"Focus your mind. Breathe in and out. Spread your senses," Aksel instructed, his voice calm yet commanding, carrying the weight of someone who had mastered his craft.
Ragna obeyed, closing his eyes and letting his breathing slow, the rise and fall of his chest becoming deliberate and measured. Gradually, he began to feel his mind expand beyond the confines of his physical body. The air grew still around him as if holding its breath, waiting for the moment of connection. He felt the faint stirring of his Men—his psychic energy—like a ripple in a still pond. It swirled within him, first chaotic, then steady, as he pushed a fragment of his consciousness outward, into the physical world.
It was a surreal experience. His internal senses extended beyond his skin, probing his surroundings with an awareness that was both strange and exhilarating. The crisp scent of pine and earth was sharper, the sound of rustling leaves more vivid, and the warmth of the sun on his tan skin seemed to seep deeper than ever before. He could feel, not just sense, the texture of the ground beneath him, the flow of air brushing against his face, and the subtle vibrations of the life teeming in the forest.
"Now, push against my psychic energy as much as you can," Aksel said, his tone tinged with an air of challenge.
Ragna tensed as he felt a flicker of Aksel's psychic energy touch his own—a subtle yet undeniable intrusion. It was gentle, like the first wave lapping at the shore, but behind it, Ragna could sense an ocean of power held in reserve. Releasing more of his own energy, he directed it toward the disturbance, weaving his focus into a barrier to repel the intrusion. He imagined his mental force as an unyielding wall, bracing against Aksel's push.
The clash between their energies was brief but intense. Aksel's energy was like a stream of water testing for cracks in a dam, and Ragna's resolve held firm, dissipating the burst before it could breach his defenses. Despite the effort, his connection to the surrounding world remained unbroken, his senses still heightened.
Aksel nodded, a faint smile curling on his lips. "Impressive," he said, his admiration evident.
Ragna opened his eyes, his body still tense from the effort. "Thanks," he replied, his voice laced with both relief and pride.
Aksel took a seat beside him, unscrewing the cap of a weathered canteen filled with water from the nearby lake. "Drink," he said, passing it to Ragna.
Ragna took it gratefully, the cool liquid sliding down his throat. It wasn't just water—it was alive with something more. Ever since Aksel had introduced him to the lake, Ragna had felt its properties refining his psychic energy, sharpening his mental focus, and amplifying his abilities in ways he didn't fully understand.
"You've grown so much in just a week," Aksel remarked, watching him closely. "Most people struggle for months to achieve what you've managed in days. Your instincts are sharp, and your mind is naturally attuned to the flow of psychic energy. If you keep this up, you'll master it sooner than you think."
Ragna managed a small smile, but the weight of his own limitations tempered his pride. "I can't even form a core to cultivate Essence," he said with a sigh, swirling the water in the canteen. "It's frustrating. I can feel the energy, but I can't shape it."
"Patience," Aksel replied. "The foundation you're building now is more important than you realize. Psychic energy is a subtle force, and rushing will only cause imbalance."
Ragna nodded, though the frustration lingered. His thoughts drifted to the past few weeks, to his mother and her unyielding focus on the seaport. She had been busier than ever, dividing her time between her royal duties and ensuring the security of the kingdom's most vital trade hub. It was unlike her to be so preoccupied, and her unease had not gone unnoticed.
"Aksel," Ragna said after a moment, breaking the silence.
"Yes?" Aksel turned to him, his expression warm and inviting, as though encouraging him to speak freely.
"What do the Vikings stationed at the seaport do?" Ragna asked. "I know they're there to protect the kingdom, but… with Frodi's peace binding the five kingdoms together, why all the extra security at the port? My mother seems obsessed with making sure it's fully secured."
"You're aware that Frodi's peace does not apply to the Faroe Islands to the Northwest," Aksel began, his voice calm but laced with a somber undertone. He glanced at Ragna, who sat cross-legged on the soft grass, his expression curious but thoughtful.
Scandinavia, the vast continent in which they lived, was a land of breathtaking size, rivaling the combined enormity of three continents from Aksel's former world. Norland, the kingdom they called home, was nestled in the central regions of this great landmass. Yet its influence stretched far and wide, reaching the coastal boundaries where the land met the vast, untamed sea. To the northwest lay Swedland, a neighboring kingdom, and beyond it, the Faroe Islands—a rugged and windswept archipelago inhabited by tribes and clans who refused allegiance to any of the five great kingdoms.
"In the early days of Norland's formation," Aksel continued, "those islands were a constant thorn in the side of the mainland. Raiders would sail out under the cover of mist, pillaging villages and leaving nothing but ash and blood in their wake. It was chaos, unending. But Norland... Norland grew stronger. The kingdom's might was forged in those battles, and the Faroe raiders eventually learned to fear us. They haven't dared launch a proper raid in decades."
Ragna nodded, absorbing Aksel's words. He understood why the seaport, Kattegat, was considered so important. It was a vital artery of trade and a first line of defense. But something about his mother, Bestla, and her recent actions told him there was more to the story than Aksel was letting on.
"Yes, but the islands haven't been a real threat in years," Ragna said, tilting his head as he studied Aksel's expression. "So why station so many Vikings at the port? What's bothering my mother so much?"
Aksel sighed, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as he weighed his response. The boy was young, but far from ignorant. There was no point in withholding the truth.
"You know that most of Midgard is... dead and broken," Aksel finally said, his voice low and steady.
Ragna stiffened. "Yes," he replied. He'd grown up hearing the stories of the Old World, the tales of lands long since lost to ruin and despair.
