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These people moved painfully slowly through the grasslands. Over a year had passed since then, and I was now almost three years old. I could finally move with greater ease and speak words clearly, though they still sounded a little strange.
I avoided speaking too eloquently. The last thing I wanted was for them to suspect I was some doppelgänger or Skinwalker who had stolen their child's body—or any other insane nonsense like that.
These people were deeply superstitious. Making them suspicious of me was the absolute last thing I wanted, so I did my best to play the role of an adorable baby girl. Even so, it grated on me—a sigma to my core—to no end.
In that year, we had traveled from the Green Plains all the way to the Crescent Forest. It was hunting season, so Dad and my brother were out constantly. My sister sometimes joined them but usually stayed home with Mom to keep me company.
Of course, I also had a brother—an absent one obsessed with animals. He would vanish for days at a time and return with a new tamed "fluffy pal," exactly like today.
"Brunhild! Hey! Look what I brought you! It's a big grizzly bear!"
"GROOOHHH!"
"Why are you bringing that thing here, Magnus?! Get it away!"
"Aww, but Mom! What's wrong with this fluffy friend? He's a nice guy, right, pal?"
"GRAAAHHH!"
The bear, which my brother carried overhead like a tiny kitten, kept roaring furiously and slashing its sharp claws at his thick arms, barely leaving a mark.
He truly was the strongest of my father's children so far—the oldest and most powerful—yet he acted younger than my elder sister because he was so hopelessly childish.
"Come on, if we're not keeping it, just kill it and we'll eat it," my father said, sharpening his knife. "Brunhild loves bear meat, right?"
"No!" I snapped. "It's too rough and tough!"
"Hahaha, we'll stew it and you'll eat it anyway," my father chuckled, already peeling potatoes. We sometimes passed near villages or farming clans and traded wild game and Monster Cores—or Mana Cores—for vegetables and other goods.
Those cores were incredibly valuable. They enriched soil for healthier crops, served as ingredients in potions that boosted magicians' power, and acted as fuel for machines or feed for tamed magic beasts, keeping them energetic and active for days without rest or food.
"No! I won't let you eat my fluffy friend again, Father! You're so cruel!" My brother burst into tears without warning. Despite being a huge, muscular man with short red hair half-covering his glowing green eyes and freckles scattered across his face, he somehow looked like a jacked nerd. "This whole family is messed up! I'm leaving!"
"W-Wait, Magnus! Again?!" my mother sighed, hurrying after him.
A short while later…
"Aaaaggh! Mooom! Stop! It hurts!"
Mom had him by the neck and was hauling him back toward the tent.
"No you don't! You're eating dinner with your family tonight, young man! No more running off to tame every random creature you find! That Beast Tamer Talent you awakened is not for wasting on nonsense like this!" she snapped. "Enough is enough!"
"I'm already twenty!" he wailed. "I'm an adult—I can do whatever the hell I want—AAACK!"
"You gonna make this difficult?" my father growled, seizing his arms in an iron grip. "Eat with your damn family, Magnus! Or I swear I'll beat your ass!"
"Tsk! Why is everyone here such a barbarian!" he grumbled, crossing his arms and dropping down beside me. "Haaa… well, at least Brunhild is nice and quiet. You're gonna be a good little sister when you grow up, right?"
"I like animals too!" I said, giving an extra-cute nod. "Um, but big bro… can I tame one?"
"Hmm? Well, you'd need… actually, not technically," he said. "In ancient times, they say people formed contracts with Beasts and Spirits using their souls. But the Art of Familiar Soul Contracts has been lost for ages. Nobody knows how it was done. These days you either need a Beast Tamer Talent or a ton of patience and luck that the creature doesn't bite your hand off."
"Uh…" I nodded. Learning about this world was always fascinating. "Can you tame a pet for me?"
"Heheh, that's the thing. Beast Tamers can transfer ownership to someone else! The new owner still needs some talent and affinity with the beast, though…" He grinned. "Sure, I'll bring small critters and we'll see what you're compatible with!"
"Thank you!" I hugged his arm. I inwardly cringed at the next line, but it was the perfect capstone to my little manipulative act. "I love you, big bro!"
