. If there was any part of me that had doubted the sheer brokenness of being the Gamer, it certainly didn't anymore.

I had maybe twenty seconds and no real MP left in the tank after the little trick I'd used to buff up my kick's power even more. Even if one of the wolves had retreated, I was certain it would return soon if its partner wasn't taken care of. I had no illusions about my ability to fend off a wolf, much less two, if I wasn't using Reinforcement. If I wanted to live to see tomorrow, I'd have to act now.

Once again, I launched off the ground, soaring through the air under the power granted to me by Reinforcement. Within an instant, I was over the first wolf, who bared its teeth at me, ready to fight despite the limp in its hind leg.

This time, I miscalculated my jump. Its jaw wrapped around my leg, teeth tearing through the trouser and sinking into my flesh.

I gritted my teeth, the high of Reinforcement and the adrenaline coursing through my body the only thing that kept me from screaming out in pain. With a thought, I redirected all of the magicka reinforcing my body into my right arm, hissing as I felt muscles tear and bones creak as they struggled to contain the power flooding into them. I yelled, bringing my fist down onto the top of the wolf's head, releasing the energy into the strike.

The beast's jaw slackened immediately, and it stumbled backwards slowly. It swayed drunkenly for a moment, and through the haze of pain, I thought I would have to duke it out once again. With one last shaky movement, the wolf fell to the ground, unmoving. Its partner was nowhere to be seen.

I dropped to the ground, breathing heavily.

The last of Reinforcement's energy bled out of my body, the accumulated aches and pains of forcing myself to fight at a level I truly wasn't used to operating at hitting me all at once. I looked around warily, cradling my leg and pressing onto the wound in an attempt to stem the blood flow. I grimaced. Until my magicka returned to me, I wouldn't be able to heal my leg. If the other wolf decided to return, I'd be its dinner for the night.

A few moments passed, then a few minutes as I kept a lookout. In the meantime, my body lighting with the glow of Lesser Healing as I cycled my energy through my bruised and battered muscles, focusing especially on my wounded leg. It took significantly longer for the wound to heal, and it left a scar that wouldn't go away even when I attempted to heal it.

The wolf didn't return, my only companion the sound of the wind.

I sighed in relief. As incredible as the feeling of fighting two wolves at once was, I had no desire to test my luck again, especially if the beast decided to return with friends. Before my eyes, the fallen wolf dissolved into a fine mist, floating upwards into the air.

Ping!

Quest 'Playtime's Over' complete!

You have gained 2,000 EXP. Skill Book 'Howl' has been added to inventory.
For completing a bonus objective, you have gained 1,000 EXP. Item 'Skall's Fang' has been added to inventory.

Your level has increased by one! Your level has increased by one! Your level has increased by one! Your level has increased by one! Your level has increased by one!

I blinked, that was a lot of levels, but I suppose I was so low ranked completing such a simple mission was enough to boost myself up significantly.

I didn't even know I had an inventory up until now. Huh. I must have forgotten to check in my hurry to get to shelter. Speaking of…

I picked myself up from the ground, facing the direction of the village again. It had to be fairly close by now. Even factoring in the little detour that I'd just taken, I was only half a mile away from my destination last I'd checked. I flexed my leg once to see if it still ached, nodding when it didn't. As I walked, I perused through the quest alert again, calling out to Virtuoso to access my inventory.

"Virtuoso, bring up my inventory and break its functions down while you're at it."

Your inventory is the equivalent of hammerspace. It has effectively unlimited storage with no real cap on the size dimensions of what can be stored, save for what you cannot lift. Perishable items, organic matter and living beings will be preserved as if in stasis. Living beings need to be willing passengers or defeated in battle before they can be inventoried. Living beings will not perceive the passage of time while inside your inventory.

Holy shit. That level of freedom was all kinds of broken. I could think of half-a-dozen ways to abuse each function to its fullest. With enough strength, I could lift virtually anything, which meant that eventually, I could inventory virtually anything. Hell, forget that. The fact that I could preserve living beings in my inventory was game breaking. I'd have to think about this more when I had the chance. For now…

I looked at the quest item first, bringing up its menu.

Skall's Fang
Unique Item. A string pendant with an unnaturally long wolf fang set into it. Grants Gamer a penchant for befriending all canines.
Boosts baseline relationship with all Northerners who follow the Old Gods.

It was pretty much what the description said: a string pendant of a wolf fang. It was slightly over half-a-foot in length, maybe eight inches? That… definitely didn't come out of the wolf I just killed. Holy shit. This was at-least thrice as long as any tooth in that wolf's jaw, and what was up with the name? Who was Skall?

Shoving the thought aside, I equipped the pendant, cool enamel settling on top of my tunic. I brought up the skill-book I'd gotten and quickly pressed 'Yes' on the absorb button, eager to see what I'd gotten.

As I did, the book broke down in motes of golden light which proceeded to rush into my body.

My mind expanded, there was no better way to describe it. Within the span of seconds, I learnt the fundamentals of the theory behind the skill and how to manipulate the magicka in an appropriate manner. When the inflow of knowledge stopped, I breathed deeply, shuddering the slightest bit.

Howl LV1 EXP: 0%

Skall, the Wolf God of Old, began each of his battles with a furious howl, a tempest of sound that cleaved the air in half and shattered the spirits of his enemies. By fighting against his descendants, you have gained an understanding of the use of their diminished inheritance. Through infusing your voice with magicka, you can howl at your enemies with bestial fury, lowering the morale of opponents in hearing range.

Lower ranked enemies will be encouraged to surrender. Enemies equal in rank will have their spirits sapped. Enemies greater in rank will be able to shrug its effects off.

Costs 150 MP to activate

That was incredibly useful, except for one glaring little issue. Even if I was fully rested, I wouldn't have 150 MP to spare.

Except, hadn't I just gained five levels? That usually gave points to spend for various stats. I brought up the main menu, and sure enough, I had 25 points to spend. I whistled. Each level gave 5 points then. Considering the fact that 5 points was all an average person in Westeros had for each stat, this was quite the haul.

I thought about each stat for a moment.

If the recent fight had shown anything, my physical attributes were all painfully weak. To all the Westerosi that truly mattered, I would be a nameless, landless, lowborn unworthy of kissing their boots. That was not the life I envisioned for myself. The easiest way to make a name for myself and rise above the faceless masses was to be a physical juggernaut. I couldn't rely on Reinforcement as I'd just seen. In any extended brawl, it would be next to useless, especially with the exhaustion it caused after it was cancelled.

That said, I couldn't ignore my other parameters either. The only attribute I was comfortable leaving alone was charisma, and that too because it was already higher than the average. I needed higher MP regen if I wanted to use magic effectively, but I also needed more magicka. Period. If a skill like Howl was already beyond my reach, I didn't even want to think about the cost requirements for more advanced techniques.

With that in mind, I dumped seven points into STR and INT, four in END and DEX, and two in WIS.

I fell to my knees immediately, a low groan escaping my lips as the changes settled in. Before my eyes, my muscles began to fill out, my body stretching and expanding in grotesque ways to accommodate the extra mass. I grew taller by several inches, too, hissing as the growing pains slowly disappeared. My shirt and trousers grew significantly tighter on my body, pressing against my new physique so much so that it was actually uncomfortable. I'd have to get a change of clothes soon. At-least the cloak was still sized appropriately.

It wasn't just physical changes, either.

I felt my mind grow sharper, my thought process refining itself. If I tried, I could recall older memories with significantly greater clarity. It felt unnatural to look back on so many problems that had plagued me in my life and find the obvious answers I'd missed out on. It was unnatural. All of this was. I was The Gamer. Growing abnormally was kind of in the job description.

I had one point left when I was done adapting to the changes. Without a second thought, I put it into luck. I wasn't sure how that attribute would play with the world, but being objectively unlucky didn't make me comfortable knowing all the messed up shit that happened to people in the regular in this world.

That brought up my stats to a respectable level:

STR: 10
DEX: 8
END: 8
INT: 15
WIS: 10
CHR: 7
LUK: 4

I wasn't sure what sort of stats trained fighters would have, or what a 'peak human' looked like in this universe, but if my growth was anywhere near as meteoric as this, I'd be one broken ass Gamer in a world like Planetos.

I didn't know how easy it would be for me to progress later on, but I imagined this would be the last time I'd be getting such a big haul from a pretty minor quest. If my guess was right, the relative difficulty in achieving objectives would have a big part to play in determining how much experience I got, and thus how frequently I levelled up.

But for now, I was more than content. My physical stats alone were nothing to scoff at even without Reinforcement. With it, I was pretty sure I could go toe-to-toe with a brown bear and come out on top if I did Reinforce myself. Y'know, the bear that literally had grizzly in its name. Okay, I had no plans of testing that, but I had to admit the thought of it was pretty fucking cool.

I hadn't put in as many points into WIS as I had INT, because regeneration didn't mean much if higher skills were locked out because I simply didn't have enough MP. With my new stats, I could comfortably spend 180 MP before I needed to wait for my magicka to regenerate. At a hundred MP regenerated per minute, I wouldn't exactly be sweating anytime soon.

Adjusting my clothes so they fit as well as they could have given the circumstances, I wrapped my cloak around me and began the final leg of the journey to shelter.

xXx​

AN: All 3 existing chapters have been posted here. More to follow if there's enough interest on this site.

 

[Alaerin]

Chapter 04
Volsung​

I was in high spirits when I reached my destination.

Ignoring the fact that this had been my first brush with death, I'd been cornered by two hungry wolves and won. In fact, not only had I won, I'd come out considerably stronger from it. I wasn't sure how the Game quantified my stats versus others, but if the average was any guideline, I was already substantially better off than the untrained masses. Plus, it had only taken one fight to get there!

Unfortunately, training didn't seem to be very effective at raising my stats.

A day's worth of marching through the forests yielded only one point of END and DEX, which, while still mind-boggling for any non-Gamer character, was pretty shitty if you compared it to other rigs. At-least the skills levelled up decently. I'd been practicing reinforcement throughout the final leg of the journey, cycling the energy through my body almost continuously, letting the skill up when I reached almost a minute.

This way, I was not only improving my body's response to being Reinforced, but consistently grinding the skill. By the time I crossed the boundary of the woods, I had levelled the skill up five times. I imagined I could have done better, but it wasn't like I was actively using the skill anyway. Already, the cost to activate the skill had down to 70 MP.

Between Lesser Healing, Reinforcement and my recently increased physical parameters, I was pretty confident I could come out of a potential confrontation on top.

That being said…

I looked at my bare hands, clenching them into a fist.

The fact of the matter was, battles in Westeros weren't truly settled on the basis of greater strength. No. The vast majority of them came down to combat experience, skill and, let's be real here, who had the better equipment. Sure, if you gave a random peasant Dawn and pitted him against Arthur Dayne he'd lose. But if you put an objectively inferior knight in steel plate and gave him a good sword, eight out of ten times he'd likely win against his better if the poor sod had shittier armor.

I could bridge the gap with overwhelming physical strength and speed, eventually, but till then I would need to be careful around better equipped opponents.

Conversely, if I could level up a few more times and dump those points purely in DEX – which may not have been the optimal way to go about things, but felt safer, somehow – I'd probably just plain out speed my opponents. One on one, anyway. In group settings, I'd need more END and a good weapon to make my strikes count.

It was with these thoughts that I made my way to what looked to be the center of activity in the hamlet.

Hamlet may not even have been the appropriate term to describe it in all honesty.

It was a fairly sized settlement, hosting maybe a hundred houses. The houses themselves were nothing special, mostly wood and thatch, but they were well maintained. I even saw some stone work done for houses closer to the center. A 'road' meandered its way through roughly the middle of the settlement, splitting it into half. Every now and then, a brazier burnt brightly.

The road itself wasn't exactly paved, but the ground had been evened out well enough. The snow was considerably lighter on the road itself, which meant whoever was running the village was doing a decent job of maintaining transportation.

"Virtuoso," I said under my breath, "Is there a way to communicate with you without speaking audibly?"

I've been speaking to you mentally since the beginning, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you haven't caught on. Just direct your thoughts at me.

Well, that was convenient. What time is it right now?

By conventions you are familiar with, it is almost 9 PM.

Oh.

That explained the near complete absence of people out and about on the streets. The only living soul I had spotted so far was a drunkard stumbling towards what was presumably his house. I suppose I should have expected that. Northern nights were ridiculously cold, and it wasn't as if they had a reason to be outside their homes right now.

The lack of any guards was suspicious, but maybe this town just didn't see much trouble?

