As it turned out, the increased tempo also meant earlier mornings. Before what Saga could only assume was a very angry, very big rooster had the chance to caw out an ear grating caw, Saga was already up. They hurried down the stairs, out the back door to meet an enthusiastic Olaf. Then they spent an entire hour just splitting logs with a hatchet. The trick was to find the right angle and apply enough strength to split it without growing tired. Saga felt as if they were stuck in some absurd training montage but had to admit it was tricky to judge their new strength. Each time they swung too hard, the ax would embed itself into the large pine stump that they split the wood upon. And then they had to use more strength to dislodge it, which depleted their stamina faster. They tried to remember and replicate how Sasha had used her Axes. Every movement is precise, not a swing without an express purpose. Compared to her, Saga's swings were wide and near failing. Turns out that even with good brawn, splitting wood could actually be tiring. At least at this stage of their development.

As they placed the ax against the wall and wiped the sweat from their bow, Olaf nodded approvingly and looked thoughtful for a few seconds. “There is a big reason as to why we do this. Can you guess why?”

“I think I get it. I need to get a feel for it. The power I mean. So I can make it into muscle memory. I saw how Sasha moved. It was like she was going through motions as easy as doing the dishes.” Saga said, stating rather than asking.

“That is pretty much it. In combat, you can be overwhelmed mentally, no matter how good or experienced you are. In those cases, your muscle memory is often a difference between life and death. As a berserker, this is going to be twice as important. If you have bad habits of overextending your reach and not adhering to proper control, it will be that much worse when you go into your rage.” Olaf confirmed. He took the ax and piece of wood. He placed it down and made a quick, controlled chop down. The wood split into two perfect halves as the ax stopped at precisely the right moment with exactly as much force was needed. Saga squinted at the wood. There wasn't a single, stray splinter.

“I am starting to feel like my Path is not much of a boon compared to some others.” Saga said, the dream of the strange man and the promise of war hanging over them like a dark cloud. It felt more and more like a prophecy or dark omen.

“Do you want the real answer to that question?” Olaf asked.

“I don’t think I do. But tell me anyway.”

“Berserkers usually don’t live too long,” Olaf said. “I have only met a few. All have been hotheads. Eager to go into battle. They have left slews of enemies dead at their feet, hacking through the ranks of their enemy. Buying the rest of us a moment of respite or room for a retreat. You cannot ignore a Berserker once they go into battle. To do so is leave a rabid beast snarling at your throat." Olaf said and Saga caught on to what he was implying.

“Sounds like we become priority targets then.” Saga said as they remembered that they had already died once. The scar across their throat is a stark reminder of that fact.

“Afraid so,” Olaf said as the two shared a somber bit of silence. Then Olaf spoke up, his voice having a slightly different tone to it. Almost reverent. “Those that do survive, however? They become the most feared combatants in all of the North. The kind of person who shows up and can turn a battle almost single-handedly.”

"Really? Aren't they all just really aggressive balls of violence?” Saga asked. They were curious as to who this person was. It was evident that Olaf has seen it in action himself.

“No. They are fury given form. I have seen a single high-level Berserker cleave his way through hordes of enemies, wielding his weapons like they were light twigs, attacking at speeds too fast for the eye to catch.” Olaf said, looking at Saga. “Once we are in Alebridge. I will have you meet him.”

“You know such an impressive man?” Saga asked as curiosity burned within them. To meet such a person could mean the difference between life and death. Whatever they could gleam would be worth it.

“He is. He is the man I chose to follow.” Olaf confirmed.

"The Jarl is a Berserker?” Saga asked, suddenly very interested in the leader of this little part of the world.

“He is.” Olag grinned. Saga nodded to themselves as they contemplated this new information.

“What's next?” They asked.

Olaf gave them an appraising look.

"Next, we run.”

—

The next step of their training was the same as the day before; Running. This time, however, Saga steeled themselves and tried to keep up from the start. There was something inside them now, a cold and smoldering ember that would not go out, no matter what. Every time they faltered, they just snarled and pushed further, feeling that ember ignite briefly, giving them a boost in confidence and stamina.

As they arrived at the Barracks, there was barely any time to rest. Saga was immediately pitted against three level 2 recruits, all outfitted with shields and spears of their own. The three moved with confidence only superior numbers could bring. Saga simply took their position and began to circle away from one flank to intercept the other. For the twenty minutes, they engaged in a mock battle. Their movements were sluggish and insecure compared to Olafs, but there were three of them, causing Saga to stay on their feet at all times. They danced between spear thrusts, blocking, deflecting, and stabbing out at approaching threats. All the while Olaf watched with a critical eye.

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“You cannot defend forever! You are a berserker. Learn when to go on the offensive, or you will be backed into a corner and killed before you know it!” He shouted as Saga struggled to land a single hit. The other three had found a rhythm. One of them would go in and tie up their Attention, then another would rush to push their spear in against an exposed flank. If they tried to answer the flank, the other two would try and pincer Saga in.

Upon hearing Olaf's words they moved in suddenly against the man holding back waiting for his flank, all but bum-rushing him with their shield before the other two could attack. The other two reacted too slowly as their friend met Saga's superior brawn head-on. By now, the battle had gone on for long enough that both the Unyielding and Battle Born skills activated at their first stage, turning 16 brawn to 20.

Twenty brawn worth of shoulder tackle collided with the young man's shield, causing him to let out a yelp and take two unsteady steps backward. Pushing their advantage, Saga put their shoulder to the back of their shield and heaved. To the great surprise of Saga's opponents, the man was lifted off his feet as Saga gritted their teeth and tossed the unbalanced person over their shoulder. The man's surprise was enough to let Saga direct his fall into the path of another attacker coming to his aid. The two fell onto the floor, a tangle of limbs and cursing.

“We have to finish this quickly” The leader of the three, a woman with short red hair called out, as she deftly moved in to tie up Saga with a series of quick thrusts. Opting for speed rather than strength, she used her spear in both hands while putting the shield on her back. Her handling of the spear was superior to that of Sagas one-handed approach and she clearly had her proficiency a step above novice. Saga found that their approach was being read and countered as the woman put the pressure on. The leader was buying her two entangled and downed allies enough time to scramble back to their feet as they sank their shoulder behind the shield for another charge.

They ran up against her spear, forcing her to back, and then, just as one of the others got up to their feet, Saga pivoted and tossed their training spear like a javelin. It hit the man who staggered and swore. He lay down on his back with a groan, knowing when a hit counted as lethal damage. The woman saw the lack of a spear as an opportunity to try and attack the partly exposed side of Saga. Saga reacted instinctively and used their shield to smack with all their might at the spear, making it so it only graced them before deflecting rather violently to the side. Before the woman could react, Saga was within her space and reeled back their fist for a punch. That’s when a spear hit their exposed back and they yelped in pain, realizing they had just lost. Saga grunted as they hopped in place, swearing as the spear hit a spot they just couldn’t reach with their hand. “Ow ow fuck”.

“Hurts doesn't it,” The guy they had downed with their own javelin toss said, rubbing the spot over his heart where he had taken the hit. “Damn good throw though. Natural at those. Names Torbjörn.” He extended an arm that Saga shook with a grimace. Torbjörn was a fairly built, brown-haired youth. He had also been the one Saga tossed overhead using their shield earlier.

“Yeah. I am glad it wasn't at the back of my head.” Saga said, still squirming at the pain. There was something incredibly annoying about having a bruise just out of reach.

“Too small a target. Always go for the body.” The other man spoke as he approached the two. He was the one who had tossed the spear at Saga. He was tall and