"Aah! So cute!" He clutched his chest dramatically. "I love you too, Brunhild! I finally have a nice sister!" Tears welled up as he hugged me back fiercely.
"Am I not nice or what?!" Astrid barked, tearing into a huge chunk of bread with a full punk scowl. "What?! Wanna say it again? Hah?! Huh?!"
"N-Nothing!" my brother squeaked.
Wow. He was supposed to be the big brother, yet he was terrified of his little sister?
♢♢♢♢
A week passed with my brother bringing little critters one after another. I spent my days constantly trying to control or manipulate Mana or Spirit Energy, but every attempt ended in failure. I was completely magicless—a perfectly ordinary child. It looked like I really would awaken something only at ten. What a drag.
My brother brought a frog, a spider, a rabbit, and even a wolf puppy. I wanted them all, but he said my soul was too weak to handle more than one. He tried transferring ownership anyway, yet it failed with every creature except the gray wolf puppy.
FLASH!
The instant he transferred ownership, a wolf-shaped rune flared across my right hand. My eyes widened in awe as a fresh power surged through my veins—faint spirit energy or mana, I couldn't tell—but it felt like an early awakening of the strength inside me.
I also sensed something else, like… a thread? It originated deep within my body. Maybe that was my soul.
So anyway, I had my first pet! Hell yeah!
"Yaaaay! Puppy!" I cheered. The wolf clearly liked me; he bounded over, licking my face with enthusiasm. His big green eyes were utterly adorable.
"He likes you! That's great!" my brother said, visibly relieved. "I found this little guy wandering alone. Maybe his parents got hunted. As we get closer to the forest, it really feels like we're stepping into someone's territory. Weird totems and bone structures are everywhere now."
"Goblins!" I blurted. "There are goblins—dangerous!"
"Goblins?" my father asked. "Ah, that might explain it." He didn't even bother asking how I knew. He just wasn't the questioning type.
"Please kill all goblins!" I demanded, brows furrowed in anger. "We must become… Goblin Slayer!"
"Ah?!"
My whole family stared at my fierce expression, then blushed, clutching their chests in disbelief.
"Oh my gosh, she's so cuteeeee!" my big sister squealed.
"Hahaha, you're eager, huh, little princess?" my mother chuckled, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
"Calm down—goblins aren't even that big a deal!" my father laughed, shrugging it off.
"Dangerous!" I insisted. "Don't underestimate them… Hmm, they may attack at night…"
I broke my childlike speech rule for a moment because this was deadly serious.
My mother raised an eyebrow. "But how do you know so much, baby girl?"
"Ummm… I just had a hunch!" I said. "Please believe me?"
"Hm…" She sighed. "I'll tell your grandpa about it. At least that will make you happy?"
"Yes!" I nodded eagerly. "Also, goblin nest… big treasure… we should get it."
"What?" my father asked. "What treasure—wait, how do you even know that?"
"A hunch!" I repeated.
My family exchanged glances, rubbing their chins thoughtfully.
"Maybe she has some kind of divination talent?" my big sister wondered aloud.
"It's strange how she's pulling these things out of nowhere, but she reminds me of the village oracle," my father said.
"Maybe they should meet?" my mother suggested.
"She has no friends her age. I think it's time she starts talking with other kids anyway," my brother agreed with a nod.
"Oracle… Okay!" I nodded firmly. "Goblin ring… inside the goblin nest, I think! Cave full of goblins, Hobgoblin King boss… kill it, get the ring, Dad! You're going to become super-duper fast!"
"Ooh?" My father stroked his short beard, humming. "If that's true… that could give me a real edge, hm? I wonder if it's actually true…"
I had no intention of rushing into danger myself, but if I could convince my family to claim the ring, that worked too. Our standing in the clan would rise as long as one of us gained that incredible speed.
My mother returned soon after; everyone had already finished breakfast. "I told your grandpa. He said he'll send scouts—he remembers goblins being a real nuisance years ago."
"Nice!" I said happily.
"Anyway, Brunhild, are you going to name your puppy?" my brother asked.
