Chapter I – Pests

I woke up to the sound of the alarm.

How great. One moment I was happily asleep, surrounded by the warmth of the bed sheets, the next my eyes are as wide as the dining plates as I spring up and look around me.

As I supposed, it wasn't long before I started hearing yells, the clash of armors and weapons, explosions and other… rather indescribable sounds. Multicolored beams and moving, flashing lights of all shapes and sizes illuminate my room and invade my tiny window.

They were here.

I pull the sheets away, not caring as they hit the floor, knocking something off of the nightstand as well. Fortunately, I was already partially dressed and only needed to put on my coat and boots. The thing is, last night we also got raided, albeit with minor damages. I had to clean up some messes caused by our unwanted guests, and ended up so tired I went to bed directly without changing.

I thought it wouldn't be a good idea, but turns out it was. I wasn't about to stand there searching for my clothes while everyone else was having fun out there.

As I hurriedly put on my boots, I feel my heart racing and a little smile carving my face. You see, in this little mountain village we are in, we aren't completely safe. Like most other villages, we have pests, but ours are different. Others have things like, I don't know, mice or mosquitos. The usual creatures you would find on an almost deserted hamlet. But no, we had to get the big bad wolves.

Don't take it seriously. Ours pests aren't wolves, but I wish they were, because what he have is worse. Yes, worse than fierce dogs with teeth that could tear your limbs off. What is it you ask? You'd never guess.

I rush down the staircase, almost losing my footing. I jumped off the stairs when I was almost down, unable to control my excitement, and opened the heavy, wooden door.

Smoke, people running, fast shadows sweeping past them and the smell of fire greet me as I stare at the chaos outside. I barely had time to react when a bulking, thin shape stopped several feet away from me. I froze when those fire gleaming under the moonlight, and I could feel the thing staring right at me (into me, to be exact).

I could see the shape of a human, but with no legs or arms whatsoever, only shoes, a roped body and a fire head. I recognized this one creature, but I didn't have to react when a dark ball materialized next to it. I realized too late that it was a bomb – that was thrown at my door and burst into flames as I closed it with my back as fast as possible. Bits of molten fire got through the edges, and I could feel the almost unbearable heat right behind me.

"Monsters…!"

Yes, those are our pests. Monsters. But not these fairy-tale monsters. They aren't giant, evil, and ugly. They come in great varieties. From frog-like beings to actual ghosts, these monsters hold many surprises. And the worst thing is that they can use magic, like that bomb the Pyrope threw at me. We can't do that, but we have many weapons to fight them off. Most of them work… sometimes.

I peek out of the now-barely-burning door, and made sure the cost was clear. Most people would leave a place like this. I mean, it's common sense; who wants to live in an isolated village that is constantly raided by monsters? Well, us Vikings do. We have stubbornness issues, as you can tell. We fear nothing. If some random person got an encounter with a monster, they'd probably run away. Not us, we'd face them right away. We have one little rule when we find a monster: kill it on sight. Unless you have no weapons, of course. That'd be suicidal.

The worst part is that these things do no good to the world. When we die, the elders of the tribe put our souls away from the monsters' reach, because that is what they want. They come here to steal the souls of the fallen, which are quite many. Not only that; they sometimes even kill the warriors if they are pushed to the edge of their patience. Plus, as if that wasn't enough, they like to destroy or houses and weapons just for fun.

Lovable pests, huh?

I rush out of my house, and I can hardly keep a full smile in. This is chaotic, terrifying, chilling, but at the same time, it gives you this feeling of being alive. When you run through fire and magic, you feel like you are really living. You feel strength, adrenaline, you feel forced to join the battle.

Unfortunately, I, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, am not allowed to do such thing. I'm… a bit of a disaster here, you know? Everything I touch breaks. Everything I try to fix breaks. I may be a blacksmith's helper, but I'm not good at trying to fix problems. Still, I want to show my father that I can do it. Killing a monster is everything around here. If I brought just a handful of dust and showed it to my father, I would be respected.

Why dust, you ask? Monsters actually turn into that when they die. Yeah, some weird thing. That is why, to prove that you actually killed a monster and didn't just go and pick up some sand, you have to show a blood stained weapon along with the monster's remains. Unless they're ghosts. You can't kill them, so…

A man falls right in front of me – probably blasted away by some monster's attack –, and his axe follows. Thanks Odin it didn't cut right through me as it fell, because it ended stupidly close to me. As the Viking quickly stood up and picked it up to rejoin the fight, two others carrying a wooden pole ran in front of me, and I had to duck under the large piece of wood to avoid getting rammed by the men.

We Vikings are also pretty careless in situations like this. Most warriors bump into each other because they have no time to stop whatsoever. Really bothers me, because it wouldn't be the first time I got ran over by someone larger than me. Trust me, it's not funny at all.

Turns out this time they decided to stop just to look at me – I noticed this as I heard a loud, echoing thump, coming from a man who bumped head-first into the pole. He went flat to the ground, and honestly, the fear and excitement caused me to somewhat guiltily back away instead of bursting into laughter. People here hate me enough, no need to make it worse by laughing at others' mistakes. Then again, they laugh at mine. What's the difference?

