Chương 67: Interlude

Ulfar His entire being was one of anger and fury. It embraced him and threatened to consume him again, but Ulfar did not cave this time. He suppressed the overwhelming power of Behemoth Blood as he thundered through the thicket, searching for Pearot Barbarians to kill, or he would lose himself once more. And that was not something he could afford. Not now, maybe never again. Nothing worked as Ulfar and his father had planned. His father's training had been useless.

It had helped him unleash his Ancient Power, learn more about it, and even pushed him to the 1st Ascension, yet in the end, it had been to no avail. Several Barbarians had made it to the 1st Ascension, Astrid and Hakon included. Hakon. He ground his teeth until it felt like they were about to chip. The Battle of the Generation had been an utter disaster. Accidentally killing one of his subordinates had been a problem, but how was he supposed to know those fools were so weak?

They were simply too fragile and would have died sooner or later anyway. He had merely accelerated the process. Their deaths didn't linger in his mind. It was their fault that they were such frail, pathetic creatures. To think they had been delusional enough to call themselves warriors. Ulfar still didn't understand how the tribesmen could be so blind as to acknowledge so many weaklings, to let them believe they were worthy of fighting in front of the Ancestors and the sacred Monolith.

It filled him with anger even now. Ulfar knew that many tribesmen loathed him now. He had lost his mind that day, and he understood that. But he– No! I did the right thing! He growled inwardly and shook his head to discard the thoughts flashing through his mind. He had done what his father wanted of him, showing everyone that he was the strongest and the most deserving of the Ancestors' attention. That thought filled him with justification, yet it also reminded him of what had happened.

Looking down, Ulfar saw the stump where his arm had once been. Behemoth Blood flowed through him, filling him with power while battering against the walls of suppression he had created. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. How did he lose? The Ancestors had been on his side. Their blessing and acknowledgment had rested on his shoulders, yet that disgusting cretin had defeated him? He won with the Mind?

His veins bulged as Lifeblood surged through his body, his suppression growing weaker with every passing moment. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Hakon… won? That made no sense. It was utter nonsense. If not for Astrid and Björn, that would never have happened. Ulfar ignored the fact that he should have never lost, even with Astrid and Björn present. He should have never lost. Never!

"Why are they with him?" he growled to himself, ignoring the young warriors struggling to follow him through the dark forest. Astrid's eyes always rested on Hakon, fueling the hatred in his heart and igniting it into a blazing wildfire. Lovestruck fool. Ignorant woman. But as miserable as the Battle of the Generation had been, Ulfar never forgot the Ancestors. Not all had turned against him.

He may have lost the Battle of the Generation and been shunned by many, yet it was Hakon, of all men in Tribe Taskur, who made a grave mistake. The cretin was foolish enough to believe that it was over, that he was the 'Successor' and that all the glory belonged to him now. But it was far from over. Ulfar glanced at his minimized Ancient Scripture for a moment, a crazed smile forming on his lips.

Ulfar Tyrath – Level 20 Race – Barbarian Ancient Power – Behemoth Blood Bloodline – Blood of Zeldron The Ancestors were still with him. Their guidance helped him survive and prosper even when the entire tribe was against him. Now, one-armed, he should have grown weaker, yet it felt as though he was stronger than ever. Because that was the truth. He was powerful, as he should be, and all he needed to reach the 2nd Ascension was a true challenge. And that was exactly what the foolish cretin had given him.

He had created a challenge, to crush the strongest of Pearot's Barbarians, and through that, he would ascend. He would become the strongest warrior of his generation, the prodigy who reached the 2nd Ascension faster than anyone else in the tribe, possibly among all tribes. The tribe was foolish to believe Hakon would rise to become the next Warlord, but it was going to be him. Ulfar was destined to be the next Warlord. Even with only one arm, he knew it was only a matter of time.

His father was preparing something, and his legacy was not just for show. The Ancestors were still with him, his downfall momentary and nothing more than a test. A challenge he had to overcome to claim his rightful place. That was why he had joined Hakon. Not to act as his subordinate, but to surpass and crush him. And if he could fight Pearot and establish his claim as the next Warlord at the same time, that would be even better. It was perfect, just like him. A dangerous gleam coalesced in Ulfar's eyes.

He could fight, shed blood for the Ancestors, reward their trust in him, and ascend. His Runeskin triggered the moment he located a group of Pearot Barbarians, and he burst out of a cluster of thorny shrubs. Scales grew from his skin, covering most of his bare body within a few heartbeats. His Ancient Power surged and flowed through his Runeskin and scales, their synergy elevating its potency while channeling his hatred. Wild, unbidden emotions ravaged his being, yet this time Ulfar did not succumb to his Power.

He clung to the last threads of control as he crashed into the group of Barbarians at the 2nd Ascension. This was the beginning of his Saga. The rise of the next Warlord. As for Hakon… he was bound to die at his hands sooner or later.