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I opened my eyes but couldn't see much. It was dark and I was a newborn baby. My field of view was limited to my hands. I will spend the next months sleeping, eating and shitting under me ... suddenly I felt someone turning me around and slapping my ass. Strange feeling ... usually I was slapping other people's asses. Apparently they thought that if I'm not crying then something must be wrong ... just in case I started to cry, maybe now they will leave me alone. For the last nine months I was in a damp cave, they could let me rest and let me enjoy the fresh air in my lungs.

On the night of my birth, I heard some whispers. I opened my eyes, but I could not see anything ... after a while, not with my eyes, but with other senses, I saw that three women were standing at the table and eating their meal. One is an old woman, the other is middle-aged, and the third is maybe ten.

(Rodzianice POV)

- Sisters, I think he woke up.

- There is something strange about this child, his soul is familiar, but I don't know where from ... as if from a distant future. I do not understand this.

- Tell me what will his destiny be?

- I can't see, too many threads are intertwined with each other ... one soul but many lives ... it must be Weles's doing.

- His fate is uncertain, there is nothing we can do. Let's go sisters.

(End POV)

Suddenly, three women disappeared in the air, no trace of them remained.

I guessed they were Slavic goddesses of fate, three sisters, Rodzianice. When a new baby was born, they always appeared and determined his fate.

A few days passed ... although in my previous life I knew several languages, I hardly understood this dialect, only a few words and a few times the word Kattegat was mentioned, which in Dutch means "cat anus or cat's hole" ... so I was born in Kattegat or his surroundings.

There is nothing left for me to do but go to sleep or fill a diaper ... maybe I'll do both.

My mother named me Ulf, I suspected it was another Weles joke ... First Wilkomir, now Ulf. I'll have to talk to him about it.

One year later.

I noticed that my home is not a normal home ... My father was a blacksmith, so a respected profession, probably good income, but my mother was a slave from the east, probably from Pomerania, Lithuania or Russia.

I found out about it by accident, when my father was away, she told me some stories and legends in her native language. When he returned, she spoke to me only in the local dialect ... I think it was Old Norse.

Once my father found her speaking to me in her own language and he hit her several times until she fell to the floor covered in blood. From then on, she was very careful that my father wasn't around when she spoke to me, also my father liked to drink too, as a blacksmith could afford it. Normal families consumed mead or beer only on important occasions, such as holidays, weddings or funerals.

Two years later.

Unfortunately, these were not good years, my father found a wife, and my mother was sent to Uppsala to be sacrificed on the vernal equinox, 72 living beings are killed every nine years ... animals and humans. Later they are hung up for their blood to drain and soak into the ground.

Even though I could walk and talk already, there wasn't much I could do. My position in the house was only slightly higher than that of a slave, and my father no longer had slaves... so I was fucked.

My stepmother wasn't a bad woman, she beat me and not only that, but I was her husband's bastard. It's hard to expect her to love me ... most importantly, she didn't try to kill me.

Most of my abilities became apparent when I was three years old ... I was able to test the blessing of Jarowit, Weles and Perun ... my past life experience and Perun's blessing meant that mastering the weapon did not take long. Thanks to Weles, the animals were more trusting, and thanks to Jarowit, my hands were enveloped in a golden glow again.

(Stepmother POV)

My husband's bastard is weird, he doesn't act like a child. His eyes are cold and calculating. Once I saw him watching the execution of an outlaw ... after the execution he came up, raised his severed head, looked into the eyes and started to smile. This kid is not normal, there's something disturbing about him, but I can name it.

(End POV)

I watched executions once, an outlaw was caught. The execution was quick and painless, it lacked finesse. I lifted the convict's heads, looked him in the eyes ... there was no fear in them. In my previous life, people preferred to commit suicide, or refused to be taken alive if they knew I was their opponent ... death is to be a lesson for the living and these people know nothing about fear. I will have to teach them that life can be suffering and death can be a salvation.

Two years later.

I decided to kill my father ... I decided it long ago, but at the age of five I think I'm ready for it. Of course I can't murder him, it has to be official and legal according to the letter of the law and my only option is Holmgang. I just need to get him to hit me in public. I will refer to the loss of honor, my revenge for my mother and will call him a coward in public, and if not, I will burn him with the forge and my stepmother ... accidents can happen.

Unfortunately, it was easier to come up with a plan than to carry it out. I did not get discouraged and I was waiting calmly for my moment.