The puppy slept curled on my lap. He had devoured plenty of meat, lapped up sheep milk, and promptly passed out. He felt wonderfully warm, though a bit stinky.
"Umm…" I considered. "Heh, Fenrir!"
"Fenrir?!" My family stared in shock.
"H-How do you even know the name of the Ancient Spirit Beast?" my mother asked. "We haven't taught you any history yet…"
"I heard it…" I said. "Fenrir is nice!"
"Fenrir… isn't that the giant dog who died and shaped this whole land?" my sister asked. "I remember hearing this place was nothing but vast desert centuries ago."
"Yeah," my brother nodded. "Fenrir isn't truly dead, though; he lives on inside the Plains. That's why there are so many active Ley Lines—all his blood vessels. The grass is his fur. The mountains are his claws and fangs, and so on. We all moved here from the Snowlands because opportunities opened up after that—all thanks to Fenrir."
Huh, solid lore. I already knew it was one of those details you pick up in-game by actually reading and listening… but most players just mash through dialogue.
So anyway, I named my wolf Fenrir because it was the ultimate generic pick for every isekai novel and anime wolf I'd ever seen. It was the king of tropes, and I adored tropes more than anything, so I had to do it. It felt like destiny, like a prophecy that always fulfilled itself. A Fenrir Wolf Familiar was practically guaranteed, right up there with isekai slavery and nonsensical game systems. For a split second when I said the name, it almost felt like the Great Isekai God had hijacked my body.
The moment he was named… nothing happened. It was only a nickname. My words held no magic. I wasn't Rimuru. Still, they carried real weight—a kind of bond—or so my brother, utterly obsessed with fluffy friends, kept insisting over and over like a broken record. This guy was completely unhinged, wasn't he? I'd bet anything he'd marry a beastkin girl the second he met one. Yeah, there were beast people, orcs, the full fantasy lineup—not just humans. That's exactly why Barbarian Conquest rocked. Among the playable factions, you could pick Orc Clans, Beast People, Lizardfolk, and plenty more.
"Well, for now, how about we introduce you to some of the kids?" my mother asked. "You're almost three already, so we might as well, right? Think you can handle them?"
"Uuh… yeah…" I muttered. Truthfully, I had zero desire to talk to any children and no interest in making friends. But my parents would never let it go until I did.
In the end, they dragged me to the central clearing where we had settled. Dozens of kids my age or older played with wooden toys and inflated-leather balls, kicking them around and laughing. One trait united the clan: white or red hair, blue or green eyes. Almost no variation. It seemed most of us descended from the same ancestral group, which probably meant a whole lot of incest at some point… or maybe not? I didn't know.
"Hi!"
"Huh?"
While I was lost in deep thought—the profound thinker I was—a child approached. I hadn't bothered trying to make friends, quietly considering myself above them all, but my cute appearance apparently pulled them in. Only natural; I was ridiculously adorable.
"Hi…" I gave a shy wave.
The girl who greeted me was energetic, with long white hair in a high ponytail and kind blue eyes. Her skin was a warm brown, and she looked about a year older than me.
"Wanna play ball?"
"Uhh, sure!"
I decided to go along with it, kicking the ball back and forth. I was noticeably slower than the others—running was tough at my age, after all—but I tried my hardest. Other kids were nearby. A red-haired boy with an obnoxious grin kept laughing at me; he had big green eyes. His twin sister looked exactly like him and behaved the same way.
"You're slow!" they teased.
"Yeah… I'm not even three…" I sighed. "Ugh…"
I sat down on the grass and pretended to fiddle with the wooden toys. They watched me for a moment, then came over and joined in.
While I was playing, a small pup raced toward me. Fenrir—who I had left in the tent—had come searching for me, startling everyone.
"Awr! Warf!" He made the cutest noises while licking my tiny hands.
"Wooow! You have a pet dog?!"
"Awesomeeeee!"
"I wanna pet… pet the doggy!"
The children crowded closer. Fenrir shrank back a little, nervous, but I patted his head and nodded. "Okay, you can pet him. I'll let you because… uh, we're friends."
