THREE HOURS BEFORE THE SYSTEM AWAKENED
The morning sun painted Berk's shores in shades of gold and amber. Five-year-old Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III sat on the beach, surrounded by his "fleet"—an assortment of toy boats he'd carved from driftwood with Gobber's help.
"And the mighty dragon ship attacks from the east!" he narrated in his high voice, making whooshing sounds as he sailed one boat through the shallow tide pool. "But Captain Hiccup sees them coming! He turns his ship and—BOOM! Fire everywhere!"
He splashed water dramatically, soaking himself and laughing.
The sound of waves, the cry of seagulls, the distant hammering from Gobber's forge—these were the sounds of home. Safe. Peaceful.
Then something changed.
Hiccup looked up from his toys, squinting at the horizon. Was that.....
A ship.
But not like any Viking ship he'd ever seen. The sail was red with a strange symbol—like an arrow pointing down. And the ship wasn't sailing properly. It was drifting, listing to one side, and there were scorch marks visible even from this distance.
Smoke rose from its deck in thin trails.
"Whoa..." Hiccup breathed, standing up, his toy boats forgotten in the tide pool.
The ship was coming closer, pushed by the current and wind, heading straight for Berk's shore. As it drew nearer, Hiccup could see more damage—broken rails, torn sail, dark stains on the deck that looked like...
His eyes widened.
"IT'S A SHIP!" he shouted, even though no one was nearby to hear. "THERE'S A SHIP COMING!"
He grabbed his favorite toy boat and ran as fast as his small legs could carry him up the beach toward the village.
"DAD! DADDY!" he screamed, his voice high and urgent. "THERE'S A SHIP! IT'S COMING TO THE BEACH! IT LOOKS HURT!"
Vikings emerged from their homes and workshops, alerted by the child's screaming.
Stoick the Vast stepped out of the Great Hall, his massive frame blocking the doorway. "Hiccup? What's all this racket?"
"A ship!" Hiccup gasped, pointing frantically toward the shore, still clutching his toy. "It's all burned and broken and it's coming here and I think something really bad happened to it!"
"Slow down, son," Stoick said, but his eyes had already found the horizon. His expression shifted from mild annoyance to sharp alertness. "Gobber!"
"Aye?" Gobber emerged from the smithy, wiping soot from his mechanical hand.
"Get some men. Armed. There's a vessel approaching—looks like it's been in battle."
"Raiders?" Gobber's good hand went to the axe at his belt.
"Don't know yet. Could be survivors needing help, could be trouble." Stoick looked down at his son and placed a large hand on Hiccup's head. "You did good alerting us, son. Now I need you to stay here in the village while we check it out."
"But I found it!" Hiccup protested.
"And you'll hear all about it when we get back. Stay. Here." The tone was final.
Stoick turned to the gathered Vikings. "Spitelout, Hoark, Phlegma, Ack—you're with us. Weapons ready but sheathed. If they're hostile, we'll know soon enough. If they need help, we don't want to scare them."
"Since when do Vikings worry about scaring people?" Spitelout muttered.
"Since we don't know who they are or what happened," Stoick replied. "Move out."
The group headed down toward the beach at a quick march.
Hiccup watched them go, bouncing on his toes with barely contained excitement and curiosity.
Stay in the village?
He counted to thirty in his head.
Then followed.
By the time Hiccup reached his hiding spot behind the large boulder near the shore, the mysterious ship had fully run aground in the shallows. The bow was wedged into the sand, stern still bobbing slightly in the waves.
From his vantage point, Hiccup could see his father and the other Vikings wading through the shallow water, approaching cautiously. Their weapons were drawn now—axes and swords gleaming in the sunlight.
"Careful," Stoick's voice carried across the water. "Could still be enemies aboard."
They reached the ship. Stoick grabbed the rail and hauled himself up with ease, followed by Gobber and the others.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then—
"Gods..." Stoick's voice, shocked. "What happened here?"
"It's a massacre," Gobber said. "Look at the armor. Never seen anything like it."
Hiccup crept closer, unable to resist. He moved from boulder to boulder, getting nearer to the water's edge.
He could hear fragments of conversation:
"—bodies everywhere—"
"—bronze armor with this symbol—"
"—whoever they fought, they took a lot of them down—"
Then everything happened very fast.
A metallic sound—SNIKT—sharp and mechanical.
"WHOA!" One of the Vikings—Ack—stumbled backward so fast he nearly fell over the ship's rail.
Movement on the deck. Voices raised.
"A child?" That was his father, voice filled with disbelief.
Hiccup couldn't take it anymore. He had to see.
He darted out from behind the boulder and ran toward the water's edge just in time to see—
A small figure on the ship's deck. A boy, maybe seven or eight years old, wearing torn red cloth soaked in blood. His small arm was extended, and from his wrist protruded a wicked-looking blade that gleamed silver in the sunlight.
