The Veiled Man
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The Barbarian Awakening - Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2025-03-13 11:12:21 +0000 UTCChapter 2: The Valtherian Village The bodies of the direwolves lay where I left them, already drawing scavengers. I didn’t have the time or
Chapter 2: The Valtherian Village
The bodies of the direwolves lay where I’d left them, already drawing scavengers. I didn’t have the time or strength to strip them for materials; rather, it surprised me that such a thought even occurred to me. My only focus was getting out of this damn forest with monsters running after me.
I stared at my hands, still slick with blood but somehow beautiful. Back on Earth, these same hands had trembled just holding a coffee mug on bad days. There were good days too, but during those bad days, I felt like shit.
Now they had torn apart monsters.
A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me. Not the laugh of a madman, but of someone who'd been given wings after a lifetime of crawling.
I didn’t have time to waste, though.
I dragged myself through the underbrush, breaths burning in my lungs. The taste of blood lingered in my mouth—whether mine or the direwolves', I couldn't tell anymore. My newfound claws had retracted back into my hands, leaving behind only raw, tender flesh where they'd erupted.
I was surprised when much of my wounds were healed during the earlier level up. It wasn’t a 100% regeneration like how it worked in some games, but it was better than nothing. However, it didn’t take long for me to gain new injuries.
It hurt quite a lot, more so since I was gripping my ax again.
"Status," I whispered, needing to know how bad things were.
===
Name: Thorvyn Valteria
Age: 17 years
Race: Barbarīⱥꞥ
Mana: 0560/3800
Level: 19| 66% EXP
-
Class: [Not Eligible]
Class Skills: [None]
-
Bloodline Ability:
Valtherian Physique - [E?]
Osmotic Evolution (X)
LOCKED - [?]
LOCKED - [?]
General Skills:
Endure - [C]
Slam - [D]
Leap - [D]
===
The translucent window appeared again. I was still Level 19 despite having killed a few more wolves, but that wasn’t where my eyes lingered. I looked at my Mana. Mana: 0560/3800. It had increased from 3500 to 3800 after leveling up, but I’d used much of it regardless to flee from the rest of the monsters, having to fight them in the process.
That didn’t look good. I didn’t know what would happen if Mana hit zero, and I didn’t want to risk testing it.
The skills cost a lot of mana to use. Especially the Osmotic Evolution. That was why I’d withdrawn the claws and rather chose to use my axe now.
“Haah,” I sighed, taking a spot behind a large tree’s trunk. The position allowed me to hide from the eyes outside. I didn’t like this… I didn’t feel good.
I wouldn’t have to be running or hiding if I was stronger than this. Level 19 was good, but I… this body, Thorvyn, was Level 17 before, and he’d been stuck there for a long time. From what his memories told me, it was pathetic for people his age in the tribe.
That was why Thorvyn was forced to take the courier job earlier, even though it was usually women’s work. It always bothered him.
I didn’t worry much. Gaming was something I was used to, and if the world had a system like this, I believed I could turn things around. I just had to survive this day.
But there was something else that made me curious about the Status Page. Weird. Why is ‘Barbarian’ considered a race on the status page? Are they not humans? The text also looks funky around the end. Then there are the locked Bloodline Abilities… Huh.
I had no answer to that, but perhaps the mother of this body brought me more than just this hair? My… Thorvyn’s mother. The thought came out of nowhere. I never met her. The memories I inherited from Thorvyn barely mentioned her at all.
Yet, somehow… she was at the center of this.
Just what was she?
I didn’t recall anyone else in the tribe with such an insane ability to be able to absorb the ability of monsters, even if temporarily.
On that note, all this was as if something out of a game. Down to the Skills. I might have had a hard time believing if I hadn’t already used them before.
The ranks were odd, though. E, X, ?, ?, C, D, and D…
Also, most skills were self-explanatory since I’d used them in the last battle, but why was the Valtherian Physique ranked weird? E with a question mark. It was F before.
I tried to click it. Some games show the details of a skill when clicked, and I hoped that was the case here. To my relief, an explanation surfaced.
°°°
Valtherian Physique [E?] - Passive Skill
Description: The lineage of true warriors. The strength of the Valtherian lineage is born from a bloodline that condenses mana into physical power. As a Valtherian grows and levels up, the mana shapes their physique; their body naturally becomes stronger, their muscles harder, and their endurance greater. This skill enhances the user’s physical abilities, making them capable of feats beyond normal human limitations.
Effect: Increases your strength, stamina, and physical durability based on level, mana, emotions, and willpower. You’re more resistant to physical injury, falls, and fatigue.
Issue: Error! Conflicting bloodlines detected. Abilities sealed and suppressed. The Valtherian Physique will remain weak, incomplete, and diluted until the restraints are broken and sealed abilities are awakened. Unlock all the dormant bloodlines to reclaim your full strength.
