Chapter 7: Allen’s Resolve

“H-Honey? This isn’t happening, right? R-Rodin! N-NOOOOOOOO!!!”

Rodin had come home on a makeshift stretcher of mere sticks and cloth, completely covered with blood. Theresia rushed over to his side, but his eyes were closed and he was not moving. He remained unresponsive no matter how much she screamed and cried.

“Theres— Theresia! Calm down!” Gerda shouted before adopting a softer tone. “It’s all right. We used herbs on him.”

“What? How can yo— Are y—” Theresia struggled to understand how Gerda could spout such empty consolations.

“I mean it. We used a Flower of Muellerze. His life isn’t in danger anymore. But he does need to rest.”

“There’s no way th— How did you afford...?”

The price of the herb that Gerda had mentioned was far too high for serfs to afford. However, he repeatedly reassured Theresia that they had indeed bought and used one. The other men carefully carried Rodin into the house and lowered him into his bed. There were about twenty men here, which roughly matched the number of serfs that Allen knew was in the hunting party. This was probably everyone who had participated in today’s hunt.

“Bes, Bodro, can you go grab some water?”

“Sure thing.”

“’Kay.”

Gerda was giving out instructions in place of Theresia, who was beside herself. Understanding that Gerda meant to get some hot water going, Allen went to start a fire in the fireplace. Although he was also in a state of bewilderment, he tried to do what he could.

How did this happen?!

“Everyone else, you can go grab your meat and head on home. We’re good here.”

All the men exclaimed, “What?!” in unison, as if offended by the very idea. Mash, who had woken up due to the commotion, started crying from the shock of seeing so many strangers in the house. Theresia picked him up and stroked his head, trying to calm him back down.

Gerda gave the men a look. “Now you know what I mean, right? This many people being here is just a bother. I’ll take care of the rest, so you guys go home.”

The men all mumbled their understanding.

“And I don’t think I need to say this, but don’t do anything rash, all right?”

Bes, who had just come back in with the water, gasped with furious indignation. “Wha—?! Things ended up like this because of those damned commoners! You think so too, don’t you, Gerda?! We gotta make them pay!”

Everyone else raised their voices in agreement, causing the atmosphere to slowly take on a dangerous air. The light from the torches outside shone off of the spears currently propped against the wall, giving them an uncanny glint. Mash broke into a fresh bout of crying.

“Bes, I said I’ll take care of this. Grab your meat and go home. You hear me? I want your word.”

“F-Fine...”

Gerda’s steely growl was filled with a different anger than Bes’s. Just because he was holding the others back, it did not mean he was calm either. The silent pressure that he was emanating overwhelmed Bes and the other serfs, causing them to back down obediently. The men left final words of consolation before heading back out into the night. Soon, Gerda was the only person left.

Gerda helped as Theresia peeled away Rodin’s bloodstained clothes. When she saw the scar on her husband’s abdomen, however, she gasped in shock. It was as if his belly had been torn apart and then forcefully fused back together.

“I told you, didn’t I? The Flower of Muellerze really did its job. We were lucky that the herbalist happened to have one in stock,” Gerda said softly as he helped wipe Rodin down with a rag soaked in warm water.

“But how did you afford such a precious herb?” Theresia asked. She seemed to have calmed down slightly from seeing Rodin’s chest slowly rising and falling with a steady rhythm.

“Well...when the knights came that time, I received a few gold coins. Turns out stashing them away’d been the right call after all.”

Allen came out of the nursery after having tucked Mash—who had exhausted himself crying—back into bed. In a hard, clear voice, he asked, “What happened? Was it really a commoner who did this?”

Both Theresia and Gerda looked over in surprise. No child ever spoke the way Allen was now speaking. The boy stared straight at Gerda, his eyes filled with anger at the fate that had befallen his father.

Gerda held his gaze for a short while, then sighed. “The story’s kinda long. Can you get me some water to drink?”

Allen grabbed a wooden cup and filled it from the family jug. Gerda gulped it all down in one go, clearly having been feeling parched.

“The village chief’s been asking us for several years now to let commoners into our hunting team.”

The group had always been the same twenty or so men, and they were all serfs. Some of them did not think very kindly of commoners. The reward for great boar hunting was meat—each participant would receive almost ten whole kilograms from each hunt. There were also roughly fifty people who helped with just the butchering, and they would receive a third of what the hunters got. All of these people were serfs too.

Serfs did the hunting, serfs did the butchering, and serfs ate the meat. The only way the commoners could get their hands on some of the meat was when a serf came to exchange it for other necessities such as firewood and salt. Naturally, this was not much. Otherwise, commoners who wanted meat had to buy it from the village chief. However, this was meat from a Rank C monster, and the price was accordingly prohibitive. As such, the majority of what came to the village chief would simply be processed and sent straight to the feudal lord’s city.

