The Veiled Man
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The Barbarian Ascension - Chapter 5
🕑 Added 2024-10-10 16:01:01 +0000 UTCChapter 5: RAGNAR, BEHIND ME!
The forest seemed endless, a never-ending sea of green that stretched in every direction. Ragnar and I moved deeper into its heart, pushing aside thick tree branches and stomping through dense undergrowth.
After the goblin ambush, we hadn’t slowed down. In fact, in the last two days, we’d come even further. The forest seemed to close in around us now. The leaves above blocked out the sun, casting long shadows over their path.
Monsters lurked everywhere—some small, others far bigger than the goblins from before. But none of them were strong enough to stop us. Ragnar had leveled up again, although I hadn’t encountered such luck yet. I felt a little bothered by that.
With each fight, I could feel my strength growing. There was something weird. Every battle, every swing of my ax made me faster, sharper. Stronger.
It was like my body was catching up with the power inside me. I guess it was more like my mind was getting more used to Thorvyn’s incredible strength. He was no short of a superhuman. I could feel my muscles adapting, my instincts sharpening.
Ragnar, on the other hand, seemed to be thriving from the get-go. She swung her club with such ease, cracking skulls like it was child’s play. Her grin never faded, no matter how many enemies we faced. Maybe this was her idea of fun. She was a little strange… just like the rest of these barbarians.
Strong, though, I’d give her that.
Leaves rustled around us as we broke through a particularly thick patch of trees, and the landscape changed. “Ah,” the dense forest gave way to a small opening. The sun was lower now, casting a faint orange glow over the clearing. In front of us, the earth rose sharply into the base of a mountain, its rocky face towering above us.
And there, about a hundred feet up, was a dark opening—a cave.
“There it is,” Ragnar said, pointing up. “Looks like a nest. If we’re lucky, that’s where we’ll find a wyvern. Maybe a family of it.”
I tilted my head back, looking up at the cave. “Climb… that?” My voice was flat, staring at the sheer rock wall that led to the cave’s entrance. There were no easy paths, no trails leading up. It was basically a straight climb. How was I supposed to scale that?
Ragnar shrugged, the same unbothered expression on her face. “Thorvyn~ stop wasting time, we’ve climbed worse.” She started forward, her club slung over her shoulder as if this climb was just another part of the day.
I watched her start to climb, her hands gripping the rocky surface with ease. Her form soon rose higher, her thick thighs seemingly mocking me. “...Maybe I should’ve gone first,” I muttered to myself, looking away from her behind.
This is insane. I wasn’t afraid of heights, but the thought of falling from a hundred feet didn’t exactly scream ‘good idea.’ Regardless, I had no choice.
I sighed and followed her, taking my time with the first few handholds. I reached out my hands and gripped the rough rock, pulling myself upward. My strength at least made the ‘climbing’ part of this easy. “Let’s hope this [Valtherian Physique] of mine can handle a fall like that,” I muttered.
Speaking of, I should check the details of that Skill. Now was the best time among any to get a reassurance of that [S] in the rank. I glanced at my status panel and pulled up the details.
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Valtherian Physique [S] - 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.
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The climb was easier than I’d thought. My muscles burned with each pull, but at the same time, there was a strange ease to it. I’ve climbed mountains before, and that knowledge told me that this body wasn’t struggling as much as it should have.
I was stronger than I’d realized. The descriptions didn’t lie; Valtherians were basically boulders in human form.
I kept climbing, my arms and legs moving like clockwork. The higher we went, the colder the air became. I could feel the wind tugging at me, trying to pull me off the rock face, but I pressed on. Ragnar was just above me, climbing with surprising agility for someone who wielded a club bigger than most of the monsters we’d killed.
The climb felt like it would never end, each foot we gained bringing us closer to the cave but making my muscles ache just a bit more. But I wasn’t about to stop. This was just another part of the journey.
Halfway up, I glanced down. The ground below seemed so far away now, the trees like tiny dots beneath us. One wrong step and it’d be a long way down.
“Don’t look down,” I muttered to myself, pushing forward. My fingers dug into the rock, my body following in a steady rhythm. There was something calming about it. The pain in my muscles felt like progress. Like I was earning something with every inch I gained.
Eventually, the edge of the cave’s mouth came into view. The dark entrance loomed over us, waiting. We pulled ourselves up, one after another, until we finally stood at the edge.
Ragnar dusted off her hands, the satisfaction of the climb clear on her face. “Thorvyn, we’re here,” she said, her voice low as she withdrew her club, holding it ready in case anything jumped out at us.
