Chapter 2: The Cheat System
The glow of the lantern flickered as Ivar leaned back in his chair, his heart still racing. He studied the ten figures kneeling before him, their presence filling the room with an air of quiet menace.
Each of the soldiers was clad in simple leather armor, and though their faces varied, they all had the same unshakable gaze. They radiated strength, their muscular builds and poised stances betraying the superhuman enhancements they possessed.
The one closest to him rose to his feet, standing tall and imposing. "My lord," the man said, his voice a deep rumble, "we await your command. We are yours to lead."
For a moment, Ivar was speechless. These men—these warriors—weren't ordinary soldiers. They were more than he could have hoped for. Memories of his previous life flashed in his mind: history books filled with tales of battles, the endless lectures he'd given on tactics, and the knowledge of how to turn a small force into an unstoppable army.
He stood slowly, meeting the gaze of the soldier who had spoken. "What is your name?"
The man hesitated, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "We have no names, my lord. We exist only to serve you."
Ivar frowned. "That won't do. If you are to follow me, you need names—identities. You'll be more than just weapons."
The man nodded, his expression softening slightly. "Then you shall name us, my lord."
Ivar turned to the others, scanning their faces. He pointed to the man before him. "You'll be Timothy Sunrise. You will be my right hand, my second in command."
Timothy placed a fist over his heart and bowed deeply. "It will be my honor."
Ivar moved down the line, assigning names as he went: Roland Emberhill, a stocky, broad-shouldered man with a steady gaze, would oversee battlefield tactics. Lysa Blackthorne, the only woman among them, had sharp eyes that hinted at an even sharper mind—she would lead intelligence and espionage. By the time he had finished, all ten stood before him, named and ready.
"These names are yours now," Ivar said. "But remember: names mean nothing without deeds. Prove yourselves, and you will become legends."
The group knelt in unison. "We live to serve you, Lord Sunblode," they said as one.
Testing the System
Once the soldiers had taken up temporary quarters in the manor's barracks, Ivar sat at his desk and reopened the system interface. The translucent blue menu reappeared with a soft chime.
[Daily Points: 0. Next refresh in: 24 hours.]
He studied the other categories:
Knowledge: Contained books, scrolls, and instructions on topics ranging from basic farming to advanced engineering.
Items: Offered tools, weapons, and other material goods.
Training: Allowed him to enhance his skills in combat, diplomacy, or even magic—though the latter category was grayed out for now.
Facilities: Allowed him to purchase structures like smithies, libraries, or even hidden fortresses.
Special Skills: Contained abilities and talents, though most of them were locked behind steep point costs.
"This system," Ivar muttered to himself, "isn't just a tool. It's a weapon. And I'll wield it like one."
He leaned back in his chair, considering his next move. The system granted him an incredible advantage, but Westeros was a world that devoured the unprepared. If he was going to survive—and thrive—he needed to move carefully.
The First Command
The next morning, Ivar gathered his council, which consisted of Garen, the steward, and a few village elders. The meeting was held in the manor's great hall, a modest room with wooden beams and a roaring hearth.
"The situation is dire," Garen began, spreading a hand-drawn map of the island across the table. "Our population barely scrapes by. Most of the farmland is overgrown, the fishing boats are in disrepair, and our defenses are nonexistent. If a lord from the mainland decided to take this island, we couldn't stop them."
Ivar studied the map, his mind racing. "What about the river? It's our lifeline, isn't it?"
Garen nodded. "Aye, my lord. It provides fresh water and fish, but the banks are clogged with debris, and the village lacks proper irrigation for the fields."
Ivar tapped the map thoughtfully. "Then that's where we'll start. I want the river cleared and irrigation channels dug. Every able-bodied villager will help."
One of the elders, a hunched old man with a scowl permanently etched on his face, shook his head. "With respect, my lord, these people are already struggling to survive. If you force them to work harder, they'll resent you."
"They won't resent me," Ivar said coldly. "Not when they see the results. This isn't about survival—it's about progress. I'll work beside them if I have to, but this island will prosper."
The elder grumbled but fell silent under Ivar's sharp gaze.
"Garen," Ivar continued, "gather the villagers tomorrow morning. Explain the plan to them. If anyone refuses to work, let me know."
"Yes, my lord," Garen said, bowing his head.
The River Project
The following day, Ivar stood on the riverbank, watching as the villagers hacked away at the debris clogging the water. Men and women worked side by side, their faces slick with sweat and their hands blistered from the effort.
Ivar wasn't idle. He joined them, wielding a sharpened stick to help clear the branches and reeds. The work was grueling, but he didn't complain. Instead, he used the opportunity to speak with the villagers, encouraging them with his words and his presence.
"We're not just clearing a river," he said to a young woman struggling to drag a log onto the shore. "We're laying the foundation for something greater. This island will be unrecognizable in a year, and you'll be proud to say you helped build it."
The woman hesitated, then gave him a small smile. "Thank you, my lord."
By the end of the day, progress was evident. The river flowed more freely, and the villagers, though exhausted, seemed invigorated by the tangible results.
Timothy Sunrise, who had been overseeing the work alongside Ivar, approached him as the sun dipped below the horizon. "The people are starting to believe in you," Timothy said. "But belief only lasts so long. They'll need results soon."
"They'll get them," Ivar replied. "This is just the beginning."