Khaevar held out his hand.
Her fingers closed around the rough handle.
The wood creaked slightly under his grip.
He raised the weapon with a fluid motion.
He twirled it once.
The wind moaned. The trees trembled.
A smile appeared on her lips.
Not a single human smile.
A predator's smile.
Khaevar… so that's it, that's my name here, he murmured, as this world prepares to fear me.
[Class unlocked: Warrior +20 XP]
[ DING! ] A system notification appears…
[ IDENTITY: KHAEVAR LOKHZEL (25 YEARS OLD) ] [ CLASS: WARRIOR (NEW) | RANK: F | LEVEL: 11 ]
[Statistics:]
physical attributes: {FOR: 24(+7) | VIT: 50(+9) | AGI: 3(+1) | END: 15(+8)}
mental: {INT: 4(+2) [+16] | WIL: 10(+3) | PER: 4(+2)}
Mystics: {ETH: 3(+1) | CHA: 12(+1)}
[PM: 9/9(+3)]
[SKILLS:]
Passive: War Cry (new)
Active: Breaking Blow (new)
[Equipment: {Warhammer-axe; (common)} (STR +2)]
Hmm… I see that the system only appears to update my profile, and having a class allowed me to increase my stats.
"Khaevar…," called a gravelly, deep, and resonant voice. "Son of Lokhzel… By blood and iron, you are now a seasoned warrior. Go, and bring honor to the Blood fang clan!"
A few meters away, seated on a stone throne covered in furs, a man of titanic stature stared at him. His gaze was cold, his skin marked by war scars and tribal tattoos. A silvery aura, like smoke, slowly emanated from his body, weighing down the surrounding air.
He had a huge white beard and a scar over his left eye. His long, partially braided white hair reached down to his marble chest.
He was the patriarch of the most powerful barbarian clan: the Bloodfang clan.
[Identity: Ragnar Lothbrok]
Race: Barbarian
Title: The Barbarian Titan, Patriarch | Class: ???
Rank:??? | Level:???
Khaevar joined, then the other young adventurers waited for the tribal rite to end.
The air was saturated with the smell of blood and ash, but the atmosphere was strangely festive, punctuated by catchy tribal music.
After the rite, barbarian dancers began a war dance, congratulating the new adventurers.
Among them, one figure caught Khaevar's attention:
A young woman with white hair, masked, dancing with supernatural grace and elegance. She was shorter than the other barbarians.
Her movements were so fluid that they seemed to defy the laws of gravity. All the young barbarians stared at her, captivated.
"Who could this person be?" Khaevar whispered aloud.
"What? You don't know her?" replied a voice next to him.
"Hm?"
"That's the Valkyrie Dancer, they say she's seen the Ancient Spirits themselves. Where are you from that you don't know her?"
Khaevar chuckled, a cold sweat trickling down his temple.
"Actually, I…"
"Ha ha ha, forget it, you're not the type to be interested in that kind of stuff, I imagine."
The man next to him held out his hand:
"I'm Floki, Drake's second son."
[Identity: Floki]
Race: Barbarian
Rank: F | Level: 18
Class: Defender
"Khaevar… son of Lokhzel." Pleased to meet you.
Floki burst out laughing:
"HA HA HA! You talk like a damn nobleman! You're hilarious, my friend!"
"Ha… ha ha…," Khaevar laughed nervously in return.
Damn, that's right, I'm supposed to be a barbarian now… I'll have to stop talking like an aristocrat and get into character…, he thought to himself.
"Anyway, she's not the kind of woman for us. No man dares approach her. They don't have the guts… You know why?"
"Um… not really, no."
"It's simple, there are two reasons. The first is that she ignores everyone. When she talks to someone… she's so cold and shows no weakness, and it makes them uncomfortable. The second…"
"Wait… Have you ever seen her without her mask?"
"No, never. No man in the village has ever seen her without it. But the few women who have approached her say that her beauty is beyond comprehension."
Khaevar raised an eyebrow.
"So… No one saw her without her mask, but everyone's talking about it?"
"You're quick. But yeah, that's how it is here. Like I was saying… wait… what was I saying again?"
Khaevar sighed inwardly.
What an idiot… Well, it's true, he's a barbarian after all.
"You said that her beauty was only equaled…"
"Ah yes, her strength and talent! Believe me, she's much stronger than she looks. I like powerful women, but this… The difference is too great."
Floki scratched his head before continuing with a sly smile:
"And there's a third reason…"
"But you said there were only two?"