Towards the center of the settlement was a set of buildings larger and more well-built than the rest. Rather than simple wood, they'd had considerable stone-work put in. The roof was solid wood instead of simple thatch. One of them had a couple of men standing outside it, each with a tankard in their hands.

I walked over there. This was likely the village's tavern, and I could think of no place better to get a room for the night. I… didn't have money, exactly, but I figured I could offer to work as a helping hand in exchange for a room.

Hell, I could always beg. I wasn't too proud to do that just yet.

One of the men stepped back as I came into view, craning his head up to look at me. I'd been over six feet when I had come to Planetos, and with the recent buff to my physical stats, I'd likely grown at-least another few inches.

I wouldn't be surprised if I was standing at a solid 6'4" by now. Given that I'd found myself in a medieval world where the common diet was, in all likelihood, pretty insufficient and unnourishing, the average height around these parts couldn't have been more than 5'8" or 5'9". Compared to that, I was practically a giant already. I wondered how the average person saw someone like Gregor then. That man would have been huge standing next to even me.

My musing was interrupted by the two men standing up warily to look at me. They were clearly reluctant to engage me in conversation, so I made the effort to reach out.

"Good evening," I greeted them, making sure to keep myself from slouching.

They startled at the sound of my voice, looking at each other for a brief moment. The one on the left, a brown haired man with a scar on his lip, bowed his head towards me.

"Evenin' uh, ser?" He said, not quite looking me in the eyes.

I raised my eyebrows fractionally.
Did they think I was a Knight? Looking at their clothes, I realized that despite how undersized they were for a man of my size, they were still of substantially better quality than what either of the two in front of me wore. My shirt and trousers were finely woven, the stitching nearly seamless. On the other hand, their clothes were spun from some rough cloth, and the sewing was clearly visible even from a distance.

Hm. Maybe I could use this to my advantage.

I inclined my head at him and his partner, who was standing somewhat to the side now, not quite alert but shifting foot to foot.

They both were nervous for some reason. I hadn't acted hostile, so it likely wasn't because of me. Were even unlanded knights so cruel to the peasantry that they felt the need to be this wary? I didn't think the North had knights, but we were not that far away from White Harbour, so I suppose it wasn't unthinkable that some – or stories of them, at any rate – eventually made their way up here.

Through continuous observation and careful application of logic, you have gained 1 INT!

Well, that answered that. Part of me was surprised at the one-point increase, but happy all the same that I'd gotten a boost to my MP. It was possible that training could yield rewards that were worth the effort and I was just not doing the right things. Running through a forest had limited utility, after all. I could try to lift weights? Something to consider at a later time.

"I'm looking for a place to stay for the night," I answered him after a moment, letting him stew in his own thoughts for a moment, "Would you happen to know where I can find a room?"

"Oh, uh, yes, of course, follow me," He said, nodding vigorously. "Ser," He added hastily, eyes flickering to his friend.

I motioned towards him to continue, my face remaining carefully blank at his "slip" of tongue.

He led me inside the tavern, a well-built establishment with a fire blazing merrily in the center. That was a fire hazard if I ever saw one, but I suppose with the North's cold, it was necessary. At-least the floor was made of stone.

Wooden tables, stools and chairs were littered through the main hall. Many of them were in use despite the time of night. A squad of guards sat nearest to the fire, each wearing an orange tabard with what looked like a moose set into it. From this distance, I couldn't exactly tell, but it was an antlered animal at any rate.

A barkeep stood over a sturdy looking counter set into the corner of the room, glasses and bottles of wine placed on shelves behind him. Next to him were a series of doors, which I assumed led to individual lodgings. A spiral staircase near the end of the room went both upstairs and downstairs. I raised my eyebrows. This was a pretty spacious tavern for a village this size. They must have had many patrons if they could afford a place like this. Everyone liked drinking, I supposed.

As I walked by their table, the guards looked at each other. All conversations halted with my passage. I frowned but said nothing. It was likely just locals trying to figure out what a stranger was doing in their part of town. I didn't exactly fit in. With my height and relative bulk, I towered over all other patrons.

The barkeep set down the mug he was cleaning slowly, placing his hands on the counter as he looked at me warily.

"Evening, ser," He said, dipping his head minutely.

"Good evening," I returned the greeting with another incline of my head, stepping towards the counter. "I'm looking for a room to stay for the night."

The barkeep made a quiet "ah" of understanding, nodding his head at another, likely wealthy patron. He slipped through a small space in the counter until he was standing right in front of me.

"Then you've come to the right place, ser," He motioned towards the row of rooms behind him. "We have a few rooms free, don't get many travelers in these parts anymore." The last bit was said a bit bitterly. The barkeep was definitely a professional, though, and he quickly changed his tone.

"A room is a stag a night. Will you be staying long, ser?" He asked, careful to mask his natural curiosity as simple courtesy. Man, people in Westeros were walking around me on egg-shells based simply on the assumption that I was a Knight. It was better to be safe than sorry, I guessed. I shook my head slightly. I needed to convince him that I deserved the room, which wasn't exactly easy given that I couldn't pay. Hm, maybe I could…

Ping!

A quest has been created!

The Art of Deception

You have no money, no valuable possessions, and no connections in this town, but you do need a place to stay. Use trickery or other means to gain accommodation for the night.

Completion Reward: 2,000 EXP
Bonus Reward: 1,000 EXP for each extra night's stay you can afford

"I'm afraid not," I said, "I'm on my way to Winterfell, you see. I lost my horse to a bandit attack a few days prior, and I've been on foot since."

The barkeep's eyes widened.

"A bandit attack? They don't usually come this close to the village," He said, the second part said partially to himself. I understood his concerns. If a bandit group was daring enough to attack a 'knight', they would have no qualms attacking travelling peasants. If they struck close enough, this village could be in a tough spot when it came to supplies and the like.

I nodded, spinning the story further.

"I dealt with the majority of them, but unfortunately, they ran off with my horse and sword. I thought of pursuing them, but its unlikely I would have caught up."

Someone snorted behind me, clearly not believing my story. In fairness, I wouldn't have either. No matter my size, holding off a bandit attack on my own with no armor on me would have been unlikely to say the least. I turned around and found one of the guards looking my way. He was smirking the slightest bit, clearly sharing a chuckle with his companions. Something clicked in my head as I saw the sheer number of empty tankards on their table. This… could work.

Without another glance to the barkeeper, I strode over to the guard's table. From the corner of my eye, I spotted the two men who had led me into the tavern looking at each other in alarm. Smiling, I dragged a stool from under the table and sat down on it, steadily keeping my gaze locked with the man who had laughed at my story.

"Is something the matter?" I asked, infusing my voice with a tiny amount of magicka. My words came out as a deep rumble, conversations around us falling silent once more as more and more people became aware of trouble brewing right around the corner.

The man broke eye contact, and then flushed at his own inability to meet my gaze.
"Jus' find your little story funny, that's all," He slurred his words, the copious amounts of alcohol he had likely consumed by now doing its level best to lower his guard.

"Oh?" I asked lightly, almost casually. "Which part?" Hook.

The man leaned forward until I could smell his breath, the scent of wine and cheese wafting upwards. I crinkled my nose in disgust.

"The part where a man like ya loses his horse an' sword," He said, ignoring his friends' silent warnings to shut up.

"You think you would've fared better?" I asked, amused at how confident the man was.

"Me? Reckon I wouldn't have lost me sword," He laughed at his own joke, pointing downwards to his crotch.

I smiled, ignoring the fact that one of his friend's had placed his hand on the man's chest in an attempt to get him to shut up. At-least some of them had a basic sense of self-preservation. This was working even better than I'd hoped.

"Mmm," I hummed, placing my arm on top of the table, "You want to bet?" Line.

He nodded slowly, lazily.

"Alright," I agreed with a chuckle, "Okay. You and me, right now. Let's wrestle. If I win, I give you whatever's on me right now. If you win, you give me whatever's on you."

His friend, the one that had tried to stop him before, cleared his throat then, trying one last time to stop his friend from doing something stupid. "Arnolf," He said in a low voice, "Jus' let it go man, ya can't afford to bet much of anythin' right now. Look at him, he's fuckin' massive."

Arnolf sneered, looking me up and down.

"I ain't afraid'a him," He slurred, pounding the table with his fist as he swayed drunkenly to his feet. Sinker.

I followed, standing up slowly and extending to my full height. Arnolf stepped back, craning his head upwards as some distant part of him registered exactly how out-classed he was. A tiny spark of self-awareness bloomed in his eyes, and died the next moment. Pride and alcohol was a terrible combination, but in this case, it was working exactly in my favor. I was pretty sure I didn't even need the help of Reinforcement to win this.

"Ready?" I asked lightly, knuckles tightening.

"What are ya waitin' for then, come at me," He spat, a spray of spittle escaping his mouth and falling on the ground.

Without giving him an extra second of preparation time, I launched myself towards him, fist slamming into his temples solidly. Drunk as he was, he barely had the chance to react. Even without Reinforcement buffing my stats, the speed and weight with which my punch connected with his body sent him sprawling to the ground. He groaned miserably, trying to stand up. All he managed to do was roll onto his back, his face reddening as he looked up at me.

Well. That was anticlimactic.

The bar was silent, all of its occupants looking at the fallen guard with faint horror. I crouched, my hands fishing in his trousers pocket. Out came four silver coins, a stag stamped on each of them. That by itself was worth three nights of accommodation. I frowned as I realized that the quest hadn't given me its reward yet. Huh. Maybe it was expecting me to take it further.

I looked up, taking in the sight of three guards who stood nearby, hands on their weapons. Ah.

"Tell you what," I began, straightening once again as I placed the silver coins on the table. One of them narrowed his eyes questioningly.

"Your friend got a bit drunk, he started a fight he couldn't win. Now, I'm willing to forgive that," I said, meeting each of their gazes in an attempt to trick them into thinking that I was some sort of nobility. "In fact, I'll even let you recover his losses. All you have to do is wrestle me and win."

None of them took me up on the offer, each of them staying where they were.

"Hm. Okay, okay," I smiled widely, "How about all three of you take me on at once? How does that sound? You can split my possessions between yourselves," I offered.

Internally, I was praying they didn't ask me to empty my nonexistent pockets. The gig would be up if even one of them called my bluff.

They looked at each other uncertainly, eyes flickering to their friend's fallen form and then towards my massive frame. The one who had tried to help Arnolf, clearly bolder than his companions, nodded. These were good odds for any fight. Well, any fight that didn't include me. The other two were emboldened by this, nodding at me as well.

"Ready?" I asked again. This time, I pulled on my magicka to reinforce my body. As quickly as I'd taken Arnolf out of the fight, he was drunk, unprepared, and just one man. If I wanted to wrestle with three men at once, I'd have to Reinforce myself. The energy coursed through my limbs, strengthening my physical stats to thrice their original value at once. I winced, flexing my muscles as I got used to the heaviness within my body.

They didn't wait for me to strike, instead opting to rush me at once. Any untrained person would have been overwhelmed by the different angles of attack they chose. To my eyes, they couldn't have moved more slowly. You have to remember, with Reinforcement cranked all the way up, I had nearly five times the DEX of an average Westerosi and six times the STR.

I moved, weaving around a blow that would've connected solidly with my chest. I lashed out, remembering to pull back my strength. I didn't want to kill anyone, I just wanted to complete the quest, get my EXP and enough money to stay a few nights. My fist struck the first guard's chest, throwing him back onto the table. Keeping the momentum up, I turned, swinging straight into the second guard's side, releasing some of the magicka in me to increase the power of my blow.

As he dropped to the floor and heaved, I ducked under a punch aimed at my head and slammed into the last man standing. The man almost flew backwards, landing in a heap near his friend. Without missing a beat, I slapped the first guard with my backhand as he moved to stand up. Within the span of a few heartbeats, each of the guards lay on the floor, groaning in pain.

Had they not been drunk, had they been using their weapons, had I not been the Gamer, maybe this would have ended differently.

But it didn't. In the end, they had lost, and I had won.

The first to recover was Arnolf's friend, who slowly rose to his feet, leaning against a nearby table to balance himself. For a moment, the bar's occupants looked between us, unsure of whether they wanted to intervene.

"Gods," He wheezed, "You hit like a bull."

And just like that, the tension disappeared. He began to laugh loudly, clutching his chest as he did so. I found myself joining in, having enjoyed the experience of fighting, too. The other patrons, who up until this point had been preparing to hide or intervene, chuckled along too. Even the barkeep had a small quirk to his lips, his amusement evident even from a distance.

This was the best of Northern culture, I thought to myself. No other Kingdom in Westeros had a people so willing to brawl over the smallest of things while readily befriending them once the fight was over. To them, fighting for your pride was entirely justified, and if you won through the strength of your arm, honorably? Well, that was to be admired.

