Chương 56: Chapter 3

He woke up in his room as servants cleaned the hut and tended to him.

"Greetings, master," the servants said, bowing deeply, and left as soon as it was clear that he didn't need anything.

"That was tough," Hakon muttered, looking up at the morning sun lighting up the room.

"Worse than usual," he grunted to no one in particular. Getting knocked out in a father-son spar was nothing all that uncommon for him. Staying unconscious throughout the night, however, was new. The spar had been tough, but that did not justify waking up this late. At least, I'm well rested. Hakon removed the cloth tied around his head with a groan. It still hurt a little, but a night's rest had been enough to fix most of his wounds. A strong earthen smell lingered in the air.

Coupled with the herbal scents, and the revolting smell that followed shortly after, Hakon realized what had happened. Father hit me too hard. His eyes widened a little at that. The chieftain had perfect control of his strength. He was much stronger than Hakon, which made it much easier to knock him out cold. Yet, he had hit too hard and the healer had to come. But even then his head still hurt like a war drum. Father only allowed the healer to rub a paste on him. No Ancient Power or Runeskin had been applied.

"That would have been too easy, wouldn't it?" Hakon snorted, no longer trying to understand his father. Barbarians were simple people. They did not fear death nor pain. Pain was no more than weakness leaving the body. That didn't mean a father had to leave his son to fend for himself after accidentally hitting him too hard. The stinky paste did what it was supposed to do, but even a weak Runeskin would have been several times more useful.

Swallowing the curses before they left his lips, Hakon thought of the last match. It had been different.

'I expected worse.' The chieftain's words rang through his mind. Those words… Did he praise me? No, that made no sense. His father loathed him. His physique packed a punch, yet it was smaller than other Barbarians. The chieftain hated that. Hakon was interested in scrolls, just like his mother had been. The chieftain was disgusted. The Rite… The Ancestors joined his father's judgment. They agreed with him and gave him an Ancient Power without history. Without known Saga to rely on.

He had to tread his path alone with no guidance.

"No!" Hakon gnashed his teeth. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his body. He cast aside the war drum thundering in his head and focused on the Ancient Scripture as it unfurled before his eyes once more. Hakon Taskur – Level 1 Race – Barbarian Ancient Power – Enhanced Comprehension Bloodline – Wildborne Lifeblood Skills – [Combat Awareness Lv. 1], [Sword Mastery Lv. 17] Hakon tilted his head.

He still thought the Ancient Scripture was broken because his Bloodline made no sense at all, but the remaining sections appeared correct. Other than the fact that he'd gained his first two Skills too fast.

"Father–no, everyone –said that it would take time to acquire a Skill." He rubbed his stubble in thought. Even the old texts had mentioned that Skills could be difficult to acquire. Barbarians were great warriors. Their physique was perfectly suited toward combat, which only aided their progress, Skill acquisition included. Both scrolls and the older warriors said the same in that regard; that the guidance of the old generation was needed to accelerate the progress.

But even after a decade of training, the Ancient Scriptures should not have recognized Hakon's Sword Mastery this easily. It even leveled up!

"Was I close to a breakthrough?" Hakon mused. If he'd been close to a breakthrough before the Rite, it would have made sense. That had to be it! Though, it didn't explain [Combat Awareness].

"[Combat Awareness] feels like heightened senses. But my senses were always sharp." If awareness meant what he thought it meant, he had always been aware, especially when he fought the Wind Wolves and Nightshade Panther. But something was different. The Ancient Scripture considered it a new Skill rather than something the Ancestors recognized from his past achievements. Confused, Hakon looked for his father, but he was nowhere to be found. Asking him about his Bloodline or the Skills was out of the question.

And his Ancient Power… His attention shifted to the shelf with the hide scrolls.

"The Mind," Hakon repeated the Shaman's words. Whatever Enhanced Comprehension meant, it had to do with the mind. The Shaman had confirmed that much. Again, that meant the tribe wouldn't have much information for him to skim through. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

"In that case," his stomach growled, yet his eyes never diverted from the scrolls. They ought to help. Somewhat. Maybe he could find out more about his Bloodline or Skills through the scrolls. Maybe… he could understand more big words with the Ancient Power! A wave of eagerness overcame Hakon, and he fetched the first hide scrolls.

"Barbarian Lifeblood… might of a dozen… Bloodline of the Great Ones…" He read, lips curling into a smile as the words came slightly easier to him than the last time. After going through the hide scrolls about a dozen times, Hakon should have understood a lot more, but the texts were difficult. Most Barbarians couldn't read and used their instincts to try and understand the Ancient Scriptures; however, that was the extent of their abilities. Physical might was all that mattered to them.

Hence, powers of the Mind were considered weak. They did not make sense to them, since the art of reading was not destined for warriors. It was a Shaman's art. So his father and the other tribesmen said. The chieftain possessed scrolls, yet he did not read them. He loathed reading as much as others did, if not more. As little sense as that made, nobody dared question him. Or they couldn't be bothered. But it mattered little to Hakon. He came to like reading many cycles ago when his mother first taught him.

