He still couldn't quite believe it, his fingers moving almost on their own as he dragged the map around, trying to convince himself this wasn't just a trick of his mind. Eventually, he let out a shaky breath, forcing himself to stop messing with the map. His eyes landed on a date written in the corner—AC 296.
It settled over him as he realized he was two years ahead of a turning point: the start of the war marked by the Whoremonger's death.
A knot formed in his stomach. This wasn't a world he wanted to be in, especially not with the ruthless, twisted minds that seemed to thrive here. The only thing he could do was pray that whatever system had thrown him here would also give him a way out.
Running through the timeline of the story in his mind, he did a quick calculation. If he was here until the end…he could be looking at a decade stuck in this world. His temples began to throb just thinking about it. He had no clue what this "system" would consider a "war," so figuring out how to progress in his quest felt just as daunting as the rest.
Then, as he scanned the map again, a name caught his eye, and he froze. Snakewood. His gaze darted to the forest around him. If the place was called "Snakewood," it probably earned the name for a reason. His skin prickled with unease as he took in his surroundings, his eyes finally landing on a viper coiled just a few feet away, its scales blending perfectly with the ground.
He gave a nervous chuckle. "Hey, buddy," he muttered awkwardly, keeping his distance as the snake continued to slither along, minding its own business. Shaking his head, he forced his thoughts back to the screen and tapped on "Barracks," hoping for something—anything—that might make him feel a little more feel better.
His fingers tapped absently on the screen as his mind wandered through his options. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to organize his thoughts. "I need information. But at the same time, I've got to make sure I'm protected…that's my top priority." Right now, the land of Westeros was in relative peace, at least on the surface, though he knew that wouldn't last forever. Opening his eyes, he glanced at the mountains surrounding him, remembering that the Lord of the Vale was still alive.
"I have to think ahead, find ways to grow stronger," he thought, pulling his gaze back to the screen. As he scanned each category of available forces, one thought kept circling in his mind: "Anyone who's planning for the long game knows that information is key. Without it, no general, no matter how skilled, can ever win a war."
But he frowned, eyeing the restriction in the corner—100 units. Right now, that number felt limiting. "I can only summon 100 men, no more for now," he reminded himself, so each choice had to count. His eyes drifted over the swordman category. While tempting, especially the Highland Clansmen known for their fierce mountain fighting skills, they were too noticeable and didn't have the right set of skills for gathering intelligence.
Then he saw them—"Shinobi." His heart skipped a beat. "Yes, that's it." The idea of these elite assassins, experts in stealth, archery, and infiltration, made him grin. They were exactly what he needed: spies, bodyguards, hunters—all rolled into one. Not only could they gather information and report back to him, but they were also capable of striking from the shadows, even natural in challenging mountain terrain like this.
"But…is it the right choice?" he questioned himself, scrolling back and forth through the options. Many of the forces had specific strengths, but the number cap made it difficult to decide. "Sure, shinobi are the perfect spies and assassins, but they aren't exactly suited for open war. And without an actual war, I can't progress the mission or increase my forces."
He sighed, his fingers hovering over the screen. "Even if I could stir up trouble by unsettling some petty lords here, the Vale isn't the right place for that. It's not like I can just stir things up here and expect it to go unnoticed.".
After a moment of thought, a smile crept onto his face. "Mountain tribes," he muttered. "That will work." They wouldn't draw much attention; after all, tribal conflicts were common in the Vale. If they simply vanished, no one would think twice. His smile widened at the thought. "If the system sees getting rid of them as a war, that would be a blessing." Choosing the Shinobi felt right—they were perfect for what he needed now.
Without hesitation, he held down the selection until the troops maxed out.
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Troop Selection:
- Shinobi (Japan)
- Maximum Limit: 100
- Confirm Selection? (Y/N)
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He pressed "Y" without hesitation. But instead of the expected result, there was only silence for a few minutes. The mist seemed to subside, but nothing else happened.
Then, he noticed movement in the woods behind him. Turning around, he saw a group of people emerging from the mist. They weren't the elite assassin's he had anticipated. From their attire, he guessed they were commoners from a medieval era—poorly dressed, yet they numbered in the dozens. The sight of so many of them suddenly walking toward him was unsettling.
He waved his hand, saying, "Hello," hoping his Shinobi would arrive soon if things turned sour. But what happened next stunned him. They all knelt down, bowing in a seated position—knees touching the ground, backs straight, hands resting on their thighs, and heads bowed forward until they touched the earth.
"What the hell?" he thought, shocked by their actions. Just then, a message popped up on the screen, explaining their behavior.
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SYSTEM MESSAGE
Force summoned resembles the appearance of the natives near the summoning location.
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He looked back at the men and women gathered before him, trying to make sense. "White Shinobi?"...