Chapter 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. He’d have to come back to read them once more.

It was the same with foreign kingdoms. Either, the scrolls mentioned them as a side note or 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.

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.

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“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.