Chief in Tensura

(Leo's PoV)

"Wake up, you ungrateful brat!"

The sharp, commanding voice echoed in my ears, dragging me from the bliss of unconsciousness. For a moment, I thought it was Venelana yelling at me again. Why does her voice sound like my old man's? I grumbled internally, still half-asleep.

Opening my eyes, I found myself staring at a red-haired man with a strikingly handsome face twisted in annoyance. My father. The God. The guy responsible for sending me to this crazy world.

"So… I died?" I asked, blinking groggily. Shouldn't this be the time I meet him again? You know, like an official celestial evaluation or something?

"No, idiot. Look around. Does this look like hell to you?" he snapped, gesturing to our surroundings.

I glanced around, my initial grogginess melting into confusion. The place was eerily familiar, a hazy reflection of the space where he'd revealed his godhood to me.

"Where am I?" I asked, still unsure what was going on.

A vein throbbed on his forehead as he scowled. "This is your dream space, brat. How do you not recognize your own dream world?"

"Because a week ago, I didn't even know something like this existed," I shot back defensively. "For all I know, you dragged me into your dimension again."

He sighed, exasperated, and waved his hand. "Fine, I suppose that's understandable. But now you know. Take a good look at it."

I finally examined my surroundings. Parks stretched endlessly, dotted with food stalls and colorful decorations, giving the impression of some eternal carnival or festival. It felt… oddly childish.

Noticing my puzzled expression, Dad smirked. "This layout reflects your divinity," he explained simply.

"Divinity?" I repeated, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Sure, I knew what divinity was—conceptually. But hearing it directly from an actual god, my father, made it feel a lot heavier.

He smiled a familiar expression that briefly transported me back to my childhood. "I won't tell you much about it," he said with a mysterious glint in his eyes, "because it would only hinder your growth. Awaken it on your own, and it will make you stronger."

Of course, I thought sarcastically. Why make things easier? That's not the divine way, is it?

"Be grateful, son," he continued, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Most gods aren't even aware of their divinity until it's too late. Many succumb to it, and their fall is inevitable. Divinity isn't just some accessory or cool power; it's the foundation of what makes a god, a god. Without it, you're little more than a hollow shell of what you could be."

His words carried weight, and I felt myself frowning, not entirely sure how to process it. But I kept quiet, letting him speak.

"A god's divinity is shaped by their deepest desires, their purpose—if they have one—or the circumstances of their birth. It defines your existence, your role in the cosmic order, and most importantly, your power. It will either elevate you… or destroy you."

That last part made me uneasy, but I masked it with a blank expression. "And what's my divinity supposed to be, then?"

He chuckled knowingly but didn't answer. "You'll figure it out, brat. For now, just remember—your divinity isn't something to be taken lightly. Respect it, or it will consume you."

I felt a chill run down my spine at his words, but there was a small flicker of excitement too. Something about this revelation stirred something deep within me—a sense of purpose I hadn't felt before.

"Divinity is the very concept of any God. Through it, they can manipulate the very laws of the world," my father began, his tone solemn. "For example, a God with the divinity of love can make anyone fall in love, and a God with the divinity of the sun can control the very life of a planet. But there's a catch: they must fully understand their concept to use it properly."

His words sounded profound, but honestly, most of it went over my head.

"But I don't have any divinity," I pointed out, frowning. "So how am I still considered a God?"

Dad smirked in that irritatingly smug way he always did. "Well, you barely qualify as one."

I glared at him. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

He chuckled, clearly enjoying this. "Relax, brat. You're still a God because of your lineage."

He paused dramatically as if expecting me to be amazed by his revelation. I sighed, already bored with his theatrics. "Just say it already."

"My power," he said with exaggerated pride, "is on a completely different level, and your mother was also a special Goddess. That, my son, is what saved your sorry ass."

Wait. What?

"My mother was a Goddess?" I blurted out. Up until this moment, I'd assumed she was human, like me—or at least the human side of me.

Dad gave me a look like I was the dumbest person in the room. "Obviously."

"So why am I so weak, then?" I demanded, frustration bubbling up. If I was a pure-blooded God, shouldn't I be a walking powerhouse by now?

He avoided eye contact, scratching the back of his head. "Special circumstances," he muttered.

Yeah, that doesn't sound suspicious at all, I thought, narrowing my eyes. But before I could dig deeper, he abruptly changed the topic.

