The morning after I accidentally became chief, Ridgebrook smelled like wet dirt, boiling porridge, and disappointment. Mostly mine. I dragged myself off Lira's spare cot, my back stiff from sleeping on what felt like a hostile wooden plank disguised as a bed.
Outside, villagers were already yelling at each other like unpaid debt collectors. Someone hammered metal. Someone cursed at a goat. Someone cursed at me even though I hadn't left the room yet.
Leadership was hell.
Lira stepped inside without knocking, holding a broom like it was a weapon. "Morning, Chief. Your problems are awake before you are."
"Great," I muttered. "Tell them to go back to sleep."
She tossed me an apple. It bounced off my shoulder and hit the floor.
"You missed," I said.
"You exist," she said back. "We all have burdens."
I glared. She glared harder. I lost.
"What's going wrong now?" I asked.
"A wolf got into the goat pen."
"Okay, fixable—"
"Harven's widow is crying because her roof caved in."
"Uh—okay—"
"Borrik wants you to declare a mandatory training day."
"Sure—"
"And a stranger was seen in the forest."
That one made my brain freeze. "What kind of stranger?"
Lira shrugged. "Tall. Hooded. Suspicious."
Villagers had the vocabulary of potatoes.
I stepped outside and Ridgebrook hit me full in the face: smoke columns rising from chimneys, chickens patrolling like tiny thugs, people staring at me like I might suddenly prove I deserved the role I drunkenly claimed.
Then it happened.
A chime.
Sharp. Electric. Inside my skull.
I stiffened.
Another chime.
Lira didn't react. No one reacted.
Only me.
Then a voice—cold, mechanical, ancient—unfolded inside my head like a door being forced open.
[THE SUMMONER'S LEDGER — INITIALIZING]
My breath caught.
No way.
No freaking way.
[HOST IDENTIFIED: LIAM RICHARD]
[STATUS: TRANS-MIGRATED]
[ROLE: RIDGEBROOK CHIEF]
[BODY AGE: 18 | MIND AGE: 24]
I slapped a hand to my forehead.
Lira blinked at me. "Did… something bite you?"
"No," I said too quickly. "Nothing bit anything. Perfectly normal head behavior happening here."
She looked unconvinced.
The voice returned.
[PRIMARY FUNCTION UNLOCKED]
[SUMMON MODULE: ACTIVE]
My pulse hammered.
[You may summon a historical figure.]
[Summon Cooldown: 30 Days]
[Resurrection Cycle: 7 Days After Death]
[All Summons Start at Rank 1]
[First Summon Available Now]
Holy—
Holy shit.
This was it.
My cheat.
My golden finger.
My overpowered system.
My—
"Chief!"
I jumped as Borrik stomped over like a walking boulder.
"Training day. Now."
"Great," I said, voice cracking. "Training. Yes. Love training."
"Good. Meet us in the square."
He left.
The moment he turned the corner, I sprinted behind the well like a guilty raccoon.
"Okay, Summoner's Ledger," I whispered. "Let's do this. Give me someone strong. Preferably not insane. Preferably not—"
The air trembled.
A dim blue ring formed in front of me, humming like something digital forced into a medieval world.
Wind spiraled outward.
A crack split the dirt beneath it.
Villagers slowed.
Turned.
Stared.
Lira froze mid-step, her broom clutched tight.
"Liam… what… are you doing?"
"Stretching," I lied. "Very violent stretching."
The Summoner's Ledger chimed again.
[SUMMONING…]
The ring deepened into black mist.
The ground shook.
A goat fainted dramatically.
A child screamed.
Someone shouted, "THE DEMON WELL IS AWAKENING!"
Then
A figure stepped through.
Tall.
Cold.
Radiating the quiet menace of someone who had personally seen more blood than this entire village combined.
Long black hair.
Pale, sharp features.
Dark eyes that evaluated Ridgebrook like it was a battlefield waiting for corpses.
No aura.
No magic.
Just pure, suffocating presence.
He stopped in front of me.
The system didn't need to clarify—
I knew instantly.
[SUMMON SUCCESSFUL]
[VLAD III — VLAD THE IMPALER]
A wave of horror rolled through the villagers.
Lira dropped her broom.
Kids ran.
Adults prayed.
Someone yelled, "HE'S GOING TO EAT US!"
Vlad blinked slowly, taking in everything with a predator's indifference.
Then his gaze locked on me.
"You," he said in a deep, accented growl. "You are the one who dragged me here."
I swallowed. Hard. "Technically… yes?"
His eyes sharpened.
"Then tell me one thing."
He stepped closer, boots sinking into the dirt, shadows curling around his silhouette.
"Are you my master?"
Master.
Me.
Of him.
My brain blue-screened.
"Yes…?" I said, voice cracking like a child lying to his mom.
Vlad smiled.
It was not comforting.
"Good," he said. "Then give me a name, and I will build you a forest of bodies."
Somewhere behind me, Lira whispered:
"Liam… what did you do?"
"I—"
I cleared my throat.
"Leadership?"
Vlad tilted his head, amused.
"A dangerous answer," he said softly. "I like it."
Great.
Fantastic.
I had successfully summoned the medieval world's most enthusiastic serial impaler.
What could possibly go wrong?
I squared my shoulders, trying to pretend I wasn't one heartbeat away from wetting myself.
"Welcome to Ridgebrook," I managed.
Vlad's grin widened, sharp and hungry.
"Show me the enemies," he said, "and I will make them scream for you."
And just like that—
My life truly began.
In the worst possible way.
And maybe the best.