As the sounds of battle erupted, Barnett's first blood-soaked war had finally begun.
The attackers had come prepared, while the defenders were caught completely off guard. This was destined to be a one-sided massacre.
Barnett's 300 Nordic archers launched their first volley of flaming arrows in a messy burst, but it barely harmed the Viking warriors of the opposing tribe. A heavy snowfall had just blanketed the land in white, and most of the flaming arrows were extinguished the moment they hit the ground. To make things worse, this was the archers' first real battle—poor aim meant the attack had little practical effect. Hundreds of arrows whooshed through the sky, but the impact was more psychological than physical.
Seeing that the flaming arrows had little effect, Barnett quickly ordered his archers to switch to regular arrows and fire another volley. With one round of experience under their belts, the archers performed far better the second time. Their aim improved noticeably, and the results were significantly more effective. Viking warriors in the defending tribe began to fall around their comrades. Women and children screamed in terror and scattered in every direction, fleeing in panic.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Barnett swiftly ordered six hundred Viking infantry to begin their assault, with the archers continuing to provide cover from behind.
Barnett had previously given clear orders: do not kill the elderly, the sick, or the children—capture them alive to repopulate his own settlement. But any enemy who resisted with a weapon in hand? Cut them down on the spot.
As a result, the old and frail huddled on the ground, trembling in fear, while the blood of armed enemy warriors slowly stained the snow-covered earth.
Though caught off guard, the enemy Viking warriors were no pushovers. The moment Barnett's forces launched their surprise attack, the sound of shouting and steel jolted the enemy into action. They dropped their ale, kicked over benches, grabbed their axes, and charged outside without hesitation.
Their reflexes were sharp, but they were outmatched.
The tribe had fewer than a hundred full-fledged warriors. Only a handful wore chainmail or leather armor; the rest dressed in furs more suited for warmth than protection. When Barnett struck, these scattered defenders were still spread out across multiple buildings and completely unprepared. Barnett's strategy focused on overwhelming isolated groups with superior numbers—seven, eight, even a dozen men surrounding a single defender. Lacking central command, the enemy quickly spiraled into chaos, each man fighting his own desperate battle.
Barnett's Viking troops followed traditional raiding tactics—concentrating their strength to overwhelm and destroy. Once the initial shock wore off, the defending tribe completely collapsed. Every resisting warrior was slain. The entire operation—from the first strike to the withdrawal—took around six hours. Barnett's forces, having the advantage of surprise, sustained only minor injuries: a dozen wounded, none killed.
The defending Viking tribe, on the other hand, suffered catastrophic losses. Aside from twenty or so able-bodied men who were wounded and captured, the rest were annihilated. It was an easy victory—a clean, efficient raid.
After the battle, Barnett tallied the spoils: approximately 1,500 gold coins, along with silverware, grains, dried meat, and strong liquor. His forces marched back to the settlement, escorting roughly 900 captives, including the elderly, children, women, and a few injured enemy warriors.
Triumphant in his first campaign, Barnett was still on the road home when he heard a familiar system chime. The mission to "Conquer 12 Viking Tribes" now displayed a new status: (1/12). One down, eleven to go.
Then came the voice of the system sprite, Kirby, cheerful and infuriating as ever.
"Well done, my friend! I must say, I didn't expect you to pull off such a stunning victory on your first try. Excellent command, solid tactics—you've got real promise."
Barnett was just about to respond when Kirby added in a teasing tone:
"So, were you scared by the blood and slaughter? Nauseated by all the corpses? Did you feel guilty watching those women and children cry?"
"No," Barnett replied flatly.
Having lived two lives, Barnett knew the brutal nature of war. Bloodshed and sacrifice were inevitable. A few lives lost could mean survival for many more. Limited losses in a localized conflict could prevent total collapse. Tactical casualties created valuable breathing room in broader strategic struggles. In the brutal arithmetic of survival and conquest, this was the only path forward.
"Should I call you a cold-blooded maniac, or just a particularly adaptable cockroach?"
