Aggro Litrpg || Progression Fantasy

Chapter 58: Apparently the System Thinks I’m a Bureaucrat with a Morningstar



Another few hours of focused repair work led to yet another new shiny menu flashing up in my vision, and I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. "Oh, hell yes. We've got Housing options now. And Specialisation for the Shadowborn is back on the table!"

That got Lia's attention from whatever complex training routine she was running through. "Specialise them how?"

I clicked through the new tabs and found one of the little workers hacking away at a tree, slightly too enthusiastically. "Right here," I said. "Just like with Bob, I can turn this one into a Woodcutter. Should boost our timber intake?"

I tapped the screen. The worker paused mid-swing, glitched once like a VHS tape having a crisis, and then began moving more efficiently.

[System Update: Worker Role Assigned]

Designation: Shadowborn Labourer #003

New Role: Woodcutter

→ Resource Gathering Efficiency: +10% (Timber only)

→ Passive: Focused Harvest – Ignores non-wood resources when active

"Nice," I said, mentally dubbing the new worker 'Woody'. "Anchorfall is moving up in the world."

"Is this really the best use of your time right now, Warden?" Lia asked as she watched me scroll through the Village Interface.

"Hey, someone's got to keep the lights on," I said, gesturing at the increasingly chaotic sprawl of Anchorfall. "The battle with the Rebels is done. Scar's off glowering somewhere. You're back to snarking at me with full hit points, and Dema's still in critical but stable. That leaves me holding the clipboard."

I tapped twice on the screen and zoomed in on a flashing icon labelled HOUSING.

"Might as well get started before the next disaster rolls in. Maybe I can finally get these guys somewhere proper to sleep instead of curling up in the mud like miserable feral hedgehogs."

[New Build Option: Housing Unlocked]

→ Structure: Basic Bunkhouse

→ Capacity: 4 occupants

→ Resource Cost: 50 Wood, 30 Stone

→ Comfort Rating: Minimal

→ Bonus: Increases passive Stamina regeneration for residents

[System Note: Still beats a wet log and crushed dreams.]

Two bunkhouses, placed just behind the repaired Storage Shed and slightly uphill from where the Hunter's Lodge used to be. It wouldn't win any awards for urban planning, but it beat the slums of post-battle tents we were currently working with.

[Construction Queued: Bunkhouse x2]

Status: Delayed (Repair Priority Active)

Estimated Start Time: 04:22:13

"We're not going to be much of a village without villagers having somewhere decent to sleep," I added, not really looking at Lia.

"Did you just schedule us a nap?" Lia asked, half-incredulous.

"I scheduled infrastructure," I corrected. "The nap is just an extremely well-earned side effect."

She rolled her eyes. "Maker help us. He thinks he's a mayor now."

"I'm not saying I'm a mayor. I'm just saying, if someone wants to erect a commemorative statue with 'Founding Warden of Anchorfall' on it, I wouldn't say no."

Lia muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "mudbrain," but I pretended not to hear.

Work continued.

As the hours ticked by, it started to look, if you squinted hard enough and ignored the cratered earth and scorched timbers, like things were actually coming together. Sort of.

Workers were chipping away at the repair queues. The Medical Hut was buzzing like an overworked espresso machine. Dema remained alive, which counted as a win under current operating conditions. And the system messages connected to the village had, for once, calmed down to a manageable trickle rather than their usual ADHD thunderstorm of alerts.

But even with all that, I still felt the itch of unease twitching at the back of my skull. The more options and upgrades that were unlocked, the more I found myself staring at this whole thing and wondering whether I'd just accidentally enrolled in an MBA course. I thought Lia might actually have a point. Sure, I'd finally named the village. And sure, I was keeping the lights on, more or less. But the deeper I got into the management side of things, the clearer it became that the scaffolding holding it all up wasn't really my bag.

And, more to the point, I wasn't convinced I had the kind of brain built for this. After all, there was a reason Griff never handled any of his own admin.

Well. Two reasons, to be strictly accurate. The first was that he once accidentally signed off on a shipment of outdated field radios to a militia cell in northern Kosovo, thinking it was a bulk order of cheese straws. The second was that Griff - unlike me, apparently – understood exactly how allergic he was to paperwork and made damn sure someone else always did it for him. He'd call it tactical delegation. I was beginning to think it was just common sense.

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Because honestly? I didn't want to be the guy juggling spreadsheets while waiting for the next warband to come knocking. I was supposed to be the tank. The guy at the front, taking hits and doing just enough violence to keep everyone else safe. Not some nightmare hybrid of town clerk and field commander.

Still, sitting around doing nothing wasn't going to help either. The repairs were underway, Scar's crew was doing their best, and the Empire was, presumably, getting itself thoroughly knotted up about how best to yell at me for what I was about to tell Katya.

I shoved that thought aside.

There'd be time to deal with that extremely shouty mess very, very soon.

In the meantime, there were still menus to poke at. Still systems to understand. Still options buried inside options, which might just stop this place from falling over if I weren't around to hold it up.

