Sitting the battle, Old Bone watched from her perch atop a stone apple carved on a pillar, her beak slumped, her gaze saddened at the Void calling for Rex's soul. There was nothing she could do, not until the Basara kid passed the test her god had foretold, or die here.
It was her duty to wait, she was bound, her powers restrained, without them, Old Bone was just another raven. Yet, she yearned for the direwolf's blood to flow, her anger flared at the sight of the Last Born ragged breaths; Rex never was the smartest but she knew he had more potential than others gave him credit for.
When he had insisted to follow her into the mortal realm, she had her doubts at first, however, the portal's refusal to close and the dog's pestering changed her mind.
If the summoning ritual the Wildfather had crafted demanded Rex's presence, then who was she to deny it?
'Damnation kid!' She cursed mentally, 'What the Void are you doi—' The raven furrowed her feathers, Erik remained still, his eyes empty as if peering into another world.
Something about the air around him changed.
'Could it be...'
***
A few minutes ago.
"Hear me, beast!" Sieg called, coming out from the staircase's shadows, dried blood coating his wounds, axe in hand. "You've yet to pay for the lives you've taken; my neighbors, my friends, my little boy. I will carve their names into your corpse."
The direwolf growled, then spat the dog out and licked the blood on its mouth and teeth, only to show a disgusting smirk; its cunning glinting in deep yellow eyes, showing a burning desire to kill the man who has hunted it for days.
"Come, no more hiding, no more games, only my blade against your fangs." The hunter pointed his weapon at the creature, ignoring his injuries. "I am Sieg Olvir, last son of Styrbjorn, strongest hunter of Lei, and I claim your life!"
Sieg's axe glowed golden as he used the last of his power to burn his wyrd, accelerating his now inevitable death in exchange for a brief power-up. Overwhelming strength flowed in his life circuits for the first and last time.
"The Void may claim my soul, but I will bring you along for this last journey!"
He gathered his strength and went past the pain as he exchanged vicious blows with his sworn enemy, opening his closed wounds.
"Death!!!"
***
His heart ached as such Erik heard none of the snarls, roars, and shattered stone, his attention entirely focused on a furry figure.
The world turned grey around him, and ghosts appeared in his vision, watching him running to Rex's side.
A thin golden thread linked to the dog's bosom that, like Erik's hope, dimmed with each passing second.
"It's okay brother, everything's gonna be fine," he lied, kneeling next to the dog, shocked, traumatized, cursing his failure to protect the companion he cherished most.
With shaking hands, he took out the mid-rank healing potion and gently applied the content to Rex's wounds.
"Don't leave me alone, again."
The dog may lack smarts, was naive at times, and was quick to rush into danger but he was also brave, gentle, and loyal. To Erik, he was far more precious to him than his pride would have acknowledged aloud.
Beyond the curtain of tears blurring his vision, he could see the bite marks. Perforated lungs, broken ribcage, massive loss of blood.
There was no coming back from that, and yet, out of despair, he had chosen to waste a precious healing potion. Thanks to it and the dog's abnormal resilience, the blood slowly stopped flowing out, but Rex's wyrd continued fading, albeit slower. Rex coughed blood, and gasped, his belly rose shyly as red liquid left it.
Events in this lifetime had differed greatly from before and flowed in a pleasing direction, making Erik grow complacent and comfortable about his achievements to the point he's forgotten the undeniable.
"I…"
He had thought his regression would have given him a significant edge over others.
He had thought he'd never repeat his mistakes, his failures.
He had thought things would be different.
"I am still weak," Erik voiced with trembling lips, letting the world seal his words for they were the truth.
The church trembled, dust and pebbled fell from the ceiling but, heartbroken, Erik couldn't care less.
The deep truth he had buried under his regression resurfaced along with the past mockeries that came back to haunt him, each time hammering his fracturing spirit, rousing his guilty conscience from its slumber.
"It's pointless, ninth. Why are you still swinging an axe when you'll remain an ergi all your life?"
Because he had hoped he could become a Berserker.
"Look! It's the ergi of the Basara clan training again!"
What choice did he have at the time? His own weakness had pleaded him to become stronger.
"Erik, your weakness cannot protect anything, be it your honor or those you hold dear. Oh wait, I forgot you had no one, so no worries on that front! Haha!"
Thousands of mockeries flowed into his mind in but a second, recalling the weakness within him and breaking the pride and confidence he's rebuilt in this life.
Amidst the sorrow, a warm feeling wet his hands.
The veil of mockeries progressively lifted, mending not his physical injuries, but his fragmented spirit.
And he remembered. Someone had cared for him. Someone had dared call him a brother in truth when all the others mocked him.
Erik lay his gaze on Rex licking his arms injured by the direwolf, trying to heal his wounds even in his pitiful state, privileging his contractor's well-being over his own dying needs.
That's when Erik heard it as something snapped within his very soul, shaking all foundations and thoughts, roused by the rediscovered truth, hastened and amplified by his weakness.
Amongst the receding voices of his past, one spoke a different tone, louder, filled with warmth, genuine care, and a pearl of wisdom that chased away the darkness threatening to swallow him whole.
"Power after weakness."
It brought him comfort, each word giving him back an ounce of courage and understanding he previously lacked.
