《King of the North (KoTN)》


 Chapter 1: Break of the Dawn

    Canute Larsen POV


    I stared at the sunset that painted the sky in shades of orange and pink. The last light of the day bled into the grey-ish fog of the early summer evening, casting a warm, filtered glow over everything.


    Tomorrow is the day my high school life finally ends. The graduation ceremony was just above the horizon. Yet, despite the liberating sensation all I could think about was how I came second in my class.


    Second place. Only one mark short of first.


    I am not brooding about it, no. As a matter of fact, I am very satisfied with it.


    However, I currently have something else that has become a constant itch in my ass.


    The top spot went to Olivia; the girl I''d been crushing on since the start of high school. I always told myself that I''d confess my feelings to her when I finally outscored her. I thought it would be a grand gesture, proving my worth or something like that.


    That was the general gist of my line of thought.


    But now, it seemed like a silly, impossible dream. With one stupid mark, my entire plan had crumbled. God damn it!


    Turning away from the damp window, I sighed and plopped down on my bed, but the unease wouldn''t let me stay still.


    My mind was racing, thinking about tomorrow... thinking about her.


    GRAH! TO HELL WITH IT!


    I got up and walked to my desk, the soft light of the evening filtering in through the window. A brief respite after it finally stopped raining.


    Only sparing the beautiful weather a fleeting glance, I sat down on my chair and opened my laptop, ready to type an email to her.


    Is this too old fashioned? Then again, would shereallybe willing to give me her number... ? I mean, maybe she would, but will I take the chances?


    Of course, Ididhave her number but contacting it directly would make me look like a creep. Maybe...no, most likely.


    God bless the emails! We have worked on projects before ¨C quite a few of them ¨C and during that, we were given each other''s emails.


    Alright, back to the present. Maybe it is still not too late. Maybe I can still tell her how I feel.


    "Hi Olivia, I just wanted to say-"


    "Ew, who are you again?"


    Okay.. Maybe it wouldn''t go all that well-


    NO! I need to stop being a wimp! Ihaveto tell her how I feel...


    Can''t be a lame bitch all my life... right?!


    The confidence somewhat faltered as I typed in the recipient email address.


    I hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard as I typed something on a keyboard made out of pure air.


    It just struck me, but what would I even say?


    "Hey, Olivia. Congrats on being the smartest person in school! By the way, I''ve had a crush on you for years."


    Yeah, right. That sounded so lame, even in my head. God forbid, I don''t even want to hear it out loud.


    The room was quiet, the only sound was the slight hum of my laptop and the occasional chirp of crickets outside. Gaming laptops, man. A whole ass power generating turbine would generate less noise than the cooling fan in this.


    ...I shouldn''t be taking out my anger at my own patheticness on my laptop. It''s even more pathetic! I wanna cry...


    As I sprawled for a moment on my desk, slightly pushing the lappy away, I thought back to all the times I''d watched Olivia from afar; her laugh, her smile, the way she always seemed so focused and determined.


    She was perfect, and I was just... me.


    Don''t get me wrong, I am not average and I am self-aware about that. Even amongst a grade filled with handsome hunks, I held my place pretty nicely. However, that didn''t change the fact that I was a guy who couldn''t even muster the courage to tell her how he felt.


    I closed my eyes, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in my head.


    Maybe if I started typing, the words would come. Yeah... I think I should do that.


    ---


    {{Subject:}}Just Wanted to Say...


    Dear Olivia,


    ...


    ...


    I stared at the blinking cursor, feeling like it was mocking me. How could a simple email be so hard to write?


    I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my brown hair. The memories of the past few years flooded my mind. Every group project, every study session, every awkward attempt at small talk.


    There was that one time in sophomore year when we were paired up for a biology project. I remember how nervous I was; stumbling over my words, and how she would just smile and make everything seem so easy.


    It''s not like we are strangers to each other. However, that is exactly why it''s so hard.


    I might lose it all. It would''ve been easy if he had just interacted one or two times and never become acquaintances.


    We have spent a little time together, talking about things from schoolwork to our favourite movies. It was the first time I felt like I was treating someone as not just another classmate I had to beat to climb the ladder that led to the top.


    I shook my head, snapping back to the present.


    Focus Canute!I gave myself a mental jolt.


    This email wasn''t going to write itself. I took a deep breath and started typing again.


    ---


    {{Subject:}}Just Wanted to Say...


    Dear Olivia,


    I know this might seem out of the blue, but I''ve been meaning to tell you something for a while now.


    I have and still admire you. Not just because you have helped me with my homework a few times ¨C that would be mean of me, hehe ¨C but also for the light you have recently brought into my life, if you get what I mean... You''re amazing, honestly; and I''ve had a crush on you for as long as I can remember.


    ---


    I paused, rereading the words.


    It felt strange to see my feelings laid out so plainly. But it was the truth. I''d spent so long hiding it, maybe it was time to be honest, even if it scared me.


    I heard a car drive by outside, some of the light from its headlights briefly illuminating my modestly lit room.


    The soft breeze through the open window rustled the curtains, filling the place with a refreshing smell of freshly watered grass, petrichor¡ªthe scent of earth after rain¡ªand blooming flowers.


    It was going to be a peaceful night, but my mind was anything but.


    ---


    I know we''re graduating tomorrow, and I don''t want to regret not telling you how I feel given how you have a totally different career choice than me and we possibly won''t be able to see each other again for the foreseeable future.


    Even if you don''t feel the same way, I needed you to know. You''ve been such an important part of ¨Cnot only my school life ¨C but everything related to me in general, and I''m grateful for all the memories we''ve shared.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    I have never experienced such competitiveness as I did with you. You pushed me right over the cusp of what I had thought was my limit.


    ---


    I stopped again, feeling a lump in my throat.


    It was harder than I thought it would be. I wanted to say so much more, but the words just wouldn''t come. I closed my eyes, picturing her face. It gave me the motivation to keep going.


    ---


    No matter what happens, I wish you all the best in everything you do. You deserve all the success in the world, and so much more. Always holding you close in my prayers.


    Sincerely;


    Canute.


    ---


    I stared at the email, cursor hovering over the send button and my finger trembling over the left button of the trackpad.


    My heart was pounding in my chest.


    What if she laughed? What if she didn''t respond at all? I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump but terrified of the fall.


    Ok, ok, now is not the time to overthink this stuff!


    I can''t live with the what-ifs anymore. I need to take the leap. I need to know. YES! That''s the spirit, Canute! You''re gonna crush this confession and have a happy ever-after!


    With a deep breath, I clicked send.


    The email disappeared suddenly, leaving me staring at the screen, feeling a strange mix of relief and dread.


    No turning back now. Whatever happened, I had finally told her how I felt.


    I closed my laptop and sat back, letting out a long sigh.


    My environment, the night ¨C that felt so alive and abuzz a while ago ¨C was quiet again.


    Only sound that filtered through the walls and slightly open window was the distant hum of traffic and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.


    I felt a strange calm settle over me, like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.


    Tomorrow was graduation. I do not know what the future holds, but at least I have taken this step. For the first time in a long time, I can feel a glimmer of hope.


    I laid back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.


    I couldn''t help but smile gingerly at the thought of me being such a little shit.


    It was kind of hypocritical you see, because I used to call older people "kiddos" and say dumb things like:


    "Are you a pubescent teen? Can you wipe your ass properly?"


    The internet is a great place, but not for me.


    Karmareallycomes back to bite you in the rear, huh?


    But hey, you never know. Maybe things would turn out okay after all. My momma used to say to never lose hope until the very end. Even after you fail; just strive to make it work again.


    If she was alive, she would''ve been proud of me for this development.


    I tried to picture her, but couldn''t really do it. It has been years, and I was a little kid. All I remember are a few words of guidance from her.


    As if I could kick the veil of melancholy that was descending on me, I threw my feet and picked my phone up. Removing it from the ''do not disturb'' mode, I started to make my way downstairs.


    Dad will be home soon. I should cook something for him.


    He''s been sick recently.


    Hmm~ Fiskesuppe sounds exactly like the thing I should go for.


    Fiskesuppe is a popular fish soup characterised by its creamy texture and buttery flavour. In simple words, it is a comfort dish which appears in many regional and seasonal versions.


    Usually, it''s made with various types of fish, shellfish, and, or root vegetables, cooked in a rich broth with butter, milk, and cream.


    Mama mia~ I am hungry now as well~


    Once I was downstairs, I looked into the fridge for the final dressings. Since before serving, Fiskesuppe is seasoned with a variety of fresh herbs and a drizzle of tangy lemon juice.


    There are still some leftovers of rotisserie chicken left in the fridge and some Filipino red hotdogs. Hmm. Maybe I should just throw them in a tortilla and call it a day...


    ...hehe, let''s do that.


    Taking the phone out of my pocket and placing it on the counter before starting to wash and prep the fish for the soup.


    For the veggies, I included potatoes, carrots, and leek.


    Picking up the knife, I flipped it once and let it land on the chopping board vertically, tip digging into the board.


    I bought Nick DiGiovanni''s knife drop book after all. Heh, nevermind that.


    Picking it up, I started to chop the vegetables into thin strips. Traditional is the way to go. You can still chop it into cubes but that takes longer to cook. If you have too much time on your hands and like big chunks in your soup, go for it.


    After that, I picked up the fish and patted it dry. Dad has been struggling recently so we are using salmon. I prefer Cod though, but eh, this works as well. Complaining is a sin.


    Once they were combined in a single pot, I mixed sour cream and cr¨¨me fraiche. Although it is said that the latter is just an extravagant addition which is totally unnecessary.


    Fuck those people. No sense of taste.


    While it was cooking, I scrolled through my feed. I swear to any God that is out there, if I see another ''Skibiddi Ohio Rizz'' video, I might unalive myself. No, not ''might,'' I ''will'' unalive myself.


    Pressing the ''do not recommend'' button for the millionth time, I started scrolling again. Social media apps are very quick on the uptake when you search for something, putting those things in your feed, but they can''t pick up a pattern on what a person dislikes.


    Geez.


    Once the soup had the perfect consistency, I looked at the clock. Dad was about to come in around 10 minutes. The piping hot soup would be just the right temperature when he arrives.


    You see, my dad likes guzzling food down his gullet as soon as he arrives. Can''t blame him, his job is tough. It pays well, but it''s tough.


    Anyways, I poured the soup into the two plates and then garnished them with chopped chives and dill.


    Following that, the rest of 10 minutes went by cooking the red sausages in the air fryer and reheating the chicken before adding them into the tortilla along with a leaf of lettuce, a slice of plastic- I mean, American cheese, and some hot sauce before toasting it on the pan.


    I did the same 3 more times, making a total of 4 burritos.


    Placing them down on the dinner table, I walked over to the couch in the living room and slipped into it.


    Now we wait...


    ***


    My eyes fluttered open.


    Huh...?


    It seems like I fell asleep.


    The kitchen was quiet, and the lights turned off. The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall.


    I was lying comfortably on the couch with a quill over me. The warm scent of dinner filled my nostrils as I saw the plates placed on the table in front of me, piping hot, evident from the smoke rising from it.


    Awh man. I forgot to greet him. I looked up at the time. It was quite late in the night.


    My mind suddenly zipped towards somewhere else...


    The email I''d sent to Olivia!


    As if on cue, I heard my phone that was still on the counter buzz.


    I hesitated for a moment, my fingers trembling as I opened the email. This was it. The moment I had been dreading and hoping for in equal measure. My eyes scanned the first few lines, and a wave of joy washed over me as I saw her words.


    Instinct took over, and I jumped up from the couch.


    Sprinting towards the phone, my heart was a weird mix of fear and confusion. As I rounded the corner around the kitchen counter, I slipped on something slick, losing my balance.


    The world tilted and before I could register anything, my head hit hard against the kitchen counter with a sickening crunch, and pain exploded behind my eyes.


    I tried to hold on to the counter, my arms flailing. As my fingers narrowly brushed against the phone, I collapsed to the floor, my vision blurring.


    The world around me seemed to tilt and spin. I tried to get up, but my body suddenly stopped responding.


    Panic set in. Blaring, like an ambulance''s siren.


    The kitchen floor was cold, further stripping away the strength to move, my head throbbing with pain.


    "Canute, you okay there, buddy?" My dad''s voice reached down from his room. I parted my lips, but no voice came through.


    My phone was still in my hand, the screen glowing faintly in the dark. I could see Olivia''s message, but the words were swimming in and out of focus.


    ¡ºCanute, I''ve always adm--ed you too...¡»


    I tried to read more, desperate to see her words, but blood was trickling down my forehead, seeping into my eyes. It stung, horribly, as it mixed with cold sweat that broke all over me.


    I blinked furiously, trying to clear it away, but it was no use.


    Fear gripped me as the realisation hit.


    I was hurt, badly.


