The Barbarian Ascension - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: I… Am A Musclehead?

The village was not far from where we’d been ‘hunting’ before. We climbed down a mountain, from which I saw the sea nearby. From the looks of it, this was a tropical island in the middle of nowhere, and it wasn’t just one island but a series of them, all connected in a circle. 

The ocean glittered under the setting sun, casting the surrounding waters in hues of orange and red. Waves lapped gently at the shores below, and the sea looked peaceful. Quite contrary to me, stuck on this archipelago without my memories.

The barbarians in front of me weren’t lost in their heads like me, their strides were long and quick, urging me to follow. “Hurry up, Thorvyn! We don’t have all day,” one of them barked, throwing a glance over his shoulder. His voice brought me out of my thoughts.

I sighed and picked up my pace, trying to keep up. As we descended the rugged path of the mountains, the land gradually leveled out. 

The air here felt thick, humid even, carrying the salty scent of the ocean with a mix of something more primal. A village came into view, nestled between the cliffs and dense patches of tropical trees.

It looked old and primitive. 

The homes were built of timber and thatch, their roofs sloping down steeply like the old Nordic settlements I’d seen in history books back home. Smoke curled lazily from the rooftops, likely from hearths where fires burned constantly to keep the cold winds at bay at night. Wooden carvings of beasts and warriors lined the pathways, marking territories or perhaps representing fallen ancestors? I wasn’t sure.

The place was alive with the sounds of crackling fires, distant laughter, and the rhythmic pounding of something being worked on—metal if I had to guess.

As we neared the village gate, I noticed the barriers—thick, sharpened logs staked into the ground, forming a wall to guard against invaders or maybe wild beasts. A handful of guards stood watch at the entrance, their expressions as stern as their postures. They nodded in acknowledgment as we passed, yawning to themselves.

Nobody seemed to notice any changes in me, I guess I was hiding it well.

These people looked backdated. If they even doubted that I wasn’t “Thorvyn,” they might kill me, thinking I was a skin crawler or something. I might just be paranoid, but that was better than death. I was hungry, and I didn’t have the strength to fight if a whole group rushed me. I had to be careful. 

The village itself seemed alive, even though it was small. 

Men and women bustled about, carrying baskets of fish, furs, and other goods. Children ran past, with bone jewelry wrapped around them, laughing and playing with wooden weapons, and I noticed some of the elders sitting by their homes, weaving or tending to tools.

Shit, is this really the Stone Age? The thought crossed me again.

As we neared the center of the village where the communal fires burned, my steps slowed, drawn by a small object by the side of the path—a wooden bowl filled with water. I didn’t notice any mirror nearby, but the reflection from the bowl caught my eye. It sat near a fire torch, the light flickering across its surface, creating dancing reflections.

The reflection staring back was both foreign and oddly familiar. It looked as if someone had painted over my face, there were similarities. The torchlight cast stark shadows over the face reflected in the water, highlighting the stark white hair and deep red eyes that seemed to burn with an inner fire. My features were marked with the harsh lines of survival and the intricate tattoos that snaked over my skin.

Staring into my own eyes, I felt a moment of disconnect, as if I were looking at someone else. “This…”

“Thorvyn!” One of the barbarians shouted again. “We need food ready before dark. Stop staring and come on!”

I blinked and nodded, hastening my steps to catch up. They had already started to move toward the center of the village, where a large communal fire pit sat waiting. The smell of meat being roasted filled the air as others prepared their meals, the scent making my stomach grumble despite the chaos still swirling in my head.

I kept my mouth shut and followed, watching as they began to prepare the wolf corpses for the feast. Are they going to eat… that? I thought, observing as the flames licked at the wood beneath the pit, ready to consume whatever was thrown onto it. 

This young group moved with ease of experience, and each member coordinated and rhythmically with the rest of the group. These were people who had been doing this for generations, and they had no time for hesitation. 

I glanced around one last time, taking in the sight of the village before focusing on the task at hand. For now, I was here. I’d figure out the rest later. 

My military experience helped me to at least copy them to match the speed somewhat. 

….

Half an hour later, I stared at the fire, the embers dancing in the night as the others around me bickered like children over scraps of wolf meat. 

“Hey! Me want that!”

“No, me want more!”