Might as well lock them in as friends now before some more popular kid stole them away. If I made friends fast, my parents would finally stop hounding me. I had never been social. My old school friends had all drifted away and forgotten me. I wondered if I could build anything real here.
"Yaaay! We're friends!" The white-haired girl beamed and hugged me tightly after petting Fenrir. "What's your name? Are you a tamer?"
"Um, Brunhild," I replied. "Yours?"
"Sigrid!" she chirped, her voice adorably bright. "Nice to meet you! Hehehe! I finally have a friend!"
"Yaay…" I mumbled.
Honestly, she was too cute to stay annoyed with, even if her boundless energy felt overwhelming.
"I'm Kara!"
"And I'm Ulf!"
The twins introduced themselves with proper enthusiasm. They were a year older than me and loved to laugh, but they weren't as obnoxious as I had feared. After all, they were only kids. You couldn't judge them too harshly—they simply didn't know any better.
I played with Fenrir, and he soon began chasing us in playful circles. We ran until we were utterly exhausted. Sigrid finally collapsed into sleep, and her mother arrived—a stunning woman with flowing white hair. "Thank you for being her friend. She ran so much that she'll sleep like a log tonight. Brunhild, right? I know your family. We'll come visit tomorrow."
"Uh… okay," I nodded as she walked away.
The twins were much the same, already half-asleep. Their red-haired father—noticeably leaner and younger-looking than my dad—gave me a warm, gentle smile. "Ah, you're Uncle Ragnar's little one! Yeah, Brunhild, right? Thanks for playing with my kids too. See ya."
When playtime ended, parents dragged all the children back to their tents. They had apparently been watching from a distance the whole time. Once I returned to my parents, they beamed with pride and bombarded me with endless questions about the kids I had just met.
It wasn't until after lunch that I finally found myself alone in my mother's tent. I lay down beside her and turned my attention to the strange energy stirring inside me.
"Hmm, is this Mana or Spirit Energy, Fenrir? Can you tell?"
"Wraur?" He tilted his head in the cutest way imaginable.
"I guess you have no clue either," I chuckled, scratching behind his ears as he curled up to sleep. "Hmm…"
For the next couple of hours, I tried to understand the energy with my eyes closed, sensing it flow through every part of my body. I willed it to move, and slowly—agonizingly slowly—it began to obey, creeping forward at a snail's pace.
"I guess this is Mana Manipulation? Figures mine is terrible," I sighed.
Mana Manipulation was a basic Skill most player characters possessed. It boosted Mana Regeneration and lowered the cost of Skills and Spells. Mine had barely begun to develop, but at least the talent was there.
With nothing better to do, I resolved to spend the coming weeks grinding Mana Manipulation until I could achieve something meaningful. As a gamer, I thrived on repetitive tasks taken to the edge of madness. That was practically our lifeblood.
♢♢♢♢
A month slipped by. Between visits from my new friends, forced playtime with them (which I didn't really want), and the genuine time I spent with Fenrir (which I craved), the days blurred together. I finally turned three. Not much had changed. A single month was barely enough time, yet I had already begun noticing sharper senses: sounds carried farther, distant details grew clearer, and I could sense objects a couple of centimeters from my hands.
It was genuinely fascinating how these powers emerged. The more I practiced, the stronger they became—painfully slowly. Perhaps the growth would accelerate over the years. For now, I simply had to endure.
"I'm back! Caught a ton of goblins today. Those pests won't leave us alone when we hunt in the forest. What is their damn problem?"
While I played with little Fenrir, my father strode in, hauling a massive deer across his shoulders and a sack stuffed with berries, mushrooms, and every edible thing he could forage.
"Are we not eating those?" my mother asked.
"Eating goblins?! No way! They're revolting, and their meat turns purple," he groaned. "I've heard anyone stupid enough to try it ends up with crippling stomach pain for a week. We only touch that stuff if we're truly starving."
Goblin meat was mildly poisonous, true, but the Iron Stomach Skill let you consume it—or any questionable meat—without issue. In the game, I sometimes cast it on entire populations just to feed them garbage and save time between quests. There was also an herb called Gob Leaf; boiling it into water and marinating the meat neutralized the poison completely.
