The Veiled Man
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The Barbarian Awakening - Chapter 9
🕑 Added 2025-03-13 11:18:35 +0000 UTCChapter 9: The Class Choices
I left the shaman to his hookah and stargazing, my mind swimming with thoughts of my mother. The Ethenia Empire. The Fenixia Duchy. Places I'd never heard of, yet somehow they felt important now. I needed to find out more, and there was only one other person who might know something.
The Chieftain.
She’d gone to the outside world too, with my father’s entourage. Although I think she didn’t know as much as the shaman, I could be wrong. Even if she didn’t know about it, maybe she could help me consider which Class would be the best for me? She was the strongest on the island, after all.
I wandered back toward the celebration, passing groups of drunken barbarians wrestling and laughing. The drums still pounded, and the fires still blazed, but my focus had shifted. I needed to find Yrsa.
As I approached the communal fire, I noticed something had changed.
A wooden platform had been erected, adorned with fruits, meats, and oxther delicacies. Atop it sat a massive divan-shaped throne carved from bone—dragon bone, if I had to guess—and on that throne lounged Yrsa Valteria herself.
The moonlight made her body glow. She was an older version of Ragna, but with a lot more scars across her body. She also had tribal tattoos that Ragna didn't have yet. But much of it was covered by her very covering outfit tonight, which was quite different than her usual barbarian attire. With that crown she wore, she almost looked like a normal Queen.
One thing remained the same, though; it was one of her eyes that was covered by her hair, and I wondered what was under it.
She reclined with casual authority, holding a carved horn cup filled with amber liquid. Her eyes gleamed as she watched the festivities below, and a small smile played on her lips. She looked almost content.
I hesitated at the edge of the platform, unsure of the protocol. Was I supposed to bow? Wait to be acknowledged? In my old life, approaching someone of authority required certain formalities. But here? I had no idea.
I shifted from foot to foot, watching her from a distance. She took another swig from her horn, her eyes scanning the crowd. Abruptly, her gaze landed on me, and her smile widened slightly.
"Oy, Thorvyn," she called out, her voice carrying over the noise of the celebration.
I turned awkwardly, trying to act like I hadn't been staring. "Yes?"
She beckoned with her free hand. "Come here."
I approached the platform, climbing the few steps that led to her throne. Up close, I could see that what I'd thought was a simple chair was actually more like a divan—wide enough to seat multiple people comfortably.
Yrsa patted the space beside her. "Sit down here."
I blinked in surprise but did as she commanded, settling onto the bone throne beside her. It was surprisingly comfortable, the surface smooth from years of use.
She draped a heavy arm around my shoulders, her strength evident even in this casual gesture, and continued drinking from her horn.
"Um... you called me for something, chief?" I asked after an uncomfortable moment of silence.
"Yes," she said, pushing her horn toward me. "Drink."
I stared at the offering, unsure. I reached for it, but just as my fingers brushed the horn, she snatched it back.
"Ah, shit... right, wait, you'll die if you drink this." She reached behind the throne and produced another bottle, this one smaller and stoppered with a wooden plug. "This one should be suitable for your body."
Die? Just how strong is that drink? I took the new bottle reluctantly, pulling the stopper free. The scent that wafted up was strong—fermented honey and something spicy. I took a tentative sip. It burned going down, but not unpleasantly.
Yrsa watched me drink, her eyes narrowing slightly. After a moment, she spoke. "That hair of yours," she started. "I never liked it. I hate it right now, actually. It reminds me of your mother."
I nearly choked on my drink. "...You met my mother?"
"Hah, no. If I did, I'd have killed her," she scoffed. She sounded totally serious. "I just heard about her… a lot. The woman who stole the world from me. That wench."
I remained silent, the pieces clicking into place. The way she'd named her son after my father, Dragan. The way she looked at me sometimes, with that mixture of pride and other emotions that shouldn’t be normal... Right, she must have had feelings for my father.
"But that face of yours..." she suddenly grabbed my face with her large hand, her calloused fingers digging into my cheeks as she stared into my eyes. Her face was flushed, the alcohol clearly having some effect. "It reminds me of him far too much for me to hate you. I've always cheered for your success, you know? Because you're his son. Do you know how happy I am to see you finally gain recognition?"
"I can't imagine," I managed to say, my voice muffled by her grip.
