Day 56.
The gates of Fort Blackiron were shut tight.
Inside, the Grenade Factory was running, but silently.
Rian had given strict orders: "Build them. Store them. Do NOT detonate them."
He wouldn't give the Baron another reason to visit. The next explosion would happen only when it was time to kill.
Rian sat in his study, looking at the map. He had Soldiers (Phalanx), he had Logistics (Lara), he had Industry (Grom), and Magic (Caelum).
But he lacked a Champion. Someone who could charge into an enemy line and break it. Varg was good, but he was a brawler, not a force of nature.
Ding!
[Ding! Daily Intelligence Report - Day 56]
[1. Urgent Rescue Mission]
Target: A human male collapsed 4 miles East, near the "Frozen River Delta."
Identity: Kagan (The Last Barbarian of the Northern Tribes).
Stats: Strength: S | Endurance: S | Agility: A.
Condition: Critical. Sepsis (Blood Poisoning) from an infected bear claw wound.
Status: Local healers would amputate the leg. He has chosen to die intact.
Potential: If saved, he is a One-Man Army.
Rian stood up immediately.
"Sepsis," he muttered. "The invisible killer."
In this medieval world, infection killed more soldiers than swords.
"Hance! Get the sled. Get Varg. And tell Elara to bring the strongest alcohol we have. Not for drinking—for washing."
The Frozen River Delta
They found him half-buried in a snowdrift.
He was massive. Even sitting down, he looked like a mountain. He wore furs that were torn and bloodied. Beside him lay a shattered greataxe and the carcass of a massive Polar Bear he had killed before collapsing.
Varg whistled. "Look at the size of him. He strangled a Polar Bear with his bare hands?"
Rian jumped off the sled. The man, Kagan, was unconscious. His face was gray, covered in sweat despite the freezing cold.
Rian pulled back the fur covering Kagan's left leg.
The smell hit them instantly. Rotting meat.
Three deep claw marks ran down his thigh. The wound was black, oozing pus, and the red lines of blood poisoning were creeping up towards his heart.
"He's dead," Varg shook his head. "The rot has taken the leg. Even if we cut it off, he won't survive the shock."
"He keeps the leg," Rian said, opening his medical kit. "Load him up. If we get him to the sterile room in one hour, he lives."
The Operating Room
Back at the Fort, Rian converted the cleanest room (Lara's office) into a surgery theater.
He scrubbed his hands with the Blackiron Soap until they were raw. He forced Elara to do the same.
Kagan lay on the table, breathing shallowly.
"Elara, listen to me," Rian commanded. "This isn't magic. It's cleaning. The 'Demons' killing him are tiny beasts living in the dirt."
Rian poured high-proof distilled spirits (Alcohol) directly into the open wound.
Kagan's body jerked violently, even in his sleep.
"Hold him down!" Rian shouted to Varg and Grom. It took the combined strength of the two strongest men to keep the barbarian still.
Rian took a Scalpel—a small, razor-sharp blade Grom had forged from high-carbon steel.
"I have to cut out the dead flesh," Rian explained as he worked.
He sliced away the black, necrotic tissue (Debridement). It was gruesome work. Varg looked away, looking green.
"Now, the stitching."
Rian used a needle and thread boiled in water.
Stitch. Pull. Knot.
Stitch. Pull. Knot.
He closed the gaping wound layer by layer.
Finally, he applied a poultice of Honey (which Caelum had found—honey is a natural antibacterial) and wrapped it in boiled bandages.
"It is done," Rian stripped off his bloody gloves. "If the fever breaks by dawn, he serves me."
The Awakening
Day 58.
Two days later, the giant opened his eyes.
He didn't groan. He immediately tried to sit up and reach for his axe.
"Easy, big guy," Varg said, sitting by the door sharpening his sword. "You're in Fort Blackiron. You've been sleeping for two days."
Kagan looked at his surroundings. Stone walls. Warm air (pipes). And... he looked at his leg.
It was still there.
He moved his toes. They worked.
The door opened. Rian walked in, carrying a bowl of meat soup.
Kagan stared at Rian. His voice was deep, like stones grinding together.
"You... you are the weakling noble?"
"I am the weakling who saved your leg," Rian replied calmly, placing the soup on the table. "The healers in the villages would have cut it off."
Kagan touched the bandages. "Why?"
"Because I saw the dead bear next to you," Rian sat down. "A man who can kill a Polar Bear while dying of fever is rare. I collect rare things."
Kagan laughed. It was a dry, rasping sound.
"I am Kagan of the Frostblood Tribe. My tribe is dead. Wipeout by the Orcs. I sought death in the snow."
"Death rejected you," Rian said. "And so did I."
Rian leaned forward.
"I am building an army, Kagan. Not to raid villages. But to crush the Orcs and burn the Empire that let your people die."
Kagan looked into Rian's eyes. He didn't see a pampered lord. He saw the same cold, hard look that a wolf has before it strikes.
Kagan slowly swung his massive legs off the bed. He stood up, towering over Rian. He winced as his stitches pulled, but he didn't fall.
He placed his fist over his heart.
"My axe is broken," Kagan rumbled.
"I have a blacksmith who can forge you an axe that cuts through rock," Rian promised.
"Then my life is yours," Kagan bowed. "Until the last drop of blood."
[Ding! Hero Unit Acquired]
Name: Kagan
Class: Barbarian Berserker (Level 1 - Weakened).
Loyalty: 100 (Life Debt).
Special Skill: [Pain Immunity] (Can fight even with fatal wounds).
The General of the North
Rian walked out of the room, leaving Kagan to eat.
He found Varg waiting outside.
"He's awake?" Varg asked.
"He's ours," Rian nodded.
"Good," Varg grinned. "Because the Wolf Pups are getting big. And I think that giant is too heavy for a horse. But a Dire Wolf..."
Rian smiled.
"Exactly."
He looked at his bustling fort.
He had the Tech (Gunpowder/Steel).
He had the Economy (Soap/Barley).
He had the Magic (Caelum).
And now, he had the Muscle (Kagan).
"System," Rian whispered. "What's next?"
Rian's eyes narrowed.
He wasn't going to wait for the war to come to him. He was going to bring the war to others.
End of Chapter 32