"Speaking of bad decisions," he said, crossing his arms, "why the hell did you waste your gems on those nametags?"

"Nametags?" I asked, confused. "What's wrong with buying them?"

"Everything," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You do realize you can name your followers directly, right? No need for such gimmicks."

"So I won't lose energy or magicules permanently when they evolve," I said defensively. Surely, that was a valid reason?

Dad's eyes narrowed, and he looked more tired than angry now. "And why, pray to tell, do you think you'd lose magicules permanently?"

I rolled my eyes. "Because I don't have a True Dragon's limitless reserves or some cheat-level skill to help me recover instantly. Isn't that how naming works in this world?"

He groaned and facepalmed so hard I thought he might leave an imprint on his forehead. It reminded me of the time I'd accidentally embarrassed him by rejecting a girl when I was ten because I didn't know how to handle it. Not my fault—she had been weirdly intense, and I had a gut feeling something bad would happen if I said yes.

"You really are hopeless," he muttered after a moment. "You're overcomplicating things, as usual. Naming doesn't permanently drain your energy unless you're pushing way beyond your limits. Besides, you're my son—your magicule pool is already ridiculous compared to most beings in that world, even without a fancy skill or dragon energy inside you."

I blinked at him, caught off guard. "Wait… what? Then why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"Because I thought you had common sense!" he snapped, throwing his arms up in frustration. "Clearly, I overestimated you."

"I'd call it under-communication on your part," I shot back.

He groaned again, muttering something about raising a "genius idiot," but I caught a flicker of amusement in his expression. Despite his complaints, I could tell he wasn't really mad.

"Whatever," he said finally, waving me off. "Just don't waste your resources on unnecessary things again, alright? You've got enough on your plate without sabotaging yourself."

I nodded begrudgingly, filing away this new information for later. Still, a part of me couldn't help but feel a bit cheated. Why couldn't I just get a cheat skill like every other protagonist in these kinds of stories?

"All right, that's enough lecturing for now," Dad said, stretching as if he'd just finished a workout. "You've got work to do. And remember—your divinity won't awaken itself."

His warning struck home, though it also made me feel like a colossal idiot for wasting gems on those nametags. But honestly, could anyone blame me? The thought of losing magicules permanently seemed like a worse fate than burning through a few gems—especially when I could earn more just by cutting wood.

Trying to shake off the embarrassment, I decided to shift gears. "What about this 'pantheon' thing you mentioned earlier?" I asked, genuinely curious.

He waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, that. Your pantheon is your dimension—your domain, where you hold absolute authority as its God. It'll come with perks, like any proper pantheon, but don't get ahead of yourself. You won't be unlocking it anytime soon. Focus on building a proper clan first, before worrying about ruling a pantheon."

I frowned at the idea of having to wait but wisely resisted the urge to ask how long it would take. Instead, another thought crossed my mind.

"Dad, as a God—and your son, no less—shouldn't I have some extra perks aside from the ones I already know about? Like something unique to me?"

I didn't even try to hide the shamelessness in my voice. Sure, I already had my natural divine perks, but come on—it didn't hurt to ask.

He gave me a withering look that screamed pathetic, but he answered anyway. "Of course, there are perks unique to my descendants. But I'm not going to tell you what they are."

I groaned, but before I could protest, he smirked and added, "You'll be happy once you unlock them, though. Just know that they're sealed until you're strong enough to wield them properly."

Something about the mischievous glint in his eyes made me uneasy. Then, without warning, he hit me with, "By the way, when can I expect my first batch of grandchildren?"

The air left my lungs, and without thinking, I instinctively exited the dream space.

Back in my bed, I stared blankly at the ceiling, too stunned to process what had just happened. My father—the actual God—had just blindsided me with that.

It wasn't even the first time, either. My siblings didn't have children, which was why he pulled all those stunts in the village—like making most of the villagers female. At least he didn't go as far as turning the Barbarians into women. They were already enough of a headache without throwing gender confusion into the mix.

"Why do I feel like my life is some divine comedy to him?" I muttered, burying my face in my hands.

Soon he was greeted by a flurry of notifications from the system.

The notifications revealed exciting updates about his troops and villagers:

[Troop Evolution Results]

Barbarians - Blake and Baldur → Elite Barbarians (C)

Archers - Mia and Arch → Elite Archers (D)

Knights - William, Marshal, and Edward → Iron Knights (B-)

Lumberjacks - Mikhail and Alexie → Berserkers (A-)

Giant - Atlas → Great Giant (A)

Villager - Venelana → Demonoid (D)

"..."

