It's been three months since White's last apparition, by now, Erik thought the ghost had guided him to this cave to help.
This place was already a good home upon his arrival, it became even better after he added his personal touch.
Wooden pikes encircled the entrance, pointing outward.
Frozen wolverine, snake, wolf heads were impaled serving as a warning to deter beasts—though more kept coming, Erik had so much meat stored he'd never go hungry for half a year, and some rank 1 were allowed to flee since it'd be a waste to kill them.
Rank 1 beast cores brought no benefits to him anyway, by releasing them, Erik hoped they'd come back for vengeance after ranking up.
Well, it was also his shamanic knowledge that demanded him to preserve the ecosystem, eradicating every predator in the surrounding might upset the balance.
In the cave, three new rooms were dug using his "magic tricks."
A kitchen with a chopping table, drying racks, and shelves filled to the brim with food.
Several stone pots created using the shamanic art [Mold] stored fruits, and vegetables. A few were used to ferment and brew homemade alcohol—gotta enjoy the little things, there was no age restriction in Nurmen to drink alcohol and technically, Erik was 39.
[Mold] was quite the practical art, as long as the material was linked to the Earth element, Erik could shape an item; the bigger an item the longer it takes to shape it and the more wyrd is used.
A bathroom had been created for more comfort, furnished with a toilet and a bathtub sculpted using [Unearth] and [Mold], under it was a fire pit to melt snow into water.
It had taken Erik several tries before finding the right combination of stone and clay to keep the bathtub from crumbling because of the heat, but it was worth the trouble.
Finally, Erik's favorite room, the training room!
Furnished with a training rock dummy, weights crafted from stone and wood specifically balanced for his needs, it was the place he spent the most time in.
There was even a rope and noose so he could hang himself.
…
Caliber's homework.
It was called Iron Neck. By hanging himself every day, Erik would toughen his neck. Practical against strikes on this area, very painful to train—mentally and physically.
Erik had plans for further expansion but left that for later.
What troubled him more right now was the shape of his wyrd core.
After finishing his training for today, Erik was taking a warm bath while pondering this issue. If he tarried to rank up, he might not get in trouble soon.
Rank 1 beasts were too weak to cause harm, rank 2 could penetrate his toughened skin but died anyway, rank 3 would prove a challenge, a deadly one even.
'My fists ache at the idea of fighting a Rank 3 beasts but, perhaps I am being too greedy,' he thought, splashing his face. 'My wyrd is too weak. I've absorbed twenty-three rank 2 beast cores so far, which should have given me 115 wyrd, but I've been stagnating at 290 wyrd. Their wyrd no longer sustains my own it seems, at least not as long as my core isn't formed. Meh, I shouldn't rely on beast cores too much anyway.'
Absorbing a beast's wyrd also meant absorbing a fraction of their wills. Their goals, desires, and paths, will be mixed with Erik's own. So long as he remained faithful to his wyrd, his path, he'd face no issue, however, if he erred at one point, the beasts' wills might erase his own.
Most called it spiritual impurities, the more one had, the harder it got to reach higher ranks. There existed ways to purge those impurities, none at Erik's disposal though.
'Should I stop now and form my core? No, no, I'm so close. However, I really need to figure out a shape.' He's been thinking long and hard on this topic and found no satisfying answer yet. 'Guess it's time to ask for advice from my totem beasts.'
He hadn't done so until now because Rex was… well, Rex.
The dog knew nothing, abnormal for a totem beast, but maybe the raven could help. It's just that since they still weren't contracted, Old Bone might not pass on her knowledge.
'It's worth a shot.'
He exited his bath, revealing the few claw and bite scars he earned these past months.
Quickly grabbing a fur towel, he wiped himself off and opened the clay cap to empty his bathtub, water swirled, and sucked in an underground waste reservoir.
After changing to his rabbit fur underwear, he went into the main room.
"You took a bath, friend? Why didn't you call me? I like taking baths with you!" Rex said, resting by the fire camp.
"Next time, Rex," Erik petted his companion as an apology, "I needed some alone time to ponder an issue."
"Did you figure it out?"
"No, that's why I came to you for advice," Erik sat on a wooden bench next to the fireplace.
"Oh! I might not be the smartest, but I'm sure I can help!" The dog said, wagging his tail. "Shoot!" Ever the enthusiast.
"I've yet to figure the shape of my wyrd core," flames lighting his face reflected his concern. "Any idea? Because I'm dry."
"What's a wyrd core?" Rex titled his head aside in an inquisitive manner.
