Book 1: Chapter 1: Post-awakening stress disorder.

Book 1: Chapter 1: Post-awakening stress disorder.

Argos blinked in disbelief as he stared at his most bloodthirsty warrior. The chief had seen many things in his long years as ruler of these tribes. He had witnessed the birth of a great Conqueror among monsterkind, a uniter who had succeeded in his quest, and had ascended to divinity. He had seen terrible wars -ones that made the current strife seem like friendly childrens play, witnessed honor and courage and cowardice many times over.

Yet he was flabbergasted by the audacity of a minotaur who wanted to retire.

Leave? He sputtered. Yes, Garek had failed to reach his prime, that much was true. The breakthrough into the level thirties constantly eluded him, and yes, he had fallen behind his peers in the eyes of the system, for which he was constantly tormented. But few held the minotaurs sheer, almost divine bloodlust and thirst for combat.

He, Argos Stonegrinder, was for the first time in long memory at a loss for words. Not simply out of disbelief, but what did one say about a minotaur who no longer wished to fight? The very thought was anathema.

Leave, then. He rumbled. Pack your things and be gone before the sun sets. Never show your face within these lands again, to spare us the shame of your existence.

One of his own, turned coward, unable to taste the joy of bloodshed. Another soul lost on the long, treacherous journey to the one-hundreth level. The promise of ascension that came with touching the final level drew many. Most of whom perished in the attempt to reach it.

But to willfully turn and leave the sacred path behind? Dishonor and heresy. Men had been killed for suggesting less.

He refused to speak any more words, and simply stood in silence as the disgraced minotaur turned and walked away in his own shame.

/`/`/`/`/`/`/`/`/`/`/`/`

This week was proof that whatever god there is hates me. I wake up just as this guys spirit vacates the body from an overdose of pills that make this entire place fight-horny, find out Im a furry, and immediately get told to go stop a monster raid.

Sure, good deal. At least I have a massive beefslab of muscle for a body, lots of experience, and according to the System, a fuckload of Skills.

Immediately got my ass beat because what the fuck is a muscle memory when Im not human anymore?

No, seriously, trying to move feels like piloting a big furry mech suit. All stomp, no grace. Eyes out of alignment. Way too strong sense of smell.

I blame the eye thing for how thoroughly I got stomped into the ground by the way. The others rescued me, pulled me back to camp and tossed me into what I assumed was my tent to heal up.

I immediately went and quit.

Fighting monster raids non-stop all my life, competing with the entire world to reach the one-hundreth level. Endless war after endless war here on the frontier? Fuuuuckkkk. Thhaaaat.

Garek or whatever his name was, had done a lot of killing. Like, copious amounts of it. His tent was piled with weapons forged from monster remains. Sacks of coin littered the floor, jars of rage pills were messily stacked by the shelf-full. Everything about this person was devoted to bloodshed in an almost fanatical fervor.

And I wanted none of it.

He had very portable loot, several large sacks, and more muscles than brains.

Moonlight had begun to rise when I finally decided to lay my head for the night. With a tree over my shoulder and axe at my belt, I wandered home.

The word rolled through my mind, and I smiled. This was the right choice.

There was a town not too far away, I recalled some time later, sat upon a freshly hewn stump. A fresh fire crackled before me, a meal on a spit above it. Maybe I could go and hunt for food, but why bother when I had gold? I had fields to break open, a house to build and animals to procure.

Gareks Skill painted a very clear picture of the person this body had been inhabited by. A thoroughly pleasant fellow, I had to admit. Still, they could be made to apply.

Brutal Swing and Relentless Charge had immediate uses I could think of, while things like Scream of Fury and Blood for Blood were very much not things I was eager to explore.

After A lifetime of being just an average human, being able to hurl a tree like a javelin amazed me. Okay, it made me giddy. I even had fun purely kicking a tree in half before I realized that just wasted wood. But for all his flaws, Gareks body was in excellent shape. And all the Levels he had accumulated made tasks trivial.

Why chop one log when I had the strength to cleave through a stack?

It was quiet. Peaceful. Serene, even. Just me and the woods. Things progressed slowly, but they went. Earth I ripped up with Brutal Swingto dig a foundation, then jammed the sharpened logs into the soft earth through sheer strength alone. Nails and hammers I had, but the human-made tools broke in my grasp. As such, I was pounding nails with a minotaur-sized warhammer. Gently, of course. Didnt want to shatter the floor I was constructing.

It was slow, careful work. My own strength made mistakes costly, and a very tight reign over my frustration kept things from escalating. But deep within all that, all those mistakes and in the slow progress, I found something truly priceless.

Happiness.

It was not simple work, to build myself a proper home. But it was a task I took pride in. Yes, I could rip trees from the ground with my bare hand. Flatten sections of dirt with a stomp. Hew trenches in the soil with little effort. But could strength alone properly connect a joint? Shave down wood into boards and frame a wall? That was all skill and memory.

I could not build to human proportions, but to what must fit my new form. And so I did. A sturdy floor, framed walls with windows ready to mount in slots that could be covered for now. And finally, the worst part.

The rafters took several days by themselves. Even with a design as simple as I could make them, working on a rooftop was less than ideal. But it was done. Plywood didnt exist, so I had to make do with more boards. Another slow process as I trimmed them to uniform length and width and covered the outside layer onto my new home.

The inside I left open for now. I would stock the walls with insulation before I worked upon the inner layer. Gareks magical axe hewed stone apart for brick so that I may have a fireplace within. Before I knew it, a week and then some had passed, and I needed food once more.

Cloak about myself, dressed in what I assumed were decent enough clothes, I finally decided to venture to the nearest town and search for whatever I might need to thrive.

Tomorrow. For now, I needed sleep.

Thrive. Profit. Expand.

And just like that, the System kicked in.

Farmer Class obtained. Level One Reached. Sleep to apply.