The streets echoed with the laughter and footfalls of two young boys racing through the bustling city. Ah, yes, that's me and my best friend, laughing without a care in the world. The city around us was a vibrant tapestry of life, reminiscent of the cheerful settings found in isekai anime—prosperous, lively, and full of unity. Men and women strolled together, sharing moments of happiness and camaraderie. Old men wandered the streets, puffing on their pipes, while bars buzzed with the cheerful conversations of patrons enjoying their evening.
I lived with my grandfather, a kind and gentle soul. After I found my friend—Rick—crying and starving on the streets, he became a part of our family, and together, we were as close as blood relatives.
One fateful day, as we were walking along our usual route home, we came across a group of boys harassing a frightened and hungry girl.
"Hey, you little punk," their leader sneered, "give us everything you've collected today, and don't give us any crap."
Without a second thought, I rushed to her aid, attempting to intervene. I ended up getting beaten, but we managed to escape with the girl.
"Are you alright?" I asked her, noticing her traumatized expression and a wound on her knee. I treated her injury, and I couldn't help but notice her beauty—her brown eyes, blonde hair, and soft white skin. Rick seemed equally smitten, blushing in her presence.
We took her to our home, where we provided her with fresh clothes. Rick seemed too shy to come in front of her for the entire night and the following day. Finally, I asked her name.
"Sara," she replied, "what a beautiful name," I thought to myself.
From that day on, we welcomed many children into our home. Our grandfather didn't mind; he loved having a lively household. Despite our diverse backgrounds, we were united by our friendship and familial bond.
By the way,my name is Neir Alaric, and I am 10 year old now,this is my story—a story that no one, not even the author, can change.
I remember my grandfather's tales about the region of the Vikings. He would often speak of my father, a great warrior from that land. We all agreed that one day, we would journey there and join my father's clan.
One story I particularly enjoyed was about a humorous incident involving the first leader of JORM. Around ten years ago, in 199 AD on May 2nd, a clan named the Jokers wanted to fight with JORM.
"Are we in JORM's territory?" one of the Jokers asked.
"Yes," another replied.
Suddenly, the first leader of JORM, then 98 years old and looking rather ghostly in his white jacket, appeared in the garden at 2 am. The two spies were so frightened that they urinated in their pants and fainted. We captured them, and the war was called off, thanks to our first leader's timely intervention. The Jokers were later merged with JORM, and all matters were resolved peacefully.
It was a very funny story but my grandfather told us more stories, about bravery and faith and how my father was the second most strongest.
But as we grew older, many of our friends rejected the idea of going to the land of the Vikings. They fell in love, started families, and pursued luxurious lives elsewhere. By the age of 21, only four of us remained: Me, Sara, Rick, and Taylor.
We knew the risks of entering Viking territory and understood that once we crossed the border, there would be no turning back. But we were determined to fulfill our dream.
"Sara, Rick, Taylor, you are and always will be my best friends," I declared, tears welling in my eyes. "We are family, and we will journey to the land of the Vikings together."
Everyone cheered in agreement.
"We will be brave and stick together, no matter how difficult the conditions," Sara affirmed, and we all nodded in agreement.
From this moment on, our real adventure begins. We spent the next few months preparing for our journey—learning the ways of the Vikings, honing our combat skills, and gathering supplies for the long trek ahead. Our grandfather, despite his age, was a wealth of knowledge, teaching us everything he knew about the Viking culture and traditions.
Finally, the day arrived. With heavy hearts but determined spirits, we set out on our journey to the land of the Vikings.