Odin's Warrior
Somewhere, a familiar sight I'd seen countless times before. It was the supreme fire spirit, Phoenix.
The hierarchy of spirits varied from novel to novel, sometimes with authors inventing their own on a whim. In my story, I'd set the supreme fire spirit as Phoenix.
Seeing a Phoenix roughly ten meters tall in the flesh left me speechless—enormous was the only word that came to mind. Was this the limit of my vocabulary?
The knights stood with mouths agape, the soldiers frozen in shock. No one had anticipated a Phoenix bursting forth.
—I am the supreme fire spirit, Phoenix. Did you summon me?
Its voice was flat, devoid of emotion.
This is a bit extravagant for a stove, I thought. I hadn't planned to use it in combat, but testing its power here might make it useful on the battlefield.
Phoenix spoke, oblivious to the fate I had in mind, and I nodded.
"That's right. St—er, Phoenix!"
—It's been a millennium since a human summoned me. By the ancient laws, I propose a contract. Do you wish to bind yourself to me?
"Let's do it."
—I, Phoenix, shall serve you as master until your dying breath. This is the primordial contract, the will of the Creator God.
I, Phoenix, shall serve as master until death.
This is the ancient pact, sealed by divine will.
Penalty for breach: Eternal dissipation.
Ssssh! A geometric red pattern etched itself onto my wrist. Our minds were now linked—Phoenix was bound to serve me as master, no choice in the matter.
Of course, Phoenix quickly grasped its new role.
—Master, did you contract me just to use me as a stove?
"That was the initial plan... but now I see you've got plenty of uses."
—A millennium's first taste of humiliation.
"Alright, let's see how strong you are. See that hill over there?"
—I see it.
"Smash it."
Shrieeeek!
Phoenix shot forward at supersonic speed, slamming into the hill.
Kaboooom!
"...!"
Rocks tumbled down. The hill vanished entirely, fragments scattering everywhere, leaving a lava zone in its wake.
Had I made spirits this powerful? Spirits barely appeared until mid-story, used by low-rank spiritists for farming or filling reservoirs. Later, as my focus waned, I'd overpowered the supreme ones.
Otherwise, it couldn't pack this punch.
Phoenix returned, haughty.
—What do you think? Don't I seem too valuable to waste as a stove, Master?
"You're a stove and an attack asset! I hit the jackpot with this spirit."
—So I can't escape the stove fate after all.
"Nope. You'll follow our army and regulate the temperature."
—Such indignity. How did this Phoenix end up as a heater?
"That's destiny."
And so I acquired an ultra-efficient stove.
A month and a half into the march. In a week, we'd enter enemy range. The empire's forces had steamrolled five territories; northern cities lay in ruins, their armies on the brink of shattering.
Stragglers joined us, swelling our ranks to 30,000. Commanders without lords, soldiers without leaders—all fell under me.
My official title, "Northern Subjugation Army Commander," was a universal cheat key. With full authority over giantkin conquests, I could execute or cripple any disobedient stragglers without repercussions.
The gods had loved that.
Sometimes I'd accept routed troops while lounging with a book.
"My lord, your meal."
"Lunch already?"
Unless integrating troops, these were precious hobby hours. Best to slack off when possible—war would steal reading time.
I sat on the ground with commanders, tearing into rye bread. Boiled egg in soup: today's lunch.
We had a head chef, but supplies were low. Hence dining together; otherwise, I'd have it served in my carriage.
For commanders, meals were meetings.
Kainus voiced concern.
"My lord, reports say the giantkin number 100,000 now."
"100,000? We're at 30,000. No issue."
"Still, shouldn't we bolster? At least 20,000 more."
"Where from? We push on."
Mobilizing felt like a hassle. 30,000 should suffice to trample the giantkin.
Then Kainus had a brilliant idea.
"What if we recruit en route?"
"Recruit how? Beyond stragglers?"
"Pull from nearby territories?"
"Hm?"
I hadn't considered that. Frontline territories were fair game legally, but he meant intact ones.
"Pretext?"
"You hold His Majesty's full authority. In wartime, unlimited power. No reason it won't work."
"Oh ho!"
"We can trim noble factions too—emperor will love it."
"Kainus, brilliant."
"Hohoho! You're too kind."
He fanned himself while eating. Did he need a fan for meals? Kicking up dust.
Anyway, genius plan. Hit any territory, invoke imperial orders, seize supplies and troops. No cost to me, and it spares my territory's men in battle.
100,000 giantkin were too many for me alone.
"Closest one?"
"Abon Earldom—over 30,000 troops."
"So we snag 20,000?"
"Wise as ever."
"Good. Resupply there, demand 20,000."
Settled.
No one doubted victory.
En route to Abon Earldom. Half a day away. Anticipation built for the chaos.
The gods watched. These psychopaths only cared when I caused mayhem. Escalating stimuli for karma worried me ahead.
This level seemed intense, yet unsatisfying to them.
Rooooar!
Lounging with a book, a roar echoed. Gods perked up—not just watching, intervening.
"Hm?"
Odin's warrior? My emergence had spooked Odin into naming a champion proxy.
A seed blessed like me.
I'd expected this eventually. Annoying, but time to move.
The carriage halted. Soldiers and knights drew weapons, sensing threat.
Thud! Thud thud!
A massive giantkin appeared. Two meters tall, over 120kg. Pig-like, but rippling muscle, wild beard, horned helm—quintessential Viking.
As I'd designed.
But it reeked of divine favor—Odin's blessing.
How to handle this?
Freshly minted divine warrior? No match for me.
Gods overlooked my protagonist buff. No matter their power, no warrior could surpass me while it held.
And they didn't know.
This could be...
My gods wanted victory. Fearing Odin's named one, perhaps exploitable.
Pretend to struggle a bit.
That'd prompt aid.
The warrior bellowed.
"Halt, heretic warrior!"
"Heretic? Why am I the heretic, you oversized lump?!"
"Only Odin, god of gods and sole omnipotent, holds divine rank. You're the bastard spawn of gods he's cast out—I'll slay you here as sacrifice!"
"You look like a two-bit bandit, but play the pious fool? Wash your neck and wait—I'd dull my sword on your filth. Might toss it after."
"Hahaha!"
Troops laughed, unalarmed. One guy blocking 50,000? Barely a snack.
My superhuman strength dwarfed humans.
Thud! He slammed his battle-axe down, snorting like a mad bull.
"Heretic, your blasphemy incites Odin's wrath! I, great warrior Alfed, shall punish you!"
"Fancy words from a brute! Come on!"
Whoosh!
Under gods' gaze, battle erupted.
Boom!
Odin's champion wielded immense force. I dodged; a crater formed where I stood.
Fast too. Blue aura on axe: Master-level, or near.
Blocked with sword—wrists stung, but manageable.
Two levels below me.
Still, Odin's power to forge such a warrior quickly was impressive.
I had protagonist buffs plus multiple gods; Alfed had one, atop a strong base.
The clash dragged evenly. I feigned strain.