Chapter 1- Hunting gone wrong

"Are you up for it, boy?" asked a muscular bearded man to Yngvarr.

"Of course I'm, dad. Don't you remember the rabbit I shot last week?" Yngvarr replied, punching his chest as if saying, " be proud of me."

"This time, it's not a rabbit, boy. You can prey on a rabbit, but they can't prey on you. Now, a boar is a completely different story," he said, pinching Yngvarr's belly with his hands, " you don't want a boar's husk in the arse."

"In the... arse?" Yngvarr felt a shiver upon his spine, imagining how painful that would be.

Father and son walked through the forest, trying to avoid unnecessary noises. You never know what kind of monsters are lurking around, and if something happened, Yngvarr wouldn't be of any help.

The forest around Kaldaross was calm, at least during the day. This fact turned the forest into the perfect hunting spot for the people of Kaldaross.

Speaking of Kaldaross, life there was quite simple. Everything came from the ground; potatoes, rice, herbs. Only a few of the brave men from the village would venture into the wilds, hunting. Yngvarr father was one of them.

"Dad, where do I shoot the boar?" asked Yngvarr, who was holding tightly his short bow made of wood.

"In the head. Preferable in the eyes, if you can. The boar had tons of muscles and tough skin. The easiest way of hunting one was to shoot right at the eyes. Even if it managed to survive, it wouldn't last long without its sight.

The duo didn't need to walk further as a boar came to their sight, near the river.

"All right, boy, now it's the time to show me everything you learned," Yngvarr father said, holding his shoulders— a way of diminishing the pressure.

"Breath, you can do this," Yngvarr's hands were shaking a bit. He grabbed an arrow from his back and pulled the bowstring.

"Now, aim for the eyes as I told you," his father tried his best to assist, but it was, in the end, something that Yngvarr had to do on his own.

Yngvarr released the string. He didn't think he would make it. A long shot right in the eyes, imagine how difficult that was, especially coming from a kid. But somehow, he did it.

The arrow flew fast as the wind, piercing through the left eye of that boar. The animal was so focused on drinking the river water that it didn't notice Yngvarr arrival and the arrow. It was dead.

"Not bad, boy. Being honest with you, I never thought you would make it, but you are, after all, my son," Yngvarr's father couldn't hold the giggle. He was proud of his son and the man he was becoming. That was something that always caused him fear. He never knew the day he would die, it could happen at any time, and someone would have to protect his family. Seeing how Yngvarr had grown this past couple of years made him happy. Yngvarr would protect and take care of everyone when his time comes.

"Let's go, father," Yngvarr grabbed his father's arms, "we will have plenty of food, isn't it awesome?" he was excited and couldn't wait to tell everyone in the village that he was the one who killed the boar.

"Father?" his father didn't say a word and just put his hands on Yngvarr's mouth.

"Hide behind that bush," he said quietly to Yngvarr, which made him enter in a state of confusion.

"Now, boy. Do as I said, fast."

Yngvarr frowned his eyebrows but obeyed his father without question.

A gigantic wolf appeared right after Yngvarr hid behind the bush, as his father said.

"How did my father knew a wolf was coming? I didn't hear a thing."

Yngvarr lost himself in thoughts, and at the same time, his father was having a staring contest with the wolf, who was near the boar's body.

"It's my boar, go away," said Yngvarr's father, "or else you'll end up the same way." He was acting tough, but he knew that it wasn't a normal wolf but a demonic one. It was a demonic beast who stood at the end of the food chain, but still, a demonic beast.

"Can I win against it with my rank-six body?" He couldn't remember the last time he needed to fight against a strong opponent. Life inside Kaldaross was peaceful, and he wanted to keep it that way.

The wolf had no clues on what his prey was saying or thinking, and it didn't want to wait long to eat, so it rushed towards Yngvarr's father's direction.

"Let's do it then." He said, unsheathing the ax he always carried with him.

Yngvarr paid close attention. It was a rare occasion to see a warrior as strong as his father fight, and he knew that valuable lessons would be present in that fight.

Fighting a beast was far different than fighting another human. Beasts had tougher bodies, but on the other hand, they were dumb as hell, which gave Yngvarr's father an advantage.

The beast moved its's front palm, trying to hit its opponent. Huge claws the wolf had, and if that hits, Yngvarr's father would be in trouble.

Yngvarr watched as his father somehow dodged that fast hit and swang back his ax to perform an attack of his own. Yngvarr didn't know if it was his eyes playing tricks, but he was sure that the air moved with the speed of his father's attack.

The ax managed to hit the wolf's back, tearing its muscles and skin. It looked gross. Blood and body parts fell to the ground, and the wolf howled loud in pain.

"It looks like it's a weak beast this one. No problem for me at all," Yngvarr's father thought, and as he was looking relieved in that fight, despair came.