°°°
I blinked. Thorvyn’s memories weren’t clear, so I couldn’t be sure, but I didn’t ever recall him seeing this page before. Had he never thought of clicking it? Was he just dumb, or was it a common thing to do?
What the hell.
That aside, what’s up with the ‘Issue’ thing? I’d somehow unlocked one of the sealed abilities right after I survived that scary Soul Deletion… Was that why the skill grew from F to E? In that case, how could I unlock the other sealed abilities?
A distant howl echoed through the trees. More direwolves.
The pack was regrouping, hunting me down. I couldn't stay put. "Shit," I muttered, forcing my legs to get up. I was injured, but I couldn’t die here.
Military training kicked in—find high ground, assess the situation, plan the next move. The dense forest canopy barely let any sunlight through as I pushed deeper into Netherwood. Massive roots created natural barriers I had to climb over.
Strange insects buzzed around my blood-soaked clothes. Something screeched overhead. A bat-like creature with multiple wings that thankfully showed no interest in me.
After what felt like hours, the ground began to slope upward. My thighs burned with each step, but I pressed on. Higher ground meant safety, visibility, and a fighting chance.
A rustling in the bushes ahead made me freeze. “Huh…”
I concentrated, willing my new ability to activate. 24 hours hadn’t passed, so I could still use it. The bone claws burst from my knuckles again—less painful this time, but still uncomfortable.
A creature lunged at me—smaller than the direwolves but no less vicious. Some kind of forest cat with six legs and glowing yellow eyes. I sidestepped its attack and drove my claws deep into its neck. It thrashed wildly before going limp.
[You've killed a Shadowcat – Level 15!]
[You've received experience points!]
No level up, but I'd take the experience. “Oh shit, I forgot I’m on low mana…” This was messing with my cognitive awareness. I wasn’t supposed to use the ability when I had my axe waiting at the waist.
I moved on quickly, not wanting to attract more predators.
Two more encounters followed—a snake-like creature with multiple heads and another Shadowcat. I dispatched them both using the axe this time, though the snake managed to sink its fangs into my calf before I severed its head.
I managed to kill it, but pain lanced through my leg.
“Shit.”
I needed the village. Fast.
My leg throbbed with each step afterward, but I couldn't afford to rest. It was most likely poisonous, and I didn't want to risk falling unconscious and dying here.
Finally, the trees thinned out, and I emerged onto a rocky outcropping. After hours in the shadowy forest, the sudden brightness momentarily blinded me.
When my vision cleared, I gasped.
A vast panorama spread before me—a tropical archipelago of lush islands surrounded by crystal-blue waters. The island I stood on was one of the largest, its volcanic peak visible in the distance behind me. From this vantage point, I could see how the Netherwood forest covered much of the interior, while beaches of black and white sand ringed the coastline.
"Damn," I whispered, momentarily forgetting my pain. The beauty was undeniable, even in this strange and dangerous world.
A movement caught my eye—smoke rising from a collection of structures near the shoreline. It was a village with buildings constructed from wood and thatch and surrounded by a crude wooden palisade. People moved about inside, tiny from this distance but unmistakably human… or at least humanoid.
The Valtherian Tribe. My tribe, according to Thorvyn's memories. This body’s home.
My stomach growled fiercely, reminding me I hadn't eaten since arriving in this body. How long had Thorvyn gone without food before I took over? Days, judging by the hollow feeling in my gut.
A grunting sound drew my attention to a grassy shelf about thirty feet below my position. Three wild boars rooted through the soil, oblivious to my presence.
They were smaller than the boars I was carrying when I first arrived, but their meat would sustain me. Plus, the memories told me that bringing food back to the village was never a bad idea.
I crouched low, calculating my approach. The shelf was narrow, offering little room to maneuver. One wrong move, and I'd plummet down the mountainside. But hunger drove me forward.
I scaled down carefully, my hands clutching the rocky surface tight. The boars remained unaware, focused on whatever roots they were digging up: twenty feet, ten feet, five.
I leapt, careful not to accidentally activate the skill.
My axe rose high, catching the sunlight as I crashed onto the nearest boar. It squealed in panic as the obsidian blade sank deep into its neck. The other two scattered, but the ledge limited their escape routes.
I rolled to my feet and lunged at the second boar as it tried to charge past me. The axe raked across its side, drawing blood but not stopping it. The beast wheeled around, tusks gleaming. It charged again, forcing me to dive aside. My shoulder slammed against rock, sending fresh pain through my already battered body.
The third boar seized the opportunity, rushing at me with surprising speed. I barely managed to twist away, its tusk grazing my ribs. My blood spattered the grass.
"Not today," I growled, summoning what strength remained.