My skill as a warrior, as a man, had been questioned, and I'd issued a challenge in return. I had won that challenge. I had wagered they would act this way, and I'd been proven right. Some part of me realized that I wouldn't have been able to plan this out were it not for the substantial amount of points I'd dumped into INT.

Knowing that I wouldn't have to fight anymore, I let go of the Reinforcement, exhaling sharply as aches slammed into my body yet again.

Ping!

Quest 'The Art of Deception' complete!

You have gained 2,000 EXP.
For completing a bonus objective ( ), you have gained 3,000 EXP.

Your level has increased by one! Your level has increased by one! Your level has increased by one! Your level has increased by one!

Oh, wow. That was a lot of level ups still. I supposed it made sense. I'd gained two thousand more EXP, and gotten one less level up. I didn't exactly have the mental math skills to do the calculations necessary to figure out how much EXP I needed to level up again, but I could always ask Virtuoso later. For now, I was just glad I had secured not only a place to stay, but also received another 20 points to dump into stats. I'd sit down later in the night and figure out what I wanted to buff up now that I knew my physical parameters were in a good spot, relatively speaking. I could always just put even more in STR/DEX/END, but... hm. This required more consideration. I didn't want to be hasty about spending points now that I was not in immediate danger.

The man picked up the coins from the table and walked over to me unsteadily, depositing it in my hand.

4 Silver Stags added to inventory!

For a second, he said nothing. Then, he reached out with his hand.

"Name's Rollo," He introduced himself gruffly.

I stood there for a moment, taking in his flushed expression. Before I could injure his pride, I clasped his forearm firmly, pulling him closer till we were but a hand's breadth away.

I smiled, a wild expression that was a testament to exactly how much I had enjoyed the little spar too. Sure, things would've been different if the three men had been serious about hurting me and actually used their weapons – or, y'know, not been shit-faced – but there was something to be said about bonding through the strength of one's fists.

"Yer no knight, are ya?" Rollo asked, eyes glinting with a sharpness of mind even through the haze of alcohol-induced confusion. I chuckled, a deep sound that echoed through the hall. For a moment, I looked at him in the eyes, waiting to see if he broke eye contact. He didn't, staring right at me. Good man.

"No," I admitted, "I'm no knight."

Something in his expression changed, as if a theory of his had been proven right. Ah, vindication. The sweetest emotions there ever was.

"I thought so," He nodded sagely, "No southron pansy could take on three of us without relyin' on fancy swords like ya did jus' now. You fought like a true son of the North."

I stilled, thinking about how to play this.

The North didn't have the best of reputations among the Kingdoms. Hell, let's be real here. They were considered savages and brutes throughout Westeros and beyond. But of all the Kingdoms under the Iron Throne, if there was one place remote enough, culturally distanced enough, and freedom-loving enough that my complete lack of background wouldn't be questioned and dismissed simply as a product of bad record keeping, it was the North. Plus, of all the fucked up characters that populated this shitty planet, the Starks and their bannermen were likely some of the few people I could see myself tolerating. And, part of me added, one of the few houses that wasn't likely to simply use me to their own ends.

Before the silence could get too awkward, I nodded, thinking of a name on the fly.

"You thought right," I said finally, "The name's Sigurd. Sigurd Volsung."

Unseen and unnoticed by all, the wolf fang pendant hanging from my chest began to glow with blue light.

xXx​

Stats - End, Chap 4:
STR 10
END 8
DEX 8
INT 16
WIS 10
CHR 7
LUK 4
20 Unspent Stat Points

 

[Alaerin]

Chapter 05
Before His Wavering Eye​

I had spent the night getting to know Arnolf and Rollo and their two companions, Bertrus and Darry, better. All of them held allegiance to House Hornwood, whose motif they wore on their tabards. We jested, talked and ate long into the night. They drank despite the copious amounts of wine they had already consumed. I refrained from indulging it too much, opting to take slight sips.

We passed midnight easily until, one by one, each of them returned to their homes. It had been a productive use of my time, though. Fortunately, they'd asked minimal questions, willing to play the part of welcoming hosts for me, a stranger to their village.

Without a doubt, the most useful outcome of the sprawling conversation had been that I'd managed to get answers to questions I couldn't have asked if they hadn't been utterly shit-faced. I'd exaggerated just how drunk I was, pretending to have momentarily forgotten the name of the Queen. When they took the name of Cersei Lannister, I blinked rapidly as if in a daze, much to their uproarious laughter. Robert was King, and had been so for at least a few years if the marriage was common knowledge to the public.

That, at the very least, told me that I wouldn't have to deal with the Rebellion and all that it entailed.

I still wasn't quite sure what year it was, because no matter how drunk they were, it would've been difficult to slyly ask that. That was okay, though. I was sure I would be able to ascertain exactly where I was in the timeline soon enough. I doubted the Designer would simply drop me into a random year, so I'd likely stumble into the path of a critical event in Planetos' history (future?) even if I tried avoiding trouble.

I'd also learnt a bit about the quaint village I'd found myself in.

The village itself was one of many logging camps in the area, settlements established almost exclusively for the rather profitable (and exclusive to certain lords) trade of timber. That made sense given the sheer amount of untapped woodland surrounding the village. It put into question why the barkeep had made it seem as if the village had fallen into hard times. Although, I supposed, there could be other factors at play that the guards were simply unaware of.

By the time I retired to my room, a dull headache had developed.

I supposed I should have expected that – a day of marching through the woods followed by a night full of drinking and eating would take its toll on any man.

It was a modest thing, well-maintained but decorated sparsely. A bed was set into one corner of the room, heavy furs draped on top of it. Next to it was a stout table made out of some dark wood. I wasn't of the mind to criticize it, though. I'd been lucky to find shelter in the first place, to say nothing of the manner in which I'd procured the funds required to rent the room.

Now that I was safely in the confines of my own room and sitting on a comfortable bed, I opened up my Stats Menu with a mental command to Virtuoso. He obliged.

STR 10
END 8
DEX 8
INT 16
WIS 10
CHR 7
LUK 4

20 Unspent Stat Points

I thought about it for a moment, considering where I wanted to invest my points. STR and DEX had served me really well. Hell, if I was being honest, all my physical parameters were worth potentially thrice their value in points when I factored in Reinforcement. In an instant, I could triple their return on investment.

I dumped four points each in END and DEX, following by putting an extra two into STR, bringing all of my physicals to an even 12.

By spending ten points, I had effectively ensured that if things came to a boiling point, I would be seven times stronger, faster, and more durable than the average man. I still had to see how that would stack up against the named characters of this universe, but I liked to imagine I was closing the gap rather quickly.

Once again, my height increased, although not quite as dramatically as before, muscles filling in with even more mass and I could feel them harden. Not only that, my eyesight and hearing sharpened considerably. If I focused, I could perceive time in an ever-so-slightly skewed way. Nothing huge, but I'd bet it would still be useful in a scrap.

That said, if this night had taught me anything, it was that I couldn't simply ignore CHR or even LUK. I had gotten lucky against all odds – against the literal stat that determined how (un)lucky I got – but I couldn't rely on simply that.

My ability to deceive others was clearly lacking. I hovered over the buttons for a moment, considering my choice and debating whether I didn't simply want to invest into STR again. I shook my head, and put in eight points into CHR, bumping LUK up to 5.

As soon as I hit the button, something shifted in my body, like a fraction of a piece of a puzzle too grand to be understood completely sliding into place.

The pain followed a second later, the lactic burn of muscles expanding and reforming in a more aesthetically pleasing manner. I hissed sharply, acutely feeling the pain of my cheekbones creaking and shifting into their new position, my nose thinning and hair lengthening.

At-least it wasn't as bad as the time I had improved my physicals the first time around. That shit had hurt.

I shrugged off my boots, dropping my cloak onto one end of the bed. My tunic followed until I was dressed only in my trousers, the wolf fang hanging from my neck.

I turned around, some awed part of me admiring my new form. I'd never been scrawny, but this… this body was straight out of a Greek statue. Greater, even. Corded muscles stretched taut, each sculpted onto my body. Unblemished and smooth skin rippled as I flexed. If before, my bulk had been almost grotesque in size, I was significantly more well-proportioned. Not perfect, but I definitely wouldn't feel out of place on some male modelling magazine.

I noted that when I reviewed my interactions with the barkeeper and the guards, hell, even the two boys who had led me into the inn, I could think of half a dozen ways to have left a better impression. Tiny things such as changing my expression, altering the way I stood. I even intuitively felt how I could have adjusted my tone and choice of words to sell the image of a rugged Northman better.

Looking back at the menu, I realized I still had a point left over. Hm. I wasn't pressed on the mana front, but I guess it didn't hurt. I pressed the butto-

Something twisted in my guts, a shrill sound echoing through my mind.

I staggered, falling onto the bed. I struggled against the overwhelming urge to simply close my eyes. Tried resisting the force that pulled at me. Distantly, I noted Gamer's Mind activating, lending its might to me. For a moment, I held the force at bay. Then the pressure tripled, its weight falling upon me. My vision blurred, darkness enveloping me.

That night, I dreamt of the void.

When I opened my eyes – no, when I was allowed to open them, I stood alone in a hall of titanic proportions, towering braziers lighting each inch of the room, pillars reaching towards the heavens in spirals of gold and marble. Two massive tables stretched from one end of the hall to the other, a carpeted path wide enough to fit an elephant set between them.

A thousand empty seats tucked into either table's sides. I struggled to simply think of them as chairs. Silver and stone were worked together in breath taking forms, priceless gemstones fitted into their sides. A thousand different emblems were inscribed upon the backrests, a hundred different languages circling them in flowing, alien script.

Each was a throne in its own right. A symbol of power and authority. Of their owner's undeniable right to rule.

Compared to the majesty that emanated from each, the throne at the very head of the table was plain. Unadorned and undecorated, it was a construct of stone and little else. But I wasn't focused on it at all. My eyes were glued only to the figure that sat upon it, arms laying atop the simple rests at either side. His eye was closed, his lips unmoving. With the sheer distance between us, I could have shouted at the top of my lungs and barely been audible.

His call came all the same, and I found myself striding forth. This was no mere vibration of the air, his words transcending the boundaries of human language. This… this was an Imperial Decree. A royal summons that plucked at the notes of my soul. Somehow I knew that if I tried resisting, my body would have betrayed me, moving on its own to do as he willed.

The exhaustion I had felt only moments ago was cleansed from my body, my legs carrying me forward eagerly until I was but a handful of feet away from his throne.

I knelt, my body shuddering as an immense pressure descended upon me like a forge-god's hammer.

His eye flickered open, settling upon my prostrating form. He was looking through me as if I wasn't even there, lips moving in strange patterns that made my eyes water and my mind shriek in agony. The headache sprung forth with full force then and I heaved, trembling ever so slightly as an indescribable force held me in place.

He rose from his throne, mane of white hair swaying in nonexistent wind.

A hand reached outwards, pulling at nothing but air. For a second nothing happened. The moment passed. Reality shrieked and space itself warped, curling around the points of his fingers until something materialized in his hand.

The shaft came first, gleaming metal glowing a pale blue in the light of the braziers surrounding us. It writhed and curved, almost as if it had been molded in the shape of a serpent. Runes were inscribed onto its surface so tightly they almost overlapped, the shapes familiar yet utterly incomprehensible at once. Finally, the head pulled itself through reality with the deafening screech of metal breaking and reforming at once.

I tried speaking but no words came out, only a weak stutter that died upon my lips.

I was compelled to meet his gaze even as I felt something within me shatter as I beheld his form so closely. I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't think-

Dark shapes flew overhead, their forms flowing like mist and shadow. A black feather floated downwards, its shaft glowing with a light that seared itself into my brain. My eyes burned fiercely.

The spear rose, its Impossible point glinting dangerously.

"Next time you invoke my descendant's Legend," He intoned lowly, voice rumbling with the sound of distant thunder, the words settling upon my body with a tangible weight, "You better be worthy of it."

The spear fell.

I rose from the dream gasping for breath, forcing air into straining lungs. Despite being shirtless at night, I was sweating all over, my skin red and raw as if it had stood in the sun for too long. My limbs trembled and something wet dripped down my cheeks. I dabbed it away in irritation, mind still reeling from what I had felt. My fingers came away red.

-rd, can you hear me?

I shakily nodded, the essence of Gamer's Mind surging through my being like a sheet of cold water in the summer, soothing the rawness of emotions that swirled within me.

