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    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.


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