“There’s demand for meat among the commoners, and the village chief himself also wanted to expand the hunts to include them. The problem, however, is that none of them volunteered themselves.”

Going hunting, of course, meant fighting directly with monsters. It was not as if this was easy for the serfs either; there had been casualties over the past ten years of hunting. Even so, the serfs kept it up. The reason why they repeatedly exposed themselves to such danger was a no-brainer—it was all for the sake of their families.

“Then why were there volunteers all of a sudden?” Allen asked.

Gerda paused, then said, “Maybe because they’re feeling overshadowed by us serfs.”

A serf child had been proclaimed a Sword Lord. What’s more, the person that the knight captain had praised in the presence of the most prominent members of the village—even going so far to use the feudal lord’s name to do so—was not one of them, but Rodin. Apparently, word of this had spread like wildfire among the commoners after the feast.

“At the start of this month, I was called to Deboji’s place together with Rodin. He told us that there were five youngsters who wanted to join the hunts and asked us to bring them along. Well, more like commanded than asked, really.”

And so the hunting party trained the newcomers. Starting roughly ten days prior, the entire group gathered several times to show them the ropes. However, they apparently took offense to being under the instruction of serfs and did not take the training very seriously. Even so, Rodin remained patient with them, doing his best to help them learn what they needed to.

Then today came along. The hunt was going exactly according to plan and exactly according to training. Rodin had repeated the strategy to the new members time and time again. It was, put simply, a matter of luring the monster out, surrounding it, and having everyone stab it with spears until it died.

“Because both luring the beast and stabbing it while it flails around require experience, we gave the newcomers the role of surrounding the great boar.”

This was supposedly the easiest job. And yet, they had messed it up. They were supposed to brace with shields in front of the charging boar, but they instead freaked out and froze. The shield wall collapsed, forcing the party to engage in pitched battle.

“The horn on the great boar’s snout pierced Rodin’s stomach, and here we are.”

In the end, the situation devolved into one where all strategy was thrown out the window. Although the group did manage to kill the monster in the end, Rodin had ended up being severely wounded.

After sharing the full account, Gerda left as well. He had his own wife and children who were worriedly awaiting his return. With his exit, silence befell Allen’s house. Theresia grasped her unconscious husband’s hand tightly and told Allen to go to bed. Seeing how there was nothing else that he could help with, Allen obediently did as he was told.

＊ ＊ ＊

The next morning, Gerda came by again, this time with a huge lump of meat in hand. When he placed it down, he said that this was Rodin’s share. The size of the portion made it painfully clear just how much Rodin had been risking his life for his family’s sake. Theresia crumpled to the ground in the earthen-floored room, weeping.

“Is Rodin still sleeping?” Gerda asked as he returned from helping to refill the family’s jug. Instead of commenting on Theresia’s tears, he simply said, “Don’t worry. I’ll definitely make sure your family can make it through the winter. All you have to focus on is safely giving birth.”

“What? Oh, th-thank—”

That very moment, Rodin woke up, looking somewhat disoriented. “Ughhh...where’s this?”

“R-RODINNNN!!!” Theresia rushed over and enveloped her husband in a hug. He let out a groan, indicating that his wound was not fully healed yet.

Mash also glomped onto him, crying, “Papa! Papa!”

A spike of pain shot through Allen’s chest as he took in the sight of his three family members hugging each other.

Just what have I been doing?

If he was to be honest, he did not really have much of an opinion on having been born a serf. He was a serf because the character selection only allowed him to be a serf. Being a royal or a wanderer would have equally meant nothing to him. Anything would have been fine, really.

Back when he had been Kenichi, Allen had been playing games ever since he was seven or eight years old. Of the countless games that he had come across, not once had he chosen to pick it up or not based on who the protagonist’s parents were. After all, it was just a piece of inconsequential lore that had no bearing on the enjoyment of the game itself.

But then he was born to Rodin and Theresia. Every day of his life in this world, he had watched the two of them living their lives to the fullest up close. Mash eventually came along. And now, there was a third baby in Theresia’s belly.

The last traces of childishness seemed to seep out of Allen’s face as a powerful sense of responsibility welled up from deep within him. He felt as though he had woken up in a way. Six years, and he was finally reincarnated in the fullest sense of the word. He was now standing here, in this world, on his own two feet.

“Hey there, tough guy,” Gerda chuckled as he looked at his grimacing friend.

“Gerda...? I’m...alive?”

“You got lucky. You doin’ all right?”