"Who cares! The third one… is that it's the girl…"
Suddenly, Ragnar's powerful voice boomed, abruptly ending their conversation. The patriarch was addressing all the new adventurers gathered after the tribal dance had concluded.
Ragnar stood up, his gaze piercing the crowd. A stony silence fell. His deep voice exploded like the rumble of thunder.
"YOU! YOUNG WARRIORS! YOU ARE NO LONGER CHILDREN CRAWLING UNDER THE SKIRTS OF YOUR ELDERS. YOU ARE THE SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF IRON, BLOOD, AND FIRE. TODAY, YOU HAVE CROSSED THE THRESHOLD OF WEAKNESS.TODAY"YOU BELONG TO THE BLOODY FANG!" He slammed a rough fist into his chest, a dull echo reverberating through the tribe. "YOUR FLESH BELONGS TO US. YOUR RAGE BELONGS TO US. YOUR LIFE BELONGS TO THE PACK. BUT REMEMBER… HERE, ONLY TWO FATES AWAIT YOU: DEATH WITH HONOR OR ETERNAL GLORY. THERE IS NO PEACE FOR BLOODY FANGS. NO QUIET HOME. NO GENTLE OLD AGE. THERE IS ONLY WAR. THERE IS ONLY CONQUEST. THERE IS ONLY THE FLAMES OF BATTLE!" He pointed his finger at them with icy ferocity. "KILL OR BE DEVOURED." "LIVE STANDING UP OR FALL TO YOUR KNEES." He concluded with a hoarse growl. "NOW… COME ON! MAKE EVERYONE SCREAM US ENEMIES" AND ENGRAVE YOUR NAMES… ON THE BONES OF THE WORLD!"
No sooner had Ragnar's last words crashed into the air than the earth itself seemed to vibrate.
A tribal roar tore through the silence.
The young warriors, the elders, the women, all raised their fists.
Guttural cries and savage howls burst from their chests.
Their voices rose like an untamable torrent.
"BLOODY FANG! BLOODY FANG! BLOODY FANG!"
The clan's name echoed, hammered out with bestial fervor.
Some beat their chests, others clashed their weapons.
The tribal drums resumed, heavy, powerful, like the beating of a colossal heart.
Torches were raised high into the night sky.
The flames danced, reflecting in the red eyes of Khaevar and his people.
A tide of fire. A tide of fury.
Khaevar felt his own blood ignite.
It wasn't simply a tribe.
It was a pack. An army of wolves. A family forged in carnage.
A fierce smile spread across his face.
He also raised his fist.
"BLOODY CROOK!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.
The voices mingled, overlapped, exploded into one.
"BLOODY FANG! BLOODY FANG!"
The night vibrated with the echo of their fury.
Khaevar then understood: he had just been reborn.
Patriarch Ragnar slowly raised his arm in the air.
Instantly, silence fell.
As if the mountains themselves had fallen silent.
No more drums.
No more screaming.
Even the wind seemed to have frozen.
The eyes of the entire tribe converged on him.
His aura was such that even the most daring instinctively bowed their heads before him.
In a deep, firm, and irrevocable voice, he declared:
"NOW… COME ON. PREPARE-YOU."
A suspended heartbeat.
"TOMORROW… AT DAWN… YOU WILL JOIN AURÉLION'S EMPIRE."
His words fell like hammer blows into the soul of every warrior.
Without adding another word, Ragnar lowered his arm.
The message was clear. A titan's order is not repeated.
The young barbarians, adrenaline still burning in their veins, began to disperse, some reinvigorated, others silent, all feeling the weight of the destiny that awaited them.
Khaevar clenched his fist.
"The Empire… huh?"
A wry smile stretched across her lips.
Let's see what kind of chaos awaits me there.
End of chapter
[INFO / OUT OF CONTEXT]
The 9 pillars of being:
Every living being in Ætherion possesses nine basic statistics, called Pillars, separated into three categories.
Physics:
FOR (Force): raw damage, weight of portable weapons, destructive capacity.
VIT (Vitality): maximum health, physical resistance, robustness.
AGI (Agility): speed of movement, dodging, reflexes.
END (Endurance): resistance to fatigue, endurance regeneration, combat duration.
Mental:
INT (Intelligence): magical power, understanding of runes, analytical abilities.
WIL (Willpower): mental resistance, concentration, mastery of essence.
PER (Perception): senses, magical detection, ability to spot traps/flaws.
Mystics:
ETH (Ethernanos Affinity): ability to absorb and manipulate mana flows.
CHA (Charisma): supernatural influence, power of command, passive luck.