"Damn! Giants are no joke, huh," Leo muttered, visibly impressed by Atlas's transformation. The Great Giant now stood as the village's powerhouse, his raw strength unrivaled.

However, what truly caught his attention was Venelana. While her evolution to a Demonoid didn't grant her massive combat power, her reserves had increased significantly, marking a subtle yet critical growth.

"Naming villagers really pays off," Leo mused. "Not being human has its perks." He smirked, recalling how humans, despite their potential for rapid adaptability, were often disadvantaged in terms of magicule tolerance and lifespans. Still, the ease with which he dismissed his former kind nagged at him.

"Hmm, it's strange how little I care about humans now, considering I was one. Should I be worried about that?" Leo frowned, his thoughts circling his gradual detachment. But before he could delve deeper, Venelana interrupted his musings.

"Good morning, Chief. It's time for breakfast," Venelana said with her usual calm demeanor, standing at the doorway.

"Morning, Venelana," Leo replied, snapping out of his thoughts. "How are you feeling after your evolution?"

Venelana beamed at the question. "I feel wonderful, Chief. It's as if your presence is always with me." Her eyes sparkled as she continued. "My [Class] has also evolved—I'm now a [Master Chef]. With this, I can replicate any kind of food I've seen before, and the meals I prepare now have minor healing properties. Once I master this class further, I believe I'll be able to create dishes that replenish energy, too."

"Impressive, Venelana! I knew you wouldn't disappoint," Leo said with a grin, though inwardly, he was startled. Classes can evolve? He thought, a bit unnerved by how much he still didn't know about this world. Her ability sounded eerily similar to Shion's skill from the lore he remembered—though thankfully, Venelana's seemed less chaotic.

Still, I should keep an eye on this. Healing food is a great utility, but there might be hidden potentials here, Leo mused.

After breakfast, however, he discovered a surprising quirk about Venelana's new skill: her food could trap someone in an illusion.

The first incident occurred when Leo found himself daydreaming about an endless buffet after taking a single bite of her meal. It took Venelana snapping her fingers to pull him out of it, much to her amusement and his irritation.

"Why didn't you warn me?" Leo demanded, trying to shake off the lingering effects of the illusion.

"I didn't realize it would affect you so much, Chief," Venelana said, clearly trying not to laugh.

The experience left Leo with two realizations:

1. Venelana's abilities were far more dangerous than they seemed at first glance.

2. He was frustratingly weak against illusions.

He made a mental note to work on that weakness—and to approach Venelana's cooking with more caution.

(Army Camp)

The loud clang of metal striking metal echoed through the training grounds, followed by a resounding boom as a barbarian was sent skidding across the dirt.

In the middle of the chaos, Mikhail, a newly evolved Berserker, stood tall, his breath steady despite the intensity of the sparring match. His twin axes, one forged from ordinary steel and the other of magisteel, gleamed coldly in the morning light. Across from him, Blake and Baldur, the Elite Barbarians, squared off against their stronger opponent.

Leo observed the battle from a safe distance, analyzing their movements. The Barbarians wielded twin gladii, short swords designed for quick, powerful strikes, perfectly complementing their aggressive fighting style. Leo had pulled the weapons from the Common Chests he'd opened earlier, making them one of the few rare finds that matched his troops' newfound strength.

The fight was nothing short of a spectacle. Blake and Baldur coordinated their attacks with surprising efficiency, leveraging their numbers to counter Mikhail's overwhelming strength. Yet, the Berserker proved to be a force of nature. Each swing of his axes sent shockwaves through the air, and as the battle dragged on, he only grew more powerful.

The Berserker's rage effect, a passive ability that increased his strength and endurance the longer he fought, turned the tide decisively in his favor. Even in this friendly match, where the rage's full potential was dampened, it affected the entire battlefield, allowing the Barbarians to endure longer than they would have otherwise.

Leo sighed as he watched the gladii begin to wear under the stress of the clash.

"These weapons won't hold up much longer against their strength," he muttered to himself. "If I want my troops to grow, I'll need proper gear soon. That means either upgrading the Town Hall to unlock a Blacksmith or heading to the Builder's Workshop in the Royal Empire."

Both options were problematic. Upgrading the Town Hall to Level 7 would take significant resources and time while traveling to the Builder's Workshop required navigating the complexities of the Royal Empire—a risky proposition given his limited connections and strength.