I feinted left, then sprang right as the boars charged again. My axe found the second boar's spine, severing it with a sickening crack. The third animal hesitated just long enough for me to pounce, driving the blade into its skull.
Silence fell over the ledge. Three boar carcasses lay around me, their blood mingling with mine on the rocky ground.
[You've killed Wild Boar – Level 12!]
[You've killed Wild Boar – Level 13!]
[You've killed Wild Boar – Level 12!]
[You've received experience points!]
Still not enough for level 20, but the meat was worth more than the experience right now. I cleaned my axe and examined my latest wounds.
Nothing fatal, but I was accumulating injuries faster than this body could heal them. I needed shelter, rest, and medical attention—all of which might be found in the village below.
After dressing the boars with practiced movements that seemed to come from Thorvyn's muscle memory, I hoisted all three carcasses over my shoulders. Their combined weight threatened to buckle my knees, but I steadied myself.
The path down was treacherous. Loose stones skittered away under my feet, and the weight of the boars threatened to throw off my balance with each step. Sweat poured down my face, stinging my eyes and mixing in with dried blood.
I focused on each footfall, breathing heavily. As I descended, the village grew larger, and its details became clearer. There were wooden huts with thatched roofs, a central fire pit, and warriors standing guard at the entrance.
My new home. Or at least, a place to recover before figuring out what the hell I was supposed to do in this world.
****
A humid wind rolled off the ocean as I trudged into the village, three boar carcasses slung over my shoulders. My steps were heavy—partly from exhaustion, partly from the weight of my catch. Each breath burned in my chest, the cuts and bruises from my trek through Netherwood still aching.
A few villagers noticed me coming and muttered among themselves. Most wore animal hides or simple cloth wraps, with bone and wooden ornaments. The homes, crafted of timber and thatch, sprawled along winding pathways. Smoke curled from open rooftops, and the tang of roasting meat reminded me just how hungry I was.
I paused near the village gate—rough-hewn logs lashed together with rope. Two guards stood on either side, yawning but instantly straightening when they spotted me. One of them had a spear at the ready.
“Thorvyn?” he said, squinting as if making sure it was really me. “Where… did you...?”
He trailed off, staring at the boars. His shock was obvious, but I didn’t bother explaining. I just grunted and pushed on, ignoring the dull pain in my ribs. A trickle of blood ran down my arm, but I'd been through worse already.
“Shit! Wait,” he said and ran to the side to withdraw a wooden cup. “Here. Drink. Saman’s healing potion. Help with blood.”
I looked at it. There was a thick, green mixture inside, letting out a stench. It was some kind of healing potion, from what Thorvyn’s memories told me.
I didn’t hesitate to drink it. My mouth burned with the bad taste, but I didn’t stop. I knew it was effective from my memories and should help with the poison as well. My wounds closed visibly, although not fully, and the fatigue also eased a lot.
“Thanks,” I nodded at him, and he just laughed, patting me on the shoulder. I walked past the gate, carrying the boars still. As I moved deeper into the village, more eyes turned my way—some wide, some narrow with suspicion. A few of the men shouted quick praises:
“No way.”
“Tch. Thought he was wolf food...”
“Maybe he does have some of his father’s blood in him…!”
I didn’t respond. My throat was too dry, and besides, what could I say? I just wanted to drop these boars somewhere safe and find something to eat or drink. Preferably both.
As for the comment he made about ‘my’ father, it was interesting. Thorvyn Valteria was actually the son of Dragan Valteria, the previous chieftain. That man had red hair too.
Despite some people looking down on Dragan for having a child with an outsider whose identity was questionable, Thorvyn’s father died with honor in his name. He'd slain a group of [8th Ascension] Krakens, perishing with them.
It was an incredible achievement to die saving the tribe, and for his son to be this weak and pathetic bothered Thorvyn entirely too much.
As I walked away, something reflective at the edge of a wooden walkway caught my attention. Approaching it, I found a shallow bowl filled with water, likely intended for washing or drinking. The gentle breeze caused the surface to ripple, producing shifting light patterns.
I leaned over it, curiosity nudging me. My reflection stared back. Stark-white hair fell to my shoulders, vivid red eyes rimmed with weariness, and a face carrying faint scars and tribal markings. Yet there was something in the bone structure—a familiarity I couldn’t ignore.
My breath caught. It wasn’t an exact match to the face I had on Earth, but… very close. Like if I was cosplaying as a barbarian with long white hair. I lifted a hand, fingertips brushing the contours of my jaw, and the reflection mimicked me, the white hair swaying as I moved.
Trevyn. Thorvyn.
Names that felt too similar, as though some cosmic joke was at play. Or… parallel worlds?
But as I stared, another thought wormed its way into my mind. If I look like Thorvyn, what about his father?
