Chương 35: Chapter 31

An empty stomach was more painful than a broken rib cage. It may not be like that for everyone, but it was the case for Hakon. The sun was already at its zenith when he woke up to ferocious growls. His stomach was done waiting, its demands growing louder and more intense with every second. It twisted and cramped in ways Hakon never expected. Being hungry was not new. If anything, every Barbarian knew what hunger felt like, because it was something they had been taught.

To experience the weakness that came with hunger, but also to fight through that weakness. To never allow hunger or any other kind of weakness to affect a warrior's power. The servants noticed Hakon when he woke up. Some tended to the training ground as always, whereas others moved around hastily. They prepared food, not enough, for when he returned to the hut. Hakon did not rush. He checked the Ancient Scripture, went through the changes and additions of new Skills, and mused about what to improve next.

He had a lot to do, but filling his stomach came first. Sitting down at the table as the servants placed several plates filled with meats, bread, and other side dishes before him, Hakon grumbled. Neither of the dishes survived for long as he gobbled them down. His stomach was still rumbling when he finished three-fourths of the meal, which made the servants panic. They left in a hurry and returned with more bread and baked potatoes, informing him that more meat was being prepared.

Tears welled in their eyes as they spoke, which was… not all that unfamiliar. The servants feared them, for they were not Barbarians. Most were humans, their skin color was unlike that of the Barbarians. But that was all that separated humans from Barbarians. Other than their behavior toward the Ancestors.

"You don't believe in the Ancestors, do you?" Hakon diverted his attention from the stone plates, scrutinizing the servants for the first time since– Honestly, he did not think he had ever paid much attention to them. The servants were just there. Skinny. Vulnerable. Fragile That was what they were. They had no muscles, their belief was laughable, and they could not even stand up for themselves.

Not all humans were like that, as the chieftain had mentioned in the past, but those that lost against his father in battle certainly were. If not, they wouldn't act this way. They wouldn't lower their heads and stare straight at the ground, trembling like shrubs in a storm while shedding more tears than a heavy downpour. Hakon let out a heavy sigh.

"Come closer," he grunted, motioning to the nearest servant. She trembled even worse than before. Her sobs filled the hut, but Hakon remained emotionless. There was no reason to feel sorry for the servant. He did not mistreat her, and he knew his father would not do anything to her either. She was not malnourished and was well taken care of in every other aspect as well, but that was to be expected of the chieftain's belongings. Barbarians treated their spoils of war with respect.

They were part of their Saga and ought to be treated like that. Like an extension of the Ancestors' blessings. Hence, their fear meant little to him, other than nurturing the dissatisfaction in his heart. Humans really were weak. It was no surprise to him that their invasion of the Barbarians' lands failed. This time. Hakon corrected himself. He hadn't heard much about humans, but the few things he did know were that they were numerous. Their numbers were much greater than all of the Tribes combined.

Not all of them were weak either. If not for that, humans would have never managed to destroy several tribes all those cycles ago. That was before Hakon's father reached the 5th Ascension. It was even before the chieftain was born and long before the change. It was the Warlord's era. Cycles filled with bloodshed. The Sagas of that era's legends spoke of rivers of blood and palaces made of bones. Mountains of corpses, all offered as tribute to the Ancestors.

And some time ago, only a few cycles before Hakon was born, the humans had returned. Their reasoning was unknown, or maybe the chieftain simply did not care, but the result was obvious. The Barbarians had grown stronger ever since the rise of the first Warlord. And it was all owed to the Ancestors.

"H-How may I h-help you?" The servant was still shaking as she bowed. She was small and barely reached Hakon's nose even though he was still seated. She was nothing like the women of Tribe Taskur. Frail and too easy to break. Compared to Barbarians, she wore too much clothing, which would only hinder her in battle. But all that clothing had been one of her wishes. It had been the wish of almost all servants to wear several layers of clothing.

As little sense as that made, the Barbarians who owned them complied with their wishes. Combat was none of the servants' concern in the first place.

"Look at me." Hakon lifted the servant's trembling head, forcing eye contact with quivering blue eyes that were as bright as the cloudless sky.

"And be honest with me. Do you believe in the Ancestors?" He turned to the other servants when the young woman said nothing. She just stood there like prey caught by a predator. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"You do not believe in the Ancestors," he said to the others.

"Why not? Who do humans believe in? Do they even believe in anything?" One of the other servants shook his head when Hakon mentioned the first part. That confirmed what he already knew: that humans, or this group in particular, did not believe in the Ancestors. As for the rest… they never responded. The male servant who had shaken his head stirred, his lips parting, but it looked like he decided against answering.

"I see," Hakon sighed in disappointment.

"You don't want to answer. That is unfortunate." He dismissed the female servant standing before him.

"If you feel like telling me about your old home or your beliefs, I will listen." They looked confused rather than shaken at this moment. The chieftain did not care about them, and Hakon was fairly certain the other Barbarians with servants mostly ignored them as well. Not that there were many servants in the first place. Few survived the battle, and even fewer adjusted to the Barbarians' livelihood. Some tried to flee, but the rest never tried.