“Mm.” Rodin tried to sit up, but immediately sank back down as if an intense pain had just run through his abdomen. Clearly he was still far from being fully recovered.

“Looks like there’s no way around it. Don’t worry about the great boar hunts—I’ll handle them,” Gerda said to his friend of many years. Although his tone was brusque, his kindness came across loud and clear. “And I’ll also see your family through the winter. You just make sure you get all better by spring.”

“Thanks, man. I’m gonna owe you big-time.”

“That’s not right, father.”

“Hm? ‘Father’?” Rodin reacted to being called “father” for the first time ever. Something seemed different. He turned to look toward Allen, as did Theresia.

“I agree that you should rest up and get better, but I will be the one to take care of our family.”

“It makes me really happy to hear that, Allen, but Ge—” Rodin cut himself off. He could not continue the sentence, not after seeing the resolve in Allen’s eyes.

“I swear I will protect this family.”

In late autumn, at six years of age, Allen came into his own. An unfortunate incident had forced him to truly awaken.

＊ ＊ ＊

The next morning, Allen arose and walked out into the main room.

“Good morning, mother.”

“Good morning, Allen.”

As of yesterday, Allen had stopped calling his parents by “papa” and “mama” and adopted the more mature “father” and “mother.” He grabbed the two wooden buckets from the earthen-floored area of the house by their handles and strode outside. The mornings were getting quite chilly now, with it nearing the end of October, but he did not complain.

With the empty buckets in hand, he headed toward the closest communal well. There were several that had been dug throughout the village for the villagers to use as water for drinking, cooking, washing, and other things. One of them was not all too far from Allen’s house.

“Good morning.”

“Ah, Rodin’s son. Good morning.”

There was already a line of four or five people present. Allen went to stand at the back. By watching the others in front of him, he figured out how to draw water using the rope. This was his first time seeing this task being performed up close.

Several of the villagers sent puzzled glances his way, wondering what a child was doing here. However, they quickly remembered what had happened to Rodin the day before and their looks turned into ones of sympathy.

Soon, it was Allen’s turn. He dropped the well bucket down, then pulled it back up with the rope. Under the eyes of the surrounding adults, he filled both the buckets he had brought with him.

“Hey, kid, you might wanna go easy on the water there. You won’t be able to carry your buckets if they’re both too full.”

“Huh? Oh, thank you for your consideration.” Allen bobbed his head, then turned to head home, one bucket filled with thirty liters of water in each hand. The adults saw him off with their eyes wide open in surprise.

I knew it. Father could do this without breaking a sweat, which means he’s stronger than the other villagers. These buckets are larger than what the other people were using too.

When Allen got home, he promptly emptied the remaining water in the family jug into the ditch beside their house. Then he returned it to its original position and refilled it with the freshly drawn water, bringing the buckets up higher than the height of his chest.

Theresia simply watched, not saying anything.

“Mother, Mr. Gerda’ll be teaching me how to harvest potatoes this afternoon. Is there anything I should get ready beforehand?”

“I...guess so. Yes.”

Because Theresia needed to look after Mash, tend to Rodin, and take care of herself for the baby in her belly, Allen had turned to Gerda for instruction instead.

Just yesterday, Allen had declared that he would do everything that needed to be done for the family. That included, on top of all the housework that he was already helping with, working in the fields as well. Refilling the water jug in the morning was also part of the new duties he had taken up.

The night before, Rodin, Theresia, and Gerda had all tried to talk Allen out of this, reminding him that he was but only six years old. However, it soon became clear that he was not going to be dissuaded. Therefore, the adults decided to let him have a go so he could understand firsthand what a monumental task it was that he had claimed for himself.

Because Rodin was still unable to walk out into the main room by himself—despite how small their house was—Theresia brought breakfast into the room they shared. She then fed him devotedly, one spoonful at a time.

At the same time, Allen ate his own breakfast. Once finished, he helped clean everything up, then proceeded to do the laundry. Lately, doing the laundry had become part of his daily routine. The stone-throwing that he had kept up for three whole years was now fully in the past.

It was only after lunch that Gerda came over, as he had to tend to his own fields in the morning. “Allen, if you really want to help harvest the potatoes, bring this basket.” Gerda’s tone was slightly steely, as if he was trying to get Allen to give up soon.

The boy somehow picked up on his intention and obediently did as he was told with a simple “Yes, sir.”

As a general rule, the fields adjacent to Allen’s house all belonged to Rodin.

There are four or five fields separated by raised footpaths. If I remember correctly, we grow wheat, potatoes, legumes, and leafy vegetables. Looking at it up close really gives me a scale of how much land we have to tend to. As I’d thought, father must’ve leveled up quite a bit to be able to handle it all on his own. It’s gotta be all the great boars that he’s hunted.

