The nest was quiet. Reich's mind wasn't.
The dried blood on his skin felt irrelevant—like dust on steel, present but unimportant. His body no longer ached, but it felt… altered. As if it wasn't entirely his anymore.
Not just muscle and bone. Something else had settled inside him, threading through his veins, coiling beneath his skin.
It wasn't the bear's strength that lingered.
It was its rage.
Reich flexed his fingers, feeling the tension, the quiet hum of something waiting.
What did I do?
The knights in the book had a process. Weeks of meditation. Discipline. Generations of preparation. They had time to adjust. They had purpose.
Reich had none of that.
Just desperation.
He sat cross-legged in the nest, surrounded by bones, feathers, and the stink of old death, forcing his breathing into a slow, controlled rhythm.
In. Out.
Nothing. No surge of power. No awakening of instinct. Just the hollow beat of his own heart.
He clenched his fists, nails pressing against skin.
Was this all I got?
His jaw tightened. Frustration burned hotter than fear. He slammed his fist into the ground—wood cracked beneath the force.
Still nothing.
A shadow passed over the nest.
Reich didn't look up. He knew what it was. The mother bird, returning as the chicks screeched for their next meal.
She doesn't even know I'm here.
The thought curdled inside him, bitter and sharp.
His hand hit the ground again, harder this time.
"What did I even gain?"
Then—
A flicker.
Not in his mind.
In front of him.
A faint glow, pulsing softly like a second heartbeat.
[Blessing Activated: Berserk]
Every time you endure an attack, your power and rage grow. The effect resets when no more attacks are directed at you.
Reich's breath caught. His gaze fixed on the words, glowing pale against the darkened nest. A blessing.
The core had given him a blessing.
Power simmered beneath his skin, humming like a blade just before the swing. It wasn't overwhelming—it was waiting.
And it was his.
Relief should have come. But instead, something else stirred inside him.
Something darker.
The shadow passed overhead again. Closer this time.
Reich exhaled, rolling his shoulders, feeling the tension coil like an unstrung bow.
He was no longer prey. Not with this blessing.
But not yet a hunter.
Not yet.
He moved without hesitation, sinking into the gore-streaked remains at the edge of the nest. His body disappeared into the filth, but his mind was clear.
There was no fear.
Only anticipation.
This time, when the mother bird left, it would be for the last time.
So he waited, hidden beneath the remains of prey long since forgotten. His breath was slow. Muscles taut. The mother bird had vanished into the sky, but he didn't move.
Not yet.
His ears strained. Listening.
Silence.
His fingers twitched.
Slowly, he rose from the filth, peeling away scraps of dried blood and bone as he stepped forward. The chicks reacted instantly—blind, bloated bodies jerking toward him, their oversized beaks snapping at the air, sensing movement.
They thought he was food.
Good.
The first beak tore into his side, slicing deep. Pain flared—then vanished.
Berserk Activated.
Each attack endured fuels strength and rage. Effect resets when attacks stop.
Power surged, sharp and electric. His breath hitched, but he didn't stop.
Another strike.
Then another.
The chicks clawed, pecked, bit. Tearing into him.
Each wound disappeared the moment it came.
And with every strike, he got stronger.
More.
He let them attack, let them feed his power, the fire rising in his veins with each snap of their beaks.
Every strike fueled him.
Every wound was a gift.
Then—too far.
One of them lunged closer. Too eager. Too careless.
His hand moved before his mind did.
It closed around its neck. The pressure was effortless. Thoughtless.
A sharp snap.
The chick's body twitched—then collapsed.
Reich froze. His grip still locked around the shattered bone, fingers trembling.
Reich froze.
The nest, once filled with shrieks and movement, felt heavier.
He had wasted it.
His body still pulsed with growing power, but his hands shook—not from pain. From restraint.
Almost.
The second chick jerked toward him. Blind. Still hungry.
He could do it again.
He wanted to.
His fingers twitched. Curled around the fragile, oversized neck.
He saw himself crushing it.
Felt the bones shatter in his grip.
But he didn't.
Because the mother bird was still alive.