I did the same, lifting my ax in one hand, my body tensing. The air inside the cave was cold, the kind of cold that prickled at your skin and made the hairs on your arms stand up. Whatever was in there, it wasn’t going to be friendly.
We stood at either side of the cave’s entrance, our backs against the rock as we glanced inside. It was dark, too dark to see much of anything. But the heavy silence that lingered there—it felt like we weren’t alone.
I exchanged a glance with Ragnar. She nodded, her expression steely.
I closed my eyes. This was it.
The hunt was about to begin.
****
Inside the cave, the atmosphere was odd. It felt heavy, suffocating like the air itself was pressing down on me. The scent of something burning hung in the air, faint but unmistakable. That wasn’t right. This wasn’t just the musty smell of an old cave.
I frowned. “Can wyverns breathe fire?” I asked, glancing at Ragnar. I needed to be sure.
She shook her head. “No. Drakes can, though.” Her voice was steady, but I could see the tension in her eyes. “But drakes live near the volcanoes, not in forests like this. I guess you’re talking about the weird heat, right? I don’t think there’s a drake here, it’d have rushed us by now if it was. Drakes are very aggressive and aren’t smart enough to wait for ambush. Dragons sometimes do it when they feel threatened, and Wyverns too.”
“Then what about the heat I feel from inside?”
She shrugged, “The heat energy… maybe an injured drake did come down here to recover, and the heat is its leftover. But if there was a drake here, it’s long gone.”
I nodded. That made sense. But something about this place still felt off. “So, is anyone inside? You said your eyesight’s good.”
Ragnar’s eyes narrowed as she peered into the cave. “I... see something big and blue in there,” she muttered, squinting. I watched as her expression slowly changed. Her face grew pale, and she swallowed hard. “There’s… glinting blue eyes. Staring back at me.”
I felt my stomach drop.
The wyvern had noticed us.
There was no point in wasting time now. We exchanged a look, and then we rushed in. The narrow cave forced us to move single-file, our footsteps echoing off the stone walls. The deeper we went, the darker it got, until the only light came from a faint blue glow ahead.
Then, I saw it.
The wyvern—four limbs and two wide wings, one seemingly broken. It was far bigger than I expected, a hulking mass of scales and muscle. And its mouth was open, glowing blue from the inside. I blinked. Then my eyes widened as the retaliation hit me.
It was about to release a fire breath at us.
And as Ragnar said, wyverns couldn’t breathe fire.
“Shit!” I cursed, pulling up short. “That’s not a wyvern!”
Ragnar looked just as shocked, her face going pale. “It’s not a drake either! Those flames are blue!”
A realization slammed into us like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t some subspecies of dragon. This was the real deal—a dragon. A fucking dragon.
Its scales shimmered in the dim light, brilliant blue like the sky before a storm. It wasn’t fully grown, probably a baby, but it was still massive. From the way it moved, I could tell it was injured, as its injured wing proved so. It must’ve fled from somewhere, separated from its parents, and ended up here. But why the hell was there a dragon on this island? The chieftain was supposed to have wiped them all out from here due to how dangerous they were!
No, none of that mattered now.
The dragon reared back, its throat glowing brighter as it prepared to unleash a breath attack. I had no time to think.
“RAGNAR, BEHIND ME!” I roared, throwing my ax up in front of me like a shield.
Ragnar hesitated, but she listened, stepping behind me just as the dragon unleashed its breath. A torrent of blue flames erupted from its maw, slamming into me with the force of a tidal wave. My ax glowed red as the flames washed over it, and I felt the searing heat burn into my skin, peeling it away layer by layer.
My body was on fire. Every inch of me screamed in agony. But I couldn’t fall. If I fell, the flames would hit Ragnar, and we’d both be dead.
Instinctively, I activated [Endure], gritting my teeth as I stood my ground. The Skill kicked in, fortifying my body and giving me the strength to hold on. But the pain… it was unbearable. I screamed, my voice echoing through the cave. My mind felt heavy.
It wanted to give in, it wanted to go blank. That would be terrible. Because if I fell, the flames would slam into Ragnar, and all our survival probability would be done for. Not because of some silly sense of justice but because it was logical. If Ragnar survived this till the end, from what I’d learned about her so far in our journey, she'd at least grab my body and make a run for it. But if I fell and it slammed into her too, both of us would be done for. So… I couldn’t fall.
Not here. Not like this.
Time seemed to still. In pain, everything felt slower. How long did I burn under the blue fountain of flames? I didn’t know. The pain didn’t let me. But when the flames didn’t last forever, I did. I stood as the stream of flames finally stopped.
I was barely standing, my legs trembling under me. My skin was charred, blackened and raw, my hair gone, my eyelids seared off. Ragnar shouted something, but I couldn’t hear her over the blood rushing in my ears.
