Chapter 51

The moons hung high in the starry sky, their pale light illuminating the tribehold as the young warriors returned from their first hunt. Or rather, what had started as their first hunt.

Nobody expected to encounter a group of Pearot Barbarians invading their land, let alone fight those experienced warriors. Every single one of their foes had been strong enough to fight multiple young Barbarians, yet the warriors of Tribe Taskur survived. Most of them did.

Hakon led the group through the forest, projecting [Intimidation] to ward off monsters that dared to approach, and it worked. They returned to the tribehold late at night with no further issues. All of them were exhausted, some wounded worse than others, but they kept going until the pyre torches of the tribehold entered their vision.

Björn was not the first to collapse to the ground as they stepped onto well-trodden paths, but he looked the worst for wear. He regained consciousness at some point and ignored his wounds to walk back to the tribehold without any support. The Blessed warrior pushed his chest out and held his head high even as beads of sweat trickled down his deathly white face. He gasped for air and looked worse for wear the longer they moved through the darkness of the night, but he prevailed longer than the others.

His endurance was rewarded, and he even began to recover slightly at some point, but exhaustion emerged victorious in the end.

Despite arriving late at night, Tribe Taskur was still wide awake. Several tribesmen and women rushed toward the young warriors as soon as they were sighted, offering their support without hesitation. They tended to their children first, scrutinizing them from head to toe and asking countless questions in gruff voices, yet their eyes sparkled with relief.

No matter how much Barbarians were in tune with death, the thought of losing their child before they could write a Saga worth remembering was heartbreaking to them.

Hakon watched several families collect their dead children with emotionless faces. Tears twinkled in the eyes of those too young to have experienced many losses, but the oldest were already used to the loss of their beloved. It was a sad sight that burned into Hakon’s heart.

If I had been a little stronger… He let out a deep grunt and turned to the families carrying the dead young warriors back to their huts.

“They fought well and protected their brothers and sisters against the Pearot Barbarians with their lives. Do not resent them for failing to live long Sagas, for the Ancestors will remember their bravery and power,” Hakon called out, casting a dome of silence over the tribehold.

The older Barbarians stopped and turned to him, confused.

“We fought Pearot Barbarians. They were in our territory. Ask the others if you want to know more about the first passage of their Saga: their victory against experienced warriors of Tribe Pearot,” he added, his voice reverberating everywhere. “The Sagas of those who lost their lives this night are short, but that does not make them any less valuable. They fought against those stronger than them, protected the people important to them, and are the very reason the rest of us survived. Honor them, think about them, and provide them with the grandest of farewells, because they deserve all of it and more!”

Tears welled in the eyes of the men and women who had just lost their beloved. Part of it was because they had lost their child, nephew, or grandson, but that was not all of it. They were relieved; their tears were of sadness, but also happiness, because they would not be cast aside and frowned upon by the Ancestors. No, the young warriors who fell to the blades of the Pearot Barbarians would be welcomed with tight embraces and given a seat at the Ancestors’ table.

Even if their lives were lost, taken too early, they would feast with the Ancestors, their afterlives filled with the bliss of food, combat, and all they could wish for.

Hakon hoped he hadn’t worsened the situation. Telling the entire tribe about the Pearot Barbarians might cause trouble in the future, but it was not like he could–or even wanted to–hide their infiltration. If anything, the tribe had to know about Pearot’s actions to prepare for the worst-case scenario.

Glancing toward the mourning men and women, he grimaced. Had he made the right choice? Frankly, Hakon had no idea if he had, but he thought they looked better than before, knowing that their children would not be rejected at the Ancestors’ feast.

It didn’t take long before he found the chieftain as well. His father nodded slowly before gesturing for him to go to the Healer. He looked surprisingly tired, even worse than he had when Hakon had forced him to tend to his people at the training ground all day, but he still rushed toward the worst injured and helped them.

What followed was organized chaos. The tribehold became a bustle of activity as the older tribesmen moved around to help carry the severely wounded. In the meantime, the mildly injured joined their families and friends to brag about their experiences. Hakon heard them talk about their first hunt, how the ‘Successor’ found and gathered them to tell them about the Pearot Barbarians in their land, and how they defeated them.

Being called Successor was still a little odd, but it sounded rather nice to him. He studied the tribehold and found a few more injured faces, familiar faces belonging to the young warriors he hadn’t found earlier in the forest. They stared at the scene unfolding before them in awe but clenched their fists tightly, jealousy burning in their eyes when they heard about the fight against peak 1st Ascension warriors and a Barbarian at the 2nd Ascension.

They, too, would have loved to fight the tribe’s nemesis to show the Ancestors what they were capable of, and, of course, to protect Tribe Taskur from Pearot’s invasion.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Regardless of their intentions, Hakon was glad they were fine. Not everyone was present, but he didn’t think the warriors he had trained would have died to most of the forest’s monsters. If they had stayed near the tribehold, which appeared to have been the case, considering the mild injuries covering the present warriors’ bodies.

Their heads flicked to him, jealousy replaced by newfound respect and awe, but Hakon turned to his father, motioning for him to follow.

Although exhausted, the chieftain wanted to talk to him, so he followed him back into their hut.

“You are alive,” the chieftain called out, matter-of-factly.

“I am.” Hakon smiled faintly, all while sending waves of mana into [Natural Regeneration]. He tried to do the same with [Fatigue Resistance], but the Skill wouldn’t budge. “We have returned with trophies and news.”

“Bad news. I heard about it. Pearot Barbarians on our land.” His father let out a disgruntled snort. “But you killed them, did you not?”

“We did.” Hakon nodded slowly. “It took some preparation, but we defeated them. Nine warriors at the peak of the 1st Ascension and their leader at the 2nd Ascension.”

The words made the chieftain stop in his tracks. He turned, eyebrows narrowed. “2nd Ascension. And you defeated him?”