I opened the management console again and tabs unfurled across my vision like a bureaucrat's buffet: Infrastructure. Resource Allocation. Labour Pool. Morale Tracking. Threat Alerts.

And then, tucked between the usual suspects, was a new one I hadn't seen before, just slightly brighter than the rest.

[Role Assignment: Steward Available]

Well now.

That looked promising. Or terrifying. Possibly both.

[Steward Role Available]

Requirement: Village Status Recognised (Level 1)

Role Description: A Steward assists the Warden in managing daily operations, offering passive bonuses to build speed, resource efficiency, and resident morale. Must be a trusted party member or resident. Cannot be changed for 7 days once assigned.

System Commentary: Because you clearly need help.

"Hey, check this out," I said, flicking the window into shared view. "Apparently, I can appoint someone as Steward for the village."

Lia looked over from the logs she was sorting. "That going to be you?"

I hesitated. My first instinct was to say yes. Obviously. I was the Warden. This was my Threshold. My Anchorfall. But then I thought about it.

Over the past few hours, I'd managed to irritate no fewer than three of my own workers by offering what I genuinely thought were helpful suggestions. One of them had actually stopped what he was doing, put down his hammer, and walked away in silence. The second kept glancing at me like I was some kind of performance art he was trying to interpret. The third had muttered something about "ghosts with opinions" and asked if he could work in the forest instead.

Which, I suppose, was fair. I mean, I had a -3 Charisma. And that wasn't just a pointless number. It meant I didn't do charm. Or inspiration. Or, you know, people. My tactical instincts were sharp enough, sure. And I could batter my way through most immediate threats. But when it came to long-term planning, social management, and the delicate politics of resource allocation?

Absolutely not.

And, do you know what, the truth was I didn't want this part of the job. In my old life, I'd spent my days tailing targets, intercepting communications, and occasionally throwing someone into a river if they got too mouthy. I wasn't built for administration. Not this kind. Strategic planning, yes. Guerrilla sabotage, sure. Picking the colour palette for housing districts? Hard pass.

Still, someone had to do it. But maybe it didn't have to be me. Not directly.

I turned back to the screen.

[Assign Steward? Y/N]

Options for the job flicked open. Lia was top of the list, followed by Scar, then a handful of other residents I barely knew the names of. Dema was greyed out, her status still listed as [Stabilising: Critical].

Lia caught my hesitation. "You don't want the gig, do you?"

"To be honest, I think the System's already figured that out. You fancy giving it a whirl?"

"You do know what Steward means, right? It's not just handing over the keys to the village. Whoever it is will report to you. And that's not going to be for me. However, I think I know a certain, grizzled fellow who would be perfect."

Scar materialised next to us as if he knew what we were talking about. "Don't look at me. I don't do this sort of thing."

"Exactly," I said. "That's what makes you perfect."

"You're joking."

"You're used to running logistics for your crew. You've got a head for numbers and planning. You understand morale and resource management. And unlike me, people actually listen when you talk."

"And if I say no?"

"Then I'll say please."

He looked at me for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, he nodded.

[System Notification: Steward Appointed]

Designation: Scar

Role: Village Steward

Duration: 7 Days Minimum

Bonuses Applied:

* Build Speed +10%

* Resource Efficiency +8%

* Morale Regen +5%

System Commentary: Congratulations. You are no longer the biggest bottleneck in your own village.

I closed the interface, already feeling lighter.

"Sounds like you've just appointed me as village babysitter," Scar said. "You planning to skip out on us already?"

"Not at all. It's just that being Master of this place looks like it has the potential to be a full-time job. And, well, I'm much more your flexible working, part-time type."

"Also," Lia said. "You need to come back with me to Sablewyn to hand in our Gambler's Debt quest. If you want to share in the XP and rewards, that is."

"Really?" I wasn't wild about going back to that place, to be honest. Not now I knew a bit more about the Empire. Actually, I didn't think I wanted to spend another moment in that town.

"Yeah, you can't exactly send someone else to claim XP on your behalf."

"Right," I said. "And coincidentally, I get an option which will allow me to leave things in capable hands while I'm gone. Nice linear progression to the quest line there."

"You sure you trust me with this?" "Scar said. "It's a lot of responsibility."

"Would you trust you, mate?"

Scar grinned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Fair point."

"Look," I said, holding up my hands, "I'm not asking for a lifelong commitment. We don't need to cut our palms or become blood brothers or anything like that. How about we go for a trial run? You just need to keep things ticking over while I shoot back to Sablewyn. Make sure no one burns the place down."

"I do have a condition, though."

"Shoot."

"You need to leave me some leeway on resource allocation. I'm not going to be sat around twiddling my thumbs waiting for you to come back. If I see an opportunity to improve things, I'm going to take it. And the Medical Hut upgrade is going to be my first priority."

We all took a moment to consider Dema lying in stasis.

"Fine," I said. "I want Anchorfall sparkling when I get back."

"Deal."

"That's that sorted, then," I said, relieved to have one less thing to worry about. Wasn't I being efficient today? "Now, let's work out how to get back to Sablewyn without causing some sort of diplomatic incident . . . "


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