A pack of wolves heard the howling and came to rescue the wounded wolf.

"Why am I always this unlucky?" Yngvarr's father was sure that it was impossible to win against that pack of demonic wolves, at least not alone. Surrounded, he made a hand sign to his son, Yngvarr.

"He wants me to run away? No way I'll leave him. But what can I do?" Yngvarr's brain tried its best to find a solution, but the only thing he could think about was how weak and useless he was.

"Die beasts," yelled Yngvarr's father, swinging his ax, trading blows against four wolves at the same time.

The air had a strong scent, blood; his father was slowly but surely losing the fight, and there was nothing that Yngvarr could do except watch it.

"My father taught me how to hunt. I managed to kill a rabbit and a boar, perhaps I can do something against these wolves," thought Yngvarr, moving his hand, looking for an arrow to reload.

"Hold on, kid," a voice entered Yngvarr ears, stopping him from doing anything stupid. The one who said that was an old man, dressed in fur clothes similar to Yngvarr and his father, but the man had a cloak covering most of his body.

"Who are you?" Yngvarr was surprised. Kaldaross was a small and remote village, and the number of travelers was little. The coincidence was too much; just when his father needed help, someone arrived.

"You know my name yet you don't know me," said the man, smiling.

"I don't understand," Yngvarr thought the man was a lunatic.

"You'll. Now, shall we kill these puppets?" The old man then turned his attention towards the battle. Yngvarr's father was struggling, and his wounds were getting worse and worse every second.

"You can rest now," the man traveled fifty meters in less than a second.

"Who are you?" He asked the same question but got no response.

The man simply waved his hand, and all the wolves exploded in a pile of meat. Father and son couldn't comprehend the amount of power one needed to achieve that feat.

"It's over. Easy isn't it?" it looked like a child's play to that man, and that fact caused fear inside Yngvarr's father.

"He's a cultivator, and a strong one. I can't sense what level he is."

"Just exactly who are you, sir?" he asked again.

"Someone passing through, that's all," the old man replied, walking towards Yngvarr once again.

"That boy," he pointed, "is your son, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir. Is there a problem with him?" Yngvarr's father's eyebrows frowned.

"Not at all. He's quite special," the man said, reaching his pocket.

"What do you mean?" that conversation was strange. Father and son didn't have a clue on just what that man was trying to say.

"Here, grab it," He threw a necklace, and said, "It's yours, kid. Don't lose it." These were the last words of that old man before he vanished.

Yngvarr grabbed the necklace before it hit the ground, examinating it. It was made of silver, with the image of an eye carved on it. Yngvarr had never seen anything like that. Different, but he liked it.

"Well, that was strange. Let's go home, boy. Otrygg lost a battle. How embarrassing," Otrygg couldn't accept that he had lost the battle. After that day something clicked inside him. A desire for power.

"Boy," Otrygg gave his son a serious look, and said, "don't tell anybody about what happened today."

"It's our secret father. You can rest assured," of course, Yngvarr obeyed his father, or else who knows what would happen to him.

"All right, boy. I'll grab that boar and we'll go back to the village."

****

The wounds in Otrygg body were healing way faster than a normal human. A perk of having a rank-six body. Speaking of rank-six body, Otrygg was thinking of starting the cultivation training of his son earlier. He wanted to wait for Yngvarr to turn 8, but the events of that day made him realize how weak they were, and the sooner his son got stronger the better.

"Father, who was that man back there? How did he kill the pack of wolves in a second?" Yngvarr asked Otrygg on their way back, excited, " and how exactly did he do it? I didn't see a thing."

"I don't know, boy. I'm just as clueless as you," Otrygg answered in the only way he could, and continued, "now enough talking about that, we're here," he pointed to a house. They had arrived at Kaldaross.

"Otrygg you're finally here. How was the hunt?" a man asked as soon as they entered the village.

"It went well Sod. In fact, it was my son the one who killed this boar," Otrygg had a proud face and said, "I think my son is stronger than yours after all."

"You, what?" it took a couple of seconds before Sod realized what he had heard.

"No way. My son is way better than yours," He couldn't accept the fact that Yngvarr had killed a boar, while his son couldn't even kill a fly.

"Just facts sod," Otrygg laughed happily, "maybe Yngvarr and your son can duel sometime then. What do you think?" He knew that Sod wouldn't accept that duel.

"Another day perhaps," Sod answered and left. Otrygg and he were rivals, and he was weaker. Sod had a rank-five body while Otrygg had a rank-six. They fought a lot of times, and Sod didn't win a single one. That was the reason he held so many expectations of his son. He couldn't beat Otrygg, but his son, maybe he could do it one day.

"Let's go home, Yngvarr. We have quite a story to tell mom."