Ch.9
Fifteenth month of training.
Out of curiosity, Erik channeled [Shaman Senses], and the world turned gray, or so he thought would happen when peering at Caliber.
Instead, the entire Nursery shone gold, dozens, no, probably hundreds of threads as thick as his arm waved about the room and probably further outside.
'Wildfather…, how strong is this old f—what the fuck!?'
A white human figure was standing by Caliber's side.
White was in the Nursery!
He checked the next day, the day after, and after, White did not miss a day. In the kitchen, his room, the bathrooms, the ghost followed him everywhere!
It was official, Erik was haunted by a lost soul.
Or was it trying to tell him something? No matter how long he stared back, the ghost made no effort to disclose its intentions. He tried everything; ectoplasm slapping, croissant baiting, eeekish, but nothing worked.
In the end, Erik gave up, he came to terms with the possibility he'd be haunted for the rest of his new life.
***
Seventeenth month of training.
BAM!
"Listen brat, a wolf is cunning," Caliber explained, "it always tries to exploit openings, weaknesses, make it so it has an edge when hunting."
BAM!
"That's why the wolf style's motto is 'one strike, one kill.' Always aim to take down your opponent as fast as possible. But keep in mind, that's not because it is weak.
BAM!
"Far from it. Efficiency is all it is. A wolf's jaw can crush iron, steel, silverite even mythril! So what are you waiting for to crush that petty rock with your fangs, brat!? It's a rock! A rock!"
The image of Caliber's head appeared on the man-size rock, Erik didn't even know how the butler brought this here, all he knew was that he wanted to crush it!
Fingers bleeding, fueled by rage, pain, and his own desire for strength, Erik tenaciously clawed at the rock.
***
Final day of training.
"Let's stop for today, young master," Caliber said, swapping his bloody gloves for a new pair he kept in his pocket.
"No body strengthening?" Erik asked.
"Not today. You need to be in top shape tomorrow for your first trial after the summoning. Eat your fill, rest, and enjoy your last night in a bed. You will miss it for the next few years."
Erik had no trouble believing the old fart, he had already survived it once after all.
"What's this?" He asked.
The butler had taken out a small knife. "Since you're not planning on using an ax, I took the liberty of picking a survival knife for you. It ought to come in handy."
For their first trial, Basara children weren't allowed anything—no provisions, no clothes, nothing—but one weapon of their choice, which was of course always an ax.
Almost always.
Erik took the sheathless knife and examined the weapon. The handle was made of grey wood, probably originating from a Steel Tree, its sharp blade showed delicate patterns resembling flames.
"Is this—"Erik started.
"A birthday loan? Yes," the butler interrupted, not mincing his words.
Today's was Erik's ninth birthday, again he had forgotten about it, he's never thrown a party not wished himself a happy birthday, no one had done so apart from Rex, his best friend, and past totem beast.
"This ember steel knife is mine," Caliber said. "I'm only loaning it to you brat. Your family only has axes in their armory. Even after seventy years of service I still can't believe they are such fanatics." That was barely an understatement, in this castle, there were no other weapons than axes, even cooks used special cooking axes instead of knives. "I'll be waiting for you to return it to me. And don't you dare lose it in the wild, I'll be the one monitoring your trial, so if you ever leave it somewhere, I'll know."
The Basara clan sent an examiner for the first and second trials to monitor their children's progress, send reports, kill any assassins that'd try anything suspicious, and make sure the child didn't cheat.
Trial of the Beast must be passed without entering a human's settlement and getting unmerited help, however, you could exchange services with someone or something as long as it was fair and earned.
A warm smile drew up Erik's face as he realized the hidden meaning behind Caliber's words: come back alive, brat.
Despite everything, the harsh training, the taunts, the beatings, he's grown a bit fond of the old man but still wanted to punch his face at least once.
"Thank you, Caliber."
"You welcome, young master, and happy birthday," the butler swapped back to his respectful dialect. There were no cakes, or a huge party, however, that much was already enough, more than Erik thought he deserved.
"Perhaps you would like an introduction on the usage of ember steel, young master?"
Shivers ran down Erik spine, he started thinking the old fart had two personalities, the poltergeist butler and the mad old man.
"No need."
Ember steel was a metal infused with fire properties, once one channeled energy into it, the peculiar metal produced enough heat to glow red. Since he hadn't reached the manifestation realm, Erik would have to use a drop of aura-infused blood to light it.
"Very well," Caliber slowly nodded.
At that moment, a notification showed up, to which he smiled happily.
——
[Congratulations! You have cleared the Fate Quest: Wolf's Plaything!]
Rewards:
1) +50 Wyrd
2) Wolf Style (basic)
Bonus Reward:
1) Caliber's survival knife
——
Rewards weren't always given by the system, Fate only predicted the possible rewards, most often than not—wyrd excluded—people involved in the quest granted them.
Warm energy entered him, and his wyrd accumulation which had barely increased to 170 because he hasn't formed a core yet shot up to 220.
He felt himself growing stronger physically, and mentally.
Wyrd was not only energy that fueled cultivation arts, it strengthened one's Fate, even more now that the Fate Weavers were gone—no one other than regressors seemed aware of that fact yet, though.
A powerful wyrd granted more possibilities, it opened new paths, and influenced a cultivator's way of thinking.