The memories I’d inherited weren’t perfect, but images of Dragan Valteria—the fierce, red-haired barbarian who’d slain Krakens—flashed before me. His face was burned into the tribe’s recent history, a legend. And it looked… almost exactly like my father.
My father’s name was… Darian Valentino. Close. Too close… I felt my blood flowing fast now. Was all this a coincidence? Some weird trick of fate? Or was there something more to this?
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to look away from the water. My reflection rippled, distorting the familiar face staring back at me. There were too many questions and not enough answers.
I exhaled deeply, feeling the realization settling in. This body had previously belonged to Thorvyn Valteria—son of Dragan, the famed Kraken slayer. Was he just me… from another universe?
What the hell.
Shaking off the unease, I pushed away from the bowl, letting the water settle behind me. I couldn’t afford to dwell on the mirror image for long. There was a lot to think about, yet I knew I wasn’t going to get any answers staring at water. I’d need some private space for proper reflection. I should drop these boars first and have a meal.
When I reached the main gathering area, a large communal fire pit in the village center, laughter rang through the air.
A group of barbarians stood near the flames, talking loudly, some chewing on fresh cuts of roasted meat.
“Hah! Guess wolves got him,” one of them chuckled, tearing into his meal. The voice sounded familiar. “Took long enough. Should’ve happened years ago.”
“Bah, serves him right,” another grunted. This one I was sure of. It was that guy Venir who’d hit me. “Useless brat… he really think he is one of us just ‘cause his father had red hair. But look at him—weak, white-haired, cursed.”
I felt my jaws clench as I stopped. Had that bastard intentionally left me to die, then? I suddenly felt hot, my fingers twitching. I decided to wait for a moment, making sure to note who else was part of this group.
A few others nodded in agreement, laughing. “Then-”
– BANG.
A wooden bowl shattered against a log near the fire, shattering into pieces. The laughter died instantly.
“What the fuck are you guys even saying?” Ragna’s voice cut through the air like a blade. She stalked forward, fists clenched, eyes blazing.
The warriors looked at her, some shifting uncomfortably. Venir, the smug bastard with a jagged scar over his nose, rolled his shoulders and smirked. “What? I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking,” he said, gesturing around. “He weak. He slow. He dead. It is what it is.”
Ragna closed the distance between them so fast that he barely had time to react before her fist slammed into his jaw. The impact sent him stumbling back, knocking over a wooden bench. A few warriors barked in surprise.
“You little shit,” Ragna spat, standing over him. “We a hunting party. Rule is strong ones protect weak brothers. We suppose to stand or fall together. It not matter who weak and who strong. No… If we truly strong, we supposed to protect our weaker brothers. We Valtherians! But you? Under your command, you left him to die.”
The man wiped blood from his split lip, anger flashing across his face. “We not leave him. Wolf attack separated us! You was there. You forget wolf pack tearing at us?!”
“That a lame excuse,” Ragna snapped. “You lost sight. You ran. Not try to pretend.”
Another warrior stepped between them, glaring at her. “Keep your voice down, Ragna,” he muttered, his gaze flicking toward the longhouse where the chieftain resided. “Chief already angry. We lost boars. You think making trouble help? You think Chief happy if Chief hears you is stirring trouble?”
Ragna opened her mouth to argue, but she hesitated. A shadow of frustration passed over her face as she clenched her jaw. I frowned. She wasn’t the leader of the group, why was she receiving the chief’s anger because of the team’s failure? Was I failing to recall something…?
Venir smirked again, wiping his lip. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered. “You act so tough. But you, a pathetic little-”
A heavy thud made the air go still.
All eyes turned toward me as I dropped the three boars onto the dirt. Sweat dripped down my brow. Blood stained my arms. My legs burned from exhaustion. But I stood tall, rolling my shoulders as I wiped my forehead.
“....” The silence was deafening.
“Enough,” I said, refusing to watch my defender getting insulted any further. “I have returned. And I’ve brought food.”
One of the warriors who had mocked me earlier opened his mouth and then closed it again. Ragna stared at me, eyes flicking from the boars to my face. Her lips parted slightly, shock written all over her features.
Venir’s eyes could have fallen off anytime, but surprisingly, he was the first one to regain his senses. He scoffed, crossing his arms. “H-heh... There you are with our boars… Took you long enough. We thought you got eaten.”
No one laughed.
“Shame. Thought I’d make a better ghost,” I muttered, staring at him. “Also the boars ain’t yours. I hunted ‘em myself. Different size, different color. Unless you blind, you coward bitch?”
Whoa, what’s wrong with my mouth? I was a little surprised at my own language. This body was clearly affecting me. Or was it? I couldn’t be sure as silence stretched for another second—the barbarians were shocked at my words.
Then, someone muttered under their breath, “…What the fuck?”
**
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Ragna Valteria:
Comments
IdolTrust
Completely different direction I think. But again good so far.