"Dad, have you seen any purple-leaf plants?" I asked.
"Purple? Yeah, plenty, but aren't those always poisonous?" he wondered.
"The big leaves can neutralize goblin meat poison…" I said. "Might help if we run out of other food!"
"Hmm, how do you know that?" He eyed me curiously. "Another hunch or some clairvoyance?"
"Hm!" I nodded, refusing to commit.
"Hahah, thanks for the tip, kid. Wonder if it's real? We're pushing deeper into the forest every day. Maybe we'll find something like you said." He paused. "For now, just stay put and grow up quick, eh? Seven years left, girl. In a couple more I'll start teaching you proper movement once your body gets stronger. Right now you're too frail."
"Ok!" I nodded eagerly, already looking forward to it.
Soon after, my big sister Astrid and my brother Magnus returned… carrying a live wyvern this time?
"Magnus, stop bringing home creatures!" my mother roared, shaking the entire tent.
"But Mom, his wing is injured!" my brother protested. "And look at his eyes—doesn't he seem nice?"
"Grrrr…" The wyvern hissed, baring sharp teeth at us.
It was fairly small, probably a juvenile. If tamed and raised properly, it could become a tremendous asset. My parents usually forced him to abandon his beasts, but this time he refused to let this scaled companion go.
"Big bro! Keep it!" I urged. "It looks so coooool! I love wyverns!"
"Really?!" My mother stared in disbelief.
"I-Is that so?" My brother broke into a wide grin. "Then it's settled! He's part of the family now!"
The wyvern hissed furiously at us, but around my brother it grew noticeably calmer, staring vacantly ahead.
And just like that, we gained a new wyvern pet to join Fenrir.
"Woah, woah! Scaly friend, don't eat the dog!" my brother yelled.
"Fenrir?!" I dashed forward to protect my pup as the wyvern gagged on fur and groaned. "Ugh, don't eat him!" I shouted, furious.
"Grrrr!" The wyvern glared at me. I smacked its snout hard. "Gyah?!" It recoiled in shock, rubbing its nose with surprising intelligence in its eyes.
"Hahahaha! She's got what it takes!" my father bellowed, laughing heartily while swigging liquor and butchering the deer at the same time. "Alright, family, time to prep lunch."
♢♢♢♢
"Is it around here where your daughter said the nest would be, Ragnar?"
"Nothing but trees and mist, man."
"Careful! More green ones incoming!"
Ragnar had ventured into the Crescent Forest with his fellow warriors to hunt fresh game and exterminate the relentless goblins. The chief had warned that the creatures would raid the settlement at night unless they were culled daily. A bounty per goblin head had rallied the warriors, and now they hunted the pests lurking behind trees and bushes, launching volleys of poisoned darts and arrows.
"From above!" a warrioress bellowed. "Shields up!"
Everyone raised their shields as dozens of arrows rained down. After the initial volley, they charged into the fray. Glowing red tattoos across their bodies emitted powerful auras that enveloped their weapons. The power they drew depended on the beast depicted in each tattoo.
Ragnar's ox tattoo granted him tremendous speed for charging and the strength to slam foes with double his normal force. He surged forward, obliterating a cluster of goblins in an instant, then charged again and again. Among the group, he was renowned as the "Wild Bull."
"Rhhaaaa!"
With a savage roar, he swung his massive sword, carving through dozens of goblins as their shrieks filled the air. Poison-coated arrows and knives hurtled toward him.
"Tch!"
Teeth clenched, Ragnar channeled his aura and reinforced it with Mana Reinforcement, hardening his skin to steel. The small projectiles bounced harmlessly off as he pursued the fleeing goblins.
"Brunhild was right!" he thought, her words echoing in his mind.
Back then he had dismissed her warning as childish nonsense, but she had been absolutely correct. Thanks to her, he had come fully prepared, charging forward without fear of poison.
"Wait, is that it?"
Deep in the forest, his eyes widened at the sight of a cave mouth. He called his companions. They rushed to his side, drenched in goblin blood, and stared ahead.
