The Barbarian Ascension - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Coming of Age Ceremony

I could not possibly live here.

“This is not a place for humans to live in.” I walked out of the bushes, my expression dark. I had woken up before the sun had. Not because I was particularly willing to, but because my bowels were gurgling.

This place… this stupid island didn’t even have a toilet. I had to go to the bushes.

“I can't live here. There's no way.” 

I was a modern man from the 21st century. How could I survive without proper toiletries?! Holy fuck.

I could endure similar acts during missions because they were rare, and there were other, more pressing matters, but this was different. During missions, there was a promise that if I survived, I’d return to civilization and find houses with attached toilets, but this place didn’t promise anything. I couldn't possibly live like this forever. 

I had to leave this island.

Somehow, I had to find a way to leave. It couldn’t be impossible. This was a tropical island, so they had to have boats. Even if make-shift ones. Or else, I could make a boat myself using the banana trees nearby. It would be easy enough.

The problem was the distance—the directions. I didn’t know how far the closest land was and which direction it was in. Thorvyn’s memories didn’t have any information of ever leaving this place. For all I knew, there could be no land across thousands of miles around this island. That would be terrible.

But I believed in ‘if there’s a will, there’s a way.’ So, I’d just have to ask around for useful information before deciding if giving up was the only choice. I didn’t think so, to be honest. For example, according to Thorvyn’s memories, the shaman had gone to the outside world before. In fact, my father had done the same. He left the tribe with the shaman, and when they returned, my father was carrying me in his hand. 

His wife, my mother, was nowhere to be seen, however. Nobody knew who she was, except for probably the shaman. But I wasn’t really curious about that.

No wait. I stopped on my path and frowned. Since Thorvyn’s father looked just like my own father, then could it be that his mother… 

My heart beat a little faster. I hadn’t seen my old woman in a long time, it’d been years since she passed, but if this was a parallel world, could they be the same person? In that case, did she have any answers regarding this isekai?

It wasn’t impossible.

I suddenly found myself with a goal at hand. Here, my father was dead, but back on Earth, he was alive. Not that that meant everyone dead there was alive here, but that it wouldn’t be weird if this body’s mother was alive here. She might be somewhere out there, waiting for me to find her. I swallowed my saliva.

…I should try to look for her after leaving this island. But first, I have to find a way to leave this rock. With a nod, I decided to ask for help from the shaman to learn about how to leave and also about my mother. Hopefully, he wouldn’t say no.

“Oi, Thorvyn! You up early!” Some barbarian yelled, almost startling me out of my thoughts. I turned to see a man butchering some weird, overgrown chicken. That thing looked tastier than the wolves I had last night. “Why you standing there like a dumbass, haha!”

“Yeah, hey…” I waved at him, and he blinked before waving back exaggeratedly with a broad grin. I shook my head and continued walking to my hut.

I couldn’t walk for more than ten breaths before someone else yelled at me, “Oy!” 

I turned, noticing the man. It was the same guy who had called me Thorvyn for the first time yesterday. The memories slotted into place. Haldrek—that was his name, I recalled. He grinned, waving at me with his spear in hand. “Thorvyn! Grab your weapon. Meet at the open field! The chief called us.”

I forced a smile, nodding back at him. “Sure thing,” I muttered. Haldrek had that easy-going, barbarian cheerfulness… the kind that got annoying fast. 

I shrugged it off and headed toward my hut.

As I approached it, I let out a sigh. The place was a far cry from anything resembling comfort. I didn’t want to live here. But what choice did I have? This was home for now. 

The hut was a crude structure made of thick wooden beams lashed together with vines and covered by woven thatch that let the occasional draft slip through. The floor was packed with dirt, cold and firm beneath my feet, though a few animal skins had been laid out to soften the surface. The walls had small gaps here and there, letting slivers of sunlight peek in, and the smell of damp earth and smoke lingered in the air.

Inside, the ax rested near a bed that was no more than a frame of roughly carved wood, with a mattress of straw stuffed inside an old fur blanket. The bed was sturdy enough, but last night was an awkward sleep. Every movement made it creak as if it was on its last legs. Beside it, a small wooden chest sat at the foot, worn with age and missing a few pieces of its hinges. It looked like it hadn’t been opened in years.