"What the hell was that?" I rasped, shuddering as my memories of the man and the hall and the thousand-and-one thrones within it faded like sand spilling through splayed fingers. Even as the vision of the gleaming spear-point warped and bubbled till it became unrecognizable, his words echoed through my mind, solidifying until I could feel them imprinted on my very soul.

I do not know. Virtuoso admitted, the disquiet in its words evident.

"What."

I said, I do not know. The AI hesitated, uncharacteristically reluctant to share its opinion on what had just happened. Some force… intervened.

I could feel it struggle to verbalize what had happened. I couldn't blame him. If I couldn't still feel the weight of his words like a noose around my neck, I would have dismissed it as a particularly vivid, surreal dream. What little I could remember was slipping away from me, and to be honest, I wasn't in a rush to hold onto it. Everything I had saw and heard had made me feel like my brain would melt into slurry.

"This- this isn't supposed to happen, right?" I asked shakily. I'll admit it, the thought of returning to that hall filled me with incomparable dread. Some distant part of me knew I would return some day, but it wouldn't be anytime soon. If I did, I wouldn't like what followed.

I will file for a Request for Information with the Designer. Bear in mind, They are not obliged to answer.

"Of course not," I scowled.

I threw my tunic on, climbing under the warm blankets to ward off the chill permeating through the room. I tried sleeping, closing my eyes shut and forced myself to think of anything but what had happened. It didn't work. Every part of my body itched, and part of me feared that if I were to sleep, I would return to his hall.

My skin was still far too warm, even though it was slowly returning to its normal temperature as the minutes passed on. The wolf-fang glimmered, its familiar weight pressed against my chest, white enamel cool and pleasant on my skin.

The exhaustion caught up with me eventually, slowly lulling me to sleep.

xXx​

 

[Alaerin]

Chapter 06
The Hunt​

"Are there any odd jobs around these parts?" I asked, chewing slowly. "I think I'm going to need new clothes soon."

Old Jon stopped cleaning for a moment, looking me up and down.

"You think?" He snorted, eyes twinkling with amusement, "That shirt looks like it's about to rip any moment. My daughter's been starin' at yer arms since you came out of your room, weren't ya Mariya?"

The girl behind the counter went beet red, scrubbing the glasses with unnecessary force. Still, she glanced at me every now and then, a tiny, impish expression on her face.

I smiled behind a mouthful of food, saying nothing.

"Well, there's always the mill near the woods. You could try your luck and see if they need some help cutting firewood," Jon offered.

I nodded, considering it.

It wasn't exactly what I thought I'd be doing with my time when I became The Gamer, but I wasn't ready to go and meet any of the 'main cast'. I needed funds, a reputation, a background I could present that would help me when one of them inevitably brought up my heritage. I winced, a cold feeling settling in my stomach when I thought of the name I'd taken.

I'd gotten out of my bed at noon, yesterday's exhaustion cleansed from my body as soon as I opened my eyes. The perfect rest aspect of Gamer's Body was an understated blessing; I couldn't think of a single night where I'd slept so soundly. And that was in spite of the vision I'd had right before going to sleep.

When I walked into the hall, Old Jon had been preparing a massive bowl of rabbit stew for breakfast. Onions, carrots, potatoes and mushrooms were mixed into it in varying quantities, the scent of cooked meat wafting towards my nose. He claimed he was a poor cook in comparison to his daughter, but I didn't believe him.

Maybe it was just the fact that I hadn't eaten in what felt like forever, or perhaps that I hadn't expected medieval cooking to be this good, but I'd wolfed down my first helping with a speed that surprised even me. Then a second. And now, I was finishing up the last few mouthfuls of my third bowl. Jon had looked at me almost fascinated as I'd devoured the food set in front of me, not really commenting but not keeping his surprise hidden either.

Evidently, my little "wrestling match" with the Guards last night had convinced him I wasn't too different from the rest of his patrons. He certainly didn't have the constipated look from yesterday. Part of me wondered if my increased CHR had anything to do with making him more comfortable.

In either case, I thought, eyes flickering towards the barkeep's daughter, the charisma boost had certainly changed something.

It wasn't as if I'd suddenly become an irresistible Adonis, that would've been ridiculous even for a power like The Gamer. Maybe eventually, if for some terrible reason I decided to dump an absurd amount of points into Charisma, I'd develop a natural buff that would accomplish such a feat. But here and now, its effects were subtle, almost abstract - easily dismissed as simply the products of one being socially competent.

But I knew better.

I was subconsciously changing the way I walked, the tone I used. Even my micro-expressions were being adjusted almost instinctively. It was a dozen little things that added up to coming off as more personable, easier to talk to and enjoy the company of.

More than the strength I'd developed or my new intellect, or even the ability to use magic, this tiny little thing showed me just how broken the Gamer truly was.

Sure, you could punch through a mountain if you had enough STR or run across water with enough DEX. You could summon storms and turn battlefields into burning nightmares if you invested in INT and WIS. It inspired fear, certainly. Obedience, maybe. But it also made those who suffered hate you and despise you. Becoming a godlike being held little appeal to me if it meant that everyone I met would prefer I died an ugly death.

This? This was the key to their hearts. Something that let you pluck at the notes of their hearts, gave you a glimpse into the workings of their minds. Paired with INT, it was the perfect formula for creating a following. Even if I didn't have aspirations to something greater, the powers-that-be were seemingly unwilling to let me simply coast through life.

I was broken out of my musings when a group of men made their way towards the counter, each dressed in hunting leathers of varying quality. The one at the front, a rather tall looking man, looked my way. He had a bow looped around his left arm, a quiver of arrows strapped to his side. Old Jon seemed to recognize him if the furrowing of his brows was any indication.

"Rodrik," he said, setting a glass down on the counter, "Here for a drink?"

The man shook his head, and instead pointed at the party at his back.

"Not today, Jon. Our party's short two members today. Someone," Rodrik said, looking my way with a mixture of irritation and curiosity, "Apparently thrashed them bad enough yesterday that they didn't think they could join the hunt."

I raised an eyebrow. Did he think I had something to do with- oh.

Old Jon chuckled when he saw my face light up with realization. I turned to face Rodrik, fixing an apologetic expression on my face.

"Ah, you wouldn't be talking about Rollo and his friends, would you?" I asked, wincing as I remembered how out of it all of them were by the time they went back home. I didn't doubt for a second that they would've been feeling like absolute shit right about now. Hell, the only reason I was even up and about was because of Gamer's Body. Without it, I likely would've been in bed right about now.

"Wasn't sure it was you at first, but then, both of them spoke a giant of a man down at the inn. Not many people who fit that description," He said in lieu of an answer, motioning towards the empty hall.

"I'm sorry about that," I said as I stood, extending my hand. No sense in making enemies off the bat, right? Before last night, he would've been maybe three inches shorter than me. Now, I towered over him, a solid half-foot taller than him, to say nothing of the rest of his hunting party. The change in height hadn't been as dramatic as the first one, and I hoped it wouldn't happen each time I increased my physicals.

My poor clothes had astoundingly held on despite the difference in physique. I suspected they had been partially enchanted by the Designer to last the first major growth spurts.

Rodrik waved the apology off with a grunt, clasping my hand firmly.

"It's not your fault. Arnolf an' Darry should've been more careful the night before the hunt."

I nodded slowly. Some of my ignorance of the particulars of needing so many men for the hunt must have shown on my face, because Rodrik sat down next to me, waving his hand so his men took seats as well. One of them carried a spear, which he placed on the ground.

"Huntin' ain't easy this part of the North," He explained, "Too many wolves and bears to go in alone and the game's too alert to be captured if you jus' try to rush 'em. Not many know how to hunt right, so we have to plan when to go out if we want enough men."

Here, he motioned towards the rest of his party.

"Jason, Herman and Fat Jack are the only ones I trust not to run around like a bunch of bulls. Arnolf and Darry too, but their heads are clearly filled with too much of Old Jon's stew to have any sense anymore," He grumbled, words lacking any real heat.

I nodded in understanding, thinking of how to make up for it. I'd thought of offering to hunt with them, but I had absolutely no skill with a bow and this body wasn't exactly made for the purpose of sneaking around in the woods. It was designed for more of a 'throw down with a bear' type of thing. Plus, I didn't have weapons or armor. Jon clearly wasn't thinking along the same lines, though.

"You were lookin' for work, weren't you?" He asked clapping me on the back, "Go with 'em. A man your size? I'm sure you could help, even if you just end up scaring some wolves away."

Rodrik nodded as if Jon had been speaking to him, and not me. He gave me a considering look, brow furrowed slightly.

"You ever hunt before?"

I shook my head. I didn't think shooting deer in Skyrim counted as hunting.

On one hand, I was pretty sure I could take any of these guys in a fight. Maybe even all of them at once, if I Reinforced. But in a hunt? Eh, I didn't think I'd be of much use. That said, going on a hunt sounded substantially better than cutting firewood all day. It was probably more profitable, too.

"If you'd like, I can stick back so I don't scare away the game. I'll jump in if there's trouble," I offered.

"Do you have a bow?"

I shook my head slowly.

Rodrik hummed. He glanced over at one of his men, who stood up at the silent command. He was a plain looking man of average height. In fact, the only thing that stood out about him were his dirty blonde hair. A bow – longer than the one slung around Rodrik's arm – was strapped to his back, a quiver of arrows dangling from his belt. He retrieved the spear from where he had placed it, extending it towards Rodrik.

He nodded in thanks as he scrutinized the metal head, nodding when he was satisfied.

"Here," Rodrik said, holding the spear out to me, "It's Arnolf's hunting spear, he told us you could have it if you ended up joining us today."

Ping!

A quest has been created!

Rodrik is short of two men in his hunting party as a direct result of your actions last night. Ensure that his party comes back home safely and that the village has enough meat to satisfy their needs.

Completion Reward: 3,000 EXP, ?
Bonus Reward: 1,000 EXP per large game animal hunted

That… huh. Clearly, it wasn't just Jon who had wanted me to join them. Hell, even Rodrik must have been intending on getting me to join since the very beginning of our conversation, which would have meant this entire interaction was basically an interview of sorts, to see if I would be a decent addition to his group. I wondered what he would think if he knew that some omnipotent being out there wanted me to accompany him, too.

"And what made you think I'd join you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "You hadn't even met me then."

"Oh, I didn't know you'd agree, but we aren't exactly waitin' for yer permission. Arnolf said you should consider doing his work payback for beating him into the ground and takin' his silver."

"Son of a bitch," I cursed, accepting the spear from his hands. Rodrik guffawed, his men joining him with chuckles of their own. "Fuck it, let's go."

xXx​

We had left for the woodland immediately.

"It's rut season," Rodrik had explained on the way. "Elk mate like crazy overnight. In the day, they rest and move very little. We should be able to find a whole bunch of 'em all in one place. Fat Jack will be able to spot the herd. Good ol' Jason over there does a nice cow call, and that'll draw the bull out. Well, hopefully."

I nodded, not entirely understanding but willing to go along with it anyway.

Fat Jack, as I learnt, wasn't fat at all. Hell, his name wasn't even really Jack. That had taken me a while to wrap my head around.

Born into a relatively well-off family by virtue of his father being a skilled hunter and butcher, he had been a particularly voracious child, wolfing down whatever he could get his hands on. More than just the physical issues he faced in day-to-day life, the ridicule and bullying he suffered at the hands of his peers left him shy and reclusive with no real friends to speak of.

Intimidated by the children of fellow huntsmen, he didn't bother to correct Herman when he called him Jack. And so, little Bertram became Fat Jack, a name that stuck even after his actual name was revealed to them. Here and now? Fat Jack was both lithe and spry, weaving his horse through the forest's underbrush so expertly that I wouldn't have known he was there if I weren't actively keeping him in my sights. In that regard, he'd clearly taken after his father.

I stayed back, trying to make as little noise as possible as I followed behind.

I would have thought that there would be hunting dogs involved, but apparently, these men were so familiar with the areas that were animal hotspots and confident enough in their skills that they hadn't felt the need to bring them along. Part of me wondered if the real reason why they hadn't brought some was that they simply didn't have access to good hunting dogs. How common were hunting dogs, anyway? Would smallfolk have the ability to train and keep them fed? At least my expectations of horses being necessary to hunt was correct.

Fat Jack paused mid-stride, holding up his hand in the universal symbol to stop. I stilled, straining my ears to hear whatever was coming. After last night's investment into DEX, my reaction speed had improved greatly, and with it, my senses.

