The village buzzed with energy, laughter, and cheers still ringing in my ears as the barbarians celebrated around us. Ragna was practically glowing with joy, her grin stretching from ear to ear, and I couldn't help but chuckle at the antics of these muscle-headed simpletons.

  They were simple people, but in a weird way, that simplicity had its charm. There was no plotting or hidden agendas. Merely raw emotion and excitement.

  “Thorvyn! Ragna! Dragon slayers!” a voice bellowed, and soon enough, we were both lifted off the ground, carried by the crowd as they chanted and laughed. They hurled us into the air like we’d just slain the gods themselves.

  I caught Ragna’s gaze midair as we shared a look. She was beaming. For once, I felt a flicker of pride that wasn’t just mine. Thorvyn’s emotions from his memories bled into me again. His pride and his joy at his tribe cheering for him made me grin like crazy. I could feel exhilaration in every muscle of this barbarian body.

  If only my college professors could see me now. Turns out yes, there was a practical application for studying ancient warfare after all. Although Mrs Buckingham would argue that dragon hunting is no war.

  “Ahem.” The chieftain cleared her throat right then, and the crowd quickly fell silent. I recalled her name now; it was Yrsa, and her presence commanded respect, as usual. She stood, arms crossed, her face stern, but the way her lips twitched betrayed the grin she was trying to hide. Her loud laughter earlier didn’t help the impression, either.

  “Everyone!” she called out, her voice loud and sharp. “Enough of your foolishness! Gather in rows, now!”

  The crowd scrambled to obey, forming lines as fast as they could. Ragna and I did the same, standing side by side as the rows solidified. I could feel her excitement still bubbling beneath the surface, but I kept my gaze on the chieftain.

  Yrsa’s eyes swept across the gathered hunters again, her gaze resting briefly on each of the trophies scattered around the village. I guess she wasn’t really happy with those goblins and kobolds, but a bunch of games seemed to satisfy even her strong taste. Namely, the head of her son’s drake, and also the head of my dragon that were placed beside one another.

  “You’ve done well,” she said, her voice carrying over the silent crowd. “Many of you have earned the right to cross the seas and partake in the pilgrimage!” The crowd erupted in cheers again, loud and chaotic, but Yrsa raised a hand, cutting through the noise. “But not you fools who brought goblins and pigeons! You’ve embarrassed the tribe!” She snapped, her voice dripping with disappointment.

  A handful of barbarians visibly deflated, their shoulders drooping. Some had their heads in their hands, as if the weight of their failure had hit them all at once. I almost felt bad for them, but then again, they should’ve known better. I’d have been in their shoes if I hadn’t risked my life.

  Someone in the crowd raised a hand timidly, their voice cutting through the murmurs. “Chief! What about Thorvyn and Ragna? They caught a dragon together—who gets to go on the pilgrimage?”

  A snicker followed from a nearby barbarian, who nudged the questioner in the ribs. “Of course both! Is dragon! Dragon strong, dragon is special rule! It is known!”

  The barbarian rubbed the back of his head, unable to argue. Many others shrugged in agreement. But of course, not everyone agreed.

  Draegan scoffed from where he stood, his arms crossed and his expression dark. “No!” he growled, stepping forward. The crowd’s murmurs died down as they turned to him, sensing the tension. “How is that an exception? What unwritten rule?!”

  The smugness in his voice was unmistakable as he jabbed a finger toward the dragon’s carcass. “We caught drake. Only me get pass. Why they both pass with one dragon? Look! Is just baby! My drake is big! Huge huge! Full grown!”

  Of course, a teen dragon was still a dragon. It could eat drakes for breakfast. The barbarians knew that, and yet, they were dumb enough to let the size deceive their common sense. The crowd fell silent, processing his words. The logic in what he said wasn’t lost on them. Whispers spread like wildfire, and I could see the doubt creeping into their eyes.

  Draegan’s lip curled as he glared at us. “It seems Thorvyn did more in fight. Me hear he beat Venir. No surprise. He has old Chief Dragan's blood. My sister... she did nothing. Just followed him. She a weakling!”

  Usually, people looked down on me–Thorvyn–given his hair. Yet this dude was ready to elevate me if it meant the could insult Ragna. His voice was sharp, each word a jab meant to cut Ragna down. Venir was nearby, and his head was low now, his fist trembling because of how hard he clenched them.

  "What fight? I heard Venir was drunk," one of the Barbarians said.

  "That really happen? Venir not lose to Thorvyn, right?"

  "Is you stupid? Thorvyn hunted Dragon! Of course it the truth! Heh. I was there," Haldrek said, pointing his thumb at his chest. Some others who’d seen the incident nodded, cheering along. “Not try to tarnish Thorvyn’s achievement! Even Draegan accepted it!”