These damned barbarians… They were jumping around like idiots, barely able to speak properly. Their excitement over food was almost funny. I sat there, staring at the meat in front of me. The fire crackled, sending small sparks into the night air as the warmth hit my face.

“Eh, Thorvyn?” one of the barbarians suddenly called out. This time it was a woman, her hair red and her voice softer than the gruff tones of the men. She pointed at the meat in front of me. “You not hungry? Can I eat?”

She spoke the vowels softer, somehow she had an accent despite being from this small tribe. I looked at the hunk of meat resting in front of me. The… wolf meat. Unseasoned too. Dammit, I am not gonna eat that. I turned back to her, but before I could respond, my stomach growled loudly, betraying me.

The woman flinched at the sound. “S-sorry,” she mumbled, turning away quickly as if I’d just threatened her life. I wasn’t trying to scare her, but maybe my new face looked more intimidating than I thought. With a sigh, I looked at the meat and grabbed it, taking a bite. I fully expected it to taste like absolute trash.

“....!”

It was… good. Surprisingly good. 

I chewed slowly at first, expecting the flavor to turn bitter or gamey, but no. It was tender and juicy, the fat melting in my mouth like butter. I’d thought wolf meat would taste awful—especially since they didn’t seem to use any spices or seasonings—but damn… This was incredible. 

My chewing sped up, and before I knew it, I was devouring the piece in front of me, barely taking time to breathe between bites.

As my stomach filled, my thoughts began to clear. Let’s consider things slowly… Firstly, these people were speaking English, albeit broken and childish, but it was English. That much was certain. Yet, there was something off about them, as if they weren’t smart enough to string proper sentences together. Or maybe it was just their culture? It didn’t really matter. The fact they could speak English meant this wasn’t some prehistoric time.

Secondly… this couldn’t be Earth either.

I was pretty sure this wasn’t some deliberate prank held on a faraway island, the vortex of energy, the portal, had somehow sucked me into another world. The memories of that glitch in reality flashed through my mind. Whatever that was, it had spat me out here. 

On a tropical island with a goddamn active volcano looming overhead, by the way. What if that thing erupted? Anyway. The main reason I believed that this place wasn’t Earth was because it was like… something out of a fantasy novel.

[You've consumed high-protein food. Your fatigue has lessened.]

[Skill ‘Endure - (D)’ has leveled up to ‘Endure - (C)’!]

I stared at the box that popped up in front of my eyes. Yeah. Definitely a fantasy world.

I started chewing slower as my mind wandered. I was in another world now, no question about that. But something bugged me. I didn’t have any memories of this body, of this life. Transmigration usually came with that, but mine didn’t. How was I supposed to navigate all this without screwing up? 

I had no idea who I was supposed to be here. 

[Your body has recovered enough to unload the memory package.]

“....?”

Before I could make sense of it, a searing pain shot through my skull.

"Ah—!” The food fell from my hand as I clutched my head, the world around me spinning violently. My vision blurred, and my senses were overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of memories. They rushed in like a flood, forcing their way into my mind all at once. I gasped, barely able to breathe through the agony as images, faces, and names bombarded me.

The planet, Aurelia. The Volcanic Islands. The Valtherian Tribe.

I saw it all—each island in this archipelago, each tribe, and the history that connected them. Generations of barbarians had once fought one another for dominance until the Valtherians won and absorbed the others, becoming the rulers of the entire archipelago. The strongest tribe among them.

The Volcanic Islands were once part of a distant land known as Dracara. They had drifted away over time, now lingering near the western continent of Euronis. I saw maps, vast landscapes, and burning skies over the volcanic archipelago.

The Valtherians. Born with either red or black hair. The red was a sign of power, of their aura lineage. The black-haired ones were seen as weaker, and they carried a stigma of inferiority. But then there was Thorvyn Valteria… me.

I stood out, even among the Valtherians. Not because I was the son of the previous chieftain—no. My hair… my white hair marked me as something strange. I heard the elders talk about it, that it was from my mother’s side of the blood, but I didn’t know what that meant. Although the elders didn’t mind it, the younger, dumber barbarians cared I didn’t have red hair, I wasn’t seen as the inheritor of my father’s strength, so they often mocked, challenged, and dragged me into fights at every turn.

Thorvyn had always been a musclehead, so he started a fight every time he was irked by someone. But he didn’t lose the fights he started. He… I was one of the strongest among the current generation of barbarians, despite their doubts. 