    The metallic taste of blood was in my mouth, and I could feel it pooling around me. I tried to cry out, but my voice was weak, barely a whisper.


    "Canute? Boy! You better answer me before I come down!" His voice had the usual sarcasm in it, masking the ocean deep tiredness and sorrow from the death of his wife, which he still mourned.


    "Da--"


    Strength took another hit, and I felt like my ''health bar'' had suddenly reached 1%.


    "Alright, I am coming down."


    As the lights switched on, all I could register was the panicked shouting of my dad. Things blurred and I saw an unfamiliar ceiling. Dad was right beside me, clutching my hand...kissing my forehead. It stained his lips crimson and people clad in white pushed him away, but he kept coming back.


    Then his face blurred and only basic features remained; golden blonde hair and light brown beard and moustache.


    He was...right there, but it felt like he was a million miles away.


    Despair filled my chest, mingling with the fear and the pain that had numbed down where I had hit my head, but not in my chest. Not in my heart.


    I didn''t want to die. Not now. Not like this. I wanted to be there with my dad.


    Who else does he have but me? How will he fare now?


    And...and, I wanted to see Olivia...to tell her how much she meant to me in person, to hear her voice and see her smile one more time.


    Everything blurred.


    "Extreme case."


    "Bizarre."


    "Blood...won''t'' stop."


    "Impossible!"


    Words. More words. Garbled. All around me.


    The room was getting darker, the edges of my vision closing in.


    My breaths were shallow.


    A streak of light tore through the darkness and then dad was right beside me.


    "D--"


    "Don''t talk..." he choked a breath as I felt my feet go lifeless. I stopped feeling them. Like a blackout, I felt my body lose life in a wave like motion, starting from my toes.


    It feels cold.


    I... It... What''s...


    "Oli, she...she says..." he started talking, holding a phone right next to him.


    "She says ''I have always admired you too and I wanted to tell you---''"


    The rest was a blur, the letters smudging together as the blood flooded my ears. All I could hear was the trembling voice of my dad, muffled underneath the dying beats of my heart.


    "Dad..." It felt like my throat was torn apart with that once word. A word that shut him quiet.


    "...I love you dad."


    He didn''t say anything. Instead, he simply touched his forehead with mine.


    It was warm.


    So, so warm.


    "I love you too."


    In the growing darkness, I felt a strange sense of peace. The pain was fading, replaced by a numbness that spread through my body.


    My senses blurred and then something wet washed over me. Like a giant wave crashing over you at the beach. The wave disconnected the sensations I could feel ¨C touch, smell, sight, hearing and the constant taste of blood in my mouth ¨C and all that was left was just...nothing. Nothing at all.


    It was peaceful. But every passing second filled me with dread. Until I felt like breaking down.


    In the heart of darkness, a star twinkled.


    ¡ºWhen the raven calls thrice at the break of dawn, remember the life you left behind. For it is in the memories of yesteryears that you will find the strength to forge tomorrow¡»


    ¡ºThe raven will guide you to wisdom, but beware its twin; for it brings only sorrow. The path of Odin is paved with both light and darkness. Choose wisely; lest you shall be consumed by it¡»


    What is....


    I swear I''ve heard about this before...


    Oh... oh no.


    This can only be...reincarnation... oh my god...


    Was itrealall along?


    The thought of it seems so outlandish...


    You watch and read things related to reincarnation all the time but to actuallyseethe real thing happening to you is just...


    Am I even reincarnating? Or am I hallucinating? I could still bealive,right!?


    Deep down, I knew that I was trying to run from the truth.


    What about dad? How would he feel...? God... fuck...


    And there was Olivia too... just a fleeting thought in my head at this point.


    Ha... haha...


    Isn''t that funny? The moment she says she loves me back, I... die.


    And yet I live to see it.


    How am I supposed to accept this?


    FUCK!


    ¡ºIt was carved in destiny itself¡»


    "Fuck off..."

 Chapter 2: Light at the End of the Tunnel

    The darkness was absolute.


    I drifted in a void ¨C weightless and untethered, with no sense of time or place.


    My last memories were fragmented, scattered like shards of a broken mirror.


    I had died...right?


    It seemed like the only plausible explanation for this emptiness. A bright blur in the heart of darkness of my recollection and then it somewhat became clear.


    Of course, I had died! Died like a retard after my crush of many years said she liked me back!


    Fuck my life!


    Well, it''s fucked anyways. After all, I am dead! Ha..ha!


    There was nothing in this place¡ªno sight, no sound, no touch. Just an endless abyss wrapping around me, suffocating yet oddly tranquil.


    I couldn''t even tell if I was breathing. Perhaps I wasn''t.


    I was dead after all. Why would I be breathing?


    But if I was actually dead, how am I monologuing like Ayanokouji? This doesn''t make sense! Have I entered some active paradox with my death?


    I lost track of time in this place after the first month.


    The first week was panic, second was hopeless struggle, third was despair, fourth was acceptance and after that I stopped counting from 0 to 86,400 every day.


    However, recently I have been feeling a little different. Slowly, albeit imperceptibly, something has begun to change.


    It was faint at first, just like a distant echo of sensation.


    I couldn''t place it, couldn''t understand it. Rather than sensation, it was like a constant bombardment of a sense that I had never wielded.


    Sixth sense, perhaps? But isn''t that basically just intuition?


    And besides, I could feel it whispering to my consciousness.


    It wasn''t the same wrinkly, old woman''s voice that I kept hearing while I was breathing my last, but it felt oddly similar.


    How do I know she''s wrinkly? Cause he sounded like one, that''s why!


    As I was musing, the void pulsed around me, and a flicker of awareness sparked in my mind.


    It was as if my brain was awakening, neurons firing up in a synchronised action of creation. Thoughts became clearer, though still muddled, and I began to perceive more than just the endless dark.


    A rush of something¡ªsomething warm and fluid¡ªenveloped me.


    I could feel it now, pressing in from all sides. My skin felt¡­raw and¡­ new, tingling with every touch.


    Was I¡­ floating?


    Well, at least I could feel something. It was better than the sensation of plain ''nothingness'' I felt during the first month that always pushed me to the precipice of madness.


    Well, all I can do is wait¡­maybe this is my punishment for being an absolute pussy for so long!


    Hahh¡­I am tired¡­


    ¡­and I want to die.


    What kind of hell is this¡­?!


    ***


    My sensations have grown stronger, more defined.


    I can now sense the boundaries of my body, my limbs, and my core.


    I can make my fingers twitch. The movements are miniscule but it''s better than just feeling of having a body but being unable to move it.


    I still have some existential crisis. Maybe I am not dead?


    And just in a coma? Maybe I am slowly regaining control of my body? I had received blunt force trauma to my head after all¡­


    The thought alone was the driving force behind my will to not go totally insane. Maybe I''ll see dad again. If I am in a coma, he might not be as miserable as well! After all, he has a hope that I might wake up.


    I should take Olivia on a date too¡­


    Having the same monologue for the 706th time, I twitched my fingers for fun.


    I marvelled at the feeling. Well, the term ''marvel'' has a very low bar for me now.


    I just made myself get excited at the realisation that I had fingers again, or rather, I could feel my fingers again. They were tiny, delicate, but they were mine.


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    Although I can''t remember why my long and masculine fingers are so small and stubby again.


    It could be because I am reincarnating¡­


    NO, FUCK NO! I am NOT reincarnating. To hell with that!


    Also, I didn''t meet a blue-haired dumb goddess until now so I am sure this is not reincarnation.


    ¡­yeah, I am sure.


    ***


    Nothing much has changed. Although; my awareness had significantly expanded.


    On top of that, their range of motion has also increased. Although, the movement is more sluggish than before, as if pushing through a thick liquid.


    I flexed them, feeling the resistance of the fluid surrounding me. It was warm, comforting in a way, like a gentle hug.


    Don''t tell me I am in a Recouperation Tank.


    Although that would be pretty cool.


    ***


    I can finally feel my legs that have scored so many goals! Wooo!


    Would''ve raised a toast but it looks like this slimy, liquid-y chamber does not have that.


    On a side note; it might sound creepy (and it totally is) but I can feel my muscles forming and the joints taking shape.


    That aside...


    I HAVE AN INTERESTING FACT!


    I discovered it during my multiple ''incursions.''


    When I kick out like this, the whole fluid ripples around me. It''s funne.


    And oftentimes I feel like a hand against my feet. But I have convinced myself that I am hallucinating.


    Yep¡­


    (***)


    Time passed¡ªdays, weeks, I couldn''t tell.


    But with each passing moment, my body grew stronger, more complete.


    I could feel my heart beating. My lungs filled and emptied, drawing in the warm fluid that surrounded me.


    It was a bizarre sensation ¨C breathing without air, but; it felt right. Natural.


    I became more aware of my surroundings, the walls of the chamber that held me. They were soft and they pulsed with a steady rhythm. It was as if I were inside a living, breathing entity.


    I thought gaining more of myself would make me happy. But all I felt right now was despair.


    Maybe I had realised it a while ago, but I continued to deny it. Deny the absolute, iron-clad truth that I am being reborn.


    The idea will seem absurd, but the evidence is too glaringly obvious.


    My body was growing, developing. My senses were awakening, and I could feel the world beyond the darkness.


    My skin was hypersensitive as well. Or maybe it''s this sensitive because I have spent so much fucking time in a womb with no ability to perceive!


    Every touch and movement are amplified.


    I can also feel the woman whose womb I am inhabiting''s heartbeat.


    I may not admit it later but sometimes¡­it is comforting.


    Whispering. Telling me that¡­I was not alone.


    Her voice, though muffled and distant, would often reach me in the dark, from beyond the membrane that was lined with stretched, red veins.


    I often listen. You know, trying to make sense of the sounds.


    There are other voices as well, mingling with this woman''s.


    Laughter, conversation, the rustle of movement. She was an active woman as well.


    I would often hear loud clamouring sounds from a distance as well.


    It was a world I couldn''t see but could almost touch with my growing awareness.


    And despite the prospect of a mediaeval world, possibly with that of magic, it made me feel hollower on the inside.


    (***)


    My brain had picked up pace in its development, neurons firing and connecting in a complex array of consciousness.


    Thoughts are clearer, more coherent. I can now remember more¡ªfragments of my past life other than the scene of my death.


    That also did little to decrease my disdain for this new world.


    I had been seventeen, on the cusp of adulthood, and now I was going to start over.


    ¡­


    Would there be a way for me to go back?


    (***)


    I feel like today is the day.


    Over the course of past days? months? the darkness had shifted into a mix of red and black.


    But I may see a colour other than these two today.


    Why?


    Because I can feel something different.


    A change in the rhythm of my tiny room.


    The fluid around is pressing in, pushing me forward. It was a slow, inexorable movement, like the turning of a great wheel.


    The confines were tightening, pushing me toward a distant light. Despite having my bones developed overtime, the contractions that squeezed me hurt, even though just a little.


    My ears were ringing, ever so slightly.


    The woman seemed to be a strong one, since all that reached my numb ears were a few occasional groans of pain. And nothing else.


    The light grew brighter, filling the space.


    My heart raced, and my tiny body bristled.


    I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.


    Well, more appropriately, light at the end of a vag¡ª


    ''THAT''S THE WOMAN WHO''S GOING TO BIRTH YOU, YOU DUMB FUCK!''


    I mentally reprimanded myself.


    Ehm, anyways, finally, the darkness around me began to give way and the fluid started to drain away.


    For the first time in¡­uhh, let''s say 9 months¡ªexcluding the time I was in a guy''s balls because that is disgusting to imagine¡ªI could feel the air.


    Cool and soothing, yet so¡­unfamiliar, brushing against my wet skin.


    A jolt went down my body, making me gasp and cry out.


    I am no longer floating; I am being pulled into a new world.


    The pressure increased, and my body was further compressed and squeezed through the opening as I was pushed toward the light.


    Suddenly, a pair of strong hands from behind the opening gripped me from shoulders and yanked my fat ass out.


    I could hear voices, excited and relieved, mingling with my cries of joy.


    I was out in the real world, once again!


    I couldn''t help but cry continuously. I was not sure what I was supposed to feel.


    Happiness? Anger? Relief? Sadness?


    I had left so much behind. So much, that this 2nd chance at life feels more like a punishment than a blessing.


    A soft cloth suddenly wiped against my forehead while some kind of incision was performed around my stomach. From my periphery, it felt like a blood-caked snake had fallen to the ground.


    The cloth smeared away the fluid from my face before pulling it to itself.


    My eyes were bombarded with so many colours that I could barely see anything. Just a general outline.


    Sensory overload! Code; RED!


    The woman smiled gingerly at me as she suddenly pressed her lips against my forehead.


    The warmth of her lips was much, much different than the warmth of her womb. It felt so much¡­alive.