Knowing that, it was impressive that Fat Jack had spotted it before even me. Just like Rodrik had predicted, at the very edges of my vision were a herd of elk, a dozen of them in all. They were beautiful animals, grazing peacefully. A little part of me, the part that was born in the 21st​ century and had never had to kill for his own food, found the whole thing distasteful. The other part of me knew that I'd likely go hungry and be without lodging in a few days if I didn't find a way to earn money.

As he trotted his palfrey forward, Rodrik, Herman and Fat Jack notched their arrows, not quite pulling all the way, but enough that they could pull and release in an instant if they needed to.

When Jason got into position, he cupped his mouth and vocalized – there's no real way of explaining exactly what he did, but I assumed this is what a 'cow call' was. In either case, it worked.

The bull, the male elk guarding his 'harem', raised his head suddenly, trying to spot where the sound had come from. Slowly, it circled the edges of its territory, trying to sniff it out. The wind was facing us, though, so our scents didn't carry over.

Without wasting a moment, Rodrik released his arrow. The bull reared suddenly, turning just as the twin-blade head flew through the air and found its mark through its chest, piercing deeply. It shrieked in pain, its distress alerting its harem, whose lazy disposition became alert in a matter of moments.

Before they could scatter fully, Herman and Fat Jack released their arrows into the herd. Fat Jack's flew an inch above its mark, only grazing the very top of the elk's back. Herman's embedded itself into another.

In its frenzy, I saw the bull run straight towards Jason, who hadn't gotten the time to pull his bow out. Despite clearly being in incredible pain, the elk was a mighty animal with envious endurance even for someone like me. Jason turned all too slowly, facing nearly seven hundred pounds of pure muscle headed its way.

I found myself dropping my spear to the ground, jumping in front of the charging beast and channeling Reinforcement before I had entirely processed what I was doing. My strength tripled almost immediately, feet digging into the ground as I prepared to absorb the blow. Rodrik shouted a warning, notching an arrow in his bow. He would be too late, and he knew it. For a second, I wondered if it wouldn't simply have been a better idea to pull Jason out of harm's way.

In the instant before the elk's horns slammed into me, I twisted and threw a haymaker directly into its angled head, putting the entire weight of my body into one punch. I released most of the build-up of magicka in me as soon as my fist hit its dark snout with a sickening crunch as its bones cracked under the force of my blow, its head snapping to the side. Almost in slow motion, I saw its body twist in mid-air as the impact of the punch flowed through its body.

A second later, pain blossomed across my chest as the elk's massive antlers smashed into my chest. Despite how much of its momentum had been redirected by my strike, its pointed tips had pierced my chest for an instant, throwing me off my feet. It fell to the ground almost immediately after, dead since the moment my blow had hit.

I landed in a heap, gasping in pain as blood spurted out of the wound carved into my chest. I laughed through the haze of red, an ugly sound wet with my own blood.

I'd channeled much of the Reinforcement magicka into my blow to ensure the elk was stopped in one blow. In return, my lessened durability couldn't stop its antlers from piercing. To be honest, I was unsure whether even seven times the average human toughness would have helped. This was a seven-hundred-pound animal we were talking about.

I lifted my arm and pulled my cloak on top of my chest, cycling my energy through my chest as I activated Lesser Healing. I hoped my shirt, tattered as it was, and my cloak would hide its glow. I really needed to find a way to use the spell without the golden glow.

In the time that it took for Jason to break out of his reverie and come to my side, I'd pumped every last bit of my MP into improving the effects of Lesser Healing. Compared to both times before, healing was a slow process, but as the seconds ticked on, blood stopped flowing and flesh reknit slowly until a significantly diminished wound remained.

I debated healing that as well, but stopped, knowing that if I were to come out of this with not a single scratch on me right after they'd seen the elk slam into me, they would rightly assume something unnatural was afoot. It was better to lessen the wound so they'd think I'd only received a glancing hit.

"By the gods, Sigurd," Jason breathed, throwing my cloak off to inspect my wound and finding nothing but a slight, if raw, cut across my chest. For a moment, I prayed his disorientation wouldn't let him focus on the fact that there were more holes on my shirt than would be explained by a 'slight hit'. Rodrik jogged over a moment after, a worried look across his face.

I lifted myself off the ground, balancing on my arms.

"I'm alright," I said, breathing heavily as the combined weight of Reinforcement leaving my body and the antlers piercing my flesh made themselves known to me.

Jason gaped at me in disbelief as I slowly stood up, making a show of wincing to cement the idea that I hadn't truly been hit badly.

"It was a glancing blow," I said, waving off his concerns. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Fat Jack and Herman were the last to reach, both of them looking at each other and the fallen elk by my feet.

"I saw it slam into you quite hard, Sigurd," Rodrik said, hesitating. I didn't blame his disbelief, to be honest. It's not like he was wrong.

"Like I said, it was a glancing blow. I'm plenty tough," I shrugged his questioning gaze off, flexing my arms slowly to show I was alright, "Gonna take more than an elk to put me down."

Rodrik stared at me, unconvinced.

"Maybe it's best if ya go back to the inn with Jason," He said, holding up his hands as I began to protest. "I'm not sayin' that because I doubt yer tough. But Jack and Herman already marked the targets. It won't take too long for us to track 'em down."

I took a step towards him, knowing that if I left right now, the quest would automatically be considered a failure.

"Rodrik," I said as I locked gazes with him, infusing my voice with magicka, "I'll be fine. Here, let me show you."

He took a step back, suddenly wary. I picked up my spear from where I had left it, striding past him and into the clearing where the elk were grazing, eyes sharpening as I activated the lower stage of Reinforcement. I breathed sharply, letting the familiar heat of its energy course through my muscles. With 30 DEX, six times the average, I could acutely see twin trails of blood leading further into the forest, the left one much thicker than the right. That must have been Herman's.

I twirled my spear in hand, deciding on a course of action. I needed that quest completed to get that EXP. I needed that EXP to get strong. And I needed to get strong if I wanted to avoid feeling the powerlessness that was imposed on me last night. A goddamn elk would not be stopping me.

"Jason and I are hunting the one that went right," I said, magicka flowing through my voice and impressing my desires upon them, brokering no disagreement, "You three can have the one on the left."

xXx​

Elk were smart animals, their excellent instincts making them slippery to catch on the best of days. On top of that, it was bleeding lightly, which made tracking it all the more difficult. I compensated by cheating. Because let's be real, if I didn't have the buffs I did and the INT score I'd invested in, I wouldn't even be mentioned in the same conversation as these guys.

Of the five of us, the only ones who weren't on horseback were Jason and me.

Catching an elk without being on horseback would've been impossible for anyone. Fortunately, it was a female elk that hadn't rested and was bleeding enough for us to see where it had gone. It couldn't have been far in either case.

Sure enough, in the next twenty minutes or so, we had managed to find our prey. It sat in the shade of a tree, breathing deeply. Even from a distance, I could tell it was scared, wary of further attack. Within the span of moments, it had been taken from its place in the middle of a herd where it was protected by its bull, shot at and driven away. I understood its wariness, feeling the same tang of powerlessness curl inside me.

A distant part of me realized that the vision had affected me substantially more than I cared to admit. Twice, I had caught myself despising what had been done to me and seeking to find a way to prevent it from happening ever again.

In the middle of my musings, I got careless, my massive frame crunching a fallen branch under its weight.

The elk's head snapped towards my direction. In a heartbeat, it had gotten onto its feet, choosing to run rather than stick around and see what had caused the noise. Jason released his arrow, its dark shape soaring through the air. Unfortunately, it was already on the move and the arrow missed its form.

"Oh no you don't," I growled, launching myself at its retreating form, spear in hand. Jason had released another arrow in the same time, its edge narrowly biting into the animal's sides, releasing a thin trail of blood yet again.

You know what you don't immediately expect about elks? Their speed. They're huge animals. Not in the way that big dogs are, if that's what you're thinking. No. They're truly, utterly massive. A man of average height in Westeros wouldn't even come to the bottom of its snout. Even I, as tall and bulky as I was, would seem small in comparison if I stood next to it.

The fact of the matter is, if you take a look at a six-hundred-pound plus animal like this, you don't expect it to break into a run at 45 miles an hour. Well, that's exactly what it did. The fastest sprint time ever recorded in my world was almost half the elk's speed. The scary part was that it could sustain this for over a minute before it needed a break.

Unfortunately for it, I was faster.

Without Reinforcement, I was over twice as fast as the average man. With Reinforcement cranked up to full intensity, my speed tripled. I don't want to bore you with the calculations, so to put it simply, I could run at twice the speed of Usain goddamn Bolt's ridiculous record sprint speed. Except this wasn't my peak, this was a sustainable average that I could maintain for at-least half a dozen minutes.

In short, I was significantly faster than most horses. For the time that my body could handle Reinforcement's burden, anyway. For longer distances, they would undoubtedly beat my ass handily.

I covered the distance between me and the elk in long, distance-eating strides. The scenery blurred past me as I barreled my way through the underbrush in pursuit of my target. It was not getting away from me. Its instincts were undoubtedly better, and I simply wasn't used to operating at such speeds. And yet. I gained on it, forcing my body to go even faster. I weaved my way through branches and jumped over rocky terrain. Soon enough, I was neck-to-antlers with it, boots cracking across the ground.

I pulled my arm back, preparing to use my spear. With a wild roar, I threw, putting every last bit of my Reinforced strength into it. It shrieked as it cleaved through the air, its metal head trumpeting with notes of my bloodlust as it pierced through the side of the elk. For all its hide's impressive toughness, it could not withstand the sheer amount of force packed into that throw. The elk staggered, tumbling to the ground in a heap of groaning flesh and muscle.

I let the last of Reinforcement's energies leave my body, falling to my knees as the second use wracked my muscles with pain. Despite my MP regeneration being high enough that I could feasibly use it permanently, it simply wasn't sustainable for some reason. My body just couldn't handle the strain of using it. Even doing it once left me in pain. Activating it twice and using it to its fullest extent made me reach the boundaries of my seemingly endless strength.

Jason lagged behind me, sprinting towards me at a speed I undoubtedly would have thought of as impressive before I became the Gamer.

I stood up slowly, throwing my head back and gasping as little tremors made their way through my limbs. Slowly, almost ponderously, I made my way towards the fallen elk, hearing its last breaths leave its snout.

It thrashed as I approached, shuddering and groaning piteously. I made a soothing sound, trying to calm it. Somehow, somehow, it worked, its breathing slowing down. I kneeled next to it, placing one of my hands on its neck and stroking its fur. This close, I gained a new appreciation for just how magnificent the animal truly was. The pictures truly didn't do it justice.

Guilt bloomed in my mind, its treacherous hands gnawing at my conscience. Gamer's Mind sprung up, seeking to suppress the emotion. Maybe it was the adrenaline flowing through me, maybe it was the changes I'd wrought within myself, maybe it was some unseen factor. Whatever the cause, I shut Gamer's Mind off with an application of will. If I couldn't stomach this, I shouldn't have committed to it so readily. Rodrik had offered me a way out. I had chosen to stay.

"It's going to be okay," I murmured softly, moving my hand across its neck, "The pain will go away, okay?"

The elk's eyes found mine, a striking intelligence within them. For a moment, I froze, pinned in place by its stare. Dark orbs stared at me unblinkingly, something within judging my bearing. Weighing my actions. Searching. The moment passed, and I relaxed, shaking my head at my own indecision.

I laughed, a bitter sound that escaped my lips on its own. God, I was such a mess. Here I was, standing over an animal I had hunted with my own hands, thinking that a goddamn elk of all things was judging me. I needed to go back to the inn, grab a meal, and drink until my vision swam and sleep called to me. Forget the vision and the hunt and the fact that I was stuck in a world where my existence served only to entertain. Maybe I could find some company for the night. Mariya had seemed interested, didn't she?

Shaking my head, I reached down to my belt to draw the hunting knife Rodrik had given to me just before we'd left for the woods. I pulled it free from its leather sheathe, laying it flat on the elk's neck.

"Go in peace," I breathed, closing my eyes. With one quick motion, I dragged the blade across its throat, staying still even as crimson trickled down my hands and into the ground.

Something warm settled in my chest, burning reassuringly as the last rays of sunlight receded.


AN: Whew. This was kind of a slog to get through, but... yeah. I'd appreciate your thoughts on the characterisation, the dialogue, the (super limited) fight scenes. Feedback is always appreciated and keeps me writing!

 

[Alaerin]

Chapter 07
Realisations​

Jason said nothing as we made our way back to the village, trailing behind my form nervously. Still, he stayed no more than three feet away from me, closer than he had ever been.