At twenty years old, I was Level 25. Indeed, this place had levels.

Among all these flashes, the memory of my father’s death stood out to me. He was in a battle—his red hair stained with blood—as the scene flashed before my eyes. I could recall his face. He had been a legend among our people… and he looked like my father.

As in, my father who was getting remarried. Shit, was this a parallel world or what? Speaking of, Thorvyn did look similar to me—from what I saw in the reflection in the water, just with white hair and red eyes. That was so weird…

The memories swirled faster, almost overwhelming me. The islands, the tribes, and the history—all of it crashed into me like a storm. My body trembled under the weight of it until, just as suddenly as it had started, the pain began to fade.

I gasped for air, my head pounding but the worst of the headache fading. My vision cleared, and when I looked up, the girl from earlier was staring at me. A shadow of concern etched on her face.

"What’s wrong, Thorvyn?" she asked, her voice low. She took a step closer, her eyes wide as she studied me.

I blinked, trying to recall her name. Ragna, right? Ragna Valteria… That was her name. One of the few women who hunted alongside the men. Strong and sharp in battle, but with that same dullness in her gaze like the others.

"My head... It hurts, it's a terrible headache," I replied.

“A headac- what?”

“Oh.” I realized they didn't have the word. “Like, inside my head. My uh, brain, my mind.” I said, still holding my head as the remnants of the pain throbbed.

In response, Ragna tilted her head in confusion. “I don’t understand,” she said slowly. "Your head hurts? Not your body? How?"

“...Oh.”

I recalled how simple-minded they were from Thorvyn’s memories. Did they never experience a headache before? Pain was only supposed to be felt in the body to them—cuts, bruises, broken bones.

Shaking my head, I waved it off. “Never mind.”

Ragna just blinked at me before shrugging, turning back to her meal as if nothing happened. I felt weird. It was as if they were just kids, kids who killed with a smile on their faces. These barbarians were strong but not exactly sharp. I stared at the fire again, trying to settle the storm inside my head.

Was I really… Thorvyn now? A barbarian.

And what kind of world was this outside the island? Was it filled with more barbarians like these fools? Or maybe more civilized people somewhere far off? The island wasn’t that big from what I had seen, so surely there was more out there. The thought of it tugged at me. I needed answers, but I didn’t have any. For now, I was stuck here.

I leaned back, staring up at the night sky. Stars twinkled brightly overhead, more than I’d ever seen back home. The pollution had always hidden them, but here it was so clear, it almost felt magical. 

Instead of feeling anxious at this strange new place, I felt… relief.

It was odd. It’s not as if I hated my life like those isekai protagonists to feel this way, but this place just felt fitting for me. The air itself felt like it belonged to me. Still, I had many questions. Why did my family own such a house? Did they know about its secrets?

Regardless, I doubted answers would come to me anytime soon. I’d have to look for them. But where could I find them? The world outside this island? I was a barbarian now… or at least in the body of one, and all around me were more barbarians, these brainless fools. I doubted they had any answers to my questions.

What kind of world had I ended up in? Was this an underdeveloped world, stuck in some primitive era? I was happy when I received these memories, but this island was isolated from the goddamn world. This barbarian Thorvyn… me… didn’t know anything useful. Were there kingdoms and empires outside? Was there magic? Gods? Wars? 

As my thoughts spiraled, a voice suddenly cut through the air.

“Oh, younglings! You’re eating well.”

I turned, my eyes landing on an old man with graying hair and missing teeth. The others who had hunted with me looked up too. He hobbled toward the fire, leaning on a cane made of twisted wood. His skin was weathered and his eyes sharp, even in his old age. He was dressed in animal skins, with beads and bones dangling from his neck and wrists. 

That was an elder, Morvak the Shaman. He had apparently seen the outside world before, as I recalled from these new set of memories.

“Be sure to rest early tonight~” the old man said, his voice humming with a strange melody. “Tomorrow’s your coming of age ceremony. The Chieftain will announce something important!”

I blinked, the word catching in my mind. Coming of age?

How old was this body? Ah, 20, I think. Many thoughts swirled in my head as I watched the old man shuffle away, humming to himself, leaving me to sit there under the stars, the words repeating in my head. 

Coming of Age Ceremony.