    She looked down at me and then moved her lips. I could not completely understand what she said.


    There was a heavy static infesting my ears and the sensory overload from colours and natural light had still not completely subsided.


    However, as she paused and looked into my eyes, I felt those red orbs soften.


    Red¡­RED! DEMON! WITCH! BURN HER!


    Wait¡­I''m being too dramatic.


    She looked overhead and then nodded before looking down at me. Someone came from behind me. I tried to turn my head, but I couldn''t spot the person. All I felt was a slight, playful nudge to my nose.


    The golden haired, red-eyed woman kissed me on the forehead once again, before talking in a language I couldn''t grasp. But the last bit¡­I think I got it.


    "Velkominn til heimsins, l¨ªtill ¨¢ssur"


    Maybe it''s my baby brain but I realised a bit late¡­isn''t she talking in Ancient Norse¡­?


    As I thought about it, my vision started to blur and fatigue overtook me.


    God¡­being a baby is so exhausting, what the actual fuck?

 Chapter 3: DrakensFjord

    ''Hello there!''


    The fleeting summer breeze rustled the tree hanging eerily low atop a stone house.


    The house was hewn from the granite bones of the earth and was situated at the corner of a cliff.


    The walls were rugged, moss-covered and weather-beaten. But even still, it blended seamlessly with the surrounding landscape; a representation of the timeless sagas of the North ¨C the ones that have been forgotten and the ones that were yet to come.


    Narrow windows peered out over the windswept fjords1, while a sturdy oak door that was reinforced with iron bands on both sides guarded the threshold.


    ''Unfortunate Canute reporting here!''


    Inside the house that obviously stood out amongst the other ''humble accommodations'' was a little boy, currently suspended in mid-air as a man ¨C who he had mistaken for a silver-back gorilla at first glance ¨C carried him around the house happily.


    After six months of his birth, the boy''s hair had started to grow out. He had bleached-orange coloured hair and his mother''s dreamy red eyes.


    ''Now, you might be wondering how I ended up in this situation! Allow me to explain my horrific tale!''


    He mused, internally, his thoughts sharp, mature and mockingly sardonic. A stark contrast to his infantile form.


    ''I was a perfectly fine human back on Earth 15 months ago. And now I am a reincarnated person after dying. It''s a bit offensive though¡­''


    He chuckled to himself, mentally.


    ''No, I was not a cuck loser. Neither was I an ugly, short, fat and a total disgusting paedophile - failure of a man back on Earth. That begs the question, why in the name of everything unholy was I reincarnated? This is an insult to me! Reincarnation is a privilege given to degenerates so they can justify their paedophilic tendencies. Merely reincarnating taints my image!''


    The malicious and hateful thoughts were in a stark contrast to his infantile body.


    ''I had a crush who loved me back, damn it! Let me go back, you damned GOD ¨C whichever reincarnated me!''


    ''My real family¡ªdad¡ªmust be in shambles after my death. And here I am, alive and well, with no way to contact him. What a cruel twist of fate¡­''


    Contrary to his melancholic musings, a light hearted laughter pierced the air, making Canute''s ears perk up.


    The man who was carrying him around¡ªhis father who was a massive man ¡ªwas the source of this as he tried everything to make Canute laugh; lifting him high, making funny faces, and swinging him around.


    But all he received was a deadpan look from his son who was still grieving his past life.


    ''I''m so fucking miserable.''


    Canute thought, as his father''s efforts to cheer him up continued.


    ''But I guess I can''t ruin two families. I have already given deadly grief to my actual dad. At least, maybe¡ªmaybe I shouldn''t do the same to these guys¡­''


    Swallowing the bitter lump in his throat, Canute mustered a slight smile to encourage his try-hard father.


    It was a very comforting gesture. Something he did purely to satisfy his own desire to not feel like an utter failure of a human being. However, the smile still had a big effect on his father who was oblivious to the already matured mind of his newborn.


    His eyes widened in surprise and joy, and he immediately ran over to the kitchen.


    "Hannah!" He exclaimed as he called out to the silver haired woman working in the kitchen.


    The woman was wearing a blue peplos that was a long, rectangular piece of woollen fabric. It was draped over her body, with the top edge folded down to create a double layer over her torso that had now returned to its normal size.


    The dress was fastened at the shoulders with brooches that created armholes. Underneath it, she was wearing a modest white underdress that was secured with a girdle at the waist.


    Her hair was kept up in a rough bun, but when she turned around, even Canute couldn''t help but stare at her.


    His mother¡ªHannah¡ªwas a young woman who seemed to have barely entered her twenties. Or maybe even younger. She had a slightly chubby face with a pair of extremely dreamy red eyes that made her eyelids feel like they were half open.


    "Odin''s beard! You scared me¡­!" She gave out an exasperated sigh, but the smile plastered on her face was enough to tell that she wasn''t mad.


    She looked at her husband and then at their son before frowning in worry. "Hey Robert, did something happen to Ragnar?"


    "Wha¡ªno, no, not that, hear me out!" He spoke with excitement.


    Walking over to Hannah, Robert presented Ragnar (Canute) to her like a bottle of fine wine "He smiled! Our son smiled!" he exclaimed, bouncing with excitement.


    ''Dude, it''s not that deep, chill!''


    Ragnar''s mother looked down from her husband''s face, her eyes lighting up as she saw the joy in Robert''s face. Without saying much, she leaned over and kissed Ragnar''s forehead.


    "Look at you. Our little warrior." She whispered. Despite how delicate she looked or sounded; she had an aura around her that made Ragnar think that she was not normal.


    Without showing the exaggerated display of affection that Ragnar had read in novels, Hannah pursed her lips and smiled slightly at him before turning around and picking up the giant knife. Without turning back, she continued. "I am glad it is still a weekly occurrence." She mused out loud with a barely muffled giggle.


    "Haha!" Robert cackled as he placed Ragnar on the long, rectangular and wooden counter and stood in a way that his body was still touching him, to avoid him from falling down. "I suppose our son is going to be like my old man when he grows up. All grumpy and uptight!"


    A slight grin graced Hannah''s thin lips as she looked up at him, her hand still chopping the giant carrots and turnips. "You mean like the way you were before I knocked some sense into you?"


    Robert chuckled and then looked out of the window right in front of Hannah as his voice echoed off the stone walls of their kitchen and mingled with the crackling fire in the hearth. "Touch¨¦, my love. But look at him, Hannah. He''s got that look in his eyes, just like my old man''s. That fierce determination against being anything but fun!"


    Hannah plunged the knife''s handle into Robert''s arm. "Don''t be like that to your son."


    She reprimanded before looking at Ragnar, his clear red eyes mirroring her own. Ragnar was sitting with his eyes fixed on her and his hands on the cold counter between his legs, ready to perform a crawl-dash. "He is much livelier than him!"


    As if on cue, Ragnar performed a daring manoeuvre and tilted to the side of his father''s body, hurtling himself down towards the ground.


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    ''Hah! I have been waiting for this moment for 7 baby years!''


    Crushing his plan, Robert¡ªwithout batting an eye ¡ªcrouched down slightly and then suddenly Ragnar was back in his arms.


    ''What the sigma¡­? Oh¡­! Well¡­fuck me!'' Caught in the act, Ragnar''s little, chubby body wriggled.


    ''How would a baby react? Should I laugh? Cry? Oh wait! I should totally shit my pants!''


    After a few seconds of ''serious'' introspection, he gave up on the ''instantaneous defecation'' and instead gave out a nervous chuckle, giggling like a baby he physically was to somehow mitigate the situation.


    Hannah shook her head, her eyes softening as she watched them and pointed at Ragnar with her knife''s tip. "See? Lively and full of surprises. He''s going to keep us on our toes."


    Robert smiled, lifting Ragnar and holding him close. "That he will. And I wouldn''t have it any other way."


    ''Bruh- you want your baby to kill himself?'' Ragnar looked at Robert with a deadpan look.


    However, there was something else that bothered Ragnar.


    ''That aside, how the hell did he catch me? Wait, he didn''t even catch me. It was like I was never falling!''


    His monologue was interrupted as Hannah returned to her chopping, the sound of knife''s edge against stone loud and echo-y.


    With Ragnar still in his arms, Robert''s towering stature leaned down as he kissed Hannah''s neck. She tilted her head to the side, feeling ticklish and let out a girlish giggle.


    ''Oh, please! Not more salt to my wounds!''


    Pressing his face into Robert''s chest, he averted his gaze, ignoring the wet sounds that came afterwards. After a while, Robert turned around before casting a fleeting gaze at the world outside from the window.


    "Oh yeah, Hannah?"


    "Yes?"


    "I am taking Ragnar out. I think the weather isn''t that cold today."


    Hannah hummed in response.


    "Make sure to cover him in a duffle." She called out as Robert took Ragnar to his little room to change him into appropriate clothes for the venture outside.


    Ragnar Valknarr2 POV:


    Through the cacophony of indistinguishable sounds, I couldn''t separate one noise from another.


    The gossip mingled with the vendor''s calls, merging with the bleats of goats and the pained brays of donkeys tied to the barn.


    The stubborn neighing of a horse refusing its harness mixed with the sharp crack of a whip striking metal.


    It was chaotic...and super-duper cool! Not to mention, bloody cold as well, but those things hardly matter.


    Although I had guessed it when I was less than a month old, seeing it with my own eyes instead of relying on the conversations between the couple who birthed me was a revelation and a half. It was so atrociously beautiful that such a place, merely existing, should be illegal.


    Although I can mostly understand the language here by now¡ªbecause ancient Norse still resembles many languages spoken in Scandinavia¡ªI can''t read anything. But I didn''t need reading skills to understand what was written on the board that came after around 2 baby kilometres after exiting our house.


    This village was called Drakensfjord and this was the first time that my infant eyes were taking in¡ªa portion of¡ªthis world for the first time.


    It was nestled in the embrace of multiple mountains whose tips were curved inwards, making it look like this place was situated in the middle of several giant hands of dragons.


    Because our house was situated just outside the village, along the edge of the cliff, I was able to see the serene lake that shimmered like a sheet of polished glass at the very end of the boundary of the village.


    Unlike our stone house, most of the houses inside the village were constructed from timber; their walls darkened by years of exposure to the harsh elements; rain and snow.


    The makeshift doors¡ªmost of them¡ªbore intricate carvings of mythical beasts¡ªdragons, wolves, and ravens¡ªetched into the beams and door frames. The roofs were thatched with golden straw, tied tightly to keep out the chill of the northern winds.


    Smoke curled lazily from the chimneys of the stone houses that were situated on irregular intervals, located more in the middle of the village rather than the edges. A comforting aroma of burning wood and half-finished stews slightly filled the chilly air.


    I yawned and blinked at my dad. He was quite a tall man with light-orange coloured hair and a pair of black eyes. Well, not exactly black. If you looked in bright sunlight, you''d notice that they were brown. But eh, doesn''t matter, does it?


    "Good morning, Robert!" A voice called out from somewhere as Rob came to a sudden halt, the heel of his boot causing the remnants of the mostly swept snow to let out a crunching noise.


    Still cradling me in a ''hip hold cradle'' ¨C which, must I mention, is very uncomfortable because a dude is constantly grabbing me by the butt, be it in a fatherly way or not ¨C Robert turned his head around. At the same time, the corner of his eyes crinkled up as he beamed.


    "Anders!" His voice was heavy but inviting, as if he was seeing a friend after a long time.


    The wind blew and Robert''s small bleached-orange coloured tail waved with it.


    I looked at him and then followed his line of sight.


    From the distance, I could see a man walking, no- jogging towards him. The man seemed even taller than Robert and his bleached golden hair were also tied back in a small, tight ponytail. However, unlike Robert''s, he had a deep fade from the sides and the back.


    He looked exactly like how you''d expect a typical Viking to look; blonde hair, blue eyes, a scar over his cheek, long beard and moustache and a look in his eyes which screams ''I can eat the baby in your arms in one bite!''


    Except for one thing. The tattoos. Not because Vikings didn''t have them; no, it was because how weird they were. There was one tattoo along his neck and then an even smaller one on his hand, however, both of them seemed¡­very alive. As if they were breathing.


    You know like how you look at the settings app on your phone long enough that it starts turning. Maybe it was something like that. But even after I averted my gaze from his progressively closing figure and then looked back at him, they still seemed to pulse with life.


    As he approached Robert, he extended his arms to the side and roughly hugged him, which Robert reciprocated with a tight bear-hug of his own.


    Excuse me! There is a baby on board! Have some shame! I demand my private space!


    *cough*


    Who knew you could get a sore throat in your thoughts¡­! Damn this infantile body!


    "Long time no see, my friend!" Anders spoke up, disregarding the fact that his ''nigh screaming'' can shatter my tiny eardrums. His dark blue eyes flicked towards me. "Aha! This must be your son, Ragnar!"