The boy stood in a stance that looked... wrong for a child. Too balanced. Too ready. Too dangerous.
Then the boy's legs buckled.
Stoick lunged forward, catching the child before he hit the deck. The strange blade retracted with another mechanical sound—snikt—disappearing into some kind of device on the boy's wrist.
"Gobber! He's still alive!" Stoick called. "Get Gothi. NOW!"
"On it!" Gobber leaped over the rail, splashing through the shallows.
"Dad! Dad, is he okay?" Hiccup shouted, unable to help himself. "I saw him move! I saw—"
"Hiccup, I told you to stay back!" Stoick bellowed, but there was no real anger in it—just concern. He was too focused on the boy in his arms.
Stoick waded through the water, carrying the unconscious child with surprising gentleness for such a large man.
As his father passed, Hiccup got his first real look at the mysterious boy.
Blood. So much blood covering his clothes and face. A fresh scar cutting across his left eye—still red and angry-looking. Dark hair matted with seawater and gore.
But what captured Hiccup's attention was the device on the boy's wrist—barely visible now beneath torn fabric, but he'd seen it extend. Seen that blade shoot out like nothing he'd ever imagined.
"What was that thing on his arm?" Hiccup asked, following his father up the beach.
"Not now, son," Stoick said, his face grim.
"But did you see it? It was like—like a sword that came out of nowhere! How does that even—"
"Hiccup." Stoick's tone stopped him. "The boy is badly hurt. Questions can wait."
They climbed the path toward the village. Behind them, the other Vikings were searching the ship, their voices carrying across the water with reports of bodies, strange armor, and weapons they'd never seen before.
Hiccup looked back once at the mysterious vessel sitting in the shallows—a tomb full of dead warriors and secrets.
Whatever had happened out there, it had been a battle. A terrible one.
And somehow, impossibly, one small boy had survived it.
The question was: who was he?
Gobber returned with Gothi, the village healer—an ancient, hunched woman who communicated only through gestures and her staff. She took one look at the unconscious boy in Stoick's arms and immediately began tapping her staff urgently, pointing toward her hut.
The procession moved through the village. Vikings emerged from their homes, murmuring and pointing at the blood-soaked child.
"Who is he?"
"Where did he come from?"
"Is that a child on that death ship?"
Stoick ignored them all, carrying his burden carefully to Gothi's hut at the edge of the village.
Inside, the healer's workspace was cluttered with herbs, strange implements, and drying plants hanging from the ceiling. Stoick laid the boy on the healing bed—little more than a wooden platform covered with furs.
Gothi immediately began her examination, her gnarled fingers moving with surprising gentleness over the boy's wounds.
She paused at his side, where the torn fabric revealed—
Nothing.
Gothi's eyes narrowed. She pulled back the cloth further.
There was a scar there, fresh and pink, but sealed. No open wound. No active bleeding.
She checked his face—the cut across his eye. Also scarred over, as if it had been healing for days, not hours.
Gothi looked up at Stoick and tapped her staff twice, then made a series of gestures.
"What's she saying?" Hiccup whispered.
He'd managed to sneak in despite his father's earlier orders.
Stoick's brow furrowed. "She says... the wounds are already healing. That they should have killed him, but something..." He trailed off, uncertain.
Gothi made another gesture—a question.
"No," Stoick said. "We don't know what happened. We found him like this on a ship full of dead warriors."
The healer nodded slowly, then began preparing poultices and bandages anyway—more for comfort than necessity, it seemed.
"He'll sleep," Stoick said quietly, watching the rise and fall of the boy's chest. "When he wakes, we'll have answers."
"What if he doesn't speak our language?" Hiccup asked.
"Then we'll figure it out." Stoick placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Come. Let Gothi work. We'll check on him in the morning."
"But—"
"Come, Hiccup."
Reluctantly, Hiccup let himself be led out of the hut.
Behind them, Gothi continued her work, cleaning blood and applying salves to wounds that had no business being this close to healed.
And in the bed, Leonidas—John—slept.
But his mind was anything but quiet.
{ QUEST COMPLETE: SURVIVE THE FIRST ENCOUNTER }
REWARDS:
+500 SP (Viking Trust Gained)
+300 SP (Warrior Respect Bonus)
Unlocked: Stealth Mode (System interface can now be hidden from view)
Unlocked: Lucky Wheel feature
TOTAL SYSTEM POINTS: 1,800 SP
NEW QUEST AVAILABLE: "RECOVERY AND RECONNAISSANCE"
Objective: Recover in Berk, gather information about your new location, and decide your next move.
Optional Objectives:
Befriend Hiccup (Reward: ???)
Gain Stoick's trust (Reward: +500 SP)
Keep your true capabilities hidden (Reward: Stealth Skill upgrade)
Time Limit: None. Take your time, kid. You've earned it.
{ SLEEP WELL, LEONIDAS. TOMORROW, YOUR NEW LIFE REALLY BEGINS. }