The match reached its climax as Mikhail, despite holding back, overwhelmed Blake and Baldur. The Barbarians, battered and exhausted, finally dropped their guard, giving the Berserker an opening to disarm and knock them down simultaneously.

Mikhail let out a sharp exhale and offered his hand to the fallen warriors. "Good fight," he said, his voice calm despite the ferocity he'd displayed moments before.

Blake chuckled as he accepted the hand. "You're a monster, you know that?"

Baldur added, "But we'll get you next time."

Leo approached as the fighters dusted themselves off.

"You two did well," he said to Blake and Baldur. "Holding your ground against a Berserker isn't easy, even in a sparring match."

He complimented them.

Leo made a mental note about the Berserkers' lack of visual evolution. Though their appearances hadn't changed drastically, their newfound power was undeniable. Their axes, however, highlighted a glaring issue, one was made of ordinary steel, which wouldn't last against enemies of their caliber.

"I'll need to fix this sooner rather than later," Leo muttered. Resources might be limited now, but if he wanted his village to thrive, proper equipment would become a necessity.

The newly evolved troops showcased their immense power, living up to the expectations and exceeding them in some cases. Leo observed their improvements, mentally tallying strengths and weaknesses, while the occasional quirk left him scratching his head.

As their name suggested, the Berserkers thrived in prolonged battles, gaining the upper hand as fights dragged on. Their rage effect amplified their strength by up to 100%, though there was a dangerous caveat—beyond 70%, they would begin to lose their rationality, making them wild and unpredictable.

Their rage aura had also improved significantly, now providing a 20% increase in strength to all friendly troops within a 500-meter radius, with no side effects. The only limitation was that the effect didn't apply to individuals stronger than the Berserkers themselves.

Leo smirked as he thought about how terrifying this ability would have been if it worked on higher-ranked individuals. "Thankfully, there's some balance here," he muttered.

Physically, the Berserkers had undergone a substantial transformation. Even without their weapons or rage effects, their raw strength alone now placed them firmly at B+ rank, capable of crushing most foes through brute force.

Elite Barbarians

The Elite Barbarians didn't receive flashy new abilities but instead became walking fortresses. Their bodies were incredibly durable, capable of withstanding attacks like a [Fireball] powerful enough to destroy a quarter of the village. Their raw strength had also skyrocketed, allowing them to take on multiple ordinary Barbarians with ease.

Leo couldn't help but admire their endurance. "They're not flashy, but they're reliable. Just the kind of warriors you want leading a charge," he thought.

Elite Archers

Meanwhile, the Elite Archers, Mia and Arch, stood ready to demonstrate their newfound abilities. With a sharp whoosh, their arrows fired, invisible to the naked eye as they tore through multiple steel targets with frightening precision.

The targets, designed to test the penetrating power of archers, were obliterated. Even heavily armored opponents would find no solace against their arrows now.

While Leo had hoped they'd gain [Stealth], their improved lethality more than made up for it. "Stealth or not, they're like snipers now," he thought, pleased. Armored enemies were no longer safe, and Leo silently marveled at the sheer utility they brought to his growing force.

Iron Knights

The Iron Knights, William, Marshal, and Edward, provided perhaps the biggest surprise. They'd gained an ability Leo hadn't expected—[Knight's Chivalry], which reduced 50% of all physical damage taken by allied troops within a 100-meter radius.

The catch? The ability didn't apply to higher-ranked beings, but even with this limitation, the ability was a game-changer. Leo grinned. "This is practically a cheat. It's like having a moving fortress around my army," he thought.

Atlas, the Great Giant

Finally, there was Atlas, the Great Giant. Towering over the rest of the troops, Atlas was in a league of his own. His physical strength was unmatched, capable of leveling a town if let loose. However, for all his overwhelming power, Atlas's quirks left Leo baffled.

"Chief, the guy won't stop staring at his reflection in the pond now that he's grown hair," Lena, a newly named Archer, complained as she gestured toward the giant.

Sure enough, Atlas lay on his stomach near a pond, supporting his head with one hand while admiring his reflection.

Leo sighed, rubbing his temples. "Why do all the strong ones have weird personalities?" he muttered under his breath. He glanced back at the training grounds, noting Atlas's interactions with the Archers.

Atlas seemed particularly fond of the tiny Archers, whom he often called "friends" despite the size difference. The image of the giant trying to gently talk to them, only to scare them half to death with his booming voice, made Leo chuckle.

