Chương 49: Berserker

Dimitri stepped forward, his massive, leather wrapped hand descending toward Aiko's shoulder with the careful precision of a crane lowering a cargo container. He did not just pat her; he anchored her to the spot with a gesture that radiated a level of warmth usually reserved for heroic mentors in a high budget fantasy epic. He looked down at her with those beaming, hopeful eyes, his iron cuffs clinking together like a celebratory chime.

"It matters not one single bit, my wonderful young friend!" he rumbled, his thick Russian accent turning the cobblestone plaza into a cathedral of pure encouragement.

"What truly carries weight in this world is the glorious fire that burns within your spirit! You stepped out from the shadows and approached us with the noble goal of transcending your own limits. That act alone provides more than enough bravery and strength for ten lifetimes! We shall nourish that flame together!" Fiona chimed in next, her hip length curls swaying as she bounced slightly on her heels like a hyperactive forest sprite. She offered Aiko a smile that was as gentle as a mossy glade in springtime.

When she opened her mouth to speak, the air was immediately filled with that thick, impenetrable Highland fog that sounded like someone trying to play a bagpipe while gargling a handful of gravel.

"Och, dinna fash yersel, lassie! A braw berserker wull be a topper addition tae oor wee band, ye ken? Ye jist gie it yer best shot an' gin ye git a bit pech't or scart, ye kin lippen on me tae gie ye a bit o' the guid mending magic," she chirped, her voice bubbling with a kindness that transcended her total lack of phonetic clarity. I stood there for a long beat, staring at Fiona while my brain desperately tried to unscramble the linguistic salad she had just served up. It was no use.

I did not have a Scottish to English dictionary on hand, and my internal translator had apparently gone on strike the moment the first vowel hit the air. I looked back at Aiko, who seemed just as stunned as I was, though probably for different reasons.

"Look, I am going to be completely honest here," I said, leaning back and giving Aiko a reassuring nod while my gunner trinkets gave a supportive little jingle.

"I have absolutely no earthly idea what Fiona just said. I did not catch a single syllable of that beautiful, rhythmic noise. But based on the look on her face and the general vibe of this conversation, I am going to go ahead and fully agree with her. Whatever she is selling, we are buying it." Dimitri stood there like a beacon of fatherly warmth, his face practically glowing with a level of sincerity that made me feel like I was in the middle of a recruitment video for the soul.

He didn't just ask her to join; he made it sound like he was inviting her to help him rebuild the very foundations of the world.

"Then, my wonderful friend Aiko-san, the time has come to make our bond official!" he declared, his thick Russian accent booming across the plaza with the resonance of a cathedral bell.

"I am formally extending an invitation for you to join our glorious circle. Together, we shall march toward the horizon and prove that even the smallest spark can ignite a sun!" This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Aiko looked like she was currently undergoing some kind of emotional short circuit.

Her eyes welled up with enough happy tears to water a small garden, and she looked like she might actually float away if she wasn't weighed down by those massive iron bound boots. She couldn't even find her voice to reply, so she just nodded her head with enough frantic enthusiasm to make her bone circlet rattle against her brow. Right on cue, that clinical, bored librarian voice rang out in the collective headspace of the group, making the whole thing legally binding in the eyes of the Eterian gods.

[The entity designated as Aiko, currently at Level 2, has been successfully integrated into your active party.] The system, apparently feeling chatty, decided to give us the SparkNotes version of what our new pint sized powerhouse could actually do. [The Berserker is one of the most uncomplicated and direct archetypes available within the system. They operate almost exclusively on raw physical prowess and are widely recognized as one of the most reliable combat specializations. They possess the Class Unique Skill: Rage. The Rage Gauge accumulates energy incrementally each time the user successfully strikes a target or sustains physical trauma.] I glanced at Aiko, who was still vibrating with joy, and tried to imagine her as a fountain of pure, unadulterated fury. The system voice, however, was just getting to the good part. [Upon reaching maximum capacity, the user enters a state of Primal Rage. During this sixty second interval, all successful offensive maneuvers facilitate life steal, total movement and attack velocity is doubled, and the user gains absolute immunity against all forms of crowd control. Additionally, active skills receive significant secondary bonus effects. While Berserkers represent the pinnacle of sustained physical damage output, they possess a complete deficiency in magical damage capabilities.] So, we basically just recruited a nervous wreck who, if poked enough times, would turn into a blood-sucking, unstoppable whirlwind of bone and iron. I looked at our group—a Russian mountain, a Scottish forest flower, a narcissistic flamethrower, and a shy tactical nuke. We were definitely a sight to behold. I decided it was time to officially welcome our new friend to the circus, so I sauntered over to Aiko with what I hoped was a suave, veteran adventurer stride.

I leaned in a bit, trying to channel my inner dramatic movie mentor, though I probably just looked like a guy who had spent too much time wearing mismatched leather in the sun.

"Welcome to the madhouse, Aiko-san," I said, my voice dropping into a low, gravelly tone that was meant to be ninety percent sarcasm.

"Just a quick heads up on the fine print: once you are officially signed in, there is no escape. You are stuck with this bunch of weirdos through every thicket and every thin, until the literal end of the line. You can expect us to always be hovering over your shoulder like overprotective parents, and we will be expecting the exact same from you, even if it means you have to go down swinging. Your life is basically our property now, and ours belongs to you. It is a package deal until the credits roll."

I was purely trying to mess with her. I figured she would either stutter an apology or give me a look of pure confusion, which is usually the payoff for my terrible sense of humor. I was basically waiting for the punchline where I would laugh and tell her I was just kidding about the whole blood oath thing. But the reaction I got was not even in the same zip code as the one I expected. Aiko did not flinch.

Instead, a serene, incredibly bright smile broke across her face, and she nodded with the kind of intense, soulful devotion usually reserved for sacred vows or wedding ceremonies. She looked at me as if I had just recited the most beautiful poem in the history of the human race. I blinked, waiting for someone to point out how absurd I was being, but when I looked around at the others, the situation only got weirder. Dimitri was nodding solemnly, his face filled with a mountain of paternal pride.

Even June had a look of sharp, regal approval on her face, and Fiona was bobbing her head with enough Highland enthusiasm to make her curls dance. They were all taking me seriously. Every single one of them actually believed I was making a profound declaration of loyalty instead of just being a sarcastic idiot in the middle of a plaza. It was supposed to be a joke, but somehow I had just accidentally signed us all up for a suicide pact.