    He pinched my cheek and pulled it; very roughly, might I add, before leaving it and doing it again. Finally, he ruffled the few strands of hair I had managed to grow with his burly, rough fingers before holding my tiny head with both hands.


    "What a fierce boy you have!" He thumped Robert''s side. "I can already see the desire to lift an axe in him!"


    As if he had remembered something, he shrugged his shoulders. "Or a sword, doesn''t matter! You can already tell, he''s a child of the north alright!"


    Robert seemed to appear somewhat crestfallen and then immediately shook his head to get rid of whatever he was thinking about. "He is, indeed." He turned his head towards me and slightly touched his lips on my forehead.


    "A child of the north."


    Woah. Talk about having a penchant for exaggeration.


    "Alright, Rob, I will go about my work. Got loads of shipment coming this evening, hopefully. The storms in the Njord''s Gulf are as much a pain in the ass as they were since the day I opened my eyes."


    Anders clicked his tongue and was about to leave when he suddenly stopped, took a step back and made a face like he had just remembered something important. "Would you be attending the Sumbl tonight?"


    Sumbl. It was a gathering that was observed by the middle or end of every month where the men gathered in the biggest pub of Drakensfjord and would boast their accomplishments, make bets on various things, play games and most of all¡­consume alcohol!


    The northern blood in my veins demand booze!


    Achoo!


    Damn this cold.


    Robert looked down at me and made a conflicted face. "I am sorry but I think I will have to pass this time."


    He made a face full of regret. "As you can see, Ragnar isn''t very healthy. And recently he''s had a rough streak with sore throat and flu. So, I have to stay home, you know, with Ragnar and ehmm- Hannah, I have to help her."


    Like a cannonball firing, Anders burst into laughter as he slapped Robert''s shoulder. "Mention not, my dear friend. I would have not attended if I was in your boots as well!"


    Woah, woah, little man. What do you mean by that, huh?


    Bringing his hand back, he shook hands with Robert. The handshake was a little different because unlike the usual one where you grip each other''s hand, they shook each other''s arms.


    How masculine!


    "Far vel."


    "Far vel."


    The two of them bid goodbyes to each other as Robert started to adjust his hold over my hip and press me against himself. He raised the furry flap of his overcoat and pushed me inside it, adding another layer of warmth to me.


    Ahhh~


    We had only taken two steps when suddenly Anders called out again. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot."


    This guy¡­


    "The chief was talking about deciding a new age limit for children for their ''Rune Praxis.'' Apparently, it''s getting reduced to around 12 years of age." He spoke and despite I did not turn around to look at Robert, I could feel him shaking.


    "Also, it''s been made mandatory." Anders finished. Pressing his finger into his temple, he tried to recall something but then gave up on it.


    "Well, yeah, that''s all I know. I''d advise attending it." Saying that he waved his hand and took off.


    I looked back to see Robert''s eyes carrying a dark look and a few streaks of light were puncturing through his shoulder. He turned back and started walking away from the main bazaar that we were moments away from exploring.


    Noooooooo~


    I tried to cry and wail, to somehow make him take me back to the marketplace, however; he simply placed his hand on my head.


    "Another day, my son. Another day."


    The seriousness in his voice made me immediately let go of my stubbornness as a new curiosity took birth into my mind.


    What is this Rune Praxis? And why does making it mandatory have such a deep effect on Robert?


    I need to know!


    *****


    1. Fjords: a long, narrow, deep inlet of the sea between high cliffs, as in Norway, typically formed by submergence of a glaciated valley.


    2. Valknarr: Old Norse for "valiant" combined with "knarr" meaning ship or tool.

 Chapter 4: My Pathway

    Rune Praxis.


    Amidst the northerners ¨C much like the southerners ¨C there was a certain set of rituals where the young ones were subjected to a ''Path.'' These paths were what allowed the young''uns of this world to mature into individuals who would result in development of their respective villages, cities and in some cases, their kingdoms by reaching heights which are normally unattainable.


    For an average human.


    The course of development can diverge sharply in any direction¡ªit can be a path of flourishing growth, or it can very quickly descend into a path of catastrophic ruin, where blood stains the earth like ink on a torn page.


    Rune Praxis was the name of the ''Initiation Ritual'' of this ''journey to enlightenment'', which was observed in individual cities, and sometimes villages which were important. This importance was usually decided either based on geography or determined based on their political standpoints.


    Drakensfjord was a small village whose influence was minimal, however; its significance was much more than what it had to offer at its face value. The people inhabiting this place were mostly ''hunters'' and a small contingent of them were ''The Marked.''


    Stagnating at lower sequences, "the marked" of Drakensfjord were unable to make too much of a significant impact on the general, overall standing of the village.


    The only thing that gave any significance to this place was the ''geopolitics'' of this village. It was located in the farthest corner of the North, overlooking the unexplored regions ¡ª ''The Fallow'' or ''The Unclaimed.''


    A land full of nature and man-made ¨C the first men ¨C horrors that threatened to overtake the land of living at every passing, breathing moment.


    Since it overlooked the fallow, a lot of funds and soldiers were sent to the farther border¡ªThe Scar¡ªof Drakensfjord, 65 kilometres away from the beautiful ''Starlake'' ¡ªa giant lake which connects to the many rivers flowing through the towering mountains surrounding the village¡ªwhich also acted like a fishing pond for the villagers.


    Since it was connected to a running water source ¨C and the lake itself was in a state of constant kinesis ¨C there was always some aquatic fauna foolish enough to wander into it.


    And while people were ordinary, the closeness to The Fallow gave the village enough significance to host the ''Rune Praxis.''


    Rune Praxis is usually held after the coming-of-age ceremonies or small ale parties.


    However; due to recent events which included¡ªbut not limited to¡ªsudden deaths and disappearances of many elders¡ªmarked and unmarked¡ª the age at which a child becomes a man was changed from 15 to 13.


    From the looks of it, two years don''t seem to pose that much of a threat, given how people in this world lived long ¨C unless some creature killed them ¨C it was still a huge concern.


    Since three years for a fully grown adult may pass in a blink, but a growing kid''s mind is something that goes through a lot.


    ''Finally, today''s the day!''


    Ragnar exclaimed internally as he slipped into his clothes.


    It had been 12 years since Ragnar Valknarr ¨C formerly Canute Larsen ¨C reincarnated into this new world.


    Over the course of these years, he has perfectly learnt the ways of this new world ¨C the village, at the very least ¨C and has seamlessly adjusted to it. The memories of his past lives still served as a bittersweet reminder of everything, sometimes a sweet, loving memory and sometimes his worst nightmare.


    During this time, Ragnar had completed his basic education which included learning the language of this world, learning how to write and read. As for his physical activities, his father ¨C Robert ¨C had persuaded him enough to exercise daily so he was in a pretty good condition.


    ''Can''t lie, I''ve got a decent mug on me.''


    Ragnar snickered to himself as he observed his features.


    His growth was quite extraordinary, compared to his former self, however; it was barely average when compared to others around him. He had grown to around 167 cm and inclined more towards the lean side.


    His features were still chubby, not sharp, due to him still being a pubescent kid.


    ''Damn these fantasy writers. Do they not know kids can''t have sharp, sculpted faces right from the start?! Seriously, touch some grass! Gave me wrong expectations too!''


    Ragnar, once again, spoke to himself in his mind as he looked at his cute-sy, cherubic face.


    His bleached orange hair had grown quite a lot and now stopped right above his brows. His hair was a little thin but it was strong, evident from how Ragnar would often comb his fingers through his hair with some force to see if he was experiencing any hair fall.


    Although, it was still too early to determine he won''t have it, given how he still was in the development phase. However; this repeated action was to give himself some reassurance. Since his hair volume was much less than his time as Canute Larsen.


    ''Kinda hate this Kirito hairstyle but eh- nevermind. I can always style them out better later on. Pretty sure they''d be sussed out of their mind if I suddenly demanded a weird hairstyle.''


    His eyes ¨C just like his mother, Hannah ¨C were his more redeeming features. A pair of dreamy, siren eyes which looked like two orbs of crystallised blood. Since he was from earth, even looking at his own red eyes gave him jitters, sometimes.


    "Can''t wait to become a man already. Just one more year and then, it''ll be time for¡­" He pumped his fist up. "...BOOZE!"


    "Ragnar!"


    "WAAH!"


    The door burst open as silver locks which felt like threads made out of the moonlight itself frolicked in a menacing way.


    "Ragnar! You are late!" Hannah raised her voice, her hands over her slim waist.


    "Again." She added, narrowing her serene, crimson eyes.


    Initially startled, Ragnar composed himself and let out an awkward cough. "Ehm, m-mother, I was getting ready..."


    "For the past hour!?" She stomped towards him.


    Hannah Valknarr.


    She was the wife of Robert Valknarr and the mother of Ragnar. While outward appearances suggested she was a frail woman with a body men would usually die protecting, it was not the case. The reality about her was totally flipped on its head.


    Hannah was the member of the main platoon of hunters that hunted food for the village ¨C Drakensfjord ¨C in winters. She was skilled with a knife not just in the kitchen but also in the butchery where she''d skin even the most hard-skinned creatures. And her proficiency didn''t end at a knife.


    She was adept in archery just as much as she was in dicing things up.


    "B-But mama! I need to style my precious, luscious locks¨C ouch, ouch!"


    "Your tongue has been working too much these days, Ragnar." Hannah held her son by the ear and pulled it until he was tip-toeing. "Less words, more actions." Despite the strictness in her tone, she was barely suppressing her smile while looking at her only son. Gently tapping the back of her head, she left his ear. "Dress up and come out. Do not make me repeat myself."


    Happily gliding through the door, Hannah casted a sidelong, loving glance at Ragnar, lifted her shoulders up in a barely suppressed giggle and closed the door behind her.


    ''Scary woman.'' Ragnar exclaimed as he corrected his hair once again. Slipping his arms into his long, furred jacket.


    Feeling it settle heavily on his shoulders he quickly skidded towards the door of his room. Tip-toeing he opened it and then ran out, taking a quick left turn and then descending the flight of stairs.


    The Valknarrs lived at the edge of the cliff, on the other side of which was a deep fjord that was visible from the window of Robert and Hannah''s personal room. The boundary of their dwelling was around 8100 square feet with the house covering around 3000 square feet.


    It was an old-themed house ¨C according to Earth''s standards ¨C which was supported by a few weathered wooden beams and had a sloped roof, covered in moss and vines.


    The large and paned window of the hall looked out over a wild garden, filled with occasional flowers and overgrown herbs, which further overlooked a giant forgery with an equally big chimney, plumes of black and grey smoke rising from at random intervals.


    Hannah was waiting at the door by the time Ragnar arrived. Casting a sheepish look at this mother, he quickly crouched down and slipped his feet into the leather boots and hopped towards her.


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    She was about to move but the door opened and Robert walked in, his orange hair short and well kept. He had started to grow an even longer beard now which suited him very much.


    "Ah, darling." Hannah exclaimed, her eyes turning soft and her lips turning upwards.


    Robert leaned down and hugged her tiny waist, kissing her lips tightly before releasing her.


    "You smell delicious!"


    "Stop!"


    Hannah punched his arm, making him recoil. It would seem like he was exaggerating, given how tiny and weak her fist seemed. However, even from a distance, Ragnar could hear the little crack of his bones.


    Robert chuckled and shrugged it off. Looking down, his eyes lit up.


    "How are you today, son?"


    "Alright, I guess¡­" Ragnar''s words drawled at the end and his eyes shifted as he looked down.


    It had been 12 long years since Ragnar had reincarnated. And while he adjusted to the idea of accepting Hannah as his mother due to him not even remembering his earthly mother''s face, it was not the same for Robert.


    It was quite evident from how he would treat her.


    Robert looked at Hannah and breathed in a heavy sigh. He looked and seemed angry, but underneath that look, there was a small wound that hurt every now and then¡ªwhenever Ragnar would treat him like this.


    ''Come on now, don''t look like that¡­it''s not like I am being an asshole on purpose¡­''


    Despite his attempts at it, Ragnar couldn''t bring himself to treat Robert the same as his father on earth. Even to Ragnar himself, it made perfect sense that Robert was just as much of a biological father as his previous one, however; the logical part of his brain turned off when it came to his ties associated with earth.


    "Aren''t you in high spirits, ha¡­ha." Robert half chuckled and let out a tired sigh. He looked towards Hannan and pressed the base of his palms against his eyes. "I will be getting some rest, my love."


    "Sure thing." Hannah replied with a flash of her pearls. "You should get more rest, Rob. There''s still time before the winters come."


    Robert shifted, a little uncomfortably. Ragnar eyed him with a little concern. It was rare for him to show such disposition, despite the situation. "Uh, yeah, but you know¡­" He looked down at Ragnar, "...things are happening. We need to be prepared."