A single shelf was mounted on the wall, holding a few crude clay jars—probably for water and whatever passed for food around here. A few hunting tools were scattered on the floor—a bone knife, an old spear with a chipped tip, and some animal bones likely used for crafting or repairs.

I, who had never craved luxury, suddenly found myself craving it. What the hell is this?

I sighed and looked at the ax resting near the bed. I picked it up, running a finger along the blade. The obsidian edge was sharp, the handle rough and unpolished, but it had a certain crude charm. “Haha,” I chuckled to myself at the situation's absurdity. 

Here I was, a modern man stuck in the body of a barbarian, wielding an oversized stone ax like some caveman. Life sure had a way of throwing curveballs.

Still, the ax felt… right in my hands. Maybe that was Thorvyn’s influence, bleeding into me. I didn’t linger on the thought long. I had more pressing concerns. With the ax over my shoulder, I exited the hut and followed the now-familiar path to the gathering place.

By the time I arrived, everyone was already there, standing in surprisingly organized lines. For a bunch of barbarians, that was something. Digging into my memories, I realized why. They all respected the chief, even the dumbest among them. 

In a society where strength ruled, the strongest earned their place at the top, and respect followed. It was the natural rule of this place.

“Thorvyn! Thorvyn! Over here!” Ragnar called out, waving me over. I joined her, and she showed me a grin. “How’s your uh, ‘headek’?”

“Oh. It’s called a headache. And it’s fine now. Better than fine, actually,” I said with a laugh. At least they care about each other, I thought. Barbarians might be a bunch of muscleheads, but they weren’t heartless. There was a strange camaraderie here, even if they weren’t the brightest.

In truth, I still had a bit of a headache left, but it wasn’t an issue. I did feel better now that I had somewhat of a goal in mind. Leaving this island, and finding this body’s mother. I wanted to do that as soon as possible.

Before Ragnar could reply, the atmosphere shifted. “Quiet down,” a dominant voice filled the air, making everyone stiff.

The murmurs died down, and the presence of a battle-hardened beast filled the area. A large woman stepped onto the stone platform with fiery red hair blazing in the morning light. Her expression was as hard as a stone, and scars crisscrossed her skin, marking her as a veteran of countless battles. 

The shaman stood behind her, as mysterious as ever, but all eyes were on the chieftain. I had to admit, those were some impressive muscles for a lady; she looked like she could fold me with a hand.

Her jaws clenched, and then something slammed into us.

An oppressive aura exploded from her, pressing down like a physical weight on everyone in the crowd. Everyone slammed down onto the floor involuntarily, falling on their fours. Some even kowtowed. I gritted my teeth as I sank down onto one knee. 

Ragnar fell to both knees beside me, struggling under the pressure, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed others in similar states. Everyone else had hit the ground, hands, and knees shaking as they submitted to the raw power she radiated.

I glanced around. Only a few of us had managed to hold our ground. Ragnar was on two knees, and so were a few others. I seemed to be the only one in one knee, at least for a moment. But when I turned my head to the side, I saw him—a red-haired brute. 

The guy was built like a boulder, red-haired like his mother, and on one knee like me. Draegan Valteria, some say, was the strongest among the new generation.

The chieftain’s eyes lingered on him, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. Approval. Of course, she approved of her son’s durability. Then her gaze shifted to me, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw the same glimmer of recognition. She nodded, approving of me as well. However, when her eyes flicked to Ragnar, the warmth faded, replaced by disapproval.

She didn’t look at any other barbarian on both their knees, just Ragnar. Why? My memories sparked. Ragnar… they were related. The chieftain is her mother?

While her son was doing quite alright, her daughter was on both her knees. She was comparing Ragnar to Draegan, and the former easily fell short.

Ragnar bit her lip, lowering her head. I looked at her from the corner of my eyes. I could almost feel the tension in her, the frustration of not being able to match her mother’s expectations. I stayed quiet, observing the exchange.

“Stand up,” the chieftain commanded, withdrawing her aura. The pressure lifted, and we all rose slowly, still feeling the residual weight of her power.