I'm pushed out of my thoughts as I feel a sudden sharp pain on my shoulder and flinch to the side. Some random guy just bumped into my side and kept running as if I were some twig or leaf that got in his way. Do I hate it when they do that. Who wouldn't? Getting rammed is a fairly annoying sensation. I get it all the time and still haven't gotten used to it.

I dodge two other Vikings that could have sent me flying to the grass beneath me if I hadn't gotten out of their way, but it didn't last for long – a blast blew me away a few feet, and I closed my eyes as I felt the heat along with a brief pain on my back. Good thing it was grass and not the rocky ground I was thrown into.

As soon as I open my eyes, a scream in my face almost managed to scare the skin right out of me. Realizing it was a Viking or not, the scare I got was still pretty darn big. A strangely cheerful smile appears on the warrior's face as he takes that demented look off his face, lowers the axe, and greets me with a happy, "Mornin'!" before dashing off towards the fight.

Getting up as fast as I can to avoid getting caught by any monster, I rush up the wooden walkway leading to the blacksmith stall, avoiding several people carrying weapons, barrels, and such. Their words appeared in my head before they spit them out as they looked at me with scowls and frowns.

"What're you doing here?"

"Get inside!"

"What're you doing out?!"

"Get back inside!"

Every single time, they say the same. I take this walk to the stall every single raid. Why do they act like they have never seen me? I guess they are just picking on me. I am the Loox that's been picked on by the Astigmatism.

That's a monster thing Gobber, the blacksmith, said once. I found it funny. Loox are "bully" monsters that get picked on by Astigmatisms, other "bully" monsters that are stronger than them. I like to use that comparison with myself. Accurate, isn't it?

I run past a Viking that prefers to search for stuff in his ear rather than join the rest. Good for him, I guess? Close enough to the stall, that little distraction made me run backwards for a moment, and I noticed the sound of waving wings too late to stop on my tracks – I met a Glyde face-to-face for a split second before a commanding, "Hiccup!" was heard and a huge hand pulled me out of its way; it flew away in fear, or shock, when the furious green eyes stared into it, daring it to come closer as it passed by.

That's the chief of the tribe, Stoick, or Stoick the Vast. He protects us, gives us hope. He is relentless. They even say that when he was a baby, he popped a monster's head clean off its shoulders. Do I believe it? Yes, I do. And now believe me, he is fully capable of doing it. He fears nothing, and his strength equals a bear's.

"What is he doin' out agai- what're you dong out?" His commanding, angered voice did send shivers down my spine. It's deep, strong. Really matches his persona. He lets go of me, shoving me forth as does so. "Get inside!" I barely catch my footing as I run off towards the stall, but I can't keep myself from watching him for a moment.

He is surrounded by destruction. Does he care? Not at all.

He looks around him with fiery pride gleaming on his green eyes. When I try to walk around with that expression, people think I've seen a ghost and immediately shoot their weapons at the sky. It's rather funny, but mostly disappointing for me. I want to look prideful and serious, not frightened, or plain blank.

Stoick does a double take when he sees the same Glyde from before, trying to hit some weirdo clinging to its tail. In the blink of an eye, Stoick grabs an entire wooden cart that is as big as him, lifts it up as if it weighed one gram, and throws it with might at the soaring, winged fish… thing.

Bull's eye. The cart shatters into tiny pieces as it crashes into the Glyde's body and sends it teetering to its sides as it attempts to regain balance. The guy fell off before the cart hit the monster in a desperate attempt to not get hurt, but I'm sure at least one of the shattered pieces hit him on the head.

Stoick nods his shoulders in a victorious way, and looks down towards a Viking next to him. I compared them both; the blonde was nervous, and his eyes constantly searched for incoming magic attacks. Stoick, however? It was as if he saw where the next attack would sweep in, and thus didn't feel the need to be wary.

"What've we got?" the chief asks hurriedly, but calmly.

"A Glyde, Pyropes, Snowdrakes, oh and Hoark saw a Knight Knight." As soon as he finishes speaking, I merely flinch away as a bomb from a Pyrope lands and explodes right next to both of them. The Viking takes cover under his shield, but Stoick does nothing.

Wow. Just wow.

He lowers his voice as a flaming shrapnel lands on his shoulder plate. "Any signs of… that one?"

"None so far."

He brushes the fire off, muttering, "Good."

I know what "that one" is. The most hated monster. One that is a mystery. It's always been my dream to take that one down, and I hope it comes tonight.

I feel lucky.

I don't continue this further because it is literally 2 AM right now, and I'm falling asleep faster than an eye blinks. I've had this idea in mind for so long, and it wouldn't leave me alone until I posted it, so here we go. Like it? Love it? Dislike it? Hate it? I adore reviews. Drop one if you feel like so, and tell me what you think so far ;)

As a side note, if you haven't watched the movie How to Train Your Dragon, go watch it now. And if you haven't played Undertale, go play it now. Just to avoid confusion :)