A Bear of a Problem
The banquet was in full swing—laughter, music, and clinking goblets filled the air. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw the queen. She entered the hall with her daughter, pale and visibly unwell. Something was wrong.
With her daughter's support, she made her way to the stairs. The three tribe leaders noticed her and quickly approached. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but after a brief exchange, the queen turned and went upstairs—likely to her chambers. The king finally noticed and asked if she was alright. She gave a reply I couldn't catch, and he returned to the banquet, tossing an axe into a statue of a bear like nothing had happened.
Time passed.
Then the king stopped mid-motion, sniffing the air like a beast. "Follow me!" he barked.
We all stood, my father and I included, and followed the king. He suddenly thrust his sword into a nearby intersection, nearly skewering a woman hiding in the shadows. She looked terrified, as if she'd been running from something far worse. The king tried to calm her down, but she stuttered uncontrollably.
"Spit it out!" the Bear King snapped. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shouted, "What is it?!"
"BEAR!" she finally cried.
"I KNEW IT! CHARGE!" bellowed the Bear King.
Chaos erupted. People shouted, weapons were drawn, and I got swept up in the frenzy. After a mad dash, we halted—and then, a deafening ROAR echoed through the air. A massive bear-shaped shadow loomed before us, and the hunt began.
We chased it up the tower, where things quickly turned ridiculous. People started tying their pants into ropes. I, on the other hand, drew my knives. I leapt off the tower wall, dragging my blades to slow the fall. Near the bottom, I kicked off the wall and landed with a clean backflip. When I looked up, everyone's jaws were hanging open.
The next morning, the town square was a storm of yelling and clashing weapons. In the center stood Merida.
"I am the princess," she declared.
But her eyes weren't on the crowd. I followed her gaze—and spotted a bear. Something about it… seemed off. I kept my hand on the hilt of my blade, but then noticed the bear was hand-signaling.
What?
I activated Identify.
Name: Queen ElinorStatus: Cursed
My heart dropped.
As I tried to process what this meant, Merida shouted something, and the crowd began to disperse. I noticed my father staring at the bear in confusion. I placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Let it go, something's wrong," I said quietly.
He nodded, and we left the square together. I decided to stay out of whatever was coming next.
Back in my room, I locked the door and opened my system menu.
"No tickets… but I've got system points," I muttered.
I scrolled through the skill list. Basic combat techniques started at 100 points. Magic? A whopping 10,000 and up. Then I saw the unique skills.
My eyes widened.
"Holy crap. One million points? I don't even have ten thousand!"
System:Host, I recommend acquiring combat skills like karate, Muay Thai, and spear fighting. They will be integrated into your 'Versatile Arsenal' skill.
"For real?"
Yes.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
You never asked.
"I'm gonna—… no, calm down. Get back to work."
I bought as many skills as I could afford and checked my status screen.
Erik Haddock – Status SheetAge: 16Race: HumanTitles:Protector (Passive)Relentless (Passive)Tactician (Passive)Dragon-Sighted (Passive)Ironblood Trainee (Passive)Beastwalker (Passive)Lone Fang (Passive)Woundforged (Passive)Forest Reaper (Passive)Beast Slayer (Passive)Genius (Lv. 1/1)Stats:Strength: 21Defense: 23Dexterity: 20Stamina: 22Intelligence: 25Magic: 6Passive Skills:Pain Resistance (Lv. 35/50)Tactical Analysis (Lv. 31/50)Environmental Combat (Lv. 36/50)Crafting (Lv. 27/50)Identify (Lv. 45/50)Accelerated Thinking (Lv. 1/1)Weapon Genius (Lv. 1/1)Versatile Arsenal (Lv. 50/50):Proficient with all weapon types; increases combat effectiveness when switching mid-fight.Short SwordAxeDaggerSpearMaceHammerBowCrossbowBattle AxeLong SwordUnarmed CombatKarateBoxingMuay ThaiKickboxingJujitsuJudoRune Crafting (Lv. 6/50)Active Skills:Battle Trance (Lv. 26/50)Thrust (Lv. 48/50)Slash (Lv. 45/50)
So much knowledge… my body buzzed like it was overloaded with energy. I wanted to test my new martial arts right then and there. But it was still daytime…
I decided to leave my room. As the door shut behind me, I stepped through the living area and out into the open, where I spotted my father speaking with the tribe leaders—the Bear King, Lord Dingwall, Lord Macintosh, and Lord MacGuffin.
