Charlemagne was not a particularly notable rooster. For one thing, he was a type of chicken known as "poulet bicyclette", a West African breed known for its small size, tough meat, and ability to thrive with minimal care. Like most roosters of his generation, he spent his life scratching up food while dodging motorcycles, children, and the occasional stray dog. He fought when he had to, chased females when he could, and generally did rooster things. He had largely black feathers that, when he wasn’t too dirty, were glossy and had a slight iridescent sheen. Small patches of white provided a bit of contrast and gave him a slightly speckled appearance. His orange eyes displayed neither raw cunning nor intelligence, but instead regarded anything that entered his 300-degree field of vision with trepidation. His comb was slightly tilted and closer to pink than a true red. All in all, he was an ordinary specimen on the outside. But there was one thing that the diminutive rooster could boast about: he had 0.00000001% more dinosaur DNA than any other bird in West Africa.
Unfortunately, his unique genetic makeup did not make Charlemagne's life any easier. Romuald, a scraggly dog that nominally belonged to one of the neighbors, had it out for the scrappy young chicken for some reason. Early one morning, after Charlemagne had ensured that the neighborhood was awake, he failed to notice the tan and brown mutt sneaking up on him before it was too late. The dog pounced on Charlemagne just as the chicken had managed to scratch up a half-kernel of dried corn, getting a mouthful of feathers but not drawing blood. Charlemagne flapped aggressively with his stubby wings, trying to loosen Romuald's grip and get into position for a counterattack, but the dog gamely held firm and slowly worked the angle of his bite to get a better grip on the rooster's slim body.
Charlemagne desperately fought as he was flung high into the air, instinctively realizing that once Romauld got him off the ground, he would be shaken to death. To the rooster's immense surprise, however, it was no longer the mutt that had a grip on him. It was his owner, a day laborer and small-scale farmer who lived just outside the city of Cotonou.
Instead of putting the still struggling chicken down the man carried Charlemagne over to his battered Sanya motorcycle, where a surprising number of other chickens were tied to the handlebars. The young rooster swiftly joined them. Charlemagne soon found himself outside a Vodun temple, blissfully unaware that he was to be sacrificed to increase the chances of a local politician winning an upcoming election.
He hung from his owner's motorcycle for some time, not really comprehending what was going on but knowing that something different was happening...and different was bad. Ordinarily, the chicken would have responded to unfamiliar stimuli through a familiar mechanism: running away. But Charlemagne had no way of getting free of his bonds. Even if he was not in a state of tonic immobility due to being hung upside down, there was the small issue of his feet being firmly affixed to the motorcycle.
He had long ago pooped on himself, so the young rooster had nothing to do but hang around and wait for his owner's return. The sun grew hot in the sky as the ritual continued. Charlemagne began to feel the initial stages of heat distress, panting as his body sought to expel excess heat through the air in his lungs. His little rooster mind wandered as the temperature continued to climb, seeking an escape from bondage in the burning sun. It might have been the heat, the exhaust fumes, or being hung upside down, but Charlemagne daydreamed for the first time in his short life.
In his vision, the little rooster was gigantic, scattering vehicles and people as he went about his daily life. Without a care in the world, the now enormous Charlemagne ate juicy bugs, ripe corn, and the finest strawberries from Burkina Faso. He slaked his thirst with clean rainwater. He mated with all the hens, not just the slow ones, but also the strong and fast ones. And that was pretty much it. Charlemagne was a chicken...eating, drinking, and mating were basically all he dreamed of doing in life.
Charlemagne had just finished a nice meal and was moving on to satisfy another urge when something very rudely interrupted his dream. The ground shook and the skies turned blood red. A feeling of dread gripped the young rooster as a magnificent creature stomped over the horizon. The blood of a thousand prey-beasts dripped from its powerful jaws. Its whip-like tail swished back and forth, knocking down a few of the tallest trees that happened to be in the way. Scales as hard and as lustrous as black diamonds covered much of its body. Charlemagne was not a very good judge of arms, seeing as he had wings, but the arms were...well they were present and accounted for. An aura of deadly majesty blasted out from the glorious hunter as it reared its head back and roared. Then it looked directly at Charlemagne and made a series of less intimidating but still fearsome grunts and roars.
