Chương 4

The morning had passed, and the sun had begun its descent toward the horizon when Hakon finished the last of the hide scrolls. Certain unfamiliar words were still hard to understand, which led to more problems in a few larger and several smaller sections. Even so, he was satisfied. The Ancestors were happy as well, their rewards filling his heart with joy. [Proficiency gained. [Reading Lv. 2] improved to [Reading Lv. 3]] His ability to read continued to improve as he learned more words.

While reading the texts, Hakon also felt his focus sharpen, which allowed him to store the written content more easily as well. Throughout the day, Hakon read many scrolls about topics he would have never understood before. Some he still failed to grasp. He did not know anything about the Divine Beasts and the foreign kingdoms that took land from their Ancestors through actions that could not have been more vile and honorless. All he learned was that Divine Beasts were unlike monsters from Fractures.

The scrolls mentioned them to be intelligent and something about old treaties and alliances but these parts contained more big words than others. However, what they also mentioned was that the Divine Beasts were no monsters of legends. Divine Beasts walked the realm even now, and it was best to be careful. For, the wrath of a Divine Beast promised a fate worse than death. The ominous promise aside, Hakon returned to read the scrolls again. Divine Beasts were mentioned, so were the foreign kingdoms.

The scrolls mentioned them either as a side note or, and that felt more likely, Hakon could not understand the deeper meaning written in barely comprehensible letters. Hakon heard of beings beyond their lands. His father told Hakon about raids on the fertile lands beyond, but that was long before he was born. Since then, foreign beings visited their lands only rarely, and they did not survive for long. But neither Divine Beasts nor foreign kingdoms were important. Not to Hakon. At least, not now.

His interest was aimed at the Warlords, mana, but also the Fractures. Especially the Fractures the tribes had lost long ago. Not much was mentioned about them, considering they were lost and all, but the oldest of scrolls in his father's possession spoke of the dangers and bounties that could be found within Fractures. Most of the texts were blurry and had lost their luster, but [Reading] and the prodding at the back of his mind helped him recognize a few words.

The texts mentioned monsters Hakon had encountered on his first hunt several cycles ago. A failed hunt, which turned into the first of many times he disappointed his father. But his failure and his father's disappointment were all the more reason to remember the day clearly. I went too deep into the forest. I was young, foolish, and arrogant enough to think nothing could defeat me. Mother just left, and I was angry at father… at the world… at everything. A sensation pressed against the back of his mind.

By now, he knew that the sensation could only be his Ancient Power, working its wonders. Leaning into it, Hakon used age-old knowledge, his own experiences, and the tales spun by Barbarians who had lived long, combat-rich lives to learn – to comprehend – the most likely location of a lost Fracture. Deep in the forest, passing through forbidden lands. The same lands Hakon roamed all those cycles ago. Why again are they labeled that way? He tried, and failed, to remember.

All Hakon remembered was that it was none other than the Shaman who could claim a land to be cursed and therefore forbidden. As if to confirm all his suspicions about the Fracture and the forbidden lands, the Ancestors spoke to him. A Scripture coalesced before him. [Experience threshold met. Level Up!] A warm sensation joined the Scripture. It came from everywhere, pressed against Hakon's skin, and seeped into his body.

It surged through his limbs, spread out to reach every part of his being, and settled in his abdomen, joining the mass of mana to expand upon it. Hakon felt the warmth but did not reach out to it. He wanted to, yet he sat still and waited to feel the changes in his body. Increasing his Level should not have been this easy. He should have had to kill monsters to earn the experience the Ancestors demanded for a level up. Instead, Hakon earned a level without leaving his hut.

His vessel accepted the Lifeblood–mana–and grew from its nourishing nature. It strengthened his physique, courtesy of his Barbarian race and his Bloodline. All was owed to the Ancestors and their sacrifices. If not for them, the tribes would have long since lost their sole means to survive in those dangerous lands. Their physiques would have been much weaker, their Bloodlines unable to provide the power they needed to survive and strive. And Hakon did not even have to hunt to gain experience.

His Ancient Power did that. Somehow.

"Physical powers fit Barbarians best," his father once said.

"They work with our Bloodline and let us grow stronger than our Level should allow." The thought made his head pound again as his Ancient Power stirred, as if it were pushing the idea into place. Ancient Powers came from the Ancestors. Physical powers strengthened the body, as the name suggested, and they made a warrior deadlier in a fight. Stronger than any other kind of power. Experience gained from combat, mixed with Ancient Power, simply hit harder.