"I think your clan got it all wrong along with the other two verses, brother."
As if lulled by the past and present, he was pulled into a trance, the words echoing loudly in a realm of his own, guiding him, pushing him to become something more.
"Each has its own meaning and doesn't mean power above all else. I think that the first verse means true power is achieved through weakness. No one is born a transcendent."
Pain, sadness, loneliness, frustration, emptiness, resentment, jealousy, anger, sorrow, and the weakness he had quarantined escaped their prison. They came crashing on his shoulders like a tsunami, entered him, and built up inside, rising, gathering, and raging ever stronger as he realized the Thrill of Battle he loved so much was but a denial of his weakness.
And so, he welcomed everything for he had no choice with the dying proof lying in a bloody pool in front of him: he was weak.
"You may despise your own weakness, however, I know from it you will achieve something greater than anyone can fathom if you persevere."
Hushed sounds like silent crackles buzzed within. Blazing rage ran along his life circuits, enjoying its freedom while heating up his entire body. Anger that could shake the heavens filled him, yet his bloodline ability kept silent.
"Believe me when I say this, brother: a day will come when your potential will blossom."
Rage turned into wrath, rampaging his very soul. Wrath went to his heart where his pain was the greatest. Failing to enter, it settled next to it. More of this energy gathered, lessening the heat coursing through his veins but increasing it in his chest.
Untempered and furious.
Wild and powerful.
Infinite and primal.
"A day will come when, like always, I'll proudly stand by your side, chest puffed with pride as I bask in your light, catching some of that glory while smirking at those that mocked you."
The crushing sorrow fed his wrath that grew and expanded, bloating in his chest, injuring his lungs, muscles, and bones. Hands clenching his bosom, he tried to keep it in but failed.
"So don't be ashamed of your tears because they are proof of the hidden strength within you."
The psychological and physical pain were so great Erik shed red tears and vomited blood. He couldn't go on, his body was searing, being torn apart by the accumulated emotions he'd finally let loose.
Rex's voice grew distant as his consciousness faded and unknown energy corroded his insides but held on despite the storm of emotions and power.
"Don't give up now, brother."
Without Erik's notice, his body found the cold ground, his head resting next to the dog who kept mechanically licking, slower and slower, the warmth of his tongue rubbing against Erik's cheek.
Despite his sight clouded by blood, he saw Old Bone landing next to Rex's nose, her worry evident. She cawed once, the meaning incomprehensible. And yet, in his current state, Erik seemed to understand or more like recalling something that had already been said twice.
Feel, don't think.
The notion dug deeper into his mind, lifting new knowledge and a frontier he has never crossed before.
And so he unclenched his teeth and, instead of bending the energy storm to his will, gently guided it like a father taking a child's hand.
Recognizing him as the owner, the origin of it all, the storm followed and condensed into a single point. Soon the shapeless energy adopted a form, imprinted by Erik's personality, aspirations, and will.
So that it didn't burst and rampaged like before, he trapped it inside the snow sphere he had visualized a thousand times over, which would remain until the unruly child reached adulthood.
A golden glass dome englobed the focused wrathful energy and trapped it. A rain of sorrow, winds of glory, clouds of ambition, and blue lightning of wrath along with a multitude of emotions and traits of his personality took an animated shape.
BOOM!
Outside, thunder clapped once, shaking the heavens, catching the attention of Sieg who was back against the wall, and the direwolf who paused barely three steps to victory.
"Rise."
Erik awoke from his Enlightenment, electricity faintly flashing in his eyes, his injuries numbed by a new power coursing through his life circuits.
"Rise and fight."
He rose on his two feet, taking notice of how light his body had become as a flurry of weaved gold appeared in his sight.
[A part of the curse on your bloodline has been lifted. Your bloodline ability Berserk changes into Primal Wrath!]
[Congratulations! Your Strength, Agility, and Stamina have broken through to the mid-Warrior tier!]
[Congratulations! Your Physique has skipped a tier and broke through to the late-Bronze tier. By skipping a tier, you've accomplished an uncommon deed! Reward: +20 wyrd!]
[Congratulations! You've skipped rank 2 and reached the Late-stage Foundation Realm. By skipping a stage you've accomplished a rare deed! Reward: +30 wyrd!]
[Congratulations! You have formed an Epic grade wyrd core, and in doing so accomplishing an epic deed! Reward: +80 wyrd!]
One notification, in particular, shone brighter, distinguishing itself from the others.
[You have awakened the Beast God's Divine Seed. Reward: +100 wyrd!]
Normally, Erik would celebrate and rejoice but the air tasted like ash, the world seemed so very grey at the sight of his dying best friend who… was undergoing a drastic change of his own.
*****
Lore Extract:
"On Enlightenments. It is not the common definition of the word enlightenment, which means being free from ignorance and misinformation. It is a term only applied to cultivators who enter a trance after reaching a deep understanding of their path, always resulting in an increase in power. A cultivator can reach enlightenment during their swordsmanship training, during meditation, or even during something as simple as cooking their meals. Nobody really knows in detail what triggers the trance since the conditions vary depending on the individual's personality. What we believe but have yet to be proven is that enlightenment can be triggered by those who follow their path, namely, their Dao."
—Patrick Uzel, Magnum Encyclopedia.