  I didn’t care about their banter. Rather, I frowned deeply as I looked at Draegan. What’s his problem with his sister? He clearly didn’t like me from the beginning, but he’s going as far as to highlight my reputation if it means he can bring down his sister’s? Crazy.

  Ragna also seemed done with him. She scowled beside me, her fists clenching at her sides. “You… You fucking coward!” she growled, her eyes blazing with fury. “You wanna talk big? Come say to my face!”

  Well, that’s not a good provocation.

  Draegan didn’t back down, his own fury bubbling to the surface. “Izzat so? Fine,” he barked, stepping forward to meet her challenge. “If you so confident in your strength, let us see. If you feel so wrong, then I challenge you. Fight me and prove your strength. Prove to us that you not ride Thorvyn’s tail!”

  The crowd gasped, their eyes darting between Draegan and Ragna. The tension crackled in the air, thick and heavy. Draegan raised his voice, addressing the whole village now. “What do you say, everyone?! If she truly worthy, let her fight me and prove she earn her place. Right? If she lose, she not get to go attend the pilgrimage!”

  For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the crowd erupted in shouts of “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

  For some reason, I clenched my jaw, my hands curling into fists.

  Anger surged in me, a mix of Thorvyn’s instinctual rage and my own annoyance at Draegan’s arrogance. He was challenging Ragna? Trying to tear her down in front of everyone? That girl and I shared battles where our lives were in each others’ hands; it insulted me to call her useless.

  Ragna, however, took a step back, her face pale. I could see the doubt in her eyes, the fear creeping in.

  Her brother was stronger than her, no question. She’d fought hard, but she wasn’t sure she could win. And if she lost, she would miss the pilgrimage. The consideration was enough to make her step back.

  Before I could stop myself, I stepped forward. “It was me,” I growled, my voice cutting through the noise, “who got carried.” The crowd fell silent, all eyes snapping at me. I glared at Draegan, my blood boiling.

  I was some nutjob who graduated in Philosophy, and even in the military I’d served as an Intelligence Analyst, not in the Infantry. How could I defeat a dragon alone? “I got heavily injured. Ragna covered for me. She kept the dragon busy while I recovered. If anyone should prove their worth, isn’t it me?”

  Draegan’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “What are you saying, Thorvyn?”

  I stepped closer, my eyes locked onto his. “I’m saying let’s fight. You and me. And let’s make a bet. And only the winner gets to leave the island.” My voice was steady, but the threat was clear. For that moment, I wasn’t a Philosopher. I was a Barbarian. “What do you say, you FUCKER?!”

  I didn’t mean to yell, but my blood got to my head. The crowd exploded in cheers, their excitement boiling over as they chanted for a fight. Draegan scowled. His eyes flickered with uncertainty. He was the strongest among the new generation, and he seemed bewildered that I was challenging him.

  He must be thinking if I’d let my ‘luck’ go to my head.

  However, even if he was a bit more well-spoken than others, he was still a barbarian. He wasn’t one to back down. He stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. He wasn’t scared. “I will tear you apart,” he growled.

  Ragna pulled my arm, but I shook it off. I locked eyes with her for a brief moment and then took a step forward. I wanted to bash that arrogant face of his into the ground. I didn’t feel scared. The crowd cleared around us, making a circle for us to fight it out.

  Why would I feel scared?

  Right now, until sunset, I held the Trait of a Dragon.

  [Osmotic Evolution (A) - Blue Dragon’s Breath.]

  That was the trait I’d copied from the dead dragon. The same attack that had nearly erased both me and Ragna was on the tip of my tongue right now. Draegan walked slowly, and I scoffed. I was not scared of any fight.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Hah. You useless boneheads.”

  But before either of us could move, Yrsa’s voice boomed through the chaos.

  The sheer volume of her voice cut through the air like a blade, and the weight of her aura followed suit, slamming into the crowd like a tidal wave. Pure [Willpower] suffocated everyone. “Your chief is right here, and you dare pick a fight?!”

  Her aura hit everyone like a ton of bricks. The crowd collapsed to their knees, their bodies bowing under the oppressive pressure of Yrsa’s aura. Even Draegan dropped, his cocky expression replaced by one of shock as he struggled to stay upright.

  But I stood tall.

  Somehow… I was surprised I held firm under her pressure. Was it the same strength that let me survive a dragon’s flames? My emotions were raging.

  The weight pressed against me like before, but I held my ground, my body refusing to buckle under the force. Her eyes met mine, and she scowled. The pressure immediately doubled. I flinched backward but pulled myself together. My jaws clenched as I met the look in her eyes.

  A trail of blood ran down my nose.

