The Barbarian Ascension - Chapter 6

Chapter 6: You Wanna Have a Go?

The sun hung low over the Valtherian village, casting early morning light over a scene of triumphant chaos. The smell of blood and charred meat filled the air, mixing with the scent of wet earth. All around the village center, the spoils of the great hunt lay scattered. 

Giant boars, ogres, hobgoblins—each carcass more grotesque than the last. But amongst them were smaller, pitiful creatures: goblins, wild dogs, even a couple of kobolds with broken skulls. Every young warrior had returned from the pilgrimage. All except for Thorvyn and Ragnar. The village was filled with their game.

In the middle of the gathered crowd, Draegan stood tall with his head held high. A smug grin was plastered across his face. The village had formed a circle around the massive drake’s head, its dead eyes staring into nothingness. 

While it was no full-grown beast, the size of its skull alone was enough to dwarf most men. It wasn’t an ancient drake by any means, but it was a drake, nonetheless. And that was enough for the Valtherians. It was an achievement.

“They actually did it!” someone shouted from the crowd.

“Draegan, the strongest! He and his team take down a drake!”

The cheers rang out loud, carrying through the village. Both the old and young cheered his name. Draegan basked in it, his arms crossed, the picture of pride. His group stood beside him, all wearing similar expressions. They had done it. They were the best, and everyone was making sure to let them know.

The cheers only calmed down when the sound of heavy boots approached as the chieftain herself, Yrsa Valteria, made her way through the crowd. 

Her presence immediately silenced the praises, though Draegan’s smug expression didn’t waver. He was proud to show his mother what he had achieved. 

Yrsa didn’t look at him right away. Her sharp eyes scanned the dead creatures strewn about, her lips curling slightly at the sight of the weaker prey. Goblins, kobolds—such pitiful catches. “Is this it?” she muttered, her voice laced with disappointment. The barbarians to whom those games belonged lowered their heads.

Yrsa scoffed. her eyes glinted with contempt as she walked past the smaller games, offering little more than a glance. She looked at the bigger games next, but before she could comment on them, when her gaze landed on the drake’s head. Her entire demeanor shifted. The corner of her lips twitched upward in a prideful grin.

“A drake...” she muttered to herself, a dangerous glint in her eye.

The crowd shifted as she approached, her gaze falling upon Draegan. “Not bad,” Yrsa said, loud enough for everyone to hear. Draegan stood straighter, his grin widening.

“Thank you, m- Chieftain,” Draegan quickly corrected himself.

She smiled at him and then looked around the other monsters. “Not bad, many of you have done a great job. I am impressed, really,” she said, looking at the gathered hunters with an approving nod. Then she asked, “Are all of you younglings back?” 

A few nods followed, but it was Haldrek who stepped forward and answered. “All are back, except Thorvyn and Ragnar, Chieftain.”

Yrsa frowned, the smile fading from her face. She hadn’t expected that. She hummed, her gaze drifting toward the forest. “Have they ventured too deep in greed?” she wondered aloud, her fingers tapping against her thigh. "Or are they simply late?"

Regardless, rules were rules. Yrsa let out a deep sigh and raised her voice. “We’ll wait no longer.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll count to ten, and then we’ll proceed. With the ceremony.” The crowd went still, the tension rising as Yrsa began counting. “One.”

Her voice was like a drum, echoing through the village.

“Two.”

Draegan’s smug grin faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing toward the treeline.

“Three.”

And then, a murmur spread through the crowd. Eyes turned to the distance, where two figures were making their way toward the village. As they expected, it was Thorvyn and Ragnar. A ripple of amusement spread through the onlookers. Thorvyn carried the head of a large blue beast over his shoulder, while Ragnar walked beside him, seemingly empty-handed from this distance.

Someone from the crowd let out a snicker. “What’s this? I think it’s a wyvern’s head. Why’s there only one?”

“It’s impressive, sure,” another said. “But one wyvern can only cover one of them.”

Laughter bubbled through the crowd. Yrsa’s frown deepened, her gaze falling on her daughter. Thorvyn was stronger between those two kids, so it was natural that he must be the one who hunted the wyvern. Yrsa held back a sigh. 