She scoffed at us. “You weak fools. I can’t believe the prophesied generation starts with you weaklings,” she spat. There was a murmur of confusion among the crowd, but she didn’t leave us hanging.

“You fools have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? I told you to attend the shaman’s classes!” She growled, watching the barbarians squirm before she added more. “A few hundred years ago, an era called the ‘greatest generation’ passed. I’m sure even you idiots know about it—the time when the Divine Cult was created,” she continued, her voice carrying over the field. “According to the priests of the twelve gods and every spirit worshiper out there, we’re entering a similar era. They’re calling it the Age of Ascension. That makes this coming-of-age ceremony special.”

The Age of Ascension... It sounded like an opportunity. I didn’t understand much, and from the looks of it, the barbarians understood even less. Their faces were stretched with grins, ready to face whatever she was discussing.

“Special in what way, chief?!” A barbarian shouted.

The chieftain raised her hand, slowly curling her fingers into a fist. The wind whipped around us as her aura flared again, though this time less oppressive. “I plan to send you lots… to the outside world this time! It’s a pilgrimage!” she roared, and the crowd cheered.

Even I found myself gaping at the sight.

A… pilgrimage? An opportunity. A way to leave this isolated goddamned island! Hell yeah! By the grace of lady luck, there was light at the end of this tunnel. My grin widened. 

“Kekek. I like the look in your eyes, you fools! And I hope you’ll make a name for yourselves,” the chieftain continued, her voice dropping to a near growl, “enough that perhaps the Pillar of the Tribe will come find you outside. No, you should dream bigger! You should dream of surpassing him yourself.”

The Pillar of the Tribe.

That was one hefty title for a man. My memories swirled again at the mention of him. I remembered the stories—he was a man who conquered the island. There was no beast here who could threaten him, so he left to find more challenges outside. He had left the island years ago, and yet his name still flew from the outside world, carried by whispers even to this remote volcanic land.

He was a legendary figure.

Before I could think any further, the chieftain raised her hand again, silencing the cheers. “However, not everyone will get to leave. The tribe needs its youth. So, only those who deserve to make a name for themselves may leave this place. Those who bring back the biggest game, the strongest beasts, will earn their place in the outside world!”

Of course, there was a catch. It couldn't have been this easy. 

It was a competition. Hunt or be stuck on this rock. The excitement in the crowd shifted, and nervous energy replaced the earlier cheers.

“Ah, and one more thing,” the chieftain added, her eyes narrowing. “Yell ‘Status’.”

I blinked. What?

Around me, everyone started shouting, “Status!” So, I followed suit.

A translucent panel filled with numbers and text popped up before my eyes. 

I squinted at it, my brain processing the unfamiliar display.

°°°°

Name: Thorvyn Valteria

Age: 20 years

Race: Barbarīⱥꞥ

Mana: 2100/2100

Level: 25 | 14% EXP

Class: [Choose Here]

Class Skills: [None]

General Skills:

• Valtherian Physique - [S] 

• Endure - [C]

• Slam - [D]

• Leap - [D]

°°°°

I was level 25. How’s ‘Barbarian’ a race? Are they not humans? The next also looks funny around the end. 

I had no answer to that. Regardless, I recall that I used to be 24, but after yesterday’s expedition, my age increased by one. That wasn’t bad. 

And this thing was definitely something out of a game. 

No [Class] yet, but I had basic skills. The S, C, D, and D seemed to be the rank of it. I could work with that. But why was the Valtherian Physique ranked S? Damn.

The chieftain's voice rang out again before I could dig deeper into my status. “Now that your coming of age is here, those of you who’ve crossed Level 20 may choose your Class. But not today. Don't do it until after the hunt. If you score a good game, your Class options might improve! This is an opportunity to rise.”

The murmuring in the crowd grew louder, but the chieftain didn’t seem to care. “You have three days. Complete your hunt and report back to me. For Valteria!”

And just like that, she turned away and left us standing there with the weight of her words hanging over our heads.

Pilgrimage, huh? My lips twitched slowly and rose. If I played this right, I might find a way to make it off this island, after all, without pulling stunts to escape by myself.