The rooster had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that the other creature was much larger than he was and much more powerful. Therefore, he should be subservient. The proper chicken thing to do was to run away. But his feet refused to move. He could only stare, transfixed by a wonderful feeling spreading throughout his body. Although his limited chicken intellect could not classify his emotions, Charlemagne was experiencing both a sense of belonging and longing. He now belonged to this godly being's flock and wanted to be just like his new alpha rooster.
The trance was broken up as numerous dark squiggles appeared in the air. The confused rooster blinked, but the squiggles merely remained where they were, although their color shifted from dark to light when he shut his eyes. Moving his head didn't help, the squiggles followed along. He tried to peck at one of them, thinking maybe they were food or food-adjacent, but they retreated as fast as his beak could move.
While he was still puzzling over the sudden appearance of the squiggles, Charlemagne's body surged with energy and strength. His bones momentarily ached as new calcium deposits formed and growth plates activated, making his skeleton denser and longer. The compact and stringy muscles that powered his movements grew new layers before somehow compacting themselves to their original size. His heart beat stronger, his blood ran cleaner, and his organs became more efficient. Most importantly, however, the squiggles suddenly made sense as Charlemagne's mind expanded. Although his avian mind was not yet capable of comprehending the meaning of each word, he could understand that the squiggles were a blessing from the wonderful creature in his vision.
System Activated
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Atavism Detected...
Early System Integration Approved: All Costs Chargeable to Patron (Grimfalk)
Pre-Payment Received
Congratulations, you are now a Champion (Theropod)
Applying Template: Theropod
Error: Genetic Compatibility Too Low
Scanning
Partial Template Application Possible
Cost Reduction Applied
Partial Refund Complete
Applying Template: Theropod (partial)
Success
Species Designation (Gallus Domesticus) Removed
Species Set to (Gallus Domesticus Baronia)
Attributes Updated
Strength: (4->24)
Dexterity: (5->20)
Durability: (4->19)
Special: (9->34)
Species Skills Added
Peck: 1
Claw: 1
A sudden burst of movement pulled Charlemagne's attention away from the sacred squiggles. While he had been unconscious, his turn to be sacrificed had arrived. One strong hand pressed his body down against a gnarled tree stump, while another held a blood-crusted machete that was descending straight for his neck. While an ordinary chicken would have been cleanly beheaded, Charlemagne was now no ordinary chicken. Ancient instincts embedded deep in his brainstem asserted control, relaxing his neck muscles while contracting the ones in his wings. Charlemagne rocketed out of the way just in time to avoid decapitation.
Before the rooster could get his bearings, three men rushed at him. While ten minutes ago, Charlemagne would have retreated from almost anything larger than he was, the magical changes wrought within him had increased not only his ability but also his willingness to fight. He surged forward, letting two of the three men overshoot him, before leaping high into the air to confront his former owner. Charlemagne's wings beat the air as he rose higher than he'd ever done before, high enough to deliver a vicious claw right across the man's face. Blood spurted as his razor-sharp spur cut deep.
The enraged rooster beat his wings again, pushing himself forward and using the momentum to deliver a peck straight into his opponent's jugular vein. More blood flew across the hut as the man went down, clutching at his savaged throat in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. Charlemagne landed on his feet and crowed in victory as a loud chime rang in the rooster's ears. More squiggles appeared.
First combat detected: Mid-combat gains enabled as one-time bonus due to Champion status
Congratulations, you have earned the achievement (First Blood!). You are one of the first 100 system users to kill a being of the same Kingdom (Animalia). Attributes are ten percent more effective.
Congratulations, you have earned the achievement (Underdog). You are the first system user to kill a member of the top-ranked species (Human) while being weaker than the average adult member. Attributes are fifteen percent more effective.
Congratulations, you have earned the achievement (Giant Slayer II). You have slain an opponent more than twenty-five times your weight with only natural weapons. Attributes are ten percent more effective.