There was a palpable tension in the air. Each man cast uncertain glances at my form, unasked questions and half-formed speculation glimmering in their eyes. It wasn't fear, for I had done nothing to harm or threaten them, and had in fact gone out of my way to save one of their own. It wasn't as if their reactions were entirely similar, either.

Fat Jack and Herman were disquieted, unease waiting to burst out as the realization hit them that they knew exceedingly little about me. I was an oddity, an abnormality both in appearance and behaviour. Not only that, what I had done… it was hard to see that and believe the man next to you was entirely human. I understood their reaction. I certainly didn't blame them for their trepidation. It was only fair. Their hands had never reached for their weapons, so at the very least I knew they didn't feel unsafe.

Rodrik, on the other hand, was a mixture of restlessness and curiosity. He'd always seemed a bit too anxious for a man of his skill and stature, moving from one place to the other almost subconsciously. I had a sneaking suspicion about that, but I could be entirely wrong. Here and now, he gazed at me almost furtively, as if waiting for a good time to ask me the questions burning on his tongue. This, too, I understood.

What I did not understand, or perhaps it was more accurate to say was in denial about, was Jason and the emotions I could feel wafting off of him. There was fear, but not of me. There was nervous energy, too, as if he wished to do something and wanted to do it now, but couldn't bring himself to. And beneath both of those, there was a silent wonder, this barely-contained awe that I internally grimaced at it. I… understood why, even if I wanted to delude myself. I had stepped in the middle of a charging elk and the boy, for Jason could hardly have been older than eighteen, and single-handedly stopped its rampage.

Thinking of what I had done brought a new wave of confusion to the forefront of my mind.

What the fuck had made me think it was a good idea to try and tackle it barehanded? Why hadn't I just dragged Jason out of the way? Or hell, thrown my spear at it? I could understand panicking and doing what came naturally, but wasn't Gamer's Mind supposed to prevent that? And I hadn't even stopped there! I'd out-run an elk in an attempt to take it down right in front of Jason. This was the equivalent of hanging a neon sign above my head that It made no sense. Or…

I stilled.

"Sigurd?" Rodrik called out warily.

Thoughts ran through my head at a blistering pace, none of them good, each more treacherous than the last. Gamer's Mind had sprung up as soon as I'd felt guilt worm its way into my mind when I'd hesitated in deciding what to do with the elk. It had acted similarly when I'd panicked near the beginning of my insertion into Planetos, cleansing the anxiety almost instantly. I knew that Gamer's Mind worked based on those two incidents, just as I knew that it had failed. Not once, but twice! Once just now, and once when the vision had been forced upon me.

Virtuoso, show me the exact description of Gamer's Mind.

Displaying…

Gamer's Mind

All mental debuffs are detected and healed immediately, excluding quest-only cures. To ensure your time as the Gamer is entertaining, debilitating emotions such as paralyzing fear, shock, and horror are removed.

I read it once, then twice as the anger I had spent much of my teenage years trying to unlearn reared its ugly head. Distantly, I could see Rodrik move towards me, concern written clearly across his features. Jason shook my shoulder, saying something I couldn't hear. I closed my eyes, shallow breaths leaving my lips like tiny clouds of vapor. The offending text flashed through my mind repeatedly, sending jolts of rage and fear and panic through me.

When I felt Gamer's Mind rise, I struck it down with all the mental force I could bring to bear, refusing it any purchase on my mind.

I brought up the unspent points I had, five of them in total. I'd expected a bigger haul from the quest EXP, but, I suppose I'd reached the point where little side quests like these had diminishing returns. Almost absentmindedly, I dumped five points into WIS.

And then, I understood.

A wave of some indiscernible emotion slammed into me. I had been so, incredibly foolish. I'd thought of Gamer's Mind as this… incredible power, absolute and all-powerful. A flawless technique. I was wrong. Not because it couldn't be, but because the truth of the power was so much more terrifying than the text would have you believe. This… this wasn't there to help me. It was there to make the process of viewing my adventures in a cleaner, more sterilized manner.

The sponsors of this game, those who designed it, those who viewed it. They didn't want to see my story unfold in a manner they deemed boring. Fear, panic, shock, horror. These emotions interfered with that. It made the experience boring, a little too real, made my story less interesting. Gamer's Mind eliminated that. This wasn't a grand realization. It said that much on the tin.

But what if it did more than that? Debilitating emotions, they called it. Couldn't that apply to anything that would make the story 'less entertaining'? Even reasonable things such as not jumping in front of a fucking elk? It would make sense, too. The power, the Gamer rig, it wasn't human. It didn't think of debilitating emotions in the same way as I did. It interpreted them as… variables in an equation, adjusting and eliminating them as I went along my way to make me inclined to act in ways that would spice up the plot, so to speak.

It didn't do more than that.

It didn't force emotions on me.

And truth be told, it didn't need to.

Why make me feel courageous and bold if it could selectively eliminate the instinctive fear that would arise from jumping in between a charging beast but maintain the fear I felt for the safety of my companion, amplifying the doubts I had of the effectiveness of simply attacking it with a spear, or being too late in pulling Jason out of the way?

This way, I was inclined to reveal more of my power than I needed to. It was just enough to force me into the spotlight even more than I already was without blatantly revealing my magical nature. Put me into a situation where I'd have to navigate through the inevitable questions that would arise.

The insidiousness of this simple, innocent power was unravelling the more I thought about it.

It gave me the illusion of free will without actually granting it, because could this truly be called my will if the basis for my decision making was being subconsciously altered?

This… didn't explain why it allowed the vision through. Maybe it didn't? Maybe I was overthinking this all and I was just a lot more stupid than I knew. I was broken out of my thoughts when Rodrik slapped me in the face. I snapped my head towards him, instinctually taking a step forward.

"Easy there," Rodrik said, raising his hands in the ubiquitous symbol of surrender. "You were starin' blankly for a while there. Thought maybe the elk had hit yer head a bit harder than ya showed." He laughed nervously at his own joke, perhaps realizing for the first time exactly how much I out-massed him. Plus, he'd seen first hand what happened when I punched something when I meant to.

I breathed deeply, bowing my head in apology.

"I apologise, Rodrik. My head's fine, I was just thinking."

"Uh-huh," He dead-panned, clearly unconvinced. I sighed, knowing the conversation that would have come when we reached the village had been pushed up. I was silent for a moment, staring down into his eyes. To his credit, he didn't flinch or back down. He returned my stare with his own, concern for my well-being evident.

"Your concern is touching, but I'm fine," I said finally, infusing my voice with a healthy dose of magicka, my intent resounding through the clearing. Without another word, I twisted on my feet and began walking the way I knew the village to be. Jason followed me quietly even as Rodrik sighed, motioning towards the others to do the same.

For the rest of the trip back, they made no attempts at conversing with me.

xXx​

Selling the elk for its parts was easier than I'd imagined it would be. It made sense, now that I thought about it. The hunting trips weren't some side business; they were trips made on behalf of the whole village. Well, those who could afford to eat meat anyway. I knew some would likely have access to little more than vegetable stew on a good day. It was just the nature of things. Rodrik had handled the transaction on my behalf, waving off my thanks with a grunt.

Hunting elk wasn't a common activity, the difficulty of finding and capturing even a couple outweighing the potential rewards. Given the necessity of bringing back something, most times hunting parties just decided to go for smaller game. Rabbits, mostly.

Somewhat rarely, they'd find a deer or two to bring back, an animal often sold to travelling merchants looking to ply their trade in bigger settlements further away from hunting hotspots. Elk was similar in that regard. Venison in general was just too expensive for smallfolk, even most merchants, to really have the ability to buy regularly. To satisfy the needs of lords who didn't have access to deer tracts on their own lands, merchants came to the village selling more common meats – beef, chicken, and pork – and buying elk meat and hide in return. Hell, it was so outrageously expensive compared to every other meat that very few merchants came through these parts to buy them.

2 Golden Dragons, 100 Silver Stags have been added to inventory.

That had been a pretty insane price tag, but… it made sense.

What we had been doing was not quite poaching, but close. It wasn't a crime, exactly, but the fact was that elk and deer just weren't hunted because the largest concentration of them was found in various lords' woods, not in the middle of nowhere. This village was an oddity in that respect.

More importantly, there were many lords and knights in Westeros that wanted to impress their guests with expensive game meat. When merchants showed up with it, those same lords and knights turned a blind eye to where it came from, uncaring of whether it was poached or not.

It wasn't like this was a common occurrence. Not at all. I doubted Rodrik and his party had seen a haul like this in a long, long time.

Rodrik had gruffly told me Jason had insisted I take one whole third of the total sale price of the three elk we'd brought back. Fat Jack and Herman had little objections to that, and so I had received the price for the elk's meat and hide. The fact that I had some 'loose change' to spend was nice too. I don't know if I was going to be able to find change for a whole golden dragon outside of major vendors, and even then, it would be unlikely.

I had ultimately decided to give some of my recently earned money away, telling Rodrik to give it to spend it on buying more meat and foodstuffs for the village from the passing merchant caravan. Smallfolk were not treated well by the nobility, and that mistreatment's basest expression was the malnutrition they suffered from.

In any case, the fifty silver I'd given away didn't hurt me terribly.

I was still set for the foreseeable future. I needed clothes, first and foremost. I planned on visiting the local blacksmith sooner or later to grab some actual weapons, but I didn't think I'd be spending any substantial amount of money there. I doubted they had steel weapons, and even then, from what I remembered, the quality of steel dropped considerably when you left cities, castles and keeps. Hell, it wasn't like I absolutely needed a great weapon just now.

I winced, thinking of how I'd warped the shaft of Arnolf's spear despite barely using it. I really needed to pay him some form of compensation.

Old Jon was tending to his patrons when I walked into the inn, the hearth blazing merrily. A man sang in one corner, playing a stringed instrument of sorts. Around him were gathered children and adults alike, many nursing cups of beer. Upon my arrival, the hall slowly became silent as more and more people registered my presence. I felt the gaze of dozens settle upon me. My hands clenched on their own, shoulders stiffening as I heard whispers begin to pick up from one end of the hall.

And then the crowd parted, a familiar face coming into view.

Jason, cheeks flushed red and eyes glinting in the light of the hearth, stepped towards me drunkenly. An older woman stood behind him, wringing her hands. Froth covered one end of his lips, a tankard grasped uncertainly in one hand, its contents spilling as he swayed forward. The other hand pointed directly at me. Those few who hadn't noticed me did so now, pausing in their conversations to see what was happening.

"Sigurd!" He bellowed, nearly dropping his cup. "This is who I was talking about, mother."

The woman's eyes came to meet mine for just a moment before flickering back towards her son, her lips pursed ever so slightly. Jason waved me over, setting his drink on a nearby table. I walked over uncertainly, cautious and wary.

"This here is no man, good people," he said turning towards the people behind him even as he motioned towards me.

I stilled, knowing what was about to come.

Part of me knew I was going to be out'ed, decried, condemned the moment I showed my powers. Perhaps this is what the System wanted, for me to not hold back as much, for me to intervene in some matter or the other. Smallfolk were a superstitious lot, and they would undoubtedly believe my powers to be of unnatural origin. I knew I'd eventually have to leave, but I had still hoped I could stay here for a little longer. All this by the man I saved to boot, I thought bitterly.

"Look at him, really look at him fer a secon'," Jason slurred, voice alight with something I couldn't quite identify. "He's a foot taller than most of us, two if yer Little Tom." Laughter erupted from the crowd, a rather small man protesting vigorously from the sides. "He stands uncaring of the cold, even at nightfall. The North'n chill doesn't punish him as it does to even those born in the laps of winter itself."

That wasn't entirely true, I thought to myself even as I waited for the other shoe to drop. The cold bothered me still, I had just gotten used to cycling magicka through my body to ward off the cold ever since I'd woken up shirtless that night, shivering despite being inside the rather warm room. I'd be damned if I was the goddamn Gamer and died of hypothermia of all things.

"He ran like the wind itself today, faster than any man I ever saw. Brought down two elk by himself," He said, voice clearer and more even now as he locked gazes with me. I met his gaze stonily, an emotion that felt a lot like betrayal curling inside of me.

"The money he earned from his hunt, he gladly gave to the village's benefit. And most important of all," Jason said solemnly, turning to face the crowd once more. "He saved me from a chargin' elk, knocked it to the side with his fists alone. The mad man took the blow meant for me an' stood up a moment later with but a cut to show fer it."

I blinked. Okay, that's definitely not what I was expecting. Where was he going with this…

"Mother, sister, my friends," He said, nodding slightly at the woman and a young girl standing by her feet. "If not for him, I would be dead. Gored to death by the antlers of a great elk. If it was not him by my side, I would still be dead." The girl sucked in a breath, clutching her mother's leg tightly. Her brown hair and features resembled Jason's enough that I could see the resemblance. "No man could do all he has done. No man brings with him the scent of the cold itself."

