The Viking Era (Part One)
Matthew Groff, a 31-year-old overweight virgin with no aspirations, no interests, and a family that despises him, spends his days working from home, only leaving his house when absolutely necessary. In short, he's a washed-up loser. The one thing he truly enjoys is the Viking era. He has devoured every piece of Viking-related content he could find.
One day, he stumbles upon something new: The Viking Era, a web novel. He leaps out of his chair, shouting, "THANK THE GODS!" when he notices it has 101 chapters. Overjoyed, he grabs an energy drink from his mini-fridge, plops back into his chair, and dons his Viking helmet—yes, he owns a Viking helmet specifically for reading Viking content. (I told you, he's a loser.) Cracking open the drink, he grins and declares, "It's game time," before diving in.
…
"IT FUCKING SUCKS!!" Matthew screams, probably waking up his neighbors.
He slams his hands onto the keyboard and writes a scathing review:
"The timeline is atrocious! The story takes place in 1128—the Viking period ended around 1066! The writing is terrible, the characters' names and personalities are awful, and even the way they talk and act is completely wrong. This useless author should just find another job!!"
Despite all his complaints, Matthew reads every single one of the 101 chapters.
To calm himself down afterward, he watches his favorite movie, The Strongest Vikings. Then, dragging himself to bed—his Viking-themed bedsheets awaiting him—he decides to unwind with a smoke on the balcony. The cold night air bites at his skin as he lights his cigarette, gazing up at the stars.
Matthew lay down on his chair, staring at the stars above. The cold night air bit at his skin, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in memories of his monotone childhood. He thought about the relentless bullying he had endured—first from his classmates, then from his older siblings. His days had been filled with taunts, loneliness, and a gnawing sense of worthlessness.
Yet, amidst the darkness, there was one bright spot: his father. Memories of sitting together on the worn living room couch, watching their favorite show, The Viking King, brought a faint smile to his lips. Those moments had felt like a shield, a brief escape from the cruelty of the world.
"I should call him and apologize," Matthew murmured, guilt twisting in his chest.
The thought had been haunting him for years. Nearly a decade had passed since he last spoke to his father, and now the weight of that silence felt unbearable.
He reached for his phone, hesitating for a moment before dialing the number he had committed to memory long ago. Just as he braced himself for the sound of his father's voice—one he hadn't heard in so long—an excruciating pain tore through his skull.
It was blinding, searing. The intensity of it drowned out everything else, leaving him deaf to the world around him. His eyes burned as if they were being scorched from the inside, and his vision blurred. Dizzy and disoriented, Matthew screamed, his voice hoarse and desperate, but no one came to his aid.
Clutching his head in agony, he stumbled to his knees. His hands instinctively rose to cover his face—well, as much as his triple chin would allow.
When the pain subsides slightly, he begins to hear voices—many voices—chanting. Suddenly, an icy gust crashes into him. He lowers his hands and blinks in shock. His hands are no longer fat.
Matthew looks around. He's standing in the snow, wearing a pair of boots that could only belong to a Viking. As he lifts his head, he sees a Viking village—wooden houses blanketed in snow, people in Viking attire bustling about. But he's not alone. He's surrounded by a group of Vikings forming a circle around him and another man—a shirtless ginger with long braids.
Matthew exhales shakily, not realizing he'd been holding his breath. The chanting becomes clear now.
"Go, Erthan! Go, Erthan! GO, ERTHAN!!" the crowd roars.
Matthew glances down and notices he's shirtless, too. But what shocks him most isn't his lack of clothing—it's his transformed body. His flabby belly has been replaced by rock-hard abs.
He runs a hand through his hair, expecting his greasy, long black locks but finding short blonde strands instead. His heart sinks a little. He'd always thought his long hair made him look cool—it didn't, but it was a comforting delusion.
"FIGHT!" a Viking standing between him and the ginger yells.
Matthew freezes, still distracted by his hair, but snaps to attention when he hears the word.
"Fight? Me? Why?" he thinks, panic setting in.
The ginger man steps forward, fists raised and wrapped in white fabric—just like Matthew's. Matthew stumbles back, glancing around the circle for help, but the Vikings behind him shove him closer to the center.
"Shit!" he mutters under his breath.
That's when he sees it—right behind the ginger—a glowing purple triangle hovering in the air. Words flash across it:
[Dodge in 5]
The number ticks down to [4].
Matthew's eyes widen. He knows exactly what this is: [the system].