Ragnar, as usual, had disappointed her. A deep sigh built up in Yrsa’s chest. She had hoped for more from her daughter, but once again…

Her breath caught in her throat.

The laughter in the crowd began to die down, replaced with whispers and murmurs. As Thorvyn and Ragnar drew closer, the shape of the beast on his shoulder became clearer. It didn’t look right. The scales were too thick, too sharp. The teeth… too large. And its throat was burned black with telltale marks of dragon’s breath.

That wasn’t a wyvern.

“No… way...” someone in the crowd stammered, their voice filled with disbelief. “Is that a dragon?!”

A loud voice broke the silence. “Dragon Slayer! Thorvyn’s a dragon slayer!”

The crowd’s collective breath hitched, and the murmurs quickly turned to exclamations. “A dragon?! But dragons don’t—”

Their voices cut off when they noticed the thick blue tail coiled around Ragnar’s neck like a trophy. It had been hard to see from a distance, but up close, there was no mistaking it. Ragnar was also carrying part of the beast. 

They were carrying it like a trophy, meaning they had both hunted it together.

“Two!” another voice shouted. “Thorvyn the Dragon Slayer! Ragnar the Dragon Slayer!”

Yrsa stood frozen, her stern expression cracking. She tried to hold it back, but a grin slowly spread across her lips. Her lips parted, and then, despite herself, she laughed. It started as a low rumble, but it quickly grew into a loud, booming laugh that echoed through the village. And yet, everyone stared at the dragon slayers instead of herself.

The villagers surged forward, rushing to Thorvyn and Ragnar, cheering wildly. They reached the two of them, hoisting them into the air as chants of "Dragon Slayer!" filled the air. Yrsa’s laughter continued, a deep pride swelling in her chest. Thorvyn was one thing, but her daughter had surpassed even her wildest expectations. 

Just like that, two dragon slayers had been born in the village that day.

****

The village buzzed with energy, laughter, and cheers still ringing in my ears as the barbarians celebrated around us. Ragnar 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 fools. 

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

“Thorvyn! Ragnar! 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 Ragnar’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 seeing his tribe worship him. I could feel exhilaration in every muscle of this barbarian body.

“Ahem,” But then, the chieftain cleared her throat, 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. Ragnar 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 Ragnar? 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! It’s a dragon! A dragon’s an exception, it’s an unwritten rule!”

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 a drake together, and only I got a pass with it! Why do they get to pass together with a single dragon? And look at it—it’s barely a teenager! My drake was almost fully 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’s clear Thorvyn was the one who did more in the fight. He’s higher-leveled, stronger. Ragnar’s just riding his achievement.” His voice was sharp, each word a jab meant to cut Ragnar down.

I frowned. What’s his problem with his sister?

Ragnar 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 that to my face!”

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

The crowd gasped, their eyes darting between Draegan and Ragnar. 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’s truly worthy, let her fight me and prove she’s earned her place. Right? If she loses, she doesn’t 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!”

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 Ragnar? Trying to tear her down in front of everyone? That girl and I shared battles where our lives were in each others’ hands, how could he call her useless?

Ragnar, however, took a step back, her face pale. I could see the doubt in her eyes, the fear creeping in. Draegan was stronger, no question. She’d fought hard, but she wasn’t sure she could win. And if she lost, she would miss the pilgrimage. It 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 to me. I glared at Draegan, my blood boiling. “I got heavily injured. Ragnar 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. “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’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. He and I had fought countless times before, and it had always been close matches. Sometimes he won, sometimes I did. It’d be unwise to take on such a bet given that history.

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’ll tear you apart,” he growled.

Ragnar pulled my arm, but I shook it off. I grinned, taking a step forward. The crowd cleared around us, making a circle for us to fight it out.

“You dumb fucking bastards!” 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. “Your chief is right here, and you dare pick a fight?!”

It 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.

The weight pressed against me like before, but I held my ground, my body refusing to buckle under the force. The [Valtherian Physique] had stood strong against a dragon’s breath, I could manage this much. Yrsa’s eyes glinted with something—approval, perhaps—and a grin tugged at the corner of her lips.

“I give zero fucks about your opinions,” she spat at everyone, her voice full of authority. “By the authority of the chieftain, I grant both Thorvyn and Ragnar permission to cross the seas! Does anyone have any questions?!”

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. 

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