"Of course you can't, silly boy," she burst out laughing, releasing my face only to slap me hard on the back. The force of it nearly knocked me off the throne, my vision blurring momentarily from the impact.
She stopped laughing abruptly, her expression sobering. "I'm not drunk, Thorvyn," she said. "I didn't call you here to reminisce about old love. I have... something to tell you. Some advice. Or a warning, depending on how you see it."
"...Feel free to speak."
"Ragna and you… I see that you’re getting close. I am not telling you to take her as your mate or anything, don’t misunderstand, but in case things develop between you two in that direction in the future, simply on that chance… I want to warn you. To never leave her no matter what.”
“....”
“Strong Valtherian warriors can take multiple mates, for that is the sweet gift of strength; never forget that. Do not be like your father. Do not abandon... someone who loves you... for someone new. If you do, I'll be mad. Really, really mad. Keep my daughter happy."
I stayed quiet, taken aback. Ragna and I were comrades, allies who'd faced death together. She was the closest person I had in this tribe after everything we’d gone through, but there was nothing romantic there. Yet Yrsa was speaking as if she were warning a potential suitor, like a protective father from back on Earth.
I understood her words, though. My father had broken her heart, bearing a child from another woman. Since she was traveling with him, she must have felt devastated that some random woman managed to steal him when she was right there. That made me wonder how she’d never met my mother, though… Had Yrsa returned early?
That was beside the point. From what she said, it seemed she would have accepted being one of many—if only my father had wanted her at all. He hadn't. He'd chosen monogamy with my mother instead.
I couldn't judge him for that choice. In this tribe, monogamy or polygamy was either a choice, and it would be wrong to judge anyone for choosing their preferred path. For myself, I… wasn’t sure. But right now, with Yrsa's intense gaze fixed on me, agreeing seemed the wisest course. She could snap me like a twig, after all.
"I understand," I nodded. "I'll treat her well… if things develop in that direction."
She grinned, patting my back again, though mercifully lighter this time. "Good, good. I like that. Hah... Now..." she poured more alcohol into her mouth, then suddenly grabbed my shoulder, pulling me closer. The situation moved too suddenly, too fast. "I apologise for this, but your face... ugh... Let's just say this is a drunken mistake."
Huh- what the fuck is going on?!
Before I could react, she pressed her lips against mine in a deep kiss. I froze, completely caught off guard…. although only for a moment. Male instincts made me return the kiss. Around us, a few barbarians who noticed the scene cheered loudly. Apparently, the tribe’s strongest could choose to be intimate with anyone without being scandalous.
She pushed me back after a moment, wiping her lips with the back of her hand and grinning. "Whoa, that was… wonderful. I think you kiss better than him."
My brain stalled. That just happened. The strongest woman on the island—the chieftain, the woman who could snap me in half—just kissed me. And the worst part? A traitorous part of me wanted to lean back in as she eyed me with a grin.
"...I think I’m going to return to my chambers now, chief," I said, standing up quickly and turning away. Such a thing was probably incredibly disrespectful, and I could be punished for it, but I didn’t think she minded.
Behind me, I heard her booming laughter as I fled the platform, my face burning.
****
I fled the platform, feeling quite awkward. The celebration continued around me, but I needed space to clear my head. As I rounded the edge of the village, away from the main fires, I spotted a familiar silhouette standing alone, staring out at the darkness.
Ragna leaned against a tree, a clay mug dangling from her fingers. Her posture was slightly unsteady. The toddy had clearly been flowing freely tonight.
“Ragna,” I called. “What are you doing here?”
"Nothing~ Just… me see you had fun with mother..." she said without turning, her voice carrying a strange edge I couldn't quite place.
I stopped short, wondering how much she'd seen. "It wasn't… Uh, that wasn't my idea." I didn’t know why I felt like had to defend myself, but after that talk with Yrsa, I had to.
She turned, firelight catching her face. Her expression was unreadable, eyes slightly unfocused from drink. "She always take what she want." She attempted a shrug that turned into a wince, her free hand instinctively moving to her side. “Me surprised you say no.”
That's when I noticed the dark stain spreading across her tunic.
"You're bleeding," I said, stepping closer.
"Oh, that. It nothing," she insisted, but her complexion was ashen beneath her usual color. "Old dragon wound open again. In party. Give time, it heal."