A Barbarian with physical powers could earn far more Levels and accumulate more strength, while a less fortunate Rootkeeper struggled to earn a single Level in the same amount of time. Hakon tried to wrap his head around the words. It was strange because they sounded smarter than he felt. He wasn't sure he really understood any of it, but it was as if Enhanced Comprehension hummed in agreement. The warmth of power was exhilarating. It was as addictive as the warriors had mentioned, if not more.

And by embracing it as it moved through his body to reach the mass in his abdomen, Hakon tried what he should have attempted earlier. He reached for the mass of Lifeblood. No, he shook his head. Mana. The word rang true in his mind. It fit him better than Lifeblood. Compared to the night before, reaching out to the mass within him was far more manageable. Then again, he was not beaten to a pulp this time around. But that did not mean it was simple.

Being easier than before meant little when he had failed to grasp the mana at all the night before. This time, he grasped the mana and savored its warmth, only to be disrupted as it resisted his will. It was like a calm, warm lake when he left it be, yet the moment Hakon tried to control it, the lake turned into a raging river. Mana was violent, possibly deadly, and it raged within him. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Hakon forced his will onto the raging river and redirected the mass of mana to his chest. As soon as he did that, strength left his body. His vision blurred, and he vomited blood. It reeked badly, like the entire tribe had dumped fortnight-old leftovers straight into his nose, but the exhaustion was worse.

"Weakness." He grunted, clenching his fists as he scrambled to his feet once more. Ignoring the bloodied vomit before him, Hakon tried again. There was no way he'd stop there. He tried again. A few moments later, he vomited blood once more. This time, it was sprinkled with dark, almost black spots of sludge. Pain of that level was nothing. It was insignificant compared to the hurt and pressure every Barbarian was raised under. Still, something did not feel right.

Trusting that sense of wrongness, Hakon closed his eyes, his senses reaching deep into himself. He did not know what to expect, but it was certainly not a tunnel filled with dark, murky spots. Warmth spread through the narrow tunnel but was blocked, repelled, by the darkness. Confused, he did the only thing he could think of: forcing his way through the obstacles with brute force. Hakon tried to remove the dark spots filling the tunnel, but the image faded as soon as mana touched it.

He was pulled back, buckled over, and coughed up blood dotted with black sludge. A sense of weakness overcame him, which irked him more than the loss of blood.

"You won't stop me." He ground his teeth. It was already too dark to leave the hut to hunt. That did not stop Hakon from finding ways to improve. To gain strength where others could only see weakness and failure. If anything, the descending sun pushed him all the more to focus on his Ancient Power. He willed his power to activate, yet nothing happened. The sensation of wrongness in the back of his head remained the same. It was like Enhanced Comprehension was trying to tell him something. Constantly.

As if everything he did was wrong in some way.

"My power is like Giant Blood?" Hakon shook his head after a moment.

"No, Giant Blood can burst." Bloodbearers could churn their Bloodline for bursts of power. The aftermath was often painful, sometimes deadly; however, the main force of a Bloodbearer's Ancient Power was active at all times. Enhanced Comprehension appeared to work similarly. Bursts of power excluded.

"Reading?" He tilted his head. The hide scrolls concealed many big words he had yet to fully understand. Using Enhanced Comprehension to improve [Reading] might help, possibly in more than one way. But would that help him in the Battle of Generation? Would that make his father proud? Hakon did not think so. None of his goals could be achieved by focusing solely on [Reading]. He collected food from the servants, told them to clean up, and fetched a few pyre torches before setting out.

As he gobbled down the boar hind leg the servants had prepared for him, he reached the sparring ring behind the hut. He strode over, placed the pyre torches in a square around the ring, and ignited them. Hakon had ignited hundreds of pyre torches in his life. It had become second nature to him, yet this time something was different. As his fingers glided above the yellow, glowing stone, his eyes narrowed and he stopped dead in his tracks. Something prickled his finger. Like a zap that barely reached his fingertips.

Until the previous night, he would have never noticed anything amiss, but now he did. The zap returned as he ignited the remaining pyre torches. His fingers brushed against a familiar sensation, so he touched them again and repeated the process. The pyre torches glowed brighter for a moment, but Hakon barely noticed. He was more invested in the movements of the mana mass within him. It was no more than a trace, a trickle of warmth, but it moved through him and seeped into the pyre torch.