Skills Increased
Claw: 1->2
Peck: 1->2
Congratulations, you are now level 2.
Attributes Updated
Strength: (24->26)
Dexterity: (20->22)
Durability: (19->21)
Special: (34->36)
Special Ability Choice Available
The effects of the achievements and level up were instantaneous, making Charlemagne 35 percent stronger, faster, and more durable. He puffed himself up as new power flowed through him, flapping his wings in defiance of the remaining two men, daring them to attack. The one with the machete obliged, teaching the young rooster an important lesson: don't gloat in the middle of combat.
The dull machete blade smashed downward with a force that came not only from powerful muscles but also from the sheer mass of his opponent. Charlemagne attempted to dodge, but because he was off balance from his posturing, his dodge was slow. The machete smashed into his left wing with a sharp crack.
Despite the white-hot pain that ran through his wing, Charlemagne counterattacked while the man was off-balance, stomping forward and pecking deep into the attacker's calf muscle. The man jumped back and shouted, but the other opponent used the opportunity to jump in with a stick of firewood he had grabbed from the floor. The makeshift weapon caught the rooster full in the face, sending him careening into the hut's wall. The rooster bounced off, slightly stunned, but somehow regained his footing and kept moving.
Charlemagne's legs carried him instinctively toward freedom, but his newfound thirst for dominance forced his body to halt its cowardly retreat and flung him back into the thick of battle. The outnumbered and undersized chicken weaved back and forth, dodging most of the swipes from the machete and stick but taking a few glancing blows before he found an opening to counterattack. His beak flashed out three times in quick succession, ravaging the machete holder's Achilles tendon. The other man, seeing his comrade fall, dropped his stick and made a break for the door. He made it outside and began to pick up speed despite the uneven ground. Charlemagne gave chase.
An ordinary, pre-system, chicken could reach speeds up to 9 miles (15 kilometers) per hour. On the human side, Olympic sprinters could reach speeds around 27 miles (43 kilometers) per hour for a moment. With his strength 8 times higher than before the advent of the system, Charlemagne was already a good deal faster than the fastest ordinary human. The man running barefoot across rugged terrain didn't have a chance.
With a leap aided by his one good wing, the battered fowl aimed for his foe's neck and activated the Peck skill. The System-enhanced attack burst through the hard muscle and sinew that the man had cultivated through a lifetime of manual labor and shredded his windpipe from behind. He fell with a wet gurgle and didn't get back up.
With the runner taken care of, Charlemagne turned back to see the man with the machete pulling himself up onto the old Sanya motorcycle that his owner had used to bring him there. Two chickens, both females, still hung from the handlebars. The moto's two-stroke engine putt-putted to life as the rooster raced back to stop the man's escape.
Spotting the enraged chicken, the man on the motorcycle shifted his machete back into his right hand and gunned the engine, aiming to catch Charlemagne with the blade as they passed each other. Neither the chicken nor the man could appreciate that a deadly game of chicken was being played between a man and an actual chicken. This was mostly because neither party understood English, an essential prerequisite for getting the joke.
Charlemagne, being faster and more agile, could easily have swerved and approached the motorcycle from his left side, saving himself the trouble of taking the machete head-on. But the rooster's newly awakened instincts did not account for the existence of weapons, granting the man the upper hand in their exchange. Or it would have, if the motorcycle's front tire hadn't hit a rock, causing the rider to fly off head over heels directly into his opponent's path. The man slammed straight into Charlemagne.
The rooster struggled for a moment upon impact with the much more massive man, which knocked the wind out of him and reversed his momentum. Heedless of the pain in his left side, he flapped his powerful wings, managing to disentangle himself just before the man crashed face-first into the ground.
Charlemagne landed with a bounce and leaped upon his stunned opponent before he could recover. His claws rent clothing and flesh as easily as they had previously moved soft soil, while his beak made short work of the man's vulnerable neck. Another chime rang out, announcing the death of his final foe. Then more squiggles appeared...lots of squiggles.
Charlemagne threw his beak back and crowed once again in triumph. The squiggles were good. The squiggles were power.