I approached and greeted them respectfully. Then, turning to my father, I asked for a spar, my body trembling with excitement. He noticed and gave a nod, then turned to the others and asked if they wished to join.
The three leaders exchanged glances, then gave their agreement with grins.
As we walked toward an open area, King Fergus suddenly asked, "Do you enjoy battle?"
"I do," I replied, "but I'm no battle maniac. I fight when necessary or when I feel I've grown enough to test myself. Most of the time, I train alone, with my brother, or occasionally with my father."
"So," King Fergus said, tilting his head, "have you improved?"
"I have," I answered, somewhat vaguely, "but not in strength."
At that, the other clan leaders grew curious. Lord MacGuffin spoke up. "How strong are you, lass?"
"I'm the second strongest in the village."
They looked unconvinced.
"Are you sure?" Lord Dingwall asked. "Gobber's a mighty Viking."
I smiled slightly and replied, "Gobber is fast and skilled. If he hadn't lost his leg, we would've been tied."
Their eyes widened at that.
As we continued toward the training grounds, we passed the clan heirs. They were chatting—except for the Dingwall heir, who seemed lost in thought. When they noticed us, they greeted the group, and I returned the gesture. Then King Fergus, with a chuckle, suggested the heirs should have a spar.
The leaders burst into laughter and readily agreed. Even my father nodded, amused.
The three heirs hesitated, but eventually followed as King Fergus led us to the arena. A growing crowd trailed behind us.
"So much for a private spar," I muttered, noticing how many people were gathering.
By the time we arrived, nearly the whole village was present—even the princess. The queen was absent, unsurprisingly—last I saw her, she was still a bear.
I was the first to step into the arena. I entered without a weapon, eager to test my martial arts.
My opponent was the heir of Clan Macintosh. He frowned. "Aren't you going to use a weapon?"
"No. I'd planned to test my hand-to-hand skills against my father—but this will do."
His face flushed with anger. "Don't underestimate me!"
He charged with a wide, powerful strike. The audience gasped as I calmly shifted into a boxing stance and dodged. I countered with a solid liver blow.
He staggered, coughing spit, and tried to step back.
I didn't let him.
A technique surfaced in my mind—one I had recently integrated into my arsenal:
The Dempsey Roll.
I advanced, fists raised. I struck him hard, then twisted my upper body into the next punch. The rhythm continued—twist, strike, twist, strike—each blow flowing into the next. He couldn't recover. Blow after blow rained down until his legs gave out and he collapsed.
I stood, panting as the crowd erupted in cheers.
Looking into the stands, I saw my father laughing alongside the four leaders. I smiled too—and waited for my next opponent.
No one came forward.
Puzzled, I glanced around. My eyes landed on King Fergus, who was speaking with a nearby villager. He turned toward me, scratching his head sheepishly.
"The other heirs… ran off."
Later that night
I lay on my back, eyes tracing the ceiling's wooden beams, lost in thought. The sparring matches with the heirs had been disappointing. Controlled. Predictable. I hadn't come this far to dance around with padded swords. I needed something real—something that pushed back.
Earlier today, I'd asked my father for a proper match in the arena. He gave me a small, knowing smile and began walking forward—his body language said finally. Just for a second, I let myself feel hope rise in my chest.
But then—
A Viking burst through the door, urgency written all over him. He leaned in and whispered something into my father's ear.
The shift in him was immediate. His jaw clenched tight. Eyes darkened, as if shadowed by some distant storm.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice lower than usual, barely meeting my eyes. "Something's come up. I need to speak with the king."
I nodded, but inside, something cracked. The tension, the need for release, all coiled tight in my chest.
I waited, pacing, the seconds dragging like hours, until he returned.
His face hadn't softened.
"I have to head back to Berk," he said grimly. "It's urgent. You'll need to stay behind until the festival ends."
A long breath escaped me, shoulders sagging like I'd taken a blow. "…Fine. Just don't take too long."
He gave me a firm nod and walked out.
The moment he was gone, the silence came crashing in. The room suddenly felt too small, the walls too close. My breath turned shallow.
I moved without thinking, crossing to the window and flinging it open. Cool night air rushed in and wrapped around me like a cloak, washing the heat from my skin.
That's when I saw it—the forest, stretching out into the night like an open dare.
A slow grin found its way onto my face.
"Yes… a forest," I muttered. "Let's see what's dumb enough to pick a fight."
No hesitation. No more waiting. I slipped out the window and vanished into the dark.
