The MC wakes up in the brutal world of Game of Thrones, a land filled with treachery and ambition. To his shock, he possess a powerful system that allows them to summon elite forces from history, including the disciplined legions of Rome, fierce Vikings, stealthy shinobi, and skilled samurai. With a simple command, he can unleash these warriors to dominate their enemies in war. His every choice could lead to glory or ruin. This isn’t just survival; it’s about seizing power in a ruthless world, and the MC is determined to claim their place in the chaos and return home.
The storm had finally calmed, and dawn's first light crept across the horizon. Inside the dim hut, he sat, slouched against the wall, eyes hollow and tired. The candle he had left burning was now just a stub, the wax pooled and hardened, leaving the room in a gray half-light. He hadn't slept; he hadn't moved. His mind felt burdened.
"It's been… more than a month now since I came here," he thought, leaning his head back against the wall. He recalled the people he'd encountered outside the hut—the villagers, the travelers. They hadn't been illusions, nor crafted lies; they were alive, truly living. "They're real, just like me?" he reminded himself, though a fog of doubt lingered in his mind.
He cast a weary glance at the system window hovering nearby, with its cold, unfeeling message: Win 100 wars. It hung there, pressing him forward, indifferent to the cost in lives. "To win… to kill the living," he mused. At first, he'd barely thought about it. Now, every breath seemed to make his feelings harder to understand. "Am I doing this right? Am I becoming…?"
He closed his eyes, remembering the mountain tribes he'd ordered the shinobi to eliminate. Why had he chosen them as his first targets? He thought back to his reasoning. They were brutal, ruthless even to each other, as well as toward outsiders. "That was the excuse I gave myself… they were cruel, so I could justify the cruelty I sent upon them." He sighed, feeling a hollow ache in his chest. He needed to find a way to distract himself, to avoid slipping into madness with his constant overthinking.
Just then, he sensed a shadow at the edge of the room. Dawn's first light was barely breaking over the horizon, yet the figure stood there, silent and poised. The man wore a dark, close-fitting outfit, the fabric seeming to absorb every sliver of light that touched it. His steps were almost invisible, each one precise and soundless as he entered the hut.
Slowly, he raised his head to meet the man's eyes. A loose hood covered the man's head, casting shadows over his face, but just enough light filtered through to reveal the cloth mask covering his mouth and nose. The shinobi knelt in silence on the floor, taking the seiza position, his legs folded underneath him in complete obedience.
"Is it… is it done?" he asked, his voice uncertain and distant, as if he weren't sure he wanted to hear the answer.
The shinobi nodded. "Yes, master. It is done."
He hesitated before asking, "You… left the women and children?"
The shinobi's reply was simple. "We did."
There was a moment of silence. He wanted to dismiss the shinobi, to be alone with his thoughts again. "You can… go," he murmured, almost absently.
The shinobi rose, turning to leave, but halfway through the door, he paused. Without looking up, he said, almost as if to himself, "Stay. Teach me… teach me the way of the shinobi.".
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Stretching his arms overhead, he stepped out of his hut after a long stretch of sleep on the straw bed the shinobi had prepared for him. He couldn't remember the last time he had rested so deeply. "If it weren't for that sleeping medicine the shinobi gave me again," he thought, yawning, "I might never have gotten this much sleep." The sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden hues over the village. It was already evening.
As he walked, he cast a glance at the system screen floating in the air nearby. It displayed 1/100 for his progress and 100/400 for his troop limit. He stared at the screen for a moment, feeling a familiar knot of uncertainty tighten in his chest. "What should I do next?" he wondered, his mind drifting aimlessly.
Deciding to those questions for now, he headed toward the river. Fishing was one of the few things that helped clear his mind. As he passed through the village, several villagers greeted him warmly, their smiles genuine, while a few called out teasing remarks about him finally leaving his hut. "Look who's out now! How's the straw bed treating you?" one laughed, glancing over at him.
He acted as if he hadn't heard them, waving dismissively with his hand, and continued on his way to the riverbank. There, he settled down, setting up his fishing pole with a worm as bait, though his thoughts were far from the task at hand.
As he cast his line into the water, memories of his earlier conversation with the shinobi surfaced in his mind. He had asked them to teach him their ways, but they'd cautioned him that training openly was impossible. "The mountain tribes are on high alert," they had warned. "We can't risk being seen." He sighed, frustrated. The recent disappearances of the Burned Men and the mysterious deaths of many others had made everyone suspicious and cautious.
"What am I even doing here?" he thought as he glanced at the screen again, the numbers taunting him with their stasis.
With a sigh, he opened the barracks section, scrolling through the options available to him. "If anyone saw me waving my hands in the air like this," he mused, "they'd probably think I'm mad...".
There were many options to consider, but none seemed promising at the moment. "I really need to increase my men's numbers," he thought, "or else there won't be any progress at all." His mind circled back to the shinobi; they seemed like the best choice even now. "I'll take more shinobi for now," he decided, "keeping the other 150 for emergencies.".
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Troop Selection:
- Shinobi (Japan)
- Maximum Limit: 250/400
- Confirm Selection? (Y/N)
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Without hesitation, he pressed Y. He waited, but nothing happened.
"What's going on?" he murmured, confused as he held his fishing rod, staring at the water. "Shouldn't they be here by now?"
After a long sigh, he kept holding the fishing rod, half-heartedly hoping that the shinobi would arrive any moment. Just then, he felt a presence near him. A shadow moved quietly, and before he knew it, one of the shinobi appeared at his side, whispering into his ear.
"Sure," he replied automatically, still lost in his thoughts, the words barely registering.
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Guys, I was trying my best to move the story forward quickly, but the main character still needs character development, as well as the other characters involved with him. So please don't say it's lagging a lot. Okay, then I will be waiting for more power stones.
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