"Is there a rule that if you're strong, you have to be a bit... off?" Leo wondered aloud, shaking his head. Still, quirks or not, the troop's improvements were undeniable.

Leo had also taken the opportunity to name the remaining villagers and troops after learning that he wouldn't suffer permanent magicule loss unless he named individuals far out of his league—those at A rank or higher or with exceptional evolution potential.

The villagers were overwhelmed with gratitude, some even blushing when they thanked him. Leo wasn't used to such displays, but he couldn't deny the morale boost it brought to the community.

As Leo walked through the bustling village, he felt a sense of pride. His forces had grown stronger, their potential shining brightly. But the road ahead was still long, and he'd need to address the equipment issue soon if he wanted to keep up with the ever-increasing challenges.

Looking at Atlas still staring at his reflection, Leo sighed. "At least they're entertaining."

(Side Story- Atlas and the Archers)

The sun shone brightly over the training grounds, where Atlas, the towering Great Giant, loomed over the freshly upgraded Elite Archers, Mia and Arch. Despite his massive frame and booming voice, Atlas wore a wide, hopeful smile, crouching down with surprising gentleness.

"Hello, my tiny friends!" he thundered, his voice echoing across the village.

Mia and Arch flinched, gripping their bows tightly. They exchanged nervous glances, the tremor in their legs betraying their fear.

"Uh... hi, Atlas," Mia managed to squeak, her voice barely audible in comparison.

Atlas's face lit up, and he clapped his enormous hands together. The shockwave knocked over a stack of training dummies behind him.

"Great! We're talking now! I've always wanted to have friends as tiny and skilled as you!" he boomed.

Arch stepped forward, trying to muster courage. "That's... nice, Atlas. But, uh, why are you so... close?"

Atlas leaned in even further, his face now inches away from the two Archers. "So I can hear you better, of course! Your voices are so small!" His breath caused their hair to blow back like a windstorm.

Mia gagged. "Atlas, do you ever... brush your teeth?"

Atlas blinked, confused. "Teeth? Oh, I used some river rocks once! Are they dirty?" He grinned wide, revealing teeth that could double as gravestones and probably housed a small ecosystem.

"Yeah, they're fine. Just... keep smiling... over there." Mia pointed a safe distance away, trying not to faint.

Atlas, oblivious, sat down cross-legged, causing the ground to tremble and a nearby tree to shed all its leaves. "You know, I've been thinking," he began, picking up one of the Archers' practice arrows, which was like a toothpick in his massive hand. "What if I joined your team? I'm great at ranged combat!"

Arch couldn't stop herself. "With what? A tree trunk?"

Atlas's eyes sparkled. "That's a great idea! I'll find the biggest one! It'll be like your little bows, but GIANT!" He stood up, scanning the horizon for trees, and spotted one at the edge of the village.

"Wait, no! That's the elder's favorite oak!" Mia shouted, running after him, but it was too late. With one hand, Atlas uprooted the tree, roots and all, and swung it over his shoulder.

"This will be perfect!" he declared proudly, holding the massive oak like a javelin.

The village elder, an old goblin ran out, shaking a wooden cane at him. "Atlas! Put my tree back!"

Atlas scratched his head, genuinely confused. "But I need it for bonding with my new friends!"

Mia sighed, pulling Arch aside. "We're never going to get through to him, are we?"

Arch nodded grimly. "Nope. But at least if he's busy with the tree, he won't accidentally crush us."

Later, Leo walked past, noticing the commotion. He paused to watch Atlas trying to "aim" the giant oak at a target, with Mia and Arch desperately shouting directions from a safe distance.

"Higher, Atlas! No, lower! LOWER!" Mia yelled, waving her arms.

"Like this? Atlas tilted the tree slightly, causing a massive branch to smack Arch into a haystack.

Leo shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why does every strong troop have to come with an equally strong personality flaw?"

Atlas turned to wave at Leo, grinning ear to ear. "Look, Chief! I'm one of the Archers now!"

Leo groaned. "Yeah, sure. Just... don't kill anyone, okay?"

Atlas nodded enthusiastically, his movements causing nearby birds to scatter. "Got it, Chief! Friendship is about not squishing your friends!"

Leo walked away muttering, "At least he's learning... kind of."

~~~~

Yeah it was a bad idea.

Giants are softy believe me.

So how was the short story???