    Hannah let out an elongated sigh. "I understand. Just¡­just take care, okay? Lunch and dinner are at the table."


    Robert turned and coiled his arms around Hannah''s waist, smiling. "I really wish I could come along, my love. We could have had a good time in the woods."


    A sudden flush crept up to her face, however; her expressions remained impassive, only the slight twitch giving way to how hard she was trying to suppress heer vulpine grin. "Shush, he''s here."


    Robert bent down and kissed her again, hugging her in closer. "He''s a child, hah."


    ''Come on! I am a 27 year old man mentally! Stop kissing and making out in front of me, AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!''''


    Despite the raging monologue, Ragnar just averted his gaze with a sigh.


    When the voice of clothes shifting and creasing finally reached his ears was when he looked back. Hannah was easing out the creases in her shirt which was tucked inside her slim-fit pants, made out of some warm material.


    Robert took a step back and shot a wink at her. "See you in a few days, my love." Then he looked down and ruffled Ragnar''s hair.


    ''NOOOOOOOOO! YOU IDIOT! IT TOOK ME HOURS, YOU DAMNED GORILLA!''


    "Keep your mom safe, eh?"


    Calming down, Ragnar looked up and smiled weakly. "Will do."


    ¡ª---------------------------


    Ragnar walked in a close distance from Hannah, silently staring down at the dried grass crunching under their feet.


    "Ragnar?" Hannah''s voice made him shift his head towards her.


    "Yeah?" He answered with an aloof questioning look on his face.


    She took a breath before answering him, as they carefully walked through the woods. Her lips fluttered, hesitating. Shaking her head, she smiled warmly. "I was just thinking that my little Ragnar has grown so big already." She sized him from up to down with a proud look on her pale face.


    He loved getting loved by her. At least his reincarnation gave him the chance to see the love of a mother. Reciprocating her smile with the same warmth, he looked ahead again, wondering how his mother back on earth would have loved him.


    "Ragnar?" She repeated, this time with desperation in her voice.


    "Yes, mama?"


    "I know you''re becoming a man yourself now, but my dear, your father will always be there for you. He loves you dearly, Ragnar." She pursed her lips, her crimson eyes gleaming with shimmer whenever she did that trick of hers.


    Ragnar''s expressions softened. I should not let her worry because of me.


    "He''s my father, of course. I love him too, mama." He gulped, "Men aren''t very expressive, you know? Hehe!" He let out a half-sincere chortle.


    She could see the playful smile he did everytime he would try to cover up something. She smiled.


    "Oh yeah. You''re a man now, eh?" A mischievous look appeared on her face as she ruffled his hair once again. "It''s a men thing, huh!?"


    "Hey, hey¡ªcome on¡­you know how long I spent combing it like this¡­ARGHHH!" He wailed around, but despite the weak ruffling, he didn''t break away from it.


    "Hehe. I know." She closed her eyes and looked at the meekly shining sun. "You worry about trivial stuff, my son."


    "Hair is not trivial!" He quickly combed them back with his fingers. "It''s what makes me the handsomest 12-year-old, hmph!" He dramatically gave his hair a flick.


    Giggling, Hannah hugged him from the side, walking side by side with him.


    As they enjoyed the scenery around them, their attention shifted to the flock of girls who rushed in towards the two of them and surrounded them.


    Hah! Woe is me. I am so handsome that all of these girls can''t help but flock to me! SMH! Suffering from success, I am. But nein! My heart belongs to¡ª


    "Miss Hannah, Miss Hannah! Do you like my midsommarkrans(1)?" A girl with light freckles under her eyes asked energetically, her blue eyes shining with admiration.


    "No, no, Miss Hannah! Please check mine first!"


    One after another as girls passed Ragnar and flocked around Hannah, he looked back with a horrid look.


    H-Hmph! W-Who is interested in attention from these underage girls anyways!? That''s so perverted. My heart still belongs to Olivia. And besides, if I wanted attention, I''d settle for nothing short of MILFS!


    His thoughts turned on a rather odd tangent as he rubbed his hands together, thinking about¡­indecent things.


    "This is very pretty, Mia, but summers are a faraway occurrence." She stooped down to cup Mia''s cheeks and caressed them.


    "I know, but!" The golden haired girl argued back. "This is for you. As good luck for your hunts!"


    Hannah looked at them with a surprised look, placing her hand on her heart. "Thank you." She replied with a warm smile before accepting the flower crown and placing it on her head.


    "Us tooo~!" The other girls started to push their flower crowns towards Hannah as well.


    It was a rare occurrence Hannah would stroll the place like this. And because she was an accomplished hunter, a lot of young girls who aimed to become warriors looked up to her. Since there was no gender hierarchy, the disparity between the ratio of men to women hunters was negligible.


    Seemingly having had enough, Ragnar ran into the girls and grabbed his mom''s arm. "We have work to do." He spoke sternly. "Get a ticket or something."


    After Ragnar had pulled her away from the crowd of girls who were glaring daggers at him, they started to walk straight again.


    "You know, I didn''t see Sofia in the group." Hannah spoke up. "Do you have any idea? Normally she''d be the first to ask for tips regarding her sword training."


    Sofia was the name of the granddaughter of the village head. Since Robert made weapons for the village, and custom ones for Sofia''s family, there was a good relationship between them. Due to this good relationship, Ragnar and Sofia were able to study together in her parents'' library.


    "You think she''ll be around here?"


    "I wouldn''t know." He replied abruptly. Too quickly.


    "Are you missing your little mistress~?"


    Instead of overreacting like kids his age, Ragnar solemnly scoffed. A scoff that felt a bit too mocking.


    The idea felt outlandish to him. Ragnar was now mentally reaching 30 years of age. The idea of little girls being his crush revolted him. Besides, no matter how gorgeous, no one felt as devilishly beautiful as Olivia did. His heart and mind¡ªthey were ruled by her.


    Even after 12 years, he would still occasionally wonder how she''d be doing; how she must have handled the news of his demise; how she must have moved on. How she must belong to someone else now. How it was unfair to him. And how it was totally ok for her to move on.


    After all, they liked each other in High School. A relationship that lasted a few minutes. Few minutes that were spent on his deathbed, away from each other.


    "¡ªnar¡­Ragnar?"


    He came back to his senses with his mother''s voice, realising he had been biting the inside of his cheek for too long.


    "Yes?"


    Instead of talking, she arched her brows, motioning with her head to their right.


    There she was¡ªSofia¡ªstanding inside the boundaried fence of her lawn, her smile fading a little when her eyes met his. She waved at him.


    He waved back, with a little nod.


    Her blonde hair set in a braid rested on her shoulder, her eyes green like the lake in summer, her lips rosy pink, her dimpled cheeks full¡ªhe hated looking at her.


    He hated her. He hated how she had the same olive eyes. And the same dimples in her cheeks. How she had the same small mole underneath her left eye. Because to him, it was an insult to Olivia''s beauty. To replicate something so tenderly beautiful¡­was akin to blasphemy to Ragnar.


    She smiled a little at Hannah and then turned around, picking up the scabbards that were scattered in the snowy lawn.


    "She is breathtakingly beautiful." Hannah added as they both walked ahead.


    "Yeah, she is." He said plainly. She was beautiful. But so what?


    "Do you like her?"


    "I like her face. It''s decent."


    "Do you love her then?"


    "I feel nothing. For her, at least." he shrugged the thought laughingly.


    "Is it someone else then?"


    Ragnar looked down at his shoes that had a thin layer of white powder on them. "Yeah."


    The teasing timber of her voice vanished as she saw Ragnar looking down with a crestfallen look. "You have your whole life, dear son of mine." She roughly ruffled his hair, "Come now. Make haste."


    She said and the lively look on her face reappeared.


    Ragnar let out a self-deprecating suppressed laugh. I''ve already exhausted one¡­well, let''s not dwaddle on it.


    Shaking his head, he matched his pace back with Hannah, walking side by side with her. He had already decided to not let his old life''s mistakes or regrets weigh down on this one. As they walked, the land stretched beneath their feet. The crowds of villagers, the lively bazaar, the smells of fish and bison, the sweat laden air of the barracks and the lake which was soon to be frozen.


    Hannah and Ragnar passed all of these, leaving them behind and climbed up a steep path. The rough surface of the mountain and spreading snow gave way to a dense forest at the top of the hill.


    The forest was dark, and the smell of something eerie lingered heavily in the air. Hannah suddenly stopped and leaned against a tree.


    "Mom?" Ragnar asked as Hannah came to a standstill.


    "Have you been doing the exercises your father told you to?"


    Ragnar''s forehead creased as he looked at the air that changed around Hannah. "Uhh¡­yes¡­"


    "Well then," Her chest rose and fell in steady breaths as she raised her arm. The covering on her arm blended so perfectly with her skin that even now, she hesitated, as if it might not come off. She pressed her thumb against the edge near her wrist and pinched, feeling the faint give of the material. Slowly, carefully, she began to peel it back.


    "It is time for you, my dearest son¡­"


    The covering lifted without resistance, revealing the skin underneath. No, not just skin¡ªthere, etched into her arm, was the rune. It looked old, carved deep and precise, as if it had always been a part of her.


    The lines formed two squares, one inside the other, their shapes connected at perfect angles¡ªthe vertices of one square touching the centres of the other.


    "...to step into the real world." Her bright crimson eyes were suddenly glowing. Ragnar took a step back, taken aback as he felt the air change and become suffocating.


    The rune glowed faintly, its light soft and warm like the dying embers of a fire. The orange glow pulsed once, faint and steady, almost like a heartbeat. Hannah''s hand trembled as she held the covering she had removed. Her arm felt cool where the air touched it now.


    The forest seemed to darken further, as if the trees were leaning in closer, drawn to the faint glow on her arm. Hannah felt the weight of their eyes¡ªher son''s, the forest''s, and something else she couldn''t name.


    "It is time for you to prepare for your Rune Praxis, Ragnar." She spoke, her voice distorted as Ragnar gulped in heavily, his mind a swirling maelstrom of thoughts. "And for me to reveal a little about my pathway." She grinned.

 Chapter 5: Schools of Thought

    It was bone-chillingly cold. Whatever mom was doing, it had a very creepy effect on me. The hair on the back of my neck¨Cassuming I had any¨Cstood on edge as the darkness turned material, and I could feel the darkness physically like a mist all around me.


    I tried to see, focus my eyes and use the primal power of this world, however, neither could I see, nor could I siphon any kind of power. How could I, after all?


    Amidst the growing darkness, mom''s voice cut so sharp that the darkness'' slimy tendrils that were coalescing around me suddenly receded. However, it still didn''t change the fact that I couldn''t even look at my own hand, even though I was holding it right next to my face.


    "Hone your senses, Ragnar." Mom said suddenly, her voice distant, like standing somewhere way far away than me. "Strength and mana, they both can be aided. Body strengthening herbs, and mana quantity aiding shrooms, they can be artificially facilitated." She continued to speak.


    A low rumble filled the air as I turned around.


    "Let your senses expand. Use them. As a physical manifestation of your body. Your sense of smell shouldn''t just be a part of what makes you up." She spoke as the rune on her arm shone so bright that the darkness'' wisps were all burned.


    My sight came back to me and a hot wave of dread washed over me. Mom was standing to my side, and a few steps away from her was a bear¡­no, not just any bear. It only looked like a bear in the most rudimentary way. It was an abomination of a bear.


    It looked like a creature dragged from a nightmare¡ªmassive, hunched, and warped. The fact that its eyes were on the front made it look even more terrifying since it had lowered its long snout and was looking straight at me.


    Its black, tar-like skin oozed and writhed, swallowing the light oozing out of mom''s rune.


    The head was elongated and split too wide, filled with jagged, golden teeth.


    Its eyes were small, socketed deep inside the skull.


    Its claws scraped faintly against the foliage, leaving deep, curling gouges.


    Mom turned towards me. "Do you recognise this fiend, Ragnar?"


    I felt my lips quiver, the name refusing to come out of my mouth. It shouldn''t be here. It was said to reside only in the inner sides of The Fallow.


    "But it shouldn''t be here¡­"


    "Why do you say that?" She asked.


    Suddenly the creature roared and the wind whipped up from that single action. It growled, the sound making waves ripple in my chest. It lowered back on its hind legs and then¡­it bolted forward like an arrow.


    It was no less than 8 feet tall! How can he move this fast!?


    "Mom!" I called out, worry and morbid fear welling up in my chest.


    She spared a glance at me and then swung her arm.


    ''Huh?'' was all I could muster to speak as the head of the fiend went flying back while its gargantuan body rolled down on the dense foliage underneath our feet. Its body rolled two times before stopping right before my feet.