And his rage belonged to her.
He let go.
The chick lurched, still blind, still pecking at empty air.
Reich exhaled. Slow. Controlled.
His strength was immense now, but it wasn't enough.
Not yet.
His gaze lifted toward the sky.
Where she had vanished.
She would soon return.
And when she did—
He wouldn't just be waiting.
○●○
The wind shifted.
She was coming back.
Reich's fingers flexed. His body thrummed with power, the remnants of each strike still feeding the fire inside him. He inhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his own strength.
It wasn't just power anymore.
He stepped forward, rolling his shoulders, feeling the tension stretch through his muscles. He could hear her now—the rhythmic beats of her wings growing louder, heavier.
She would see him soon.
But he wasn't done.
She wouldn't just see him.
She would see loss.
The remaining chicks still stirred, blind and oblivious. Their beaks snapped at the air, drawn by instinct alone. Mindless. Weak.
He glanced at them. He could use this.
Then he looked up. The mother bird was close now, her golden eyes locking onto the nest. She saw him.
Saw what was about to happen.
Reich moved.
His fist struck like a hammer, colliding with the oversized skull of the nearest chick.
Its head exploded.
Bone, blood, and brain matter sprayed across the nest. The lifeless body twitched once, then collapsed. A ruin of what it had been.
And the mother bird saw it.
The sound that ripped through the sky wasn't a cry.
It was something deeper. A raw, unfiltered fury.
The mother bird descended like a storm, her wings beating with enough force to shake the nest, her golden eyes burning with rage.
Reich stood his ground.
She was berserk now, too.
And that was fine.
At least now, they had something in common.
Reich felt it then. A shift. An understanding.
She could have attacked already. Could have obliterated the nest in an instant.
But she didn't.
She wouldn't.
She cared.
She cared about her children.
And as long as one was still alive…
She wouldn't risk destroying the nest herself.
Reich's lips curled into a slow, measured grin.
That was all he needed to know.
○●○
She ruled this land.
The winds carried her will, the clouds parted at her presence, and the earth below feared her shadow.
The Queen of the Sky.
Nothing challenged her dominion over the outer edge of the Magic Forest. Even the predators of the depths, the ones who lurked beneath the blackened canopies, whispering curses into the wind, stayed clear.
Because this was her sky.
And yet—
Something was wrong.
It was the magic she sensed first.
Thick. Twisting. Wrong.
Not hers. Not the wild, raw power of the Magic Forest.
Something else.
Something that should not exist.
Her feathers bristled as she neared her nest, wings shifting against the weight of the unnatural force pressing down on the sky. It clung to her like an unseen predator, watching, waiting.
Then came the scent.
Blood.
Her nest.
Her young.
Her heart thundered against her ribs. Not a kill she made. Not the scent of prey.
It was wrong.
And then—she saw him.
He stood where he should not have been.
Drenched in blood.
Reeking of her nest.
Her golden eyes darted across the ground—one of her young was missing.
No corpse.
No remains.
Just—gone.
Her wings snapped open. A scream built in her throat.
Then—he moved.
A flicker of motion.
A raised fist.
She saw too late.
A crack.
Blood. Bone. Death.
Her young—obliterated before her eyes.
Her scream shattered the sky.
She struck.
Not with claws. Not with beak.
With the wind itself.
Her wings flared, and the air answered her fury. A blade of wind screamed through the nest, sharp enough to carve through stone, fast enough to end an empire.
It would cut him down.
It would erase him.
She would tear him from existence.
And for a moment—she thought she had won.
Her blade struck.
Flesh tore. Bone severed.
His arm—gone.
She exhaled, wings shifting, ready to finish him.
But then—he landed.
His arm grew back.
Not in pain. Not in struggle.
It regenerated in a golden haze, glowing, pulsing with divine energy.
The magic radiating from him surged.
The air itself bent around him.
The scent of death. Of something beyond reason.
She had fought beasts before. Survived storms. Killed giants.
But this—
This was not prey.
This was not even a challenger.
This was something unnatural.
And she had made a mistake.