Path of the Fist

So, it was all a dream, Erik thought, feeling his consciousness float in an endless blank space, dissipate, wander…, again.

And again, he refused to forget.

A light came to him. It buzzed like a thousand thunder, yet its warmth, coziness and softness told of its true intentions. It entered his bosom, easing his tortured mind and ethereal body.

He bathed in its comfortable embrace as it fused with him.

Hours, days, perhaps months passed or not at all.

Time had no power in the Void.

At some point, in the absolute darkness of this place echoed noises, subtle at first, then louder, stronger, to the point he could distinguish them despite his hazy mind; people screaming, explosions, steel against steel.

So much noise. He instinctively knew what was happening. Hed seen and heard them too many times. War…, again? Even in this place?

The Void tightened and flexed as a powerful pull dragged him away from the drowsiness.

He resisted it at first, punching whatever was trying to threaten his rest, only to hit something akin to a durelite wall, the most resilient metal under the heavens.

As he unwillingly exited this peculiar place, the sounds got clearer. Beaming light appeared. He could see it though he had no eyes!

Or so he thought.

What is this? Something grabbed him, he could feel it! This makes no sense. Curious, he sought to see, wary of the light. The blurry scenery soon became crystal clear. Snow turned bloody red, gore was everywhere.

Broken shields, axes and swords.

Then pain.

SLAP!

Someone had just slapped his butt!

You bastard! He wanted to say, though instead of proper words, baby wails came out of his mouth. By the Wildfather…, what is this sorcery?

”Congratulations, Matriarch, ” the man holding him said with respect before passing the baby to his liege. ”What name will you bestow upon the young master? ”

The person he was talking to towered over him, her red braided hair a mix of natural color and the blood of her enemies.

She only had fur covering her back and a brassier to keep her breasts from being a nuisance. Despite the cold weather, she wore close to no armor, her stern face riddled with scars like the rest of her toned body signaled her enemies she could allow them such handicap.

If handicap it was.

”Erik, ” she said, her lips curving slightly, ”Erik Basara. ” Even though she just gave birth, the Matriarch, Skadi Basara, looked fine. It was a menial task at best for her who was a rank 11 cultivator and reached the current pinnacle of cultivation.

Erik…, was shocked!

It worked! Thank the revered Weavers. It worked! Wait, is that pretty scarred woman truly my mother? She has never bore such a tender smile while staring at me with her icy blue eyes before.

Skadis smile faded, as if she remembered it was inappropriate. Soon her face became stone cold.

She finally resembled the mother Erik knew.

”A kings name, ” the man beside Skadi replied, turning towards the army, still fighting thousands of swordsmen invaders to shout, ”All hail Erik Basara, the ninth and last child of this generation! ”

His loud voice echoed above the sounds of battle. An explosion resounded, as if to fill the lack of cheers.

No one ever acclaimed the accursed ninth child who was always the one with a poor talent for axemanship, however, the reason lost to time; it was still a custom to give birth to them.

And tradition was sacred in the Basara clan.

A war, his birth, the Matriarch, these events were perfectly similar to what he had heard about his birth.

If he remembered correctly, at the time of his birth, the Basara clan was repelling the assault of the Celeste Empire on the Keza Beach, and would eventually succeed once the Matriarch seriously joined the fray.

Those Celeste pricks had picked the day of his birth to invade, thinking Skadi Basara would be weakened.

Turns out, they were wrong.

That woman was a force of nature, the Matriarch of the strongest family in the northern continent, the ruthless ruler of Nurmen, better known to her enemies as Skadi Bloodaxe.

”Matriarch! ” A shieldmaiden in heavy armor hurried by her side, ”We are losing ground! If we do nothing the Empire will— ”

Skadi patted the shieldmaidens shoulder, reassuring her soldier as she handed Erik over to the old man.

Her regal demeanor was such that everyone around her closed their mouth, certainly an effect of her cultivation art and natural charisma.

With her other hand, she grabbed aside. A great axe obediently flew into her palm: Mordrogen, also called the Last Blade.

Stories said that no one that has seen its blade heading their way ever survived.

Exaggeration or a fact? No one dared refute the stories.

Skadis figure disappeared, moving so fast the naked eye couldn catch a glimpse of her.

If Erik still had an ounce of doubt in him that this was an illusion, the following event proved otherwise. In a mere second, the hundreds of ships proudly flashing the Celestes flag turned to twigs.

Mother truly was, no, is a monster, Erik thought. That heaven defying strength…, there is no doubt. Its her.

He only knew three people capable of such destruction, but only one who looked like his mother.

Now certain he had come back in time, his tiny fists clenched as hard as a baby could.

A torrential storm of emotions surged within him, rekindling the growing embers of ambitions he had kept even in death.

This is it, the chance to seize glory, honor—

At that moment, golden threads appeared in his vision, weaving symbols.

—

[Fate Quest: Divine Seed]

Objective: Become the first new god of Ulreon.

Time Limit: None.

Rewards:

1) Control over the Fate System.

2) 1 000 000 wyrd.

3) Divine Saga [Allfather]

—

And perhaps something more, it seems. Eriks gazed flashed with ambitions.

He guessed those who had regressed like him have received the same quest.

No one knew how to become a god, yet, otherwise, the heavens would not have been empty for a thousand years.

This is making my Norse blood boil. I cannot wait to start.

Next to him, the old man known as Caliber Wolf and the ninth sons newly appointed butler saw something in the babes deep icy blue eyes brimming with determination, then…, then those eyes slowly closed.

Caliber wondered if he was imagining something. There was no way such spirit came from the cursed ninth child, less so as a baby.

But first, I need to catch some sleep, Erik thought.

He was so tired. Was a babys body always this feeble? Training would have to wait until he grew up more.

Erik Basara, ninth and last child of this generation, fell asleep in his butlers arms, amidst joyous banging of shields and cries of victory.

_______

Lore Extract:

”I have seen the unseen paths, heard the cries unheard, and touched upon an intangible realm. Ulreon is filled with mysteries left by those that came before, the deceased gods, and Fate itself. One, in particular, has occupied my mind for over a century: why is the ninth child of our family cursed? No matter my strength and wisdom, Ive yet to find my answer. ”

—Skadi Bloodaxe