    Honestly, my legs were weak at this point and not gonna lie, I almost shat my pants. Because, HOLY SHIT! That was scary as fuck!


    "Mom¡­are you¡­"


    I was about to ask her how she was but given what she had done, I broke off my sentence midway. The rune on her arm was moving, two perfect squares rotating in opposite directions.


    "Your own individual pathway is something you guard with your life on the line." She began talking as flexed her hand. "The outcome of a battle between two ''Marked'' people relies solely on the intel and compatibility." She smiled and extended her hand.


    A white streak of light flicked above her palm and a thin fencing sword materialised in her hand."Pathways aren''t simple," she continued. "They''re messy. Unpredictable. A Sequence 5 might take down a Sequence 4 if their pathway is better suited for that specific fight. It''s rare, but it happens."


    She paused, turning the sword over in her hand like she was inspecting it. "One small edge can make all the difference."


    The sword shifted into a ball, as if it was made out of clay."That''s why most people hide their pathways," she said, her tone harder now. "Even from the people they love. Couples, families, friends¡ªit doesn''t matter. No one''s exempt. Knowing someone''s pathway is like holding their life in your hands."


    I frowned, confusion and morbid unease bubbling inside me. "Then¡­ Why are you showing me this?"


    Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, she didn''t say anything. The silence stretched suffocatingly before she finally spoke.


    "Because I don''t want you to be blindsided one day," she said, her voice quieter now, but laced with an edge of something I couldn''t quite name¡ªanger? Sadness? Both?


    "This world doesn''t care about fairness. It''s cruel, and it''s unforgiving. One day, you''re going to have to make choices whether you like them or not. Real ones. Hard ones. Choices that will stay with you for the rest of your life."


    She stepped closer, the sphere in her hand dissolving into faint motes of light. Before I could say anything, she pulled me into a tight hug. I froze, caught off guard, but her warmth was grounding, steadying.


    "You''re going to hate it," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "The things you''ll have to do. The things you''ll have to live with. But that''s how it is. No one gets through this unscathed."


    She breathed shakily. "You have my blood running through your veins as well. Nothing will ever be so easy." She gently rubbed my back.


    It was dizzying. I couldn''t make sense of anything she was saying anymore. Breaking the hug, she looked at me, her eyes as beautiful as ever. The ever-intoxicated look in her eyes reflected on her features as well as I stared at her.


    "Anyways," she gently tapped my cheeks before turning around. "You were saying something. Why shouldn''t this fiend be here?"


    I swallowed hard, my mind scrambling to refocus. The unease and the confusion at her words was still there, clawing at the edges of my thoughts, but I composed myself. Seeing how I was silent and gaping at her, she spoke again, the look in her eyes softening.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    "Do you know what this is?" She asked, putting her foot on the severed head.


    I shook my head, and got rid of all the thoughts. I can''t let her see myself so rattled. Of course, I should''ve expected all this. I am not on Earth anymore. It''s a mediaeval world with fantasy elements. Of course people''s morality and values are much different, and so are the creatures inhibiting it.


    Eat, or be eaten.


    Biting back the bile that pressed at the back of my throat due to the metalling tang of the blood and rancid smell of the fiend''s flesh, I looked up at mom. "It''s Nyctian Stalker."


    I tried to recall from the few little books I had read. "Standing in the middle of the wild food chain. They''re called stalkers because they have padded feet, hence making no noise when they walk. Solitary creatures that thrive in dense forests, caves, or regions of perpetual twilight¡­" I paused and mom lowered her head at me.


    "Keep going."


    I huffed out a tired breath, not directly looking at its head. "Highly territorial. Can communicate with other Stalkers of its herd using low, rebounding growls that can be felt more than heard. But¡­"


    I paused, the oddity of our current situation dawning at me.


    "But?"


    It seemed like an exam.


    "They are not mindless killers and prefer to hunt only when necessary. Local folklore describes them as creatures who are manifestations of cursed lands or punishment for greed. Their pelts can hypothetically create cloaks that can render the wearer invisible in darkness if it is skinned as soon as it is hunted." I spoke, feeling my brows furrow.


    "However¡­"


    "However?"


    "Their homeland is inside ''The Fallow.'' The unexplored lands. Since they are highly territorial, they never leave their own place unless someone is hunting them."


    Hannah clapped her hands together, smiling and then directing a finger at the dead nyctian stalker. "You were not merely seeing the pictures, after all." She chuckled, tucking the loose strand of her hair behind her ear.


    "Then why are they here¡­?" The question lingered for a while, before the answer¡ªwhich should''ve been quite obvious¡ªformulated inside my mind. "...because a fiend is breaking the balance of predator and prey¡­a new apex predator perhaps?"


    Hannah bobbed her head a few times, like half-proud, half-disappointed by my answer. The body of the fiend was already disintegrating.


    Unlike normal humans and other monsters, fiends which are found in the fallow disintegrate after being killed. It''s not as though their bodies disappear atom-by-atom as I had read in novels, but rather the decomposition system was extremely fast.


    The fiend was culled just a few minutes ago and by now the smell of its flesh rotting had spread so much that it was hard to just stand there. Rigor Mortis had set in long ago and the flesh around its neck had a small maggot-like infestation.


    Bending down, a small dagger made out of pure light materialised in Hannah''s hand. "Your thought process is not wrong, but you need to think out of the box." She said as she started to skin the fur of the nyctian stalker. "You¡ªpretty much everyone¡ªfails to see the full picture because we have been hardwired to think in a certain manner."


    She looked up, her bright red eyes focusing on me. "Think Ragnar. Why do you think they can''t be found here?"


    She spoke and masterfully used the light dagger to move and remove the fur from the skin. Since fiends disintegrate so rapidly, one has to be quick with their reapings.


    "Because that''s what is written in the most trustworthy book in the whole province?"


    It was rhetoric. But I know Hannah would''ve guessed it. She was smart, scarily so. And something about her felt so warm but cold at the same time.


    "If the fiends never leave their home, and we only ''protect'' the scar¡ªthe boundary between the fallow and drakensfjord¡ª, pers¨¨ then¡­"


    Suddenly things started to make sense. "...how do we have such detailed reports on everything¡­from their habitats to their social lives and hierarchy¡­."


    She looked up at me, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she nodded and went back to removing the fur.


    A wave of nausea overcame me as I took several steps back.


    "How do we know, indeed?" She spoke, seemingly unfazed by the smell. "Stay there, I''ll be done in a bit." She commanded as I took more steps back and slipped against the tree bark.


    She was right about it all. How do we know? That would mean that either the villagers or the army who was sent from the capital of the Northern Kingdom had been going inside the fallow, even though the law states that no one is allowed to go in due to it being a cursed place.


    I mean, why lie about it? Intel is a good thing. Going inside with more people and uncovering the mystery can work well in our own favour. Since the first people who arrived in the northern empire were the people who survived the fallow, it could help everyone understand the ancient culture and secrets.


    Awhh man, just when I was thinking this world is simple as fuck, something like this had to happen.


    Now I would''ve said that I should keep my nose out of it and live a peaceful life, I don''t think I will be able to restrain my curiosity anymore¡­heh.


    This means that The Fallow is not cursed. Someone is hiding something there. The Area 51 of this world.


    But unlike Earth, there is no army of bald-eagles stopping me from going there!


    But not now.


    As of right now, I have no powers. And without powers I can''t even kill a normal monster, let alone a fiend found in the mana rich environments of The Fallow.


    After a while of waiting and thinking over what had happened until now, I tried to recall everything I had studied in books so far. Other than the geographical position of Drakensfjord, I had studied the two major religions as well.


    There are two schools of thoughts around which this entire world revolves: The Gods and The Source.


    The one who believes in Gods are like pretty much what was the case back on Earth. The various Gods who were present since time immemorial shaped the entire universe, made galaxies, our world and other worlds which we do not have the knowledge of yet.


    Unlike earth''s rigid form of belief, there are too many gods in this world. And all of them are equally respected. However, it is said that there are always extraterrestrial threats for our universe. Since Gods could either run the universe or fight the threats, they made "The Source"


    The source is an autonomous system which operates this world instead of God''s now. The rising and setting of the sun, the ebb and flow of time, the very laws of fate and karma¡ªthey are all under the jurisdiction of The Source. Blessings, retributions, powers¡ªeach are dispensed according to its own ''programmed'' will.


    However, people believe it to be just another gods'' gadget.


    99.99% of Drakensfjord population believes in this school of thought. The power that is siphoned through the gods is done via Rune Praxis. It is a ritual where one meditates until the source thinks that a particular god would''ve taken a fancy to this human and then that awakened person would walk on the same path as the god. The Gods Pathway.


    The second school of thought refutes the first one, posing a simple question. If people were to walk a pathway the specific pathway god once did, doesn''t that imply that they were once normal humans? And if so, who was the one who granted them enough divinity to ascend?


    They believe that the source is an entity, not just a gadget. The entity who is the actual protector of this universe and has helped worthy humans to ascend.


    Since this school of thought is considered as utter blasphemy, there are no books that state how they derive their powers. Well, at least in a religious outpost like Drakensfjord.


    I''ve always been curious. Growing up in a home steeped in devotion, I''ve been taught by Robert to trust in the gods'' paths.


    And soon enough, I''ll be part of that path myself. I''ll undergo the Rune Praxis¡ªbecome one with the god I''m meant to follow. It''s a sacred thing. Everyone in Drakensfjord believes in it.


    Believing that when you''re chosen, when The Source channels the gods'' will through you, you''ll walk the same steps as a god, that you''ll embody their power.


    Robert seems to be proud that I''m about to take this step, that I''m about to receive their blessing and walk the divine path. He sees it as the ultimate honor, a chance for me to rise beyond the confines of ''being human''.


    But something has always felt strange in that household¡­


    "Ragnar." Hannah called me, snapping me out of my thoughts.


    "Yes, coming!" I stood up immediately and ran after her.


    She had flung the fiend''s hide on her shoulder which was wrapped in a small cloth. She was walking with a confident gait and I made sure to stick by her side. We walked in silence, for a long while.


    It felt like she wanted to tell me something. But couldn''t find the right words to express those unsaid things. I could practically see her lips flutter as she did.


    I hesitated at first, and then slowly slipped my hand between hers and gripped her index finger.


    She looked down at me with a surprised look and then smiled. "Aren''t you a bit old for this now, Ragnar?"


    Rolling my eyes, I scoffed. Letting out a girlish giggle, she patted my head. Although it did offend me that he patted me with the same hands that had been all over that dying fiend which was now nothing more than a decomposed pile of bones, this warm feeling everytime she patted my head or kissed me was too comforting for me to complain about.


    "There is something you want to say, don''t you, mom?" I voiced out. I know it has been bothering her, and it has been bothering me as well. Because¡­


    "There is a lot to tell, Ragnar." She started to talk with a tired sigh. "So much. I want to tell you everything." She looked down at me, her red eyes darkening. "But too much information results in doom. I learned that the hard way." She breathed out, like reliving a horrible memory. "Time is always with you, my dearest son. It follows you¡ªand us, everywhere."


    Adjusting the pelt, she talked again. "Everything will reveal itself, with time."


    I fell into silence for a brief moment.


    She has never looked so¡­depressed. Even the slightest vestige of the cheerful, role-model Hannah Valkknar who was one of the best hunters and fighters in the whole village, the one who tackled everything with a smile was absent. It was like she was a whole different person.


    However, the same smile that had warmed my heart ever since I was reincarnated in this body graced her lips as she tilted her head at me. "What do you want to eat today?"


    "BEEF! BEEF!" I spoke so loud and so abruptly that I placed my hands over my mouth and looked up at her with an embarrassed face.


    Damn this little growing body. I can''t even control these emotional outbursts!


    Giggling to herself, Hannah pinched my cheeks. "Beef it is."


    *******************


    A/n: You can join the discord here.


    https://discord.gg/AwjytpaY

 Chapter 6: Rune Praxis

    Winter had swallowed Drakensfjord whole.


    The mountains sat beneath a thick layer of snow, their peaks lost to the storm-heavy sky.


    Northern winds screamed through the valley, rattling shutters and cutting through the trees like a rusted blade.


    The fjord below churned in places where the ice hadn''t yet formed, dark waters slapping hungrily at the frozen edges.


    Starlake¡ªthe hub of activity¡ªwas dead still.


    A perfect sheet of ice stretched across it, smooth as polished glass, reflecting the cold light of the moon. It was thick now, thick enough to walk across, thick enough to hold the weight of men and beasts alike.


    At the edge of Drakensfjord, where the land rose like a great stone fist before plunging into the fjord was a house.


    Despite being so early in the morning, much like every other house in Drakensfjord, this one too was abuzz tonight. The light from torches lit in every room made it look like a beacon in a storm.


    Firelight flickered behind narrow windows.