"Oi, look over there!" he said. "See? That's the nest! If we wipe out the ones inside, no fresh goblins will pour out anytime soon!"
"What? Really?"
"And bigger, meaner ones are waiting in there—means bigger rewards," Ragnar added. "Come on, let's move!"
The barbarian band stormed into the caverns. Goblins tried to block them, some mounted on gray wolves, others loosing arrows from bows, but the warriors' shields allowed them to counter every threat.
Once inside, pitch-black darkness swallowed them. Ragnar scanned the shadows, recalling his daughter's words.
Lighting a torch in a dark cave was obvious, yet no one had expected a nest here, so few had bothered to bring one. With the flame illuminating the path, he heard heavy footsteps. Human-sized goblins emerged, roaring and swinging bone weapons dripping with poison.
"Hobgoblins! Careful! They're faster and smarter! Kill them quickly or regret it—they know how to wield weapons!"
He barked the orders to his small group. They nodded and engaged, dodging skilled strikes, blocking poisoned blades with shields and Mana Reinforcement, then crushing their foes with raw, herculean power.
Ragnar pulled out the small map Brunhild had scribbled earlier—a complete layout of the nest. He marveled at how she had seen it all so clearly. With every detail proving true, a powerful realization settled in: his three-year-old daughter might truly be an oracle or diviner, a rare and extraordinary talent who could glimpse the future and uncover hidden knowledge.
Guided by the map, he sidestepped traps and turned ambushes against the lurkers in the dark. Her guidance was so precise that he soon reached the deepest chamber, confronting the Hobgoblin King and his aide, a Goblin Witch Doctor.
She was impossibly clever for her age. Pride swelled in his chest. Keeping her instructions locked in his mind, Ragnar met the massive hobgoblin head-on. Axe met sword.
CLASH!
Crimson lightning exploded from his blade with every strike. The Hobgoblin King bellowed as deep, slashing wounds opened across its body.
"GRAAAH!"
With a thunderous roar, the beast glowed vivid red and charged. Ragnar flooded his muscles with Mana and Spirit Energy, activating [Quick Reflexes] to evade at the last instant.
The Hobgoblin King slammed headfirst into the wall and wedged itself there. Without pause, Ragnar drove his sword into the monster's back, shattering spine and lungs in one brutal thrust.
"Gyaaaaarrgh!"
The Hobgoblin King collapsed and died. Ragnar turned to the witch doctor, already dead at his companions' hands. Its curse magic had been formidable, but three barbarians in a narrow dead-end left no escape.
"We did it!" one friend shouted. "Ragnar, that was incredible! How did you know all that?"
"I thought at least one of us was going to die here…" the warrioress murmured.
"Hahaha! Well… it's a secret," Ragnar laughed, striding toward the shadowed rear of the chamber. There, half-hidden, sat a small treasure chest. "Wait—the ring?!"
He opened it. Inside lay a heap of gold coins and, resting on top, a small ring crafted of green jade with a goblin-face jewel that gleamed with eerie beauty.
The moment he slipped it on, a powerful wind aura swirled around his fingers. He took one step forward and blurred ahead so fast his friends barely registered the motion.
"Woah?!"
"Ragnar?!"
"It's… really amazing…" Ragnar whispered, hand over his mouth as the full weight of his daughter's knowledge hit him. "She… she's incredible! With her, our family could rise to the very top of the clan…! Brunhild, this is what you wanted too, isn't it?"
A confident smile spread across his face as he led his friends back to the village, bags heavy with goblin corpses and plenty of purple-leaf plants. Those leaves later proved to neutralize the poison, stench, and foul taste of goblin meat, turning it into a viable emergency ration when salted and dried into jerky.
Even at three years old, Brunhild was quietly reshaping the clan, steering it away from its doomed fate. Many powerful artifacts still waited to be claimed before any outsider—or player—could seize them.
Thus, the little oracle began sketching maps of hidden places, her influence spreading outward, starting with her own family.
Soon, the Winged Boots, the Fireball Necklace, the Elixir Potion, the Mana Diamond, the Holy Scepter, and even the Legendary-grade Sword known as the Dragon Slayer would belong to her.
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