Rodin had been killing great boars—Rank C monsters—before Allen was even conceived. Doing so had surely leveled him up quite a bit, making him significantly stronger than any normal villager.

Of course, the size of the fields under Rodin’s management were nothing compared to those in the modern world that were managed using machinery like tractors. However, they were still quite sizable for a single family to tend using only hoes and plows.

Allen followed Gerda into one of these fields, where the ground seemed to be largely covered with drooping leaves. As the boy took in the sights, feeling moved, Gerda proceeded to explain the task at hand.

“When you grab the stalk like this and heave—out come the potatoes,” Gerda said, using one of his muscular arms to uproot a plant. Potatoes of varying sizes appeared, attached to the stalk. Same as Rodin, he had also gained quite a few levels from all the great boar hunts.

The potatoes that had just come out both looked and tasted like what Allen recognized as satsuma potatoes, or Japanese sweet potatoes. Mash loved them because of how sweet they were.

“Like this, sir?”

“That’s right. The roots are pretty firmly dug into the ground. Use all your strength to pull the whole thing up.”

Just as Gerda did, Allen also reached out with one hand to grasp a stalk.

“Wait, you can’t use just one—” Before Gerda could finish his sentence, however, Allen already had the full plant in his hand.

“Do I put the whole thing in the basket?”

“Uh...y-yeah. You’ll have to sort through them when you get home. The smaller ones you’ll need to set aside to use as seeds for next year.”

Now that he knew how to do it, Allen proceeded to go through the rows quickly using both hands. Pluck, shake off the dirt, place into basket. Rinse and repeat. It did not take long for the basket to fill up.

Looks like I wouldn’t be able to finish digging them all up within a day. Not that I’m able to dedicate a whole day to this.

“Do I bring all these to the garden, Mr. Gerda?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, that’s right. I never knew you were so strong, Allen.”

“I am my father’s son, after all.”

There were still plenty of potatoes in the ground, as the total harvest was supposed to keep the entire family fed for the entire coming year. The earthen-floored room quickly ran out of space, so Allen stored the rest out in the garden. Although the fence surrounding the garden was worn-down and rickety, the garden itself was rather sizable. There was plenty of space for Allen and Krena to play knight and for storing crops.

Due to how big it was, when the basket was filled, it was heavier than the weight of a six-year-old child. Despite this, Allen still managed to pick it up handily, though he did have to use both hands. Gerda sharply sucked in his breath as his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at the sight of this.

Rodin, Theresia, and Gerda all knew that Allen was not weak. In fact, they believed he was stronger than the average child. The playing-knight sessions he had with Krena involved speed and power far beyond what normal children could achieve, and the way he conducted his chores did hint at his strength.

However, as it turned out, that hint had been but the tip of the iceberg.

Allen walked while carrying the heavy basket, his small feet slightly sinking into the soft, tilled soil with each step. Whoa, this isn’t heavy at all. Looks like I was right to up Attack after all.

The distribution of the cards in the holders of Allen’s grimoire had been altered from skewing heavily toward Grass F for the MP buff to leaning toward Beast F for Attack. He secretly referred to this as “Farming Mode.”

Allen had decided to put his full abilities on display, no longer holding back. He would be tackling both household chores and farm work with all the stats he had. His father was bedridden, his mother was heavy with child, and he had a younger brother. This was no time to pull his punches. There was a Sword Lord next door, after all, so he figured that even if he stood out a little, it would not be too much of a problem. He had been pronounced Talentless during his Appraisal Ceremony, so even if word got out about him, he expected most people to dismiss the stories as exaggeration.

When I have to work in the fields, I won’t be able to keep too many Grass cards in stock. I’m going to have to be conscientious about my card distribution. What’s more...

Allen shot a look toward a corner of the family’s land where the grass had grown as tall as him. “Is that field over there also under father’s care?”

“That’s right. Next year, it has to be weeded and tilled.”

So it is our land. It’s currently sitting fallow, the grass is mostly dry and withered, and it’s pretty spacious. It should be perfect for what I’m thinking of.

Just as Allen was off-loading another haul of potatoes in his garden, some people came by the house. “Excuse me. Is Rodin in?” the man asked.

“Look who it is. What’re you here for, Chief?” Gerda asked, his voice tinged with a clear note of anger.

The visitor turned out to be the village chief, Deboji. Allen recognized him from having seen him up close during the Appraisal Ceremony and the feast afterward.

“Ah, Gerda. I heard Rodin’s regained consciousness,” Deboji replied before turning to his companion. “Come, boy.”

