Chương 21: Chapter 20

[Skill [Tracking] has been learned.] [Proficiency earned. [Tracking Lv. 1] improved to [Tracking Lv. 2]] … Hakon noticed several follow-up messages, which explained quite a lot. [Tracking] helped him find his way back home. Learning the Skill would have come without his Ancient Power, at some point, but he would have never improved it this quickly. Enhanced Comprehension helped him out of the mess… again. To think I disliked awakening the Mind not too long ago. He chuckled, hefting Crusher with one hand.

It slammed on his shoulder, its grotesque appearance visible for everyone to see. Then he strode through the tribehold, following excited voices and engaged growls and roars. The outskirts were empty and dimly lit. No one stayed behind, unwilling to miss the events of the full silver moon night. Hakon's heart beat rapidly, but the hesitation that plagued him after the Rite was no longer there. He had done everything in his might to grow stronger since the Rite and it showed.

The crack in his confidence had long since mended, and the laughs of his fellow brethren were no more than a whisper in the back of his mind. As he walked down the path to the Monolith, he faced several men and women of the past. They'd regarded him highly even though his physique had not been as wide as the others. They'd respected him for his strength rather than his unlikely appearance. But even that was taken from him after the Rite.

The way the tribesmen looked at him that day carried a deeper meaning than a thousand words. And now that he met them again, their respect mattered no longer. He ignored them even as their eyes widened, trudging into the brightly lit center of the tribehold, his gaze lingering on the Monolith. The very structure that channeled the Ancestors' will inside him. It awakened the power that shaped him into a new person ever since that night. Murmurs reached his ears, but Hakon tuned them out.

His gaze flitted from the Monolith to the Shaman, whose ink-covered body carried an entirely new meaning now that he reached the 1st Ascension. The Shaman was covered in Runeskins, yet they too were engraved and interconnected with ink, concealing their identity. Though something was odd. Hakon tried to use [Inspection] on the Shaman as he approached the stage before the Monolith. He failed. Instead of information, he encountered a firm wall that not only repelled him but counterattacked, assaulting his mind.

He suppressed a pained groan and grimaced, the Shaman's head flicking toward him, the faintest hint of a smile playing his lips. Several tribesmen turned as the Shaman looked past them. Their brows furrowed when they saw him, but they parted ways for Hakon. Their grunts and curses reached his ears, yet they did not prevail for long. He consumed them, their words of ridicule no more than fuel that pushed him further.

The stage, carved from stone and adorned with gemstones and a plethora of engravings Hakon had never seen before caught his attention. Half a fortnight ago, the stage had not been there, but he didn't doubt that the tribesmen did everything possible to honor the Ancestors' wish for the Battle of Generation. The scenery unfurling before him was mesmerizing.

The engravings glowed and illuminated the tribehold center dimly, which was only further highlighted as the golden lining spread throughout the Monolith sparked to life.

"The Ancestors are watching," the Shaman intoned, his attention flicking back to the Monolith. He knelt, his voice thrumming with otherworldly power.

"May the Great One shine upon us. Let him judge the Battle of Generation, welcome the rise of the next Warlord." The warriors roared in tune to the Shaman's words, the cacophony of overlapping voices carrying their excitement and thirst for blood, their fists hammering against their chest. They all welcomed the rise of the next Warlord. Hakon joined the roar and only resumed heading to the stage when the excited shouts and thunderous roars of the others died down.

More warriors parted ways for him, but some wouldn't move. Their wide frames blocked him from his rightful place beside the stage, where all the other young warriors waited their turn to present themselves in front of the Ancestors. The warriors' faces scrunched up at first, but the corner of their lips curled into mocking smiles shortly after. Seriously? Hakon was no fan of their nonsense. He let out a growl and pumped mana through his pathways, his grip around Crusher tightening.

His knuckles crackled, and he was ready to smash their heads for obstructing his path. How dare they stop him from joining the sacred ritual!

"Let him through," his father's voice boomed across the tribehold. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. The warriors blocking Hakon tensed and turned, yet they did not open a path. Not right away, at least. Driven by impatience, Hakon used [Dash] and leaped across the warriors in a moment of carelessness.

"Father." He approached the chieftain after a smooth landing, his frame as massive as ever. Yet, something had changed since they last met. His father felt as powerful as ever, but he was no longer as imposing as he used to be. He felt more like a Barbarian than a legendary warrior.

"Son," the chieftain said, his steely eyes regarding him from head to toe.

"Did you come here to desecrate the Ancestors' sacred ritual?" he growled deeply, his presence crushing down on Hakon. Resisting the pressure his father emitted was no easy feat. His legs threatened to cave in, yet he prevailed, his eyes meeting his father's.

"You are late." The presence retracted.

"But not too late." His father snapped his fingers at someone.

"Bring my son some clothes. Clothes worthy enough to stand before the Ancestors." That was… odd. Was his father angry at him or was he happy to see his son again? And how were his clothes important? It was not like anyone wore multiple layers of clothes. It was the opposite, if anything. Hakon glanced at the other young warriors to see that most Bloodbearers were only lightly clothed. The men barely covered their lower bodies, whereas the women's chests were wrapped in cloth or leather.