  I didn’t know where this strength and courage came from. Perhaps it was the bloodline ability, my [Valtherian Physique], that stood strong against a dragon’s breath, refusing to give up. Regardless, I could manage this much.

  Yrsa’s eyes changed as the aura continued. Her eyes glinted with something—challenge and… approval, perhaps? Then a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. It felt good. To be recognized by someone so powerful.

  “...I give zero fucks about your opinions, you fucking brats,” she spat at everyone, her voice full of authority, giving up attempting to make me go down. “By the authority of the chieftain, I, Yrsa Valteria, grant both Thorvyn and Ragna permission to cross the seas! If any of you brats have any complaints, challenge me in a duel.”

  In a world ruled by strength, the strong made the rules. Who’d dare oppose her?

  I wondered how strong this fine woman was. I didn’t know the level, but at this moment, I felt like she could carry the entire island on her back and not break a sweat.

  Silence fell over the village. No one dared to speak. I met Yrsa’s gaze and gave her a respectful nod. She grinned, a quiet laugh escaping her lips.

  The crowd, still on their knees, didn’t dare argue. Draegan scoffed, spitting on the ground, clutching the soil with his fingers. I smirked down at him, looking at him kneeling. His eyes burned hotter than the sun.

  Before I knew it, the sun rose higher into the sky, and an air of festivity spread across the island. The Coming of Age ceremony truly began.

  ****

  The festival roared to life around me. Fires crackled, casting dancing shadows on the surrounding trees, while the smell of roasted meat filled the air.

  Men and women threw back their heads, laughing and singing, their voices carrying a rhythm of ancient chants. The barbarians danced around the fire with wild spirits, their movements free and untamed. Plates overflowed with chunks of boar and slabs of meat from various magical beasts—the kind I’d only ever heard of in stories.

  Even the younger ones clashed in friendly brawls, their yells and grunts blending with the drumbeats. I laughed. “Fucking barbarians.”

  Even if they had the intelligence of an elementary schooler, they were a fun bunch. I couldn't help but laugh again, stepping back as a couple of guys barreled past me, their arms locked as they tussled for dominance.

  I might have joined them, but I wanted fresh air for a moment.

  Shrugging, I left the fire and walked past the groups of laughing barbarians who called out my name. I waved back as my steps carried me further toward the small stone cliffs that poked out of the water and overlooked the sea. The night was deep, and a soft breeze rolled in from the water, carrying the scent of salt and something else. Freedom.

  A faint glow ahead caught my eye. There, perched on a large stone that jutted out over the water, sat an old man. It was the shaman, his curious figure wrapped in heavy robes, a hookah pipe balanced in his hand. He puffed slowly, sending a thin stream of white smoke spiraling up toward the dark, starry sky.

  “Oh, hey,” I greeted him, stepping up to his perch.

  The shaman looked over, his old eyes gleaming as he gave me a nod. “Ah, Thorvyn.” His voice was a whisper, deep and somehow catchy. He returned his gaze to the sky, puffing on his hookah again.

  The smoke drifted up, mingling with the stars above, casting a strange contrast against the dark blue expanse. I stared at it. Strong smell.

  I stood for a moment, watching him, then found myself settling down on a nearby rock. I leaned back, looking up at the stars. I liked the sky here. Stars were endless here, bright and clear in a way I’d never seen back home. It was strange how the same sky could look so different here. Then again, this was a different world…

  I was a world away from home.

  The silence between us was comfortable. But it didn’t last. “Aye,” the shaman broke it, his gaze still fixed on the stars. “Have you chosen your [Class] yet?”

  I blinked, pulled from my thoughts. “Uh, no. I was planning to. Just got caught up in the party,” I replied with a slight chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. Somehow, I’d managed to forget about that. These barbarians’ celebrations were quite distracting.

  The shaman hummed, a slight smile touching his lips. “Your dialect has improved greatly, ey?”

  I froze. I forgot about that… Thorvyn didn’t talk like a normal person. He talked just like the other barbarians. Had he noticed? No one else had mentioned it. But the shaman—he’d been to the outside world before. He and the Chieftain spoke clearly.

  Shit, he noticed the changes. I felt panic rising in my chest. If they realized I had taken over Thorvyn’s body, wouldn’t they kill me? I think they would. Possession stories weren’t unknown even in tribal islands. No, especially in tribal islands. Not good.

  “Aye, must be the other blood in your veins,” he spoke instead of waiting for my answer, sounding casual. He had saved me by reaching a conclusion of his own. “She was always smart, that woman. Your mother.” He nodded to himself as if confirming a thought. I felt a new feeling creep into my heart, shoving away the panic.