I frowned, gently moving her hand away to examine the wound. The gash had indeed reopened, but something wasn't right. The edges had an unnatural blue tinge, and thin red lines were spreading outward beneath her skin.
"This isn't normal healing," I said, my concern overriding any awkwardness from moments before. "The dragon's claws must have left something behind. A toxin or magical contamination."
She tried to wave me off. "Just need sleep. Pain makes you–"
"Stronger. Yeah, I've heard that one before." I cut her off. "This isn't about pain. Those red lines are blood poisoning. If we don't treat it properly, you could lose more than just tonight's celebration. You don’t want to become a liability to the tribe, do you?"
Her eyes widened slightly, finally registering the seriousness in my tone.
"Let me help," I said more gently. "I've seen this kind of wound before."
I hadn't, not exactly, but the principles of infection and wound care were universal. I hoped. My military training had covered battlefield medicine extensively.
"We need clean water, boiled hot," I said. "And some of those red berries that grow on the thorny bushes near the stream. Plus whatever strong alcohol you haven't already drunk tonight."
She studied my face for a long moment, then nodded. "Healer hut nearby. Has things you need.”
The next hour passed in focused work. I cleaned the wound thoroughly, extracted a nearly microscopic dragon scale fragment embedded deep in the tissue, and created a poultice from the berries and other herbs I recognized from the forest.
"This is it. The scale fragment is still carrying the dragon's magic," I explained as I worked. "Your body can't push it out on its own. That's why the wound won't heal properly."
Ragna watched with curious eyes as I applied the mixture and bound the wound with clean cloth. "How you know these things?" she asked, her voice softer than usual. "Even shaman not know. Not know why wound not close."
He didn’t? Hah. Or maybe he’s just high. I chose my words carefully. "Maybe it’s from my mother. Maybe that’s why I know how the body fights illness. Dragon venom is like a serpent's poison, but slower and magical. It doesn't just wound… it corrupts."
As I finished, I noticed her breathing had eased. The angry red lines were already beginning to fade.
"Thank you," she said simply, her eyes meeting mine with newfound respect. “Thorvyn.”
An uncomfortable silence stretched between us. I knew she was thinking about her mother, about what she'd seen earlier. "About your mother…" I began.
"No need explain," she cut me off firmly. "She does what she want. Me not want to know more." She paused, then added more quietly, "Just... me hear stories. She loved your father. Much."
I nodded, understanding more than she probably realized. We sat in silence for a while, the sounds of celebration carrying from the distance.
"You save me from dragon. Two times now," she finally said, letting out a soft laugh. "Once with body. Once with... smarts. You risk your life for me. Both times." She looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "Why?"
I was confused. "What type of question is that?”
“Me… me left you behind. When direwolves attack.”
“It wasn’t you. The team leader did that.”
She sighed, “Still, me was on the team.”
“That’s all in the past now. Now… you’re part of my team. We're partners," I said finally. "Dragon-slayers. We look out for each other."
A silence passed as her eyes twinkled. She seemed to accept this, nodding slowly. "Partners," she repeated, testing the word. "I like that."
****
The noise of the festivities faded as I slipped back into my hut, leaving the chaos of the village behind me. The dim, flickering light from the fires outside danced through the gaps in the walls, casting strange shadows over the rough-hewn interior.
I let out a long breath, filled with tiredness and anticipation. I’d gone to Yrsa to ask about Class stuff, but things ended up so differently. But the party was… fun, I guess.
I had to flee since I really didn’t want a 6’8” boulder of a woman getting more drunk with me. Not that she wasn’t attractive, fuck she was hot, but the situation was too complicated.
but I didn’t want to stay out all night, passing out from too much drink or collapsing in the middle of the celebration. No, this was more important. I had to choose it now.
I dropped onto the bed, the furs sinking under my weight as I took a breath, letting the quiet of the hut settle around me.
The energy outside buzzed like a distant car engine, but here, in the dimness, I felt a calmness I hadn’t felt all day. It was time. “Status,” I called up the screen, which was invisible and glowing faintly in the dark.
===
Name: Thorvyn Valteria
Age: 18 years
Race: Barbarīⱥꞥ
Mana: 4900/4900
Level: 27 | 22% EXP
-
Class: [Choose Here]
Class Skills: [None]
-
Bloodline Ability:
Valtherian Physique - [D?]