    Inside one of the rooms, Hannah was on her knees. She moved back and forth, her hands tenderly doing their magic.


    Her hair was let in loose curtains, framing her face and her quixotic red eyes stayed anchored on the one in front of her¡ªRagnar. She fastened his belt around his waist and pulled at the string on his shoulders as it pulled his back into a straight¡ªinflexible posture.


    "Do I really need to put all of this¡­garish attire? Is it even an attire at this point?" Ragnar complained. He stifled a breath as Hannah tugged at the other belt that cinched around his belly and forced it in.


    "It has been a tradition since time immemorial, my dearest, ever-grumpy, petulant child. You know as they say, when in¡­" she paused, as Ragnar''s eyes went wide for the slightest of moments, "...Belfort, do as the Belfortians do."


    Ragnar let out a deep breath.


    ''I would''ve shat my pants if she had said Rome. Some typical, cliche regress type shit is the last thing I want in my life right now.''


    "But the leather stinks, mom!" Ragnar commented, scrunching his nose.


    "Well, you would be¡­elated to know that this armour was used by your father, and his father before him and¡­" she paused, her lips curling into a mischievous grin, "...and it is never washed. So what you are smelling isn''t the leather but your father and his father before him committing depravity."


    A chill ran down Ragnar''s spine. "W-What¡­"


    ''Nah this is crazy. I thought it would be well taken care of since it has such a vital importance??''


    Giggling, Hannah ran her fingers through Ragnar''s hair and stood up. "I was merely a facetious remark. Stop being so stiff." Hannah slapped Ragnar''s shoulder. "Go on, look at yourself in the mirror, you look like such a flirt already."


    Ragnar grumbled. "Hard to not be stiff when I feel like I am being crushed by a mouldy, smelly, centuries old leather armour made out of god-knows-what."


    "Did you say anything?"


    "Uh, none at all, mother." Ragnar rolled his eyes and walked towards the mirror feeling the uncomfortable grip of the armor cinching his waist and shoulders.


    The tight-fitting leather had been strapped down with multiple belts. There wasn''t anything remarkable about it, however, what stood out the most were the ornaments embedded on it.


    On the right side of his chest¡ªwhere medals would have been pinned in his old world¡ªwas a giant tooth strapped to the leather and right beside it was a patch of preserved flesh that had been half-hardened.


    ''Worn by your father, and his father before him¡­is this related to those two?''


    He grimaced.


    ''I know this is a totally different world and the circumstances are completely opposite too, but in my old world, this kind of medal of achievement would''ve been enough evidence to put someone on a watchlist or better, locked up.''


    Ragnar pulled at the belt across his waist, loosening it a bit while Hannah was picking Ragnar''s stuff from the ground¡ªmost of it being books.


    He sighed and turned fully to the mirror.


    As his reflection stared back at him, he finally took a proper look.


    His bleached-orange hair was getting longer¡ªnothing wild, but still enough to brush against his ears and forehead. However, that wasn''t what made him pause.


    It was his eyes.


    Everyone knew he inherited his mother''s red eyes, but now that he was growing, their full features were coming into focus. The long, delicate lashes, the dreamy half-lidded gaze, the way his irises seemed to glimmer under the light¡ªit all gave his face a strangely soft and refined look.


    He frowned.


    Tilted his head.


    And blinked slowly.


    ''¡­Why do I look like I should be the love interest in some tragic romance drama?''


    His lips parted slightly as a terrifying realization dawned on him.


    He looked¡­ beautiful.


    Not in a rugged, roguish, handsome warrior way¡ªno, no, no. This was ethereal.


    Delicate.


    The kind of beauty that made people write poetry about "tragically handsome men" who die too young.


    Instinctively, he grabbed two strands of his longish hair and pulled them in front of his face, draping them like bangs.


    He batted his lashes.


    ''Damn¡­'' he whispered, tilting his head at a slightly seductive angle.


    ''I look more beautiful than most girls on Earth.''


    The moment the words left his mouth, his stomach dropped.


    His brain short-circuited.


    ''WAIT. HOLD ON. IF I''M THINKING LIKE THAT¡­''


    His eyes widened, pupils dilating in horror.


    ''DOES THAT MAKES ME GAY!?''


    His hands flew up to his face, as if touching it would somehow confirm or deny his yet another existential crisis.


    Hannah, who had been watching this entire ordeal with increasing amusement, finally let out a small snort. "Oh dear, you have started to admire yourself a lot lately. Should I start calling you my beautiful son now?"


    Ragnar''s soul nearly left his body.


    "Mother, we are NOT discussing this."


    "Oh, relax. I think it''s cute that my son is prettier than half the girls in town."


    Ragnar let out a long, suffering sigh, rubbing his face aggressively as if trying to scrub the prettiness off.


    ''No. No, I am a man. A warrior. A future beast on the battlefield. The devourer of souls. The one who sees it all, I am the final boss! The GOD! Not a damn pretty boy.''


    Still, as he glanced back at the mirror, the unsettling truth remained.


    His lashes fluttered slightly.


    ''...Damn it.''


    *****************


    The synchronised crunch of snow under leather boots was not the only source of noise in the heart of the darkness that had settled over Drakensfjord.


    Ragnar walked in the center, flanked by his mother and father. Hannah''s face was unreadable, her red eyes half-lidded as always, lost in some distant thought, while Robert walked with his hands stuffed into his heavy cloak, gaze straight and mouth set in a firm line.


    The cold gnawed at him, and the fur didn''t feel as warm as it usually did. Twelve years in this world, and he still wasn''t used to these winters. Northern Europe had been brutal, sure, but not like this.


    There, the cold had been something you could beat back with proper insulation, with full-house heating that kept every corner warm. Here? There was no such mercy. Hearths warmed only what rooms they were present in.


    Even going to the loo in the middle of the night was a battle against the elements itself. Even the kitchen used to become a frozen tomb during early mornings.


    This world, for all its grandeur, had no place for comfort.


    As they neared the designated place for Rune Praxis¡ªThe Church of Eingana¡ªRagnar spotted a lone person moving through the snow.


    Small, wrapped in thick furs, golden hair set in a thick, tight braid.


    As they gain pace, they arrive side by side with the figure.


    Green eyes like the lake in summer. Full cheeks, pink lips, that single damn mole beneath her left eye.


    Sofia.


    His stomach twisted. He hated looking at her.


    Hannah broke formation first, stepping ahead with an unhurried stride, snow crunching softly beneath her leather boots. She reached out and gently patted Sofia''s back.


    "Where are your parents, little one?"


    Sofia glanced up, her breath frosty and visible in the freezing air. "They''re already at the church. Helping with the preparations." Her voice was steady, almost unaffected by the cold, unlike Ragnar who avoided even talking due to how prickly his throat got.


    However, he couldn''t help but notice¡­there was a certain loneliness in how she stood there, waiting, without a single family member beside her.


    Hannah hummed, brushing a bit of snow off the girl''s shoulder. Then, without looking back, she started to walk ahead, wrapping one arm around her shoulder.


    Ragnar exhaled, already knowing what was coming. Sure enough, when Hannah glanced back over her shoulder, she winked at him, red eyes sparkling with mischief.


    Ragnar sighed, shaking his head.


    As they walked, Robert suddenly nudged Ragnar''s side with an elbow. "You and Sofia break up or something?"


    Ragnar scowled. "We were never dating."


    Robert let out a thoughtful hum, nodding slightly. "You sure? You two spend a lot of time together."


    Ragnar clicked his tongue. "Because I don''t have a choice. You and mother are always busy with¡­work, I guess."


    He let out an embarrassed cough.


    Silence stretched for a minute between them.


    Robert raised a brow, glancing at him, but let it drop. Once again, the usual awkward silence stretched between them. Ragnar knew what was coming next. His father would try again, try to pull a conversation out of him like yanking an arrow from flesh.


    "You''re nervous?" Robert asked after a moment, voice lighter, attempting something close to warmth.


    Ragnar shrugged. "No."


    Robert exhaled through his nose, a sharp breath, then nodded again. "Alright."


    And just like that, the conversation died.


    Ragnar could feel the weight of it. The way Robert hesitated, the way his steps slowed just for a fraction of a second, as if he was holding something back. Ragnar didn''t need to look at him to know what he was thinking.


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    ''He hates me¡­'' Robert thought with a melancholic smile on his face.


    Robert had done nothing wrong. If anything, he had been a father in every way that mattered. But he wasn''t his father. Despite the fact that he was. But Ragnar refused to acknowledge that, despite being well aware of it.


    The silhouette of the church swallowed the sky, and as they crossed the last stretch of land, the snowstorm suddenly thickened.


    The wind roared violently. Parents and children alike struggled through the white chaos, pressing forward, their bodies barely visible in the whirling snow.


    Then, in the blink of an eye, a path opened.


    No one saw it happen. No one noticed the way the wind broke just enough for a narrow space to form.


    "I began to think you''d let me steal the spotlight for a moment." Robert spoke with a grin.


    "Not when my son and his friends are here." Hannah smiled wickedly as she patted Sofia''s back and jumped inside the thin path she had opened before anyone could catch up.


    Without a word, Robert and Ragnar also slipped through the cleared path, following Hannah and Sofia. The path closed once again and the storm subsided as they reached the other end.


    The wind had ceased. The air was warmer, almost unnaturally so. Ragnar''s breath no longer came in clouds.


    The Church of Eingana stood vast and silent before them. The structure was made of blackened wood and stone, walls carved with endless depictions of battles and rituals, sagas etched into its bones, its marrow.


    Great iron braziers lined the entrance, flames licking at the cold air as it casted shadows across the heavy wooden doors that were reinforced with bands of dark metal.


    The pillars at the entrance had massive engravings of the long lasting symbolism of Mother Eingana.


    "Don''t be afraid," Robert encouraged, patting his shoulder.


    Ragnar scoffed before he could stop himself. "I''m not."


    The words left his mouth too fast, too sharp. He regretted them instantly.


    Robert let out a slow breath, his shoulders shifting beneath his thick cloak. There was something heavy in that silence¡ªsomething Ragnar didn''t have the stomach to dissect. His father hesitated for just a moment, as if weighing whether to say something more, then exhaled through his nose and turned away.


    Without another glance, he walked off toward a cluster of men who had also made it through the storm as they greeted him with hard grips and nods.


    Ragnar clenched his jaw, staring at his father''s back as he moved further away.


    His jaw clenched. He knew he was being an ass, but the words just came out anyway. Too late to take them back now.


    But before he could wallow in the gnawing feeling in his chest, a voice called out over the crackle of fire.


    "Oi, Ragnar!"


    Ragnar turned, his red eyes locking onto a familiar figure standing just off to the side, away from the main group.


    The boy was much taller and broad-shouldered than him, his features cut sharp like ice. His hair was stark white, falling just past his ears, and his eyes were cold, frigid blue in color as they glimmered under the firelight.


    Leif Ulfrik.


    The closest thing Ragnar had to a friend. If that was even the right word.


    Leif''s grin was lopsided, full of his usual reckless energy. He was leaning against one of the stone pillars, arms crossed.


    Beside him stood two girls, both wrapped in thick cloaks.


    One had golden hair, bright as honey, spilling over her back in loose waves.


    The other¡ªRuna, if Ragnar remembered correctly¡ªhad hair that sat somewhere between red and gold, a wild mix that caught the firelight just right. Her grey eyes were palpably judgemental, as if she was always moments away from some clever remark.


    Sofia had found her way to them as well, standing just a little apart, brushing snow from her furs.


    She hadn''t spoken, but she didn''t need to¡ªRagnar could already feel her looking at him.


    Leif pushed off from the pillar, stepping closer. "Thought you were gonna freeze to death before you got here."


    Ragnar rolled his eyes. "If only you were that lucky."


    Leif barked out a laugh, shoving Ragnar''s shoulder. "Still a prick, I see. Good. Means you''re still breathing."


    "I am sure warrior mama helped the little, sickly, sheltered boy to get through the storm." Runa remarked, her eyes sharp.


    "Sure, whatever you say." Ragnar pushed through her, his shoulder grazing through her.


    Something whipped through the air. Ragnar''s senses flared but his body failed to react in time, and the following moment, a heavy voice of something hitting something else resounded in the whole church.


    As Ragnar looked back, he saw Leif blocking Runa''s heel kick aimed at Ragnar''s head. "Let''s not get feisty here, dear sister."


    ''Sometimes I feel happy that I socialised a little instead of just reading books about fairy tales. Or else, my head would''ve been on the ground.''


    "I am not your sister." She frowned and pulled her leg back and took a step back. Ragnar still had his hands tucked inside his pockets, his expression that of mock annoyance.


    "Yeah, yeah, well, dear cousin. Let''s not get feisty, yeah?"


    These kinds of situations frustrated Runa Bjornhild, but it had been a part of his personality. That aloof look which screamed ''you are beneath me'' or ''I won''t waste time taking you on.''


