Chương 62: Interlude - Ulfar

Ulfar The Rite was a success. Of course, it was. Ulfar had always known that he was destined for greatness, and the Ancestors' decision only confirmed that. It was inevitable. He looked around, the corners of his lips curling into a smug smile as he bathed in the tribesmen's attention. Young warriors and old Barbarians gathered around him to congratulate him on his firm connection to the Ancestors. They didn't understand that the Ancestors had only awakened what had always been within him.

It might look like the Ancestors gifted him this legendary power, but he would have obtained it whether they favored him or not. That, if nothing else, was something Ulfar was certain about. He savored the attention and the attempts of all those trying to get close to him, and he would be gracious enough to accept them. Even the fools who sided with Hakon before, were included. He was that magnanimous. As long as Hakon suffers, Ulfar thought, glancing over at the pathetic excuse for the chieftain's son.

Hakon was a nuisance, and he had always been. The Behemoth Blood responded, igniting his seething emotions and setting them ablaze. His rivalry with Hakon had lasted for as long as he could remember. Cycles of never-ending fights, some of which he lost because Hakon cheated, and others that resulted in his inevitable victory. He was better than the chieftain's son, and he deserved Hakon's position more than anyone. It was his right to replace the old chieftain, and the Ancestors agreed wholeheartedly.

So did his Ancient Power. I passed their tests, Ulfar told himself, licking his lips at the thought of his next fight with Hakon. The next time they met, he would crush Hakon in front of Tribe Taskur and the Ancestors. He would rip him apart, demonstrating once and for all that he was the greatest. That he was the rightful leader of the next generation.

"The next Warlord," he muttered, clenching his fists until cracks rang in his ears. Looking down, his muscles bulged and his arms had expanded. Power thundered throughout his entire body, filling him with might he had never thought he would wield. Not this soon after the Rite. He possessed a power of unknown potential, his rise to greatness confirmed, his future seemingly boundless. A sense of relief filled Ulfar at the power coursing through his body.

He had always been the greatest of his generation before the Rite, but now he was leagues above them. Now… now he could truly crush Hakon. That simple thought filled him with excitement. Hakon had it all. Everyone looked up to him just because he was the chieftain's son. They praised him for hunting monsters, even though he was only this strong because his father wasted his time teaching that fool. If he taught me… Ulfar's smile slipped and his mood dipped.

If the chieftain had spent more time teaching him, Ulfar would have been much stronger. He was already a weapon master even before the Rite, yet he had been overlooked. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. He shook his head. Hakon got what he deserved. The Ancestors took everything away from him. He was nothing now.

"The Mind," he chortled, even more certain now that he would become the strongest.

Even though his destiny as the next chieftain was certain, just like his rise to become the next Warlord, Ulfar could not stop. He knew Hakon would not stop either–not before he was crushed and his bones ground to powder–so how could he? His father, one of the strongest warriors of Tribe Taskur, thought similarly. After his own failure to defeat the old chieftain, he wanted nothing more than to help his son achieve what he never could. That was how they ended up leaving the tribehold for half a fortnight.

They departed for the mountain range, its summit piercing through the distant clouds.

"We waste precious time," Ulfar growled at his father after the first night of traveling. His father said little. He did not teach him anything after the Rite either, and they encountered no monsters. Ulfar was certain his father had something to do with that last point, but he would not give an answer when asked.

"We are not," was all he said, his bloodlust spreading far and wide through the eerie forest. Anger bubbled up from deep inside Ulfar, and it only festered the longer they traveled without a fight. He longed for battle, for growth, and to crush everyone. His Ancient Power erupted multiple times over the night. The intervals grew longer, and the breaks in between grew shorter with every outburst, but Ulfar did nothing about them.

If anything, he embraced the surges of power, for they filled him with the strength he needed to dominate his peers and the entire tribe. With Behemoth Blood, it was only a matter of time until Tribe Taskur would be his, and his father knew that. He slowed as the second night approached.

"Are you angry?" his father asked, wearing an irritating smile. Ulfar growled in response, his physique expanding as yet another uncontrolled burst of Behemoth Blood surged through him.

"Good." The irritated smile grew even wider.

"Embrace it. Crush Behemoth Blood's influence and force it to obey. Wield the legendary power to survive, to grow, and to defeat the Taskurs. Son and father." As the words resounded, his father retracted his bloodlust. He retrieved a flower with rainbow-colored petals from his pouch and placed it on the ground.

"This will attract monsters," he said, his voice steely and colder than Ulfar remembered.

"Kill them all. Fail, lose the flower, and I will kill you." That was neither a request nor a command, Ulfar realized. It was a promise. The cold, detached eyes of his father made that much clear as day and night. But Ulfar did not panic. He knew his father would not send monsters strong enough to kill warriors at the 2nd or 3rd Ascension against him. He would crush them, protecting his son. However, that didn't mean it would be easy.

Even monsters with the strength to kill Barbarians at the 1st Ascension were too much for someone who had just undergone their Rite awakening, and Ulfar doubted his father would stop them. If anything, he felt like the rainbow flower would attract exactly those kinds of monsters. And he would have to defeat them. Alone, with nothing more than his Ancient Power.

"I can do that," he muttered to himself, courage and hatred burning deep within him, mingling in the deepest pits of his being.

"I will do it." Behemoth Blood called out to him with the promise of power, and Ulfar pulled it closer. He embraced it tightly, giving in to its temptation. Nothing could stop him anymore. Neither the forest's deadly threats, nor someone as pathetic as Hakon.