The movement felt like the most natural thing in his life, yet it irked him. If he had ignited hundreds of pyre torches with mana, why did it not move at his will now that he knew it was within him? Why did the mass of mana not listen to him? The sense of wrongness screamed at him as doubts formed in his mind, and it only seemed to die down when a particular thought surfaced. The dark spots? Is that it? It felt correct enough to try again. This time, he didn't grab the whole batch of mana.

There was no violence involved and only a little force. He was more careful, thinking and acting more like a Shaman than a warrior. The mass of mana resisted him at first, but it moved–too much–which resulted in another failure, with sludge and blood spurting into the sparring ring. At this point, Hakon felt miserable. However, he hadn't vomited the boar leg he'd eaten earlier. That was… something.

"Pain is weakness leaving the body. No more, no less." He reminded himself before trying again, and again, and again. Each attempt was different. Hakon incorporated adjustments into his method. They were small and barely noticeable at first glance, which only made it more difficult. Honestly, it was a pain in the hairy ass. Fighting, learning how to wield a sword, or just about every other weapon had been a lot easier than this. Barbarians were known for growing rapidly. They were the epitome of warriors.

It was in their very nature. Hakon's Sword Mastery Skill was probably not even the highest level among his peers. He knew that, but he'd been trained in multiple weapons, unlike some of those whose Skills were at a higher Level once the Ancestors acknowledged them. Shaking his head, Hakon tried for the umpteenth time, ignoring the blood and pungent smell lingering in the air. He removed a tiny trace of energy from the mana mass and nearly lost focus when his attempt didn't fail right away.

He imagined one of those tunnels and traced the mana through it… and failed and coughed up more blood and sludge. But he was excited. His heart raced. He'd retained full control of mana, even if it lasted only two moments. It was impressive, which the Ancestors seemed to think as well, as a Scripture from them manifested before him. [Skill [Flow Control] has been learned.] His lips curled into a predatory smile, all the pain and suffering forgotten. The warriors had been right: pain was weakness leaving the body!

He prevailed and overcame the pain, earning him the Ancestors' favor. The Ancestors' words were all Hakon needed to continue. It fueled his desire to keep improving. Controlling mana was not easy. Not even [Flow Control] took away the challenge. It did help him, though, and he moved onward to remove traces from the mana mass and move them through his body. His attempts usually failed after a moment, but the more he practiced, and the more sludge and blood he coughed up, the more he improved.

Hakon noticed his body growing weaker as time went on, but the sensation of mana moving more easily through the very same section it failed to move several attempts earlier filled him with pride and excitement. [Proficiency gained. [Flow Control Lv. 1] improved to [Flow Control Lv. 2]] His excitement skyrocketed with the message, and he kept going until the mana stored in his abdomen was fully drained.

Mana brushed against his skin, and a fraction of it seeped into his body to return to the mass in his abdomen, slowly filling it anew. However, it was no more than a faint, barely conspicuous trickle. It was far from enough to continue practicing.

"More. I need more!" He gasped, wanting to reach out to the mana brushing against his skin to absorb more. To make it all his. The desire was only amplified by Enhanced Comprehension trying to show him with a sense of wrongness and vague intent, but Hakon got up and reached for his sword instead. His mana was drained and his body weak, yet neither was reason enough to stop him from advancing. Time was not on his side. It was against him, the silver moon gaining more mass every night.

He had to use every moment to improve or Ulfar would crush him. Or his Bloodbearers would tear him apart. Hakon's fall would disgrace his father, weakening his hold as the chieftain. That was unacceptable. Even if I cannot make him proud, the least I can do is not be a burden. His fingers coiled firmly around the sword handle, and practice began. This time, no one could interrupt him. He focused on the wrongness and the ideas forming in the back of his mind as he adapted his stance and sword angle.

He slashed out with a frown, altered his movement by a tiny margin, and repeated the same motion. Shifting between several sequences in quick succession, Hakon's breathing changed. It was subtle, and he wouldn't have noticed anything if not for his Ancient Power. It showed him all he missed before. All he had considered inferior to the might of raw strength. But raw strength was not all there was. As odd as the realization made him feel, Hakon knew that it was true.

The truth rang in his ears, and he embraced it, slowly shifting his footwork and all it entailed. He failed countless times. He made mistakes and ended up doing more wrong than right. Yet whenever a certain instance or movement felt better than another, Hakon imprinted it into his mind by copying and repeating it until his body adapted. Cold sweat poured down his back, his head felt like it was bursting apart, but he continued as the darkness of the night came forth.

Even as the pyre torches flickered out, Hakon pushed through, the hues of the moons dimly illuminating the sparring ring. Then came the darkness.