    After all, he was untouchable, either due to his stature as the son of Hannah and Robert, or because he was "best friend" with Leif, who was the son of one of the strongest man in Hannah''s platoon¡ªthe only one who was on equal footing with her.


    Leveraging that, it was always easy for him to get under everyone''s skin.


    A place where most children played by swinging wooden swords and physically demanding games, he was the only one who never participated. And not even once she felt he was weak. On the contrary, there was this air of indifference and superiority leaking from every pore of Ragnar that made her feel he was looking down on her, and everyone else.


    Even now, Ragnar knew there was no way for him to dodge that attack. He was weak, physically, after all. There was a reason Robert and Hannah sheltered him and did not allow him to go out so much.


    Sofia was still looking at Ragnar. He stopped for a moment to look at her as she looked at him with a sombre look before waving her hand.


    ''What''s with her and waving her hand at me all the time?''


    Not wanting to incite more drama, he waved back at her. She nodded her head and moved away. Even now when she walked, Ragnar could feel how well trained she was.


    "Come on," Leif said, jerking his chin toward the church doors as he shook his head, watching his cousin¡ªRuna¡ªand her friend walk away, cursing Ragnar and Leif. "Let''s get this over with."


    **********************


    The air was pungent with the scent of burning tallow and frosted pines.


    Ever since the break of dawn, excitement was palpable in everyone, but now that the real deal was a few moments away, a heavy tension wracked every parent''s heart, weighing heavier than the furs draped over their shoulders.


    They stood in uneasy silence, boots sinking slightly into the churned mud as they herded their children to the altar where they had once gotten their own runes. Some kept kissing their children''s heads, some kept pressing their shoulders in an unrestrained anxiety.


    Inside, the monolithic structure of dark stone looked slick from countless splatters of blood and only the gods knew what else, and runes were etched in forgotten tongues.


    At its heart stood the statue of Eingana¡ªhalf-serpent, half-woman¡ªher coiled lower body winding around the foundation.


    ''The fuck¡­''


    Ragnar looked at the statue in horror. Even as he moved, he felt the statue''s eyes follow him.


    "Close your mouth, sheltered boy. Mother Eingana''s statue does that. Honestly, even after all that reading, did you learn nothing?"


    "Thanks for the information. Now put the fries in the bag."


    "What?"


    "Nothing."


    ''It is hard to read about statues of Gods that God knows they existed, when you have more interesting things to read about. But what would you expect from a musclehead like this bi¡ªgirl.''


    The statue''s upper torso were unnerving, arms stretched outward as if cradling something so dear that even her features looked tanginly soft, despite it being a centuries old statue that had pretty much worn out.


    ''Props to the artisan. There is some insane attention to detail.''


    At the center of the statue¡ªwhere her womb was present¡ªwas a great, gaping wound¡ªa cut that extended and stopped right above her vagina. The whole cut in her abdomen area and vagina were both glowing in a bright light, despite the lid that was placed on it.


    "Be strong, ok my baby?" Hannah lowered and kissed Ragnar on his cheeks.


    Wiping it, he narrowed his eyes on her. "I am not a baby, you know!"


    "Well, get a rune and I will consider you an adult. Until then¡­" she hugged even tighter, drawing the attention of every age-fellow, "...I will treat you like my little, fluffy, petulant bear."


    Ragnar''s face flushed as Leif shook his head and grinned while the others chuckled, while some outright barked at him.


    ''God damn it! My Ayanokoji like aloof aura is gooooonnnneee!!! NOOOO!!! Unhand me, beautiful woman!''


    After a while of caressing her cheek with Ragnar''s, she let him go. Still flushed, Ragnar kept looking down as Robert glanced in his direction. His lips moved, quivered, but he restrained from getting too close.


    "Good luck, Ragnar. I¡­" He stopped midway as Ragnar looked up at him. However, his eyes went wide. Ragnar''s eyes were swollen as a thin layer of tears bubbled in them. "...I do wish the best for you." He looked up, and quickly wiped his tears. "I am proud of you. May the Gods be with you."


    Ragnar looked at him with his mouth agape.


    A familiar¡ªvery familiar smile overlapped Robert''s. A bearded smile that mirrored his earth father''s.


    He stared blankly at him before snapping back to reality. A warm feeling spread through his chest and he felt fuzzy¡­but most of all, guilty.


    ''God¡­how much of an ass have I been to this good man¡­?''


    Clenching and unclenching his fist, Ragnar let out a long breath.


    ''Phew¡­I am not a child. Not mentally, at least. I can love both of my dads. Even if it''s not as intense for Robert as it was for dad, I can not let his empathy go to waste like this.''


    "Thanks d¡­." He paused and then let out another long breath. However, despite looking at Robert in a new light, he couldn''t sincerely call him ''dad.''


    Instead, Ragnar smiled at Robert, turned around and ran inside.


    "Hey, wait for me!" Leif called out and ran after him as well.


    "Hahhh¡­children." A gruff voice suddenly said.


    As Hannah saw Ragnar and Leif go in, she turned her head towards the figure.


    "Parenting has never been your thing, Harald. You should not complain." She said as Robert turned to look at Harald as well.


    He was a man who looked to be past his prime with pure white hair with a face like that of a ferocious wolf. He had a huge prominent scar below his left eye that reached to his left ear and another scar at the tip of his right eye. His pale blue eyes were sharp, like that of a predator.


    Harald Ulfrik. The strongest man in Hannah''s platoon, and the second in command. Despite being friendly to each other, the other people started to turn around and look at them talking as their auras sent shivers down their spine.


    After all, Rune Praxis changed family standings. While there was no violence treaty amongst each other in Drakensfjord''s boundary, much couldn''t be said about affairs that occur once someone crosses Starlake.


    Harald scratched his neck. "Well, what can I say, the brat is too free spirited to be held under control. Even after all the beatings he received."


    Robert scoffed. "Who are you deceiving? Both of us know you won''t lift a finger on that child."


    Harald spat as he looked away.


    "For someone so tough and strict, you sure have a lot of soft spots."


    "Oh, piss of¡ªoh, it''s going to start."


    Hannah and Robert casted nervous glances at Ragnar as well. Hannah''s pale fingers twitched before she took an uneasy step backward.


    Ragnar casted a look at his parents. He felt their unease but said nothing, standing rigid beside Leif, who¨Con the contrary¡ªcarried himself with the ease of a man who feared nothing.


    Leif barely flinched as the doors locked behind them, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows over the gathered children.


    From his place beside the altar, Jorund Dainsvard¡ªthe village chief of Drakensfjord and grandfather of Sofia¡ªraised a gnarled hand.


    His once-mighty frame had been softened by the pull of time¡ªloose skin that sagged over his sun-weathered bones, and what little hair remained clung stubbornly to his skull in strands of storm-gray.


    His dark green eyes scanned the gathered children from the nearby villages, towns and Drakensfjord, flicking over each with the indifference of a man who had seen this ceremony too many times to count.


    As he was taking in everyone''s forms, his eyes landed on Sofia, standing just behind Ragnar''s left shoulder. His lips curled, eyes narrowing slightly before he turned away, the annoyance in his gaze barely concealed beneath the mask of ritualistic duty.


    ''Many recognisable faces.'' He thought as he looked at the first girl who stood in the front row.


    She had ash-blonde hair with a few silvery undertones and dark sapphire eyes. ''Astrid Vekkersdottir, the daughter of Eirik Vekker From Grimstad.''


    On her right was another girl with wavy brown hair and green eyes like pine forests.


    ''Eira Torhildsdottir From Vallund.''


    And to Astrid''s left was a boy who was almost as tall as Leif. He had deep auburn hair and a pair of dark blue eyes.


    ''Hakon Eldrsson from Branholdt. Son of Ulfar Eldrsson¡­Good, good. Some big names this time¡­naturally.''


    The old man was lost in his musings as a sigh from Astrid brought him back to reality. A lot of people had started to chatter, filling the altar with faint murmurs.


    The village chief clapped his hands and suddenly, the chatter died instantly.


    For a moment, the only sounds were the distant howl of the wind and the crackling of the flames licking at the torches.


    Then Jorund spoke, his voice rough as bark.


    "Children of the North, Before you stand the last remnant of Eingana, the Great Serpent, the Mother of Cycles." His tone was slow, his old age making his words drawl more than intended. "She who was formed in the void, where the first gods bled. She who swallowed the Sun and Moon and spit them out anew, birthing time itself. The ancients say that the heart of a dying star lies in her sacred place"¡ªhis weathered hand gestured toward the luminous wound at the statue''s core¡ª"and it is from that fire that the gods mark their chosen."


    Silence. The words settled like stones in the children''s chests.


    Their astonishment was kind of justified. Since parents talk about their Rune Praxis, or their pathways, even with their children. Not even with the intent to help¡ªor in some nut cases, harm¡ªthem.


    Jorund reached beneath his heavy cloak, brandishing Valdring¡ªthe Weapon of the Gods¡ªa long, gnarled branding rod, its tip already sizzling. The metal shimmered in scarlet light, veins of molten light tracing jagged paths along its length.


    "Today," Jorund continued as he shoved it deep into Eingana''s wound on her torso, "you will be branded by that very fire. The gods will choose you. Some will find favor. Some will not. Some will endure their trials. Some will be reduced to naught but mindless husks. But this is the way of the North. To do as the gods command."


    A murmur rippled through the group. Ragnar scoffed internally. These people and their blind faith. They did not question, did not doubt¡ªonly obeyed. And yet, despite his disdain, he could not suppress the gnawing anticipation that clawed at his ribs.


    He had waited for this moment since his reincarnation.


    "Strip," Jorund commanded.


    There was a brief pause. Then Leif ripped his shirt off without hesitation, baring his broad chest to the cold air.


    The collective facepalm from the others was nearly audible.


    Leif blinked, looking around. "What?"


    Ragnar sighed, rubbing his temple. "You didn''t need to fully strip. Just the back, the arm, the shoulder¡ªsomething."


    Leif merely shrugged. "Cold doesn''t scare me."


    "I know. But it''s considered rude."


    "Wait, actually? Uhh¨Csorry, gramps."


    Jorund sighed and looked at the crowd. "Who shall go first?"


    The first to step forward was a girl with honey-colored hair¡ªthe one who had been standing beside Runa. Jorund pressed the brand against her shoulder. The moment metal touched flesh, the air was shattered by a scream so raw it sent a wave of panic through everyone.


    The following moment, her eyes rolled back and she fell down¡­no, she landed in a perfect lotus, meditative position.


    Everyone looked at her for a brief moment in sheer astonishment. Runa suddenly stepped forward and Jorund did the same thing to her.


    Another scream.


    Despite the obvious dread, more and more of them started to go forward and brand themselves.


    One by one, the branding continued. The smell of burnt flesh mixed with the smoke and cold air.


    Ragnar watched, his earlier bravado thinning with each new cry.


    Perhaps he did not want this after all.


    He thought of going away


    But then¡ª


    He heard it.


    A voice. Low. Whispering. Endless.


    A pair of gray eyes burned into his mind.


    "Valknaarrrrrr¡­"


    Again. And again. The sound coiled around his brain, stretching his name into something otherworldly.


    "Valknaarrrrrr¡­"


    Ragnar''s breath hitched.


    "Valknaarrrrrr¡­"


    His vision darkened at the edges. His body trembled as sweat beaded down his spine.


    Leif turned, noticing Ragnar''s expression shift¡ªbut before he could speak, the brand was seared into his back and then into Ragnar''s exposed back.


    "Valknaarrrrrr¡­"


    Ragnar''s world exploded.


    His body went rigid as his soul was ripped free, flung violently into the divine abyss.


    The physical world faded into static¡ªhis consciousness ascending to the realm of trials, where the god who had chosen him awaited.


    Jorund barely glanced at him before turning to Sofia.


    His lips moved as he talked to her. "Do not disappoint us again."


    She lowered her head, and her lips quivered but said nothing. Slowly, she raised her shirt just enough to expose the skin beneath her ribs.


    The brand pressed into her flesh.


    White-hot pain. Her knees buckled.


    Just as she fell into a meditative state, the three children from outside Drakensfjord turned to Jorund.


    He moved towards them, his staff hot.


    The girls lifted their shirts, just like Sofia¡ªenough to show their belly¡ªwhile the boy lifted his sleeve, extending his arm.


    After a few seconds, they had fallen into deep meditation as well. Every participant''s eyes were rolled back.


    Jorund turned away, his face grim as he approached the altar one last time.


    With the same care as a priest handling sacred relics, Jorund returned Valdring to its resting place¡ªdeep within the wound of Eingana.


    As the glow pulsed faintly, he let out a slow breath.


    "And so," he muttered to himself, voice barely above a whisper, "the long winters begin."