Not after Hakon's father caught and returned with those who managed to get out of the tribehold. He still remembered that day. Several servants tried to escape, only to be carried back by the chieftain. Dead or alive, they did not survive for long. Cleaved in half, body parts severed, or imbued with the chieftain's crimson hue, they all suffered the same fate. Examples were made. The servants scattered when Hakon dismissed them again with a wave.

They collected the plates in a hurry and nearly fell over each other in an attempt to leave the hut as quickly as possible. Their whispering voices rang in Hakon's ears as they discussed who would bring him the food. As pitiful as they were, the servants' behavior was also amusing in a way. Enhanced Comprehension prodded him when he talked to the servants. The wrongness he felt was multi-directional, which was quite confusing, but it only confirmed that he could have acquired a Skill if he had tried harder.

The Ancestors' actions confused him at times. What Skill was useful enough in their eyes to reward him for talking to the servants? Skills granted by the Ancestors were always useful. That was why they were granted in the first place. So how could that help him? [Reading] is neither about combat nor survival. He had to remind himself. As little as he had used the Skill since the Rite, it did help him. Maybe it would help him further if he focused more on it as well.

His attention drifted to the shelf and its scrolls, but before he could get up to inspect them, the young female servant arrived, carrying four stone plates that were filled to the brim with food. First came his stomach, then training.

By the time Hakon was done eating, the chaos in the hut had subsided. The servants avoided him. Why, they did not say, but that was their issue to resolve. He collected several scrolls from the shelf and returned, his plan was as simple as before. Practice. That was the core component. It was also the most important. As for the details, Hakon wanted to focus more on [Split Focus]. It was not the best Skill, as it consumed a considerable amount of mana every few heartbeats, but it helped him greatly.

If not for [Split Focus], Skills like [Mana Shaping] would never have come to him. Being able to split his attention between several tasks was essential. In combat, it would help him analyze the enemy, use several Skills that required constant attention, and focus on attacking. But even outside combat, learning more Skills as well as improving them had been a lot easier with [Split Focus]. Keeping the Maulaxe Crusher by his side, Hakon left the hut.

He returned to the backyard, prepared to spend the day unraveling the scrolls until all the big words made sense. Then he saw Astrid and Björn standing in the sparring ring. They were not engaged in combat but were grumbling to one another when Hakon stepped forward.

"Finally!" Björn the Bear groaned.

"We thought you were dead!"" You thought that. I did not!" Astrid's hand shot forward, stabbing Björn in the side. She turned back to him with a smile, while Björn gasped for air beside her.

"Where have you been? We expected you to join the others on the training grounds with the others after the Battle of Generation, but you never came."

"You were supposed to show off to Ulfar and his idiot friends," Björn groaned, still rubbing the spot Astrid had stabbed.

"If he can still call them friends after killing them."

"That was not a smart decision." Hakon nodded.

"The tribe needs as many combat-capable warriors as it wants to survive."

"Pearot?" Astrid asked, which he confirmed with a nod.

"I expected as much after what the Shaman said. Does that mean we're going to have to fight all the other Tribes who've completed their Battle of Generation before us?"

"Not necessarily. We can unite our forces with the other tribes. Loush was already defeated, and Katus is far enough away to survive a few more cycles even if Pearot were to try something. As for us–""We have the chieftain," Björn completed, which was again confirmed with a nod.

"Yes, we have the chieftain, but we don't know how much longer that's going to protect us. If Pearot awakened a legendary power five cycles ago and has been in constant battle ever since, which may as well be the case, their legendary warriors might already be closing in on the 4th Ascension." Hakon invited his friends into his thoughts.

"That makes sense. And even if it's not the case, expecting the worst means we're going to be prepared for everything." Astrid agreed wholeheartedly. But her smile cracked, and she turned to stare at Hakon.

"Which is all the more reason to join us on the training ground. Training alone out here won't help anyone. It won't form a community of warriors that are willing to die alongside you." She had a good point. Hakon knew that much as well. But the training he had in mind was unlike anything the young warriors had seen. Even if they had acknowledged him, they would never acknowledge his training. Especially not if he started reading now, acting like a Shaman.

Rather than the next chieftain, let alone the rising Warlord, they would come to think of him as a Shaman rather than a warrior. And that he did not want. Hakon was a warrior. He would become a chieftain and unite the tribes, not only to show his father or to bring his mother back, but to attain his own goals as well. It was what he wanted, and he could not have anyone doubt him. That's what got him thinking. He was not like the other Barbarians. He had learned Skills not even his father had heard about.

And maybe, maybe that was something he could make use of. What if– Is that possible? Hakon tilted his head. He didn't know, but he was willing to give it a try.

"Astrid. Björn." He called out to his friends.

"Do you want to learn a new Skill?"