  “My mother…”

  “Choose your [Class] carefully, Thoryvyn, you have time. So don’t be hasty with it. Visit the Temple of Mara and carefully go through your choices. If you confused, come to me,” the shaman said. “Or that little girl Yrsa. She might be able to help you better, too. The important bit is that Classes can evolve down the line, but t’s better for the starting [Class] to be powerful. So it’s smart to choose the best one.”

  It was sound advice, but there was an issue. “Sure. Why visit the temple, though?” I asked aloud, although I immediately assumed it probably held some religious purpose.

  The shaman tilted his head, humming. “Where else will you access your Class Options if not from the temple? The humans in the outside world check their class through their churches or local demigods. There’s no other way to access your classes.”

  “Hmm…” I stayed silent. I’ve accessed them before, though. What’s going on?

  Perhaps I should have said something because the shaman’s eyes lit up at my silence. “Don’t tell me… Thorvyn, can you access your Class Options on your own?”

  “Uh, no?”

  He just stared at me, blinking twice with his face blank. A moment later, he chuckled and breathed in from his hookah. “Don’t lie, I have a [Skill] that can detect lies. Hah, interesting… Looks like you got more from your motha than just your hair color… This is life-changing, boy. Hold onto it. You have more access to the [System] than normal people.”

  Something had been gnawing at me for a while, and his words only made it worse. “Just who is my mother?” The question left my lips before I could stop it, and the shaman let out a huff, his eyes gleaming with something like amusement.

  “Hmm? Ah, I know not her name.” He took another puff, his eyes drifting toward the sea. “Saw her a few times. She was somethin’—intelligent, pretty. Wore a covering robe most times I saw her, but those blue eyes and fair skin were hard to miss.”

  My heart pounded. “Was?”

  “Probably is,” he corrected with a casual shrug. “And aye, truly your dialect’s improved quite a bit. You noticed ‘grammar,’ that weird thing.”

  “Wait, she’s alive?!” I shot to my feet, the excitement coursing through me like a jolt of lightning. It was a purely emotional thing to hope for when I first decided to find my mother… but hearing it out loud from the shaman made it feel real. Logical.

  The shaman chuckled, a soft, almost kind sound. “Aye, the last time we saw her, she was. But who knows the whims of fate? Perhaps the cold hands of the God of Death embraced her already. But if I had to guess, I’d expect someone like her to survive.”

  That basically meant she was alive until proven otherwise. “Where can I find her?” The words tumbled out in a rush. I could barely keep the eagerness out of my voice. “I’m leaving for pilgrimage—I could find her. In the outside world. Tell me where I should look.”

  The shaman sighed, rubbing his chin as he considered my question. “I know not the exact place. I never visited her home. But I do remember the last place I saw her.” He paused, puffing thoughtfully. “The Fenixia Duchy. In the… Eternia? Ah, the Ethenia Empire, that’s what it was called.”

  “Ethenia… Ethenia Empire…”

  He gave a slight nod as if confirming it to himself. “Yep, that place. If you look there, perhaps you’ll find traces.”

  My heart sank a little. There wasn't much to go on. A random place in some empire far away? And to my knowledge, a duchy wasn’t some small village. The information was vague. How was I supposed to find someone secretive enough that she didn’t even share her name with the shaman, with this little information?

  No, as long as she’s alive, I can find her. Yes. Indeed. At least, it was something. A lead. I could cling to that. Plus, I had another lead. Just like me… she has silver hair. My blood.

  “Thank you,” I said, looking up at the stars one last time. They sparkled overhead, endless and bright, just like my new list of questions.

  “Before you go, want this?” He fished out a strange vial from his robes, filled with an odd glowing liquid and showed it to me.

  “What’s that?”

  He crackled. “This cure headache. Side effects include stomach pain, itchy feet, and occasionally believing you're a squirrel. But headache? Gone!"

  "...Anyways,” for a moment, I’d forgotten this was a goofball of a man who was high on tribal leaves. “Looks like we’ll be leaving the island soon. Any advice before we leave?"

  The Shaman fell quiet. Then he said, "Don't die. Bad for health."

  Actually, that was solid advice. I turned to go, my mind already racing with thoughts of what lay ahead. As I stepped away, I heard the shaman mutter something, his voice low and soft, almost too quiet to catch. “Your son’s awakened, it seems…”

  I paused, glancing back at him. He’d already returned to staring at the sky, his eyes lost in the stars. Whatever he’d meant by that, I didn’t return to press him for it.

  With a final look at the shaman, I started back toward the village. The truth about my mother was out there and with it, the answers to why my blood felt increasingly like fire in my veins.

  I’ve passed the trials, but it's not as if they’d let me leave right away. I paused. No, wait, maybe they would. I should ask the Chieftain about it, along with the many other questions I have.

  Now, where can I find her?

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