“Y-Yes, sir.” The other person turned out to be a teenager who looked around fifteen years old. Allen had never seen him before.

Deboji strode straight into the garden, indicating that he understood full well the sheer difference in social status between himself and a family of serfs. Allen and Gerda watched on as the two visitors approached the house’s door.

“What may we do for you today?” Theresia asked, emerging from the earthen-floored room. However, there was something different about her voice. There was a tone that Allen had never heard before.

She’s angry all right. Well, it’s not like I don’t get why. If the village chief hadn’t insisted on letting commoners into the hunting party, father wouldn’t have gotten hurt like this.

“I heard Rodin woke up. We’re here to pay him a visit.” Deboji gestured toward the small cask and foodstuffs in the teenager’s arms.

Theresia paused for a brief moment, then said, “He’s in the back.” She led the two inside the house.

Is it just me, or is this teenager kind of shaking?

The face of the young man who had come in together with the village chief was pale and his eyes were shifting about uneasily.

“Honey, the village chief is here to visit you.”

“Hm? Oh, I see.”

The teenager set down his get-well gifts in the main room, then headed toward the bedroom. The moment he laid eyes on Rodin, who was sitting up in bed, he fell to his knees and bowed deeply.

“I-I’m so sorry you were injured because of me!!!”

So, it’s this guy’s fault that father got hurt?

“Mm... Well, if you still want to keep at it, be careful next time. We’re all putting our lives on the line when we go out there.”

“Huh?” The teenager looked surprised at Rodin’s reaction. “Uh, y-yes, sir.”

Then, after a few more words, the village chief left. Apparently he was here only because the teenager could not come alone. Before long, the two of them were gone.

Allen and Gerda saw them off, then returned to harvesting the potato fields.

“Who was that, Mr. Gerda?”

“Well...” Gerda thought about it a bit, then decided to share the rest of what had happened the day of the hunt. He had said before that the whole operation had devolved into pitched battle because one of the newcomers who was supposed to hold the line had freaked out. After that, however, the boar had continued charging straight toward him.

“Rodin threw himself in front of the attack to protect the kid from just now. Ah, I’m sure you already know, but you can’t tell anyone, all right? Your father doesn’t really like that kind of story about him spreading.”

As Allen and Gerda walked down a raised footpath, they passed by several people heading the opposite direction—in other words, toward Allen’s house. Apparently, they had heard somewhere that Rodin had woken up and were paying him a visit. Most likely, the various things in their hands were meant as get-well presents.

Allen found himself filled with pride at the sight.

＊ ＊ ＊

“I’m going out for a bit in the afternoon today.”

“Really? Don’t stay out too late, okay?”

“Mm-hm. I’ll be back before it gets dark.”

All of the potatoes had been harvested and were now sitting in the garden. The next step was to pick out the small ones to set aside as seed potatoes for next year, then set aside the sixty percent that would be going to the village chief as tax. The garden always ended up being quite crowded during harvest season.

The tax collector came by several times each year on a pretty regular schedule. The next time he was expected was early December. Allen included “sorting through potatoes” in his list of tasks to do in the morning so that he could finish by the time the tax collector would arrive. He was starting to get more and more assimilated to the farming lifestyle.

Gerda had also taught Allen what he needed to accomplish once the potato sorting was over. First, he needed to clear the fields of any stems and roots that were still buried in the soil—if he did not, they would be in the way when it came time to plant new crops next spring. Second, he had to check all the irrigation channels, ensuring that they were cleared and a consistent depth their entire length. The channels surrounding Rodin’s fields were also the family’s responsibility.

That seems like a good spot to do it. I finally finished preparing the cards I need.

Currently, the distribution of cards in Allen’s storage was as follows:

Beast F x 16

Insect G x 3

Insect F x 2

Bird F x 2

Grass F x 7

I’m done readjusting my cards, and I’ve applied Strengthening Lvl. 2 to all of them. I’m as ready as I can be.

In order to make all the farmwork go by quicker, Allen had replaced many of the Grass cards he had been keeping with Beast cards instead. When he had gotten the ratios just the way he wanted, he had then started dedicating all his MP toward raising Strengthening. By now, he had figured out pretty much everything there was to learn about Strengthening Lvl. 2.

Strengthening Lvl. 2

Costs 10 MP to use.

Grants the Summon +20 to the two stats corresponding with the buffs Allen receives.

This confirms that all the other skills aside from Creation have a fixed MP cost that doesn’t change with level. Synthesis costs 5 MP, Strengthening costs 10 MP. It seems reasonable to expect these numbers will remain the same even when I continue leveling them.