Okay, what was his play here? Was he trying to make me out to be a White Walker?

"But do we not know those who did?" He asked the hall, who by this point was listening with rapt attention. "Did we not all grow up with their legends an' stories? Of those who stood above all others by right of the blood of their ancestors? Of those who braved the cold and spoke with the wrath of falling mountains? Of those who were as generous as their fathers were cruel?"

I could see them nodding and murmuring their assent, slowly at first, but growing with intensity the more Jason spoke. How the hell was a smallfolk boy in the middle of nowhere this charismatic, especially when he was drunk off his ass? He must have had incredible luck when it came to choosing his natural stats, holy shit.

"Before you stands no man," He cried. "But Sigurd Giantsblood, a true son of winter!" The crowd roared back, cheering as they raised their cups in salute.

What.

xXx​

The celebration had lasted well into the night. Platters of beef and chicken were dug into, bowls of stew were devoured, and pitchers of beer were passed around the hall. The singer, an aspiring sort by the name of Garth who hailed from the Reach, sung till his voice grew hoarse. All the while, I danced and celebrated more than I ever had in my previous life. It was nothing elegant, but rowdy, uncontrollable, and at times even violent.

I winced. Yeah, I'd have to pay Old Jon for the broken chair. In my defence, I didn't know I was going to fall on top of it. Despite my prodigious size and endurance, I could still get drunk as I found out quickly. My head hurt something fierce as I walked into my room, and I had barely taken off my cloak and boots when I fell on the bed, groaning.

This had not been how I'd expected it to go at all. But in hindsight, it kind of made sense in a weird way?

I'd been so hyper-fixated on fearing the fallout of revealing my strength, I'd forgotten that I was in the North and that I'd just saved the life of a young boy with it. Far from pitchforks and fire, the fact that I fit the archetypal Northern warrior helped sell the deal. Jason had… yeah, Jason had done a lot to soothe my fears and frame my abnormalities in a natural light, but I doubted he would've been half-as-successful had we not been in the North.

The culture and traditions of the First Men still dominated the land and shaped the beliefs of its people. Even White Harbour could not claim that it was uninfluenced by the North's culture. There was a unique mixture of belief in the strength of one's arms and the Old Gods. For many in the North, especially the smallfolk, belief in giants and spirits and Children wasn't mere superstition, but a legitimate article of faith. And, as it turned out, they also believed the giants to have cross-breeded, producing offspring that often retained the best of their physical traits and lost the worst of their enmity with humanity.

Hell, as I'd found out today after Garth had made the comparison, John the Oak, the legendary founder of House Oakheart, was said to have been born from the union of Garth Greenhand and a giantess. Many in the Reach still considered him the First Knight, practically making him the father of chivalry. It seemed that for all the giant's fabled cruelty towards humans, their half-human offspring were remembered more fondly. Which… worked well for me, I supposed.

Regardless, this was the absolute best possible outcome.

This didn't mean I could afford to show more of my powers, though. Magic was… frowned upon here, still. Or at least, it would have aroused more suspicion than I could afford to take after my little stunt in the forest. God, this was insane. Disbelieving laughter bubbled from my lips as I finally rested in the confines of my room, the earlier stress of the day forgotten as something legitimately good happened for once.

Someone knocked on my door, once, twice. I groaned, quickly cycling magicka through my body to process at least some of the alcohol in my system. Still quite solidly inebriated, but not outright falling over, I padded over to the door. The hall had been quite empty when I'd finally retired to my room, Old Jon quietly snoring behind the counter and other patrons soundly asleep or just passed out in various parts of the inn.

[Scene redacted because it would violate SV rules. Up on that other site whose name I'm not sure I can mention here.]

Hearing sleep's call, I grabbed the layers of furs on the bed and draped them over the both of us, pulling her against my chest till my arms were wrapped around her, warmth radiating off of them. Slowly, I drifted off to sleep.

xXx​

AN: With the redacted scene, this is the longest chapter I've written for either story I think. As always, feedback is appreciated and motivates me to write!

 

[Alaerin]

Chapter 08
Twin Axes​

"Goin' ta take five men to lift it," Archie said, squinting at the cart broken down in the middle of the road. Already, there was a line forming up behind it, merchants and simple tradesmen alike shouting at the cart's owner, who was desperately trying to fit the broken wheel back into place.

I hummed, thinking about how quickly it could be all sorted if any of those busying themselves with berating the man simply helped him.

Instead, they stood around yelling at him as if that was going to speed things along. If anything, it was distracting him from the impossible task. Even if the merchant was able to somehow fit the tire back in properly, the axle was in bad shape. He'd need to pay a local craftsman to take care of that if he didn't want his cart full of goodies to break down in the middle of the road, far from any settlement. There, he'd undoubtedly face far worse problems than a couple of hecklers.

"We'll see about that," I said, clapping Archie on the back. Jason's uncle groaned, knowing that I was just about to show off, but I could see his lips quirk up in amusement. Silently, I channelled Reinforcement's energy into my limbs, tripling my strength and speed between one moment and the next. The change in power remained unseen and unfelt, my boots thudding against the cleared path as I made my way towards the fallen cart.

I could feel the questioning gaze of passersby settle on me, some having heard of me, others only having seen my massive form hulking from one part of the village to the other. It had been a couple of weeks since I'd come here. In that time, I'd been quietly working for one craftsman or the other, putting my INT score to good use by quickly learning new skills and earning a decent sum of money on the side.

In my free time, well…

I bent down to pick the wheel up and placed it in the merchant's hands, brushing off his questions with nothing more than a glance. I crouched beneath the cart and grasped it with both hands, exhaling as I pulled it up. Muscles bulged, the wood creaked as I applied force onto it, and after a moment, it was lifted into the air.

Those that had been heckling him had fallen silent. The merchant gawked, the crowd that had formed around us stopping to witness the Giantsblood at work.

Man, that had been one good cover, and I had marvelled at how well Jason had sold the story until I'd cast my newly learned 'Observe' at him. 11 CHR was working overtime. It hadn't affected him as mine had, either, since it was a natural part of his life. He wouldn't be winning any beauty pageants, but man would he do well as some lord's herald. It saved me from constantly having to worry about someone finding out about my powers, so I could use them to my heart's content.

Well, mostly. I couldn't go around flashing my magic just yet.

I put my back into it, pushing the cart onwards as its owner hurriedly jogged besides me. I went past the marketplace till I came to a stop in front of where I knew a local carpenter's shop to be located. There, with one final exertion of effort, I set the cart down onto the side of the road so it wouldn't be blocked. I brushed aside the merchant's blubbering with an absent-minded wave, accepting his thanks with a nod.

"Don't worry about it," I said, letting Reinforcement slip from my grasp, grunting at the aches that came with using it.

"Good ser," the merchant said, blue eyes staring intently into mine. "I know not where you come from nor why you chose to help me, but I will find a way to repay you. So Jon of the Harbour swears."

xXx​

[Scene Redacted. Up on QQ]

xXx​

"Your swordfightin' is shite," Rollo said calmly, throwing the training sword back at me.

I groaned.

As strong and quick as I was, I had almost no experience with fighting of any kind beyond the little brawls I'd found myself a part of in my last life. It wasn't as if I was powerless, the Gamer's unique abilities lifted me beyond the likes of normal men quite easily, but strength did not translate to skill as I'd quickly found out.

If I didn't use Reinforcement, I could barely edge out a win against him, and even that was only possible because of the sheer size of my body, which was now likely closer to seven feet than six. I didn't exactly have something to compare it against as I'd met no one who matched my height or bulk so far. Plus, it wasn't like the village had proper measuring tools. They were a medieval village, after all. I guess I'd just have to wait to come across a Maester before I'd know how I compared to men like Sandor Clegane or his even more monstrous brother.

"I can see that," I grumbled, picking the sword up and giving it a few swings in the air. A thought came to my mind, and I quickly called on Virtuoso to call up my skills. I browsed through them till I reached the one I wanted to take a look at.


Swordsmanship LV5 EXP 30%

The tale of death is embodied in no weapon more perfectly than in the sword. From the greatest of kings to the lowliest of bandits, all have used it and come to respect its versatility. If this skill is raised to the highest levels, your blade will sing through the air and deliver countless souls to the murky halls of the Underworld.


I skimmed over the description, focusing more on the level.

I frowned. Level 5 was… really, really low. Hell, I imagined I only had level five because I could inherently do more with a sword than the average man.

But I was the Gamer, I thought as my knuckles tightened around the hilt of the sword. I did not know how effective training with a dummy sword would be compared to live steel, or how much EXP training offered in general, but I had time, and no reason not to build a repository of skills I'd need when I couldn't afford to rely simply on my physicality. I'd learnt how to fletch arrows – made some money off of it, too! – and improved on my spearmanship by getting Arnolf to lend his when he wasn't on duty. That skill stood at a solid LV15 already, in part because I had used it in the hunt.

If I practiced here, in my free time, I could likely bring it up enough that I would feel comfortable bringing the weapon with me into real combat.

With a determined grin on my face, I met Rollo with a clang of metal hitting metal.

xXx​

The hedge knight was decently armoured and well-armed, perhaps rich off of winnings at some local tourney or the other, perhaps simply lucky. He was not exactly youthful, but far from old. I imagined him to be somewhere in his early thirties. For a man of his age, he sure could fight, I thought as I parried a swing from his sword with the barest grunt of effort.

I hadn't magically become a master swordsman, but now that I had a reason not to play fairly? I'd activated Reinforcement a few moments into our duel, knowing that without it his weapon and armour would win him the day unless I wanted to openly fight dishonourably. But now? I was more than capable of dealing with him.

I dodged his blow, using my speed to my advantage as I twisted around to face his back. My blade sang through the air, hitting the knight's hauberk with the dull clang of iron meeting solid steel. I was pulling back already when he turned around to face me. We continued our fight that way, parrying the other's strikes, dodging blows narrowly, dancing away from thrusts and swings alike. In a real fight, this would have not gone on the way it had.

But this wasn't a real fight.

It was theatre, an ostensibly friendly duel between a hedge knight who had heard stories of me from a few villages over and wished to test my mettle, and me, who just had nothing better to do. He wasn't the first to come, and I doubted he'd be the last. Sweat glistened down his temples, the half-helm he wore doing nothing to hide his face from me. A look of exhaustion briefly crossed his face. The knight was a decent swordsman no doubt, perhaps even good, but I was Sigurd Giantsblood.

When I dodged, I always followed up with an attack of my own. When I parried, I almost wrenched his sword from his hand. When I struck, I brushed away his blade and bruised him through his armour.

Without wasting another breath, I moved, lashing out with a kick aimed at the knight's unprotected legs. Despite holding back – I didn't want to break his legs, after all – I managed to sweep him off his feet. He fell on his back with a dull thud, sword slipping from his hands as a jolt of pain went through his body. When he came to his senses, I had my sword's point held at his throat, gorget-less neck exposed to steel. I said nothing, instead withdrawing my sword and extending my hand towards him.

He looked at it for a minute, a look of respect crossing his face. He clasped my arm, and I hauled him to his feet, a smile playing on my lips as well. Around us, the little crowd that had gathered to see him challenge me began to cheer, respecting the fight the hedge knight had put on even as some of them chanted my epithet.

"I've never seen a man fight like you. I'll remember the skill you have displayed today for the rest of my life," He said, taking off his helmet. Locks of red hair were exposed to the world, green eyes staring at me intently, his words heavy with humility and respect. I could respect that.

"Sigurd Giantsblood," I said, shaking his hand. The knight laughed, as if coming to realise that the title was more true than he had realised before.

"Caldur of Willow's Rest," He introduced himself with a smile. "In honour of your victory, permit me the chance to buy you a drink."

xXx​

"As I told ya three times already, it's not about yer gold. I can't arm you with that much steel," Albert said gruffly, not looking away from his workstation. I frowned, annoyance flashing across my face. I had been attempting to haggle

"And why is that, exactly?" I gritted my teeth, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

Spending nights with Mariya had done wonders for my stress levels. And yet, as the sun burned its way through the sky, I felt the something awaken in my blood. A wild, untamed feeling that made my limbs restless and my eyes ache. It urged me to move, to explore the font of potential curled within me. Perhaps this was why Gamers chose to keep Gamer's Mind on, to avoid the unnecessary bouts of emotion that would hinder their growth.