"I'm here, so I might as well adapt. No point resisting the reality," Barnett answered calmly, riding his horse with an air of nonchalance.
Before Kirby could speak again, Barnett added in a quiet voice:
"I was thrown into this world for no reason. There's no TV, no internet, no phone. The food's bland, there's barely any seasoning, and someone could try to kill me at any moment. You think I have the luxury of taking my time to adjust?"
"…Fair enough," Kirby fell silent for a few moments before speaking again. "Actually, I do have something good to tell you. A real benefit."
"…Maybe lead with the good news next time," Barnett rolled his eyes.
"Sorry, I'll keep that in mind," Kirby replied, with no sincerity whatsoever.
"You know you can exchange your remaining lifespan for gold, right?" Kirby asked.
"Of course. One second of my life for one gold coin. Ten coins to get one second of life back. That's the kind of thing I'll never forget."
"Well, what if I told you there's a way to earn gold without spending any of your lifespan?"
"You should've told me that first," Barnett snapped, thinking bitterly about how he'd already burned 4,000 seconds of his life just to assemble his personal guard.
"Sorry, sorry. Next time for sure."
"So?" Barnett asked, still annoyed. "What's this method of getting gold without sacrificing my time?"
"It's actually pretty simple," Kirby said breezily. "You take someone else's life. In plain terms—killing. Every enemy warrior killed earns you 3 coins. A regular adult male? 1 coin. Two elderly or children? Also 1 coin. And don't worry, you don't need to do it yourself—if someone under your command does the killing, it still counts."
"Killing people for coins? What are you, some kind of demon?"
Barnett paused. "…Actually, that doesn't sound so bad."
In a world like this—chaotic, war-torn, drenched in blood—life might just be the cheapest thing of all. If others saw these lives as worthless, then why shouldn't he convert them into something valuable?
"You're not even surprised? Not scared? Don't want to ask what my endgame is or what I plan to do with you?" Kirby asked, half teasing, half genuinely curious.
"I've already adapted—to this time, to this world, to the rules of survival here. Either they kill me, or I kill them. For someone who could die at any moment, the rest doesn't matter. If killing others lets me survive longer—so be it."
"I see. So you really have adjusted," Kirby murmured.
"By the way, does that last raid count toward my coin balance?" Barnett asked.
"Of course! Your pal Kirby keeps careful track. Let's see… you killed 85 warriors, 54 regular men, and 16 elderly or infirm. That's a total of 315 gold coins."
Figures. Barnett had vaguely noticed a system pop-up congratulating him on receiving 315 gold, but hadn't looked at it closely.
Now that he knew killing enemies brought in coin, he no longer worried about running out. He'd spend freely when needed.
"Give me intermediate physical reinforcement and cold resistance," he ordered.
"Oof, that'll cost you 85 gold," Kirby warned.
"That's fine. I'll earn more soon."
After all, Barnett had accepted a mission to conquer 12 Viking tribes. He'd only taken down one so far—11 remained. Conquering them meant more bloodshed, more death, and more coins.
"Smart move, Professor Barnett," Kirby chuckled. If the system sprite had a face, it'd probably be grinning ear to ear.
"So this is what you really brought me here for, isn't it?" Barnett suddenly asked. "To conquer, invade, kill?"
"What? No, no! Just a side quest. Totally unrelated to your whole... time-travel thing," Kirby replied with an unconvincing air of innocence.
"That so?" Barnett didn't press. The sprite was obviously on guard now. He wouldn't get a straight answer even if he kept asking.
By then, the two intermediate upgrades—physical enhancement and cold resistance—had fully taken effect. The Nordic wind and snow no longer felt so biting on Barnett's skin.
He rode on calmly, keeping a steady pace. Dusk was approaching when one of his warriors suddenly shouted, pointing to the northern sky:
"Look! A red aurora!"
Everyone looked up.
In the distance, the heavens were streaked with deep red light, unfurling across the sky like blood-soaked fabric, gradually spreading to cover half the night...