The memories of her were fragmented, the remnant of her scent fading after his father exiled her all those cycles ago. Hakon still did not know what had happened, but the tribesmen stood behind the chieftain's actions. He must have acted rightfully, but… that did not change the way Hakon thought about his mother. She read him stories, taught him how to read himself, and even helped him with the Barbarians' ancient lettering. Alas, their lessons together were cut short.

Many big words still eluded him even after he read the hide scrolls dozens of times. But as the war drums in his head made space for a different sensation, something changed. The words came easier to him as he connected them to knowledge he already possessed, to events he had only heard about, and to other dots that had not made sense before. He relied on the new sensation to connect them, until the words swam before his eyes, coalescing into a steady stream that flowed into his head. And… he understood them.

Not all of them, but some of the slightly bigger words, and all that he had learned over cycles, flowed before him as he finished the first hide scroll in a morning rather than a day. [Skill [Reading] has been learned.] Hakon let out a hollow laugh. Reading was the art of Shamans, yet it came to him so easily. Was he destined to become a Shaman? The mere question dulled his excitement considerably. He was a warrior, the chieftain's son, and not a Shaman.

He took a deep breath and went through the scroll's content once more. It mentioned the tribes' greatest era: when they were united, their blades pointed at the foes in the forest and the lands beyond. Pride filled his chest at the image… the tribes uniting anew, promising the rise of an era even greater than the sagas spoke about. Hakon wanted to be part of the uprising. He wanted to be a pillar of strength in the unification of tribes and the conquest of the lands that had been taken from them.

"I am a warrior, and I will unite the tribes." He clenched his fists tightly, desire pumping in his heart.

"Just you wait, everyone! Watch me, and see as the saga of Hakon Taskur is written before your eyes!" Only the servants were present to hear him, but they had turned a deaf ear to his antics a long time ago. That did not matter. His words were not directed at the servants. They were a promise to himself. The fuel needed to strive forward. But to fulfill his promise, he needed strength. A lot of strength. Hakon swallowed the excitement before it could consume the last of his focus.

He rolled the scroll up again and searched for one of the older scrolls his mother had acquired from the Shaman a long time ago. It was his most valued possession: a memory of his mother, and the scroll that was the most difficult to understand. As he sat down, the scroll unraveled before him, and something new occurred to him. The big words that had not made much sense before shifted before his eyes. It was almost as if they were pulled apart and reworded with smaller words.

The same meaning was still written in the text – a Shaman's tongue was different, difficult to understand – but it came easier to him. He read faster, the effect of [Reading] coming in handy as he moved through the text with a smoothness and ease that should not have been possible. Lifeblood was mentioned often in most scrolls, but the Shaman's texts mentioned mana more frequently. It was the same thing, just a different name, but mana rang in Hakon's ears like the truth. It had a better ring to it…

but was that really important? It was the same, after all. He shook his head, the terms mana and Lifeblood swirling together as he combed painstakingly through the complex text.

"Mana… Heart of the world… Titan Might." The war drum echoing in his skull had yet to disappear. It had dulled momentarily, but the drums returned, their thunder louder than before.

"The Warlord of the united tribes was unlike those who followed in his footsteps. Unlike those who came before him. He wielded the power of the Titans, although he carried the blood of the Great Ones." The thundering drums in his head brought forth problems. They did not help solve the confusion settled in Hakon's heart. Even though the text came easier to him, the larger words unraveled into smaller pieces of something greater. And the greater meaning escaped his grasp.

All he knew for sure was that the Shaman thought highly of mana–considered it a vital source of power. Lifeblood was important to warriors as well. It powered their Skills and Runeskin. But as highly as Barbarians regarded Lifeblood, Ancient Powers that required it were not considered as highly, because they consumed Lifeblood, draining warriors, weakening them in battle if too much was used. And Barbarian warriors were not known for holding back.

They fought all enemies to the death and honored their foes by going all out, no matter how superior they were.

"It's all the same." Hakon muttered to himself, head tilted. From the way he looked at it, the only difference between Lifeblood and mana was the way Shamans and warriors applied it, but how could he be so sure about that?

"Or is it different?" Hakon tried and failed to read between the lines. The Shaman encouraged the use of mana, whereas warriors harnessed their Lifeblood and kept it within them. Even if the texts insinuated that it was the same energy used differently, could they really be the same? And if they were different, did he have to become like a Shaman because of his Ancient Power? No. That should not be it.

Trying another scroll–one that must have been written by a Shaman, judging by how similar it was–Hakon recognized a connection that made his heart flutter. The words Warlord, Titan Might, and mana appeared in similar places several times. Most of the time, they were not mentioned in the same sentences, yet the sentences belonged together in more than one sense. There was a connection that had not been obvious before. The heart of the world was mentioned a few times as well, along with the volatility of mana.

At times, it was calm like a lake. At other times, it was a deadly force to be reckoned with. At all times, it was powerful. Incredibly so. But was it enough to become a warrior while wielding mana in ways that were frowned upon? Was it worth it? Could his understanding of the scrolls be a mistake–a misunderstanding? Was he seeking connections where there were none? It was possible. And there was only one way to find out.