But was that all I cared about? An increase in personal strength? Was there not more to life than this, even if mine was shaped by some uncaring being of cosmic power? I did not know where the melancholy had come from, nor did I know why it felt comforting at the same time. I did not know, and perhaps I did not care to find out.

"-brittle and little better than kettle iron."

"Fine," I snapped, waving off his explanation. "Give me a spear, whatever you have already. I won't use any more of your time."

The blacksmith turned from the sword he was creating, looking at me for a moment with some emotion I cared too little about to identify. "Sigurd," he said carefully, slowly. "I meant no insult-"

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply. I needed to find a method of suppressing the urge to act that had cropped up within the span of a day.

"I know, Albert, I know. Just- a spear will do, for now."

He nodded once, retrieving a simple spear from the many shelves decorating his workshop. The armoury was bigger than I had expected, but it made sense the more that I learnt of the village. I had underestimated its importance. Given that it was located in the middle of half-a-dozen other settlements, it had invested considerably in its roads, slowly becoming a local trade nexus of sorts. Its people had grown wealthier as a result, with just enough money to spend that they could afford the little luxuries that other villages couldn't.

I dropped forty silver on the table for the spear, strapping it to my back without another word. Albert began counting the coins quietly, perhaps worried that his unwillingness would result in losing my patronage. Then, he snapped his head towards me, a question on his lips. I smiled thinly, raising my hand to stop him.

"You did not attempt to deceive me by exaggerating the quality of your steel. The ten extra silver are for your honesty. May the gods smile upon you."

Albert stammered his thanks as I left his shop.

Thirty silver was a hefty sum if one considered that it could buy a month's worth of accommodation and food at a rather high price. Old Jon clearly hadn't been in the mood to give me a discount, even less so after he'd found Mariya limping away from my room that morning after the battle. It only served to highlight the trust Arnolf had shown me by lending me his spear. Clearly, the way to deal with rowdy Northmen was to beat them into the ground and share a beer afterwards.

I chuckled at the thought, breathing in the fresh air as I made my way out of the forge. One of the more positive changes I'd keenly felt after I'd come to this world was that the air was practically completely unpolluted, and at night, ten thousand glimmering stars were visible in the sky when the clouds were kind. I knew that this wasn't going to be the case in clogged cities like King's Landing, but here? In the middle of a small village in the North? It was as clean as it'd get.

I was short a hundred silver, and although my grasp of Westerosi prices was still far from good, I thought it was a fair deal for a spear, gambeson, tunic, and leather trouser.

The gambeson itself was rather simple, a black quilted jacket made of leather. It would have ideally served as under armour, but given the local blacksmith's inability to forge good steel mail, it would work for now. The tunic was made of dark green cloth, a simple thing but on the fancier side of things when compared to undyed smallfolk clothes. To keep things simple, the trouser was made of leather, much like my first pair of clothing, which I had mended for no reason other than sentimentality.

I turned from the centre of the village and made my way towards the woods, nodding at those who smiled at my passing. The tales of my exploits had only grown in the time I'd been here. Days spent helping travellers and locals with their issues, putting my immense form to good use, and engaging in friendly contests of speed and strength with passersby had gotten me a fair deal of goodwill.

I didn't mind, to be honest.

The more that knew of me in this region, the better for when I inevitably ran into some of the 'named cast' as I'd begun to think of them. Some part of me knew that this way of organising living, breathing individuals into 'named' and 'unnamed' was a coping mechanism, a wafer-thin pretence I was upholding for the sole purpose of feeling better about where I'd found myself.

Would I go on with life like this? Dismissing those around me as creations of fiction? If the multiverse was infinite, did that not mean that these 'characters' could be just as real as I was? As my world had been? Did that not mean I should treat them the same way as I would in my previous life?

I shook myself from those thoughts, realising that I'd somehow found myself walking past the treeline and rather deep into the woods. The area looked familiar, something about the formation of trees and the canopy overhead calling out to me oddly. The wolf-fang pendant on my chest burnt coldly.

I narrowed my eyes.

Over the weeks, I'd come to realise that something was very unnatural about the necklace, even more so than the fact that my power had generated it. For one, it was completely disproportional to the wolf that the fang had fallen out of. Even more worryingly, it had a tendency of burning against my skin whenever something of importance was taking place nearby.

Something rustled in the distance, and I grabbed my spear a bit tighter, muscles tensing as I readied myself for an attack. Out of the bushes, a dark shape stumbled out, black fur stained with blood, signs of a recent battle littering its body. The wolf limped forward, falling to the ground perhaps a dozen metres away from my form. My eyes widened as I took in the gash along its side. It had clearly suffered these wounds only a short while ago, which meant that whatever it had fought – and lost – against was nearby.

I… knew this was just a wild animal who had lost its bout with nature. I didn't need to expend my power on it, didn't need to do anything about it. I could simply turn away and go back to the village, letting it die as I knew it would soon enough. The wounds were too grievous, its energy sapped to the point of nothingness. If its fellow predators didn't get to it, blood loss and hunger would.

And yet.

Something tugged me towards it. Perhaps it was the thoughts I had occupied myself with only a short while ago, the natural mental backlash of doubt and questioning that followed weeks of indulging cynicism and selfishness. I knew it was going to happen eventually. I just hadn't expected it to happen now. I'd always had a soft spot for animals, and sure, the wolf would die eventually. But now that I was here, with the ability to help?

I sighed, strapping my spear to the back.

I walked towards it, the animal too weak and tired to even lift its head to look at me. I crouched next to it, placing one massive hand over the wolf's wound. It yelped in pain, shuddering and thrashing, but couldn't do more than that given the state it was in. The fang burnt more fiercely than it ever had against my skin.

Pulling deeply at the well of energy I knew to be curled within me, I channelled my magicka into the wound, my will manifesting itself in a burning golden glow. I could have muted the glow, could have dimmed its light, but I would be spending my time corralling the side effects of my skill rather than healing the wound. This would be the first time I was focusing Lesser Healing's energies into another's body.

The fur sizzled as my magicka met it, the wolf's eyes snapping open as it sensed the unnatural touch it. It attempted to resist, but I calmly pressed on, forcing my power to reknit flesh, seal the wound and recuperate the blood loss. I knew even as I urged my skill on that it wouldn't be enough. The wound was too grievous, too serious to be fixed with Lesser Healing. Hell, I'd been stretching its use when I'd healed myself after the stag had slammed into me. The lesser cuts and scrapes across its body healed, fur growing where once bare skin existed.

I pulled back my power, breathing deeply as I felt magicka slowly begin to refill. Within a minute and a half, my 'bar' would be back to full.

Focusing intently, I moulded my skill in a different way, condensing the energy further, folding its healing light until it compressed into itself. I couldn't describe how I was doing that, or even what I was truly doing, but it was working. I could feel my magicka drop far more quickly than Lesser Healing's activation demanded, lighting my hand with a brilliant light that felt stronger.

It sputtered out a moment later.

Paying it no mind, I tried again, this time attempting to give the magicka purpose, declaring my intent to heal the wound before me alone, not as a general remedy to injuries and diseases. My hand lit up with golden light once again. Except this time, it didn't fade away, it stuck to my limb, heating the air around it and melting the snow beneath my boots. I smiled, knowing that I'd created something different. Perhaps not exactly what I was intending, but enough to fit the demands of the situation.

Through continuous application of magicka, you have developed a new skill!

Blessing of the Sun LV1 EXP 5%
Sol has heard your pleas, considered them worthy, and answered your call, her healing light piercing through the heavens to come to your aid. The restorative abilities of your magicka are amplified fivefold, allowing you to heal yourself and others from major injuries and diseases.

This works only if there is enough willpower to save those in front of you. Spread Sol's name through the world to make the skill easier.

Costs 200 MP, single cast only.

I read through the description, blinking at another indication that something… more existed beyond the realms of humanity. Or maybe this was just the Game adding fluff to an otherwise rather boring description. Ignoring that, I focused the Blessing into the wolf's body. Dried blood liquefied and ran off its body in rivulets, flesh reknit entirely, skin and fur reappeared. The wolf's shuddering breaths grew easier, its health returned to it by my will. Soon, it was as if it had never been injured.

I wondered why I was doing what I was doing.

Why did I care enough about some random animal to invent an entirely new skill for it? Did I not have better things to do with my life? I could be back in the inn getting drunk right about now. Perhaps, perhaps this just one more thing in a long list of coping mechanisms. A way to make myself feel like I was leading a meaningful existence by hanging around in this village.

Somewhere above, a raven cawed loudly.

"Making the world better by healing one wolf at a time," I laughed, a bitter sound that roused the wolf from its pitiful state. I rose from my position, my legs numb after having been in that position for so long. Stretching languidly, I kept an eye on the wolf, who remained where it was, its wariness evident to me. Clearly, bringing its ass back from death's door wasn't enough to earn its trust. I sighed. It wasn't like I'd been expecting it to suddenly become my pet.

I slowly walked away from it, arms hanging limply by my side as I attempted to show it that I meant it no harm.

For a moment, I thought about how darkly hilarious it would be if it attempted to attack me. I'd be forced to kill the beast I'd just brought back. No such thing happened, of-course. It let me walk away, muscles tensed in case I was simply luring it into lowering its guard. Slowly, it too backed away, keen eyes trained on me.

And then, it bared its teeth towards the sky, howling fiercely. From a distance, I saw that it was missing three of its teeth.

xXx​

"Rider dropped off a letter for ya," Old Jon grunted without looking at me, busy placing pitchers of beer on a table occupied by some of his patrons. "I put it on the counter with yer food."

I raised an eyebrow at that, wondering who would write to me of all people.

Snow had fallen on my shoulders and hair on my trek back to the village, and I shrugged it off quickly as I entered the inn. I didn't want it melting and ruining my gambeson. Saying a quick thanks to Jon, I made my way towards the counter, grabbing the horn of ale he'd left for me. Turns out, you gained quite the liking for any kind of alcohol when the alternative was funky untreated water.

I saw the letter set next to a platter of meat and a horn of ale. Given that it was parchment, and not merely poorly made paper, whoever was writing it had money to spare, even for a letter to someone like me. I was a nobody in this world with no real connections beyond this town. Didn't lords and knights generally mark letters with their personal seal? Humming with realisation, I took a bite of the beef dish and turned the letter over.

There it was, a twin-headed axe was set in silver wax.

I didn't recognise the coat-of-arms off the top of my head, but I imagined it had to be someone from a nearby noble house if the letter hadn't simply mistakenly arrived here. It was possible some merchant or traveller had spread word of my existence, and some lord or the other was intrigued enough to wonder whether the stories held a grain of truth to them.

I drank deeply from the horn, careful not to spill any ale onto the letter. Undoing the wax seal, I began reading the contents of the letter, my eyebrows rising with each line until they threatened to disappear into my hairline. This definitely sped up my plans of meeting with nobility.

To whom some call Giantsblood,

Tales of your strength, stature, and generous nature have reached the halls of my master. Merchants, travellers and hedge knights alike have spoken of you. My master has expressed interest in meeting the man behind the stories, and he requests your presence at Castle Cerwyn at your earliest convenience. May the gods grant you safe passage.

Signed,
Maester Rhodry, in service to Lord Medger of House Cerwyn.

I frowned lightly, mentally asking Virtuoso to bring up my stats. After almost a month of training various skills, completing sidequests quests and straight up grinding my physicals, I'd only managed to level up twice and increase some of my stats. It was honestly pretty insignificant if you thought about the amount of time I'd spent doing nothing but these quests. Evidently, the Game wanted me to shake things up if I wanted to change things.

STR 13
END 14
DEX 13
INT 17
WIS 17
CHR 16
LUK 5
10 Unspent Points

I thanked Virtuoso mentally, swiping away the screen. Even discounting Reinforcement, I could dish out a fair bit of damage. Combined with the honestly inhuman amount of hours I'd put into learning bladework and the perks of being The Gamer, I felt pretty confident in being able to get out of potential trouble.

I retired to my room after finishing up with my food, letter gripped in my hand.

The wolf-fang burnt against my skin. I sighed, knowing that the little fiefdom of peace I'd carved for myself here was about to end. I supposed it wasn't the end of the world. I could always visit here after visiting Cerwyn, though some part of me doubted I'd be returning here for a long while. How would a noble react to my existence, especially one from the North? Giants weren't exactly loved, but their half-human offspring had always been formidable opponents to face. I wondered how I'd react if this Medger Cerwyn turned out to be a condescending sort, I wasn't exactly the best at keeping my cool. I was broken from my thoughts as the door to my room swung open. Mariya let herself in, closing the door behind her.

xXx



​

AN: Feedback is encouraged. Your thoughts help me write!

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