For instance, if a cultivator did not have the required wyrd to reach a Bronze tier physique, no matter how hard they train, they'd never be able to take the next step.
The same went for Strength, Agility, and Stamina.
One's body was but a vessel, wyrd increased its potential and training made it flourish.
Peering into the spiritual realm, Erik saw another golden thread add to his own. Both increased in thickness, shining brighter together.
Curious about his progress, he summoned his Fate Status.
——
[Erik Basara]
???
Core Shape: None.
Ascension rank: Early-stage Foundation Realm (rank 1)
Saga: [Last Shaman]
Wyrd Accumulation: 220/100
Strength: (+) late-Mortal Tier // Agility: (+) late-Mortal Tier
Stamina: (+) late-Mortal Tier // Physique: (+) early-Bronze Tier
Body Types: Wild Blessed / ??? / Cold Resistance
Elemental Affinity: Earth
Cultivation Arts: Shamanic Art (3) / Martial Art (5) / Basara secret Art (2) / Wolf Style (6)
——
"I sense you've strengthened your wyrd, young master," Caliber said, guessing the Fate System was at play. "Successfully enduring my training regime granted you a deed, I suppose."
Pride in the butler's eyes betrayed his good mood.
"Something like that." Telling him this training had been a Fate Quest might upset the butler or not. Erik wanted to avoid any unpredictable reaction, the butler was a madman.
"Did you come up with a shape for your core, young master? I can sense you have more than enough wyrd flowing through your life circuits but has yet to form a core. The advantages of reaching rank—" Caliber paused, narrowed his eyes, and smiled knowingly. "Young master, you're quite a surprising child."
"Thanks?"
"I'm starting to think training you wasn't a waste of time. Since when have you started condensing your wyrd?"
Expert at ignoring the butler's taunts, Erik replied, "Around five years ago."
"That long? You've amassed quite enough to instantly reach rank 2 when you'll shape your core. What are you waiting for, brat? The heavens falling on your head?"
"My wyrd is still lacking. 300 is my goal."
"You're a bold brat," the butler chuckled. "That much will be difficult, you must be accumulating wyrd at a snail pace right now. One piece of advice, young master, seek more deeds, Fate Quests, or consume beast cores during your trial. Cultivating will only add droplets of droplets in your current state."
"I'll remember that advice, got a few more on core shapes?" he said. "Honestly, nothing appropriate comes to mind."
"Now, now, do not sprint, trot. Rushing it will only bring about hindering consequences, but if you wait too long, you'll stagnate. My advice is: give it time."
It was an important step. He had to make a core that better suited his abilities. His previous core had been a sphere, the most basic shape of all.
It brought no specific benefits nor drawbacks, it was a neutral core that would carry one till rank 6, maybe higher with great efforts.
Most Basara picked an ax shape since it increased their affinity with the weapon, sometimes beast shapes suiting their ferocity. Erik could form a fist but that didn't feel quite right, he often used other body parts to fight.
"What's yours, Caliber?" Erik asked, curious.
"An Azure Wolf alpha horn, young master. Been lucky enough to see one at a young age, I felt a connection with it, and shaped my core in accordance. The benefits are plenty. Increased speed, proficiency in wolf style, decent wyrd storage capacity, easier time ambushing people. However, I wouldn't recommend it for you because of what I said before, but not only," Caliber's tone turned a bit serious, he could guess the reason behind Erik's question. "If your goal is the pinnacle of power, a rank 9 wolf's horn won't cut it. My aura core's shape is one of the reasons I'm stuck to rank 9, young master. I suggest asking your totem beast for advice when contracted. Due to the bond, it'll sense your core compatibility. Either that or it's wisdom might enlighten you."
"Good idea," Erik said.
Even if the totem beast had no answers to give, he still had some time before making a decision, rushing things would only lead to a catastrophe.
***
Dark clouds gathered in a frightful cumulonimbus. Thunder roared, clapping the sky into submission, and lightning flashed on all sides. Winds stormed the heavens and earth, Erik's body hovered in-between, drenched, soaked by the downpour. That's when he saw it, a giant cloud taking the shape of a wisened old crow head.
Erik's own existence was incomparably tiny in its presence, fragile, that of an ant compared to a mammoth.
"Who…, are you?" Erik dared ask for the first time, though he received no reply.
This dream has occurred several times now, though it never ceased to terrify him.
"Power after weakness," the raven head repeated the same words as last time, shaking the storm. "All mortals are born weak or become weak at some point in their lives. Weakness is not a plague, a defect, or inherently bad, it is a limit one should fear, respect, cultivate and through struggle, overcome. Only then will you gain true power."
And the dream turned white.
CLAP!
Erik jolted awake, drenched in sweat, pupils dilated out of fear.
'Damnation..., what was that?.' It has come to him once a month since two years ago with those cryptic words. 'Why does it feel so real and elusive every time?'
***
"Amongst the rank 9 Azure Wolf's crown of nine horns, the alpha horn is its deadliest weapon and most priced body part. Runesmiths, alchemists, magicians, the market is vast, name the price is all we'll have to do. Boys, if we get our hands on it today, we'll be shitting gold tomorrow!"
—A hunter said to his team before dying the same day.