Naturally, all the cards that Allen currently had in storage had Strengthening Lvl. 2 applied for the +20 buffs, rather than the +10 offered through Lvl. 1. Going forward, once he obtained Strengthening Lvl. 3, Allen intended on leveling up all three skills of Creation, Synthesis, and Strengthening at an equal rate.

Allen was still in the middle of sorting through the potatoes when lunchtime rolled around. Rodin was still too weak to come out into the main room, but he was noticeably improving. Allen had even planted a Grass F right outside his parents’ bedroom window in the hopes that it might help the recovery go just a little bit faster.

After finishing lunch, Allen went outside again. Mash no longer got lonely nowadays, as Rodin and Theresia were home all day, so Allen was free to do everything he needed to do. He went to where the family’s various baskets were stacked up and picked out the one most suitable for what he was planning. The softball-sized stones lying around the foot of the tree in the garden, completely smooth from years of being thrown, all went into the basket. Then Allen tied his wooden sword to his waist.

With the basket on his back, Allen walked out of the house. He traced the raised footpaths, making a beeline toward the area that Gerda had confirmed to be fallow ground. When he got there, he found himself facing weeds as tall as he was. They had been allowed to grow entirely as they pleased, and were now all dried out and withered.

Allen dove straight in. Somewhere along the way, he placed his basket down, then continued going even deeper, parting the grass as he went.

First, I’ve got to get a general feel for this field.

Due to how tall the weeds were, it was difficult to determine just how large this plot of land was. Allen went to and fro quite a few times, until he figured out roughly where the center was. He then promptly proceeded to stomp all the grass flat in the area. The dried blades of grass cracked under his feet as he continued wordlessly. Eventually, a circle roughly ten meters in diameter was completed, rather similar to the mysterious crop circles that had been popular back in the day.

Yep, this should do.

Allen returned the way he had come to fetch his basket. Then he took the stones out and randomly scattered them throughout the open area. He also drew his sword and held it up at the ready.

Summon: Hopper.

A frog roughly the size of an American bullfrog appeared in the middle of the mystery circle. This was Insect G.

Hopper, use Provoke.

“Ribbit, ribbit.”

Insect G started jumping as its normally green skin flashed red, green, and yellow. Allen hid among the grass, bracing himself with bated breath.

Ten uneventful minutes passed.

Hmm, this isn’t going how I’d hoped.

Allen looked up at the sky with his sword still in hand. He saw birds of various sizes soaring high above.

There are birds flying. Is it because there are too few of them? Or is it because the effect of Provoke doesn’t reach all the way up there?

Winter was coming. In order to get through it, firewood was an absolute necessity. Every year up until now, Rodin had procured this firewood to keep the family warm by bartering the great boar meat he had earned from the hunts. Mash was still very young, and Allen himself, being only six years old, was not all that resistant to the cold either.

For every great boar that got taken down, Rodin received ten kilograms of meat. And every year, he and his hunting group would kill around ten great boars. Half of all the meat from these hunts would go toward purchasing firewood.

This year, however, Rodin could no longer participate in the coming hunts. The family only had the single ten kilogram block of meat from the hunt that had nearly cost his life and the small amount of food that the village chief had left behind when he stopped by. The other members of the hunting party had also brought over what they could, but it was far from enough to procure the amount of firewood that could have been had for a hundred kilograms of meat.

In order to protect his family and provide for them, Allen had come up with the idea to catch birds instead.

Albaherons aside, the birds that look like Japanese cranes should have at least two kilograms of edible meat, right? I’d thought it wouldn’t be too hard to catch fifty of them, but turns out I was wrong.

There were other bird monsters also migrating north, but Allen had zero intention of getting involved with them. All he was aiming for were the large, crane-like birds flying overhead. The idea was to lure them down into a trap using Hopper’s Ability. However, a whole hour had passed with none of the flying creatures taking even the slightest interest.

Should I add another Insect G? I’m glad I made three of them just in case.

Out came the second Insect G. The two frogs jumped side by side, flashing provocatively.

Another hour passed.

Ughhh, looks like even two Hoppers isn’t enough. Or maybe the effect just isn’t reaching all the way up into the sky. I have no idea what the range is for this Ability.

Clang, clang, clang!

The village bell tolled, signaling that it was now three in the afternoon.

It’s already three? I hope Krena’s not taking the break from playing knight too hard.

In light of all the things that Allen now had to do for his family due to Rodin becoming bedridden, he had told Krena that he could no longer play knight with her anymore for the near future. She had looked sad for a brief moment, but then answered that she understood. She therefore had not come over these past two days.

All right. Gonna put the last one out too. This is all I’ve got.

“Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit,” croaked all three frogs as they leaped all around inside the open area, their skin flashing intermittently between red, green, and yellow like broken traffic lights. Allen still had his sword held up in readiness, but there was still no change.

I shouldn’t have put so much stock in this idea, looks like. No, no, it’s still too early to give up. Maybe I should ready a few more Insect G cards and try again tomor—

That very moment, something huge crashed down in one fell swoop. Allen, who just happened to be on the verge of giving up and had thus let his guard down, watched in astonishment as the form waved a leg with glinting claws and tore through one Insect G. The Summon promptly disappeared into bubbles of light.

“SCREEEEEECHHHHH!”

The beast that had descended into this circular area screamed loudly and spread its wings wide in intimidation. It was an albaheron. This was the same bird that would fly northward every year in fall. The same bird that signaled the passing of the seasons for everyone in this world. The same bird that Rodin had named Allen after, hoping for his son to one day live just as freely.

“SCREEEEEECHHHHH!” That very bird shrieked once again. There was little doubt that it had descended in reaction to Insect G’s Ability. It was in an extremely enraged state. In other words, a provoked state.

The length of the creature, from head to toe, was roughly double Allen’s height at two meters, and it boasted a wingspan of four meters. Most of its body was covered in white plumage, but this gradually gave way to an increasingly darker shade of blue toward its wingtips.

Allen crouched low within the grass, carefully studying his shrieking opponent.

I was only trying to catch a random wild bird, but an albaheron came down instead!

Although the development had indeed caught Allen by surprise, he did not need to scramble to think of what to do next. Of course, he could just stay in hiding, hoping that the albaheron eventually calmed down and flew away. However, the faces of his family members sprang to mind. And at the same time, his blood as a gamer boiled in the face of what seemed like the promise of a challenge. As such, there was only one thing to be done.

Allen picked up one of the softball-sized rocks on the ground. While the albaheron snapped at the second Hopper and was occupied with the sight of it disappearing into light bubbles, the boy threw the stone with every ounce of strength he could muster. Thanks to the buffs from his cards and the support from his Throwing skill, the stone zeroed in on the monster’s face with a speed several times faster than normal.

Squash!

“KIEEEEEEHHHHH!” The albaheron screamed, both from the pain of losing its right eye and in surprise at the unexpected attack.

Allen immediately picked up another stone and threw that too. This time, it hit the bird’s long neck and caused it to bend at an extreme angle, giving the bird’s neck a violent jerk. This second attack left the monster stumbling.

Looks like that was really effective! All right, you’re mine! My first monster kill is in the bag!

Allen charged forward, wooden sword in hand, to deliver what he thought would be the final blow. He closed the distance in the blink of an eye, then leaped up to bring his weapon down on the creature’s neck, throwing his full weight behind the strike. Once again, the neck bent greatly. Allen decided to press his advantage and finish this quickly.

However, although the albaheron had indeed taken damage, it was nowhere near the verge of death. It braced its neck, sending Allen flying from the rebound of his own attack. As it turned out, it still had plenty of fighting strength.

“What?!”

The unexpected development threw Allen into a small panic as he rolled through the dried weeds. Shit, shit, shit, shit! Pochis, back me up!

Fifteen Strengthened Beast F cards flew out of the grimoire all at once. The cards all shone brightly, then turned into dogs the size of Akitas with light brown fur. Their barks filled the air as they surrounded the albaheron.

Pochis, use Chomp!

Upon receiving the order to use their Ability, the dogs lunged forward and closed their jaws around the bird’s feet, wings, and neck.

“KIEEEEEEEHHHHH!!!” The albaheron cried loudly in response. However, none of the attacks proved fatal. It unleashed kicks using its reptilian feet in retaliation. Although it did not have much agility here on the ground, it still had its full strength. A dog got kicked out of the open area and crashed into the weeds beyond.

Shit! The longer this goes on, the worse it becomes for me!

One after another, the Summons were crushed by the monster’s beak, stomped by its feet, and sliced to ribbons by its razor-sharp claws. Every time a Pochi was reduced to bubbles of light, Allen felt his buffs decreasing. He hurriedly Created more cards, then Strengthened and Summoned them. The entire process cost 20 MP for each card, but he only had 47 MP at his disposal. His MP ran out after the second one.

Dammit, Rank D is just way too strong. Is it really too strong for me at Lvl. 1?

Just as Allen was about to give up, the albaheron thrust one of its large legs at him. He instinctively brought his wooden sword up. Although he managed to block the attack, the force still sent him flying backwards.

That was not the end of it. As Allen rolled about on the bed of crushed weeds, the monster once again brought its foot down, pressing the boy into the ground. When it pecked down, he hurriedly held his sword up horizontally, barely managing to save himself from being torn to pieces.