'Figured as much,' Erik thought, sighing, he explained. "A wyrd core is the crystallization of one's wyrd." A quick look at the dog's quizzical gaze told him he had to explain what wyrd was. "Wyrd is the manifestation of one's fate, destiny if you prefer. Every living being has it, the only difference is the quantity flowing through them. And yes, mages too, they just chose to call it mana and wield it differently. Got it?"
"I think so," Rex nodded. "It makes you p... powerful!" That wasn't wrong nor right, mastery of one's wyrd sometimes mattered more than having a large amount of it. "So why wait, then? Form your core, quick!"
"That's the issue, Rex, you cannot simply rush this process, it'd be beyond unwise." Caliber's unbreakable bottleneck was the perfect example of the consequence of having chosen wrong. "A core's purpose is to store wyrd, the more there is, the stronger one becomes, a catalyst of power you could say. However, its shape is as important as its content, it represents your path, personality, beliefs, and hope. Your destiny. Should it not fit with who you are, it will be detrimental to your growth. And once formed, a core cannot be reshaped."
"Hum, sounds important, I understand better now. Thanks for the e... explanation, friend!" The dog turned to the raven staring intently at Erik. "Any idea, Old Bone?"
Caw.
"What? Why not?"
Caw!
Rex stood up in indignation. "You've been watching for three months now, you know he's worthy. Just accept the contract and be done with it."
Caw! Caw!
'Wildfather…, here we go again,' Erik thought, leaving to fetch a piece of wolf meat. These two wouldn't stop for a while. He needed something to pass time and fill his empty stomach, eating was perfect.
Caw!
"Hey! That's not nice to say," Rex retorted. "If I'm stupid, you're a senile, s, s, stubborn old bird!"
As per usual, the raven darted at the dog, however, Rex did not submit to his punishment this time.
Erik has been training him for combat since their arrival in the cave. The dog was pitifully weak but learned faster than most would give him credit for.
The result of his training showed when Rex dodged the raven's peck and growled in defiance.
"Erik needs our help!" Rex crouched once more in time to avoid the raven's claws.
Caw!
"Bound by honor? Stop your catcrap! If that were true, I wouldn't have had to call you when you refused the summon!"
"Refused the summon?" Erik rushed back in with a piece of dried meat and stared at the raven who paused his incessant attacks and perched on the bed. "So that's why it took so long." If it weren't for the dog he might still be waiting for the bird to show up.
Old bone avoided his gaze, seemingly feeling guilt.
Caw.
"I know I'm not the smartest," Rex admitted, "but I am not s... shameless like you. What honor? What c... contract? To the Void with that. Aren't we supposed to help our destined companion? Isn't that our p… what we were born to do!?"
Erik had rarely seen his life companion so angry before. Either the old raven was being truly unreasonable or the dog's desire to help was that strong.
"Thanks, Rex. I think it's enough. Let her be," he said. Old Bone was silently staring at the cave wall, apparently conflicted. "She probably has her own reasons. We can't and won't force her hand. I don't want to have this kind of relationship with my companions."
"I won't stop. I can't stand liars," Rex retorted. "Old Bone knows how to help you, she won't say, but just doesn't want to. The c... contract thing is an excuse. It's because she hates your clan."
"What did my clan do to deserve her scorn?" Erik also disliked his clan for many reasons, however, a totem beast hating it? That's not normal.
"I don't know. Old Bone and the others don't want to talk about it."
"There are more?" Erik's browns lifted in surprise. That was inconceivable.
"Yes, all the old ones hate your clan" the dog confirmed.
Erik fell deep into thoughts at the revelation. If old totem beasts came to hate the clan their creator had favored, the Basara family must have done something truly awful to them. But then why did totem beasts still answer the summon if they could refuse? Or perhaps something prevented them.
The raven landed on his shoulder, ending his reflection.
Caw.
"What?" Rex asked, looking outside then back to the raven. "It's still sunny out there."
Caw.
"Oh, looks like my power of persuasion worked, friend!" The dog wagged his tail, returning to his usual happy-go-lucky behavior.
Old Bone emitted a sharp menacing sound as if to say "don't push it."
"What did she say?" Erik asked.
"That your core should be a storm," Rex explained. "She's been watching you attentively and says it'll best fit you."
"A storm? Which one?" To Erik's understanding, there was more than one kind of storm. Snowstorm for instance, or even a dreaded magic spell like [Fire Storm].
Caw. Caw.
"Good question, she says," Rex translated. "Old Bone meant a thunderstorm."
***
Lore Extract:
"Why did the lone wolf go to the shop? Because he was looking for a back-pack! Get it? He has lost his pack so he tries to get it back! Hahaha! No? Okay..."
— A joker entertaining the Wolf Clan.