Hours later
Still nothing. Not a whisper of danger. Not a single predator. Just the sound of my boots crushing dead leaves beneath me.
"Tch… I came out here for a fight, not a nature walk," I muttered. The irritation wasn't just frustration—it was restlessness clawing at my insides.
Then—
A claw mark. Deep. Violent. Etched into a tree like a warning.
I crouched, fingers brushing the gouge. My breath hitched.
"Big bear," I murmured. "Finally."
A grin cut across my face as I sprinted into the trees, heart hammering with raw anticipation.
Then I heard it.
Shouts. Steel. A bear's roar splitting the quiet like thunder.
I didn't think. I moved.
I burst into the clearing—and stopped cold.
The princess stood with a bow drawn, hands trembling. The arrow aimed—not at the beast—but at her father.
Behind her, a massive bear lay ensnared in ropes. Soldiers shouted. Faces confused. But I saw what they couldn't.
"…No. It can't be…"
I stepped forward, voice cutting through the chaos. "Stop!"
Heads turned.
"That bear… is the queen!"
Silence dropped like a stone. Even the princess's bow lowered, her expression cracking into disbelief.
Then the air changed. Sharp. Charged. The kind of quiet that screams something's coming.
I turned. I felt it before I saw it.
And there it was.
Another bear. Towering. Foaming. Its eyes gleaming with rage that wasn't human. Mor'du.
The king's face was drained of color. "CHARGE!"
The soldiers surged—but they were ants in a flood. Mor'du tore through them without pause.
"I'll take you on with my bare hands!" the king roared.
He barely finished the sentence before Mor'du's paw sent him flying like a ragdoll. He hit the ground hard. Too hard.
"Dammit!" I choked, excitement and worry flashing white behind my eyes. I moved, no hesitation.
I slammed into Mor'du. We crashed, and I twisted midair to land on my feet.
He rose, snarling. His eyes locked onto mine.
I dropped into my stance, blood pounding in my ears.
"Too slow," I growled.
I drove a jab into his eye. He howled.
A low kick—his leg buckled.
"You don't scare me!"
He lunged.
I rolled behind him, grabbed fur, muscles screaming in protest.
"HAAH!" I roared, hurling him into the ground.
I leapt on his back, arms locking around his thick neck.
"You're not getting up this time…"
He thrashed. My arms burned. My chest heaved. I didn't let go. I wouldn't.
He bucked, roared—and then, slowly… he stopped.
Stillness.
Then silence.
I rolled off him, staggering, chest heaving.
Around me, no one moved. No one breathed.
The queen—now human, blanket wrapped around her—stared at me like she wasn't sure I was real.
"…Erik," someone whispered.
"Did he just…?"
"ERIK!" another voice cried out.
And then they all joined in.
"ERIK! ERIK! ERIK!"
The chant filled the night. A rhythm of disbelief and awe.
I stood there, swaying slightly. Sweat slick on my skin. Heart pounding.
A laugh slipped out—soft, breathless.
"Guess that counts as a proper test."
A few hours later
Back in my room. Still buzzing. Still on fire inside.
It'll take weeks before my father returns… so I wait.
System:Host, you seem to be bored. Why don't you check out your rewards for defeating Mor'du?
I sat up, pulse still elevated.
"You're right. Thanks for reminding me."
I opened the inbox.
Legendary Achievement Accomplished – Mor'du SlayerGained: Title "Mor'du Slayer" (3 percent boosts in all stats), 50 Tickets, 100,000 Points.
My eyes widened. My breath caught.
"How…?" I whispered.
System:Host, Mor'du, is a legendary figure in this place. This was also a limited-time quest, making it more difficult. If anything had gone differently, you wouldn't have been the one to kill it.
"…I see."
A strange laugh crawled its way out of me. At first just a breath. Then a chuckle. Then full-on laughter. Hands clenched tight. Shoulders shaking.
"Heh… heh… hehehe…"
Then—
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
I stopped.
Turned slowly. Heart still beating fast for a whole different reason.
I opened the door—and froze.
"Princess? What are you doing here?"
She didn't meet my eyes. Her head was bowed. In her hands—something clenched tightly.
Without a word, she shoved it into mine.
"…Thank you," she whispered, voice barely audible. Like if she said it too loud, it might shatter.
Then—she turned and ran.
Gone before I could even breathe her name.
I stood there, staring after her, the weight of her gift in my hands.
"…Huh?"