Osmotic Evolution [B]
LOCKED - [?]
LOCKED - [?]
General Skills:
Endure - [C]
Slam - [D]
Leap - [D]
===
I looked at my status page. There wasn’t much of a change except for my Level and Mana. I gained 6 levels since last time and 900 extra Mana. Interesting.
I didn’t waste any further time on that. I clicked [Choose Here]. The screen expanded before me immediately, and eight options popped in front of me.
The first four were the ones I’d seen before, they hadn’t changed. [Warrior] - Basic, [Berserker] - Advanced, [Beastmaster] - Advanced, and [Giant Slayer] - Unique.
Each had its appeal. Not the Warrior, though —that was too basic. The Berserker, on the other hand, had raw power and the frenzy I liked in a fight. The beastmaster, too, was charming. Commanding beasts would have its uses.
But it was Giant Slayer that really pulled at me. I’d killed an ogre once, and now a dragon. Both creatures were larger than a house. I could see myself growing into that.
But then… there were more options. The list shimmered as the four new options pulled at me, bathing the dark hut in a faint, eerie glow.
I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing as I took them in.
[Primeval Dragon Shaman] - Advanced
Role: Primal Elementalist
Description: The Primeval Dragon Shaman taps into the ancient elemental powers of dragons. This class combines raw barbarian strength with mystical powers, allowing the user to channel draconic vitality and unleash devastating elemental attacks.
Abilities:
Heart of the Dragon
Elemental Infusion
Drake’s Breath
Primal Bond
[Wyrmsoul Raider] - Advanced
Role: Spirit Berserker
Description: The Wyrmsoul Raider draws upon the spirits of fallen dragons, using their essence to boost strength, speed, and agility. This class allows for powerful, spirit-infused attacks and the ability to use the elemental breath of the last dragon defeated.
Abilities:
Soul Fusion
Spectral Claws
Dragon’s Breath
Spirit’s Endurance
[Draconis Stormborn] - Unique
Role: Dragonstorm Channeler
Description: The Draconis Stormborn channels elemental powers directly into their combat style, wielding draconic elements like fire, lightning, or ice. This class enhances both physical attacks and magical abilities, creating a devastating combination of speed and elemental fury.
Abilities:
Elemental Fury
Tempest Strike
Dragon’s Eye
Storm Call
[Dragon Aspect Champion] - Unique
Role: Draconis Warrior
Description: This class allows the user to temporarily gain the physical traits of dragons, including scales, claws, and wings. They become fierce melee fighters, wielding these dragon aspects to overpower enemies with raw physical might and durability.
Abilities:
Claws of the Wyrm
Dragon’s Gaze
Wings of Fury
Scaled Armor
“That’s a lot of options.” The last four were quite dragon-heavy classes. I didn’t hate that. Dragons were cool. Although….
Honestly, I was expecting a Class that’d give me a hint about my bloodline. About my mother. But there was nothing on that. Nothing similar to Osmotic Evolution.
I sighed and began to study each one in turn. Properly.
Each of these classes didn't just offer power but status as well. It was as if that dragon had opened a new path for me, a chance to use the primal draconic power for myself. How many people could slay a dragon before choosing their Class? I was new to this world and had no idea about the outside world, but even then, I’d guess few. If any.
I'd have to be really careful about what I choose.
A few minutes later…
[Congratulations! Your path is now set.]
Comments
The Hand Behind the Veil
Hahahaha yes, but there's been a very recent rewrite that dates back to like a few weeks ago. So this is all new content, I've updated all patreon chapters with that stuff
BubblyGhost
Oh dang, you wrote this awhile back
The Hand Behind the Veil
Sorry if you missed the tag!! It's not a secret, both RoyalRoad and Scribblehub are tagged with Harem tag
Kooooomakimi
oh god.. Please don't tell me this is harem?
Detectivetrap23
It’s kind of funny, the first half of this chapter is about his mother and the second half is about his mommy haha
The Hand Behind the Veil
When Yrsa talked about the "Divine Cult" a few chapters back, she meant the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult. So this is in the future! 300 years
Aquitar Silentium
Is this before or after the Fenexias get wiped out?