Looking down at his own body did explain what his father had been about. He was naked. Completely, utterly naked. His clothes did not heal when flesh and skin did. They likely suffered greatly from the Acidic Beetles' constant bombardment. Or was it against the Colossal Terror? It had covered his entire body in its acidic spit. Hakon shrugged lightly. It didn't really matter all that much.

A young man no more than a few cycles away from undergoing the Rite himself rushed up to the chieftain and placed a set of trousers made of tempered bear hide. The stitches were not as crude as Hakon was used to. They were symmetrical and almost too valuable to be worn for ordinary occasions. Alas, the Battle of Generation was no ordinary occasion. It was an event that changed the lives of many.

"You know what that means?" The chieftain pointed at the trousers.

"Yes, Father," Hakon answered before smoothly slipping into his new trousers. They were comfortable and fit perfectly; like they had been customized for him, yet their true value was hidden. It was in the expectations behind the gift. His father had decided to support him for the Battle of Generation. He gifted the warrior he expected to win something in front of everyone. Not Astrid. Not Ulfar. Him! Hakon swallowed hard at the expectations, but it only further fueled the fire burning in his chest.

"Take care of this." He held out his hand carrying the Acidic Beetle Totem and handed it over.

"Don't throw it away. We don't want anyone earning the Ancestors' wrath." The corner of his lip curled upward, prompting his father to study the Totem with deeply furrowed brows.

"Take a look at it." The chieftain didn't have to hear that twice, but his brows furrowed even deeper as he glanced down at the small Totem resting in his massive palm. A moment later, they rose slightly, and he looked back at his son, his eyes tracing the azure etching on his chest.

"Bloody days?" he inquired, lips curling up.

"Carnage." Hakon smiled, approaching the front row where the others were already waiting.

"Conquered a lost Fracture." His words weren't loud. His voice was quiet, yet it carried a long way and reached the front line.

"Sure. And I kill a dragon!" a broad-shouldered warrior grumbled. Hakon stared at the man, a young warrior, one of Ulfar's Bloodbearer 'friends.'

"Call me a liar again and you will meet the Ancestors tonight," he said evenly, his expression cold as ice. The Bloodbearer warrior's lips parted but something made him stop. That something was none other than Astrid's bloody presence as she emerged between them. Hakon hadn't seen her move, nor did he sense her presence earlier, and clearly the Bloodbearer thought similarly. His eyes widened in terror, his body frozen in place.

"Weak," Astrid spat in disgust, her expression shifting to one of utter happiness as she spun toward Hakon.

"You made it." Her smile was the brightest he had ever seen. It was captivating and promised to turn the heads of many men around. Hakon did not exclude himself, and his ears felt oddly hot as she glanced down at his waist, her cheeks burning red. Did she see me naked? Hakon wondered, not quite sure if he should be happy about that or not. He had nothing to hide, but that was not exactly the way he expected Astrid to see him naked for the first time. And now everyone had seen him naked. That thought made him smile.

There was nothing to be embarrassed about, after all. If anything, many men were bound to be jealous of him.

"Great entrance." Björn emerged from the crowd with a toothy smile. He slapped Hakon on the back, his eyes focused on his friend's chest.

"Good. You did it." Björn pumped his biceps, revealing an intricate etching spread across his upper arm.

"You reached the 1st Ascension?" Hakon sighed exaggeratedly and put on a sad farce.

"That means everyone else reached the 1st Ascension as well? If you made it, the others–" Björn growled at him and pulled Hakon into a light chokehold.

"What did you say? You did not say what I think you did, right?"

"I think your ears are fine." Hakon infused mana into his fingers and stabbed Björn in the side. The bear-like man groaned in pain and released his friend, eyes filled with betrayal. Ignoring Björn the Bear's antics, Hakon glanced at Astrid, his ears still hot as fire.

"How about you?" She just smiled, her blush receding slowly.

"Astrid won't tell me. She did ascend, though," Björn grumbled in between two groans. Hakon expected as much.

"The others?" he asked while using [Inspection] on the gathered youth. What he saw was not particularly impressive. Most Barbarians participating in the Battle of Generation weren't much of a threat. Even [Inspection] said as much. It was nothing, really. Except for the information he received from using [Inspection] on two Barbarians. [Barbarian – High Threat (1st Ascension)] The first was Astrid. He anticipated she would be powerful. Her presence screamed danger, which brought a smile to his lips.

The second information was not as great. It was the message he received when he inspected Ulfar. He, too, was a High Threat, but that was not the problem. [Barbarian – High Threat (1st Ascension)] How he reached the 1st Ascension without losing control to the Behemoth Blood, Hakon couldn't tell. It made no sense. Yet, that was exactly what happened. Hakon doubted [Inspection]'s information not even for a fraction of a second. It was true, and it was the worst possible case.

Ulfar turned to Hakon, his lips parting to a vicious smile. One that smelled of death and blood.