I wasn’t done yet.
“...CHARGE!” I roared, my voice hoarse. I wasn’t running. I had a plan now.
Ragnar didn’t hesitate. The dragon’s chest heaved with exhaustion, each breath ragged and strained, but its blue eyes still blazed with fury. The fire that had nearly taken me down was clearly a last-ditch effort. It was waiting for an ambush because it couldn’t afford to fight us head-on.
This dragon wasn’t in its prime—young, injured, likely out of mana, and probably a runaway from its home—but it was still a dragon.
And dragons didn’t go down without a fight.
Ragnar’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling back into a snarl of her own. She wasn’t just angry; she was furious. Seeing me endure those flames, screaming in pain to shield her, seemed to have ignited something in her. Had she never seen someone take that kind of punishment for her sake? The weight of it hit her all at once, and all that fury poured into her next move.
With a primal scream, she charged. Her club swung down with a force that seemed impossible for someone her size, and it connected with the dragon’s skull with a sickening crack.
The sound of bone splitting echoed throughout the cave, but the dragon wasn’t finished yet. It roared in agony, its deep voice reverberating through the stone walls, but Ragnar didn’t stop.
She raised the club again, her arms trembling from the effort, and slammed it down, over and over. “RAHH!!” The ground beneath the dragon’s head shook with each blow, and blood began to pool beneath its massive body. The dragon’s scales were thick, and each hit sent splatters of blood and bone flying across the cave floor, staining the walls with the creature’s lifeblood.
But Ragnar’s eyes didn’t waver. Her face was a mask of rage and fear, her teeth bared as she poured all her strength into each strike. She let out a guttural scream with every swing, a furious cry that cut through the dragon’s roars.
The club was a blur in her hands, moving faster than seemed possible, fueled by pure adrenaline and fury.
The dragon tried to move, its wings twitching feebly, but it was cornered. Trapped. And Ragnar wasn’t letting up. She aimed for its head, cracking the thick bones beneath its scales, again and again. Each time the club came down, the impact sent tremors through the cave floor, the sound of bone splintering almost drowned out by the dragon’s pained roars.
But it wasn’t finished yet.
With a desperate roar, the dragon reared back, swinging its massive claw toward Ragnar. She barely had time to react before the claws raked across her chest, three deep, jagged lines cutting through her armor and flesh like paper. She stumbled back, blood pouring from the gashes, her hand instinctively flying to her wound.
“Grgh!” But the dragon didn’t stop. It lurched forward, its blue eyes wild with pain and desperation, and its maw opened wide, ready to tear her apart. It moved faster than its injured state should’ve allowed, its massive jaws aimed straight for Ragnar’s head.
Ragnar’s eyes widened in panic. She could feel the heat of its breath, see the sharp fangs gleaming in the dim light. The world slowed down for a moment, her mind racing as she realized that this might be it. She’d fought with everything she had, but now she was cornered, her body screaming in pain from the wounds across her chest.
Just as the dragon lunged, its maw inches from closing around her head, I moved. For I finally could.
The heat from the dragon’s breath still radiated from my ax, the obsidian blade glowing red-hot. I activated [Leap], launching myself through the air, my body a blur as I closed the distance. I raised my ax high, my muscles screaming in protest, and brought it down with all the force I could muster.
[Slam] activated, and the heated blade slammed into and sliced through the dragon’s neck like butter.
The beast’s head hit the ground with a sickening thud, its body collapsing a moment later.
[You’ve killed a Blue Dragon – Level 32!]
[You’ve leveled up!]
[You’ve leveled up!]
The notification filled my vision, but I barely registered it. I fell to my hands and knees beside the severed head, panting. Every inch of my body hurt, and I could feel my skin hanging off in blackened patches. Ragnar’s voice was a distant echo in my ears as she knelt beside me, her face pale.
“Thorvyn!” she shouted, shaking me. “Thorvyn! Are you alright?!”
Before I could answer, a wave of blue mana rippled through my body. The System was doing its job. My skin began to knit itself back together, the burns fading as my wounds healed. My hair grew back, even longer than before, and the pain slowly subsided.
For health to heal after a Level Up, such was common in many RPG game settings. Thankfully it was the case in this world as well. I let out a shaky breath, staring at my hands. They looked as good as new now. I was alive. I had… survived.
Ragnar collapsed beside me, a wide grin on her face. “We did it,” she said, grabbing my arm. I looked at her arm, which had also healed. She must have leveled up, too.
“We did it, Thorvyn!” She roared, and I nodded, too tired to speak. “We slew a Dragon!”
That we had, indeed.