Oh, man, I’m so dead!

For the first time ever, Allen felt the presence of death. The albaheron was still being bitten by several Pochis, but it paid them no mind, seemingly caring only about digging its teeth into Allen. The monster was stronger than he was, and slowly but surely its beak drew closer and closer to his face. He stared directly into its mouth and at the rows of zigzagged teeth that lined its beak.

Eventually, a few of the front teeth made contact with Allen’s cheek. They dug in, drawing blood. The wooden sword that he was using to hold the bird’s head back was bending so much it would snap at any moment. Death had come to claim its prize.

What can I do?! Think, me! THINK!

Never before had Allen been more thankful for the thousands of hours that he had spent gaming in his past life. What he had gained from dedicating all that time to countless games was experience. Thanks to this massive amount of experience, he could largely figure out what a skill, technique, or spell did just by seeing its name.

Still pressed against the ground, out of time to even have a flashback, Allen shouted out in desperation, “Sucker! Come out!”

A Strengthened Insect F card flew out and materialized into a leech the size of a sea cucumber.

“SUCK ITTTTTT!”

With a cry of “Chuuu!!!” the Summon bunched up so much it looked like a volleyball, then launched itself straight at the albaheron’s neck.

“SCREEEEEEECCCHHH!!!”

The bird swung its head violently, trying to shake off the leech. However, the Summon clung on tightly, sucking nonstop. Allen somehow managed to escape from underneath the albaheron’s feet in the confusion. At the same time, Insect F’s body seemed to grow stronger and started blinking blue.

I knew it, the Ability is something similar to an Energy Drain spell!

Just like Pochi’s Chomp, Suction had been another Ability that Allen had not been able to examine beforehand. He still was not sure exactly what it was sucking up, be it HP or Attack, but clearly it was proving effective, and so he Summoned another one and directed it to attach itself to the albaheron’s thigh. It, too, started blinking blue as soon as it activated its Ability.

Before the leeches could be flung off, Allen dived back into the fray with his sword. The dogs also redoubled their efforts, their jaws snapping furiously. The fight was back on.

Another kick flew toward Allen, but it was neither as sharp nor as heavy as before. He managed to properly parry it with his sword this time, sending the bird’s foot shooting in another direction, before he landed another blow on the bird’s neck in a counterattack.

It’s definitely weakening. I’m gonna finish you off for good this time!

Allen clambered on top of the struggling beast and used the weight of his body to make it fall over backwards. Then he pressed his sword against its neck to choke it to death. Several minutes later, his grimoire appeared, glowing faintly.

Oh? There’s a new line in the log.

<You have defeated 1 albaheron. You have earned 100 XP.>

The silver letters on the front cover confirmed Allen’s victory and informed him that he had just earned his first experience points.

“HELL YEAH! I WON! I ACTUALLY BEAT IT!”

When Allen looked at the albaheron carcass—his first ever kill—lying on the ground, the memories of when he finished his first ever RPG as Kenichi rose unbidden to his mind.

This is an even bigger rush of achievement than I expected. Is this how all main characters feel when they kill their first monster after leaving their home village? Not that I’ve exactly left home.

Allen thought back to when he was slowly gathering chump change and wandering around a game’s starter town with nothing more than a stick for a weapon, slowly leveling up by fighting weak monsters and returning to the inn whenever his HP got too low.

But one thing I learned is that even Rank D monsters are really strong. Well, it’s true that I’m still Lvl. 1 and my Summons are only Rank F. Hmm, so I’m gonna need to beat ten of these to level up.

XP: 100 / 1,000

While confirming what he had gained and analyzing the fight just now, Allen returned all his Summons to card form and retrieved all of his stones. He then picked up his basket with one hand, returned his sword to his waist, and hoisted the albaheron onto his back. He wanted to keep its body as unharmed as possible, but there was nothing to be done about its legs and wings dragging on the ground. As a six-year-old, Allen’s body was still tiny, after all.

Allen then headed home. When the front entrance of his house came into view, he spotted Krena standing in his garden.

Huh? What’s she doing here? I told her that I can’t play today, though.

“A-Allen, what happened?!” Krena jumped in surprise when she saw the various scratches all over Allen’s body, including the obvious one on his face. She then rushed into the house in a fluster to inform Theresia and Rodin.

Theresia rushed outside. “Wait, what? A-Allen!!!” she cried, enveloping her son in a hug before patting him all over, checking for major injuries.

“I’m not hurt, mother. I caught an albaheron.” The boy drew his mother’s attention toward the catch on his back.

Thus the curtains fell on Allen’s fight with the albaheron—his very first fight as a Summoner.