"Our continent, Scandinavia, is the last bastion of life in this dead, desolate world," Aksel continued. "We're protected here. Sheltered by something we call the Containment Field."
"You mean the barrier," Ragna interjected. His eyes gleamed with understanding.
Aksel nodded. "Yes, a barrier. It's ancient magic, created after Ragnarok by the last Rune Sages to shield this land from the horrors beyond. The Rune Walkers."
Ragna's breath hitched at the mention of the Rune Walkers. "The Rune Walkers from the old stories?" he asked.
"Not just stories, lad. They're real." Aksel's tone turned grim. "Nine hundred years have passed since Ragnarok. Nine hundred years since the Rune Walkers began their march across Midgard, wiping out every trace of life they found. Our Containment Field keeps the worst of them at bay, but… it's not perfect."
Ragna frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The barrier is strong, but it's not impenetrable," Aksel explained. "It keeps out the most powerful Rune Walkers, the ones that could level cities and poison the earth itself. But it comes at a cost. To maintain its strength, the barrier allows weaker Rune Walkers to slip through—creatures that corrupt everything they touch."
"Everything?" Ragna echoed, his voice a whisper.
Aksel nodded gravely. "They target the sea first. The Rune beasts that dwell beneath the waves—creatures born with natural Runes of power—are especially vulnerable. Once corrupted, they multiply, turning into monsters. That's why the Vikings stationed at the seaport are so vital. They're not just there to defend against raiders; they're there to stop those corrupted creatures from reaching the shore."
Ragna sat in stunned silence, the weight of Aksel's words pressing heavily on his young shoulders. He'd always known the Vikings were warriors, protectors of the realm, but he hadn't understood the full scope of their responsibility.
"So, my mother..." Ragna began hesitantly, piecing the puzzle together. "She's leading a charge against the Rune Walkers, isn't she?"
Aksel sighed deeply, the lines on his face softening as he looked at the boy. "Yes," he admitted. "A few weeks ago, a horde of Rune Walkers managed to breach the Containment Field. They poisoned the sea creatures nearby, turning them into corrupted abominations. Your mother... as the Earl of this village, it's her duty to lead the Vikings and ensure the safety of our people. She's out there now, fighting to push back the tide."
Ragna clenched his fists, his heart pounding. He suddenly felt very small, very young, in a world that seemed far larger and more dangerous than he'd ever imagined.
"And you," Aksel said gently, placing a firm hand on Ragna's shoulder, "you're her son. One day, you'll stand where she stands, leading the charge to protect this land. But for now, you train. You learn. And when the time comes, you'll be ready."
"Don't worry," Aksel said, his tone calm yet reassuring. "Your mother is the most powerful warrior in the village. A horde of fourth-grade Rune Walkers will be a cakewalk for her."
Ragna turned to stare at Aksel. The older man wore his usual gentle smile, but Ragna could see the subtle tension hidden behind it. Aksel was worried, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Despite his calm demeanor, the man's clenched fists betrayed his unease.
Ragna closed his eyes for a moment, focusing inward on the bond he shared with his mother. It was faint but steady, like a warm flame flickering in his chest. He could feel her presence—strong, resolute, and unharmed. She was safe, for now. That much he was certain of.
Still, Ragna's curiosity about the Rune Walkers gnawed at him. What kind of entities were they? These beings had brought the world to its knees, and he wanted to understand the scope of their power. How did they compare to the strength he once wielded in his former life? Could they rival the foes he had faced before?
I guess every world goes through its own version of the apocalypse, he thought, a wry smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The idea wasn't foreign to him. In his past life, Ragna had seen the brink of destruction more times than he could count. He'd been born for it—created as a weapon, forged in the fires of endless conflict, and wielded without mercy. It was the reason why, despite the grim state of this new world, he wasn't particularly fazed by it. If anything, the challenge stirred something dormant within him—a sense of purpose.
"We should get going," Aksel said, interrupting his thoughts. He gestured toward the village with a nod of his head. "Your mother should be back by now."
"How often do Rune Walkers make it through the barrier?" Ragna asked, his tone casual, though his mind was anything but.
Aksel hesitated for a moment before answering. "It happens from time to time," he admitted. "Think of it as... a seasonal thing. The breaches are irregular, but not rare enough for us to lower our guard."
Ragna frowned, his brows knitting together in thought. That doesn't sound good at all, he mused. A barrier that allowed the occasional intrusion might protect the land from complete devastation, but it was far from perfect. The thought of such breaches occurring with any regularity only strengthened his resolve.
More than ever, Ragna felt an urgent desire to grow stronger. He clenched his fists, his small frame trembling slightly with the weight of his determination. His tenth birthyear couldn't come soon enough. That was when his latent abilities would finally awaken, granting him access to the power slumbering within his young body.
Aksel glanced at him, noticing the boy's intensity. He chuckled softly, ruffling Ragna's golden hair. "You're a strange one, you know that? Most kids your age would be hiding under the covers if they knew what was out there. But you—" he paused, his smile softening. "You're already thinking of how to fight back, aren't you?"
Ragna looked up at him, his sharp, golden eyes glinting with determination. "Of course. If the Rune Walkers are going to keep coming, then I need to be ready. I don't want to just survive—I want to protect what's mine."
Aksel's grin widened, a flicker of pride lighting his features. "You've got your mother's fire, that's for sure. Alright, let's head back. You've got training tomorrow, and I'm not going to go easy on you, lad."
Ragna smirked, his earlier unease replaced by a quiet confidence. "You'd better not," he said, his voice steady. "I'm going to surpass you one day, Aksel."
The older man let out a hearty laugh, clapping the boy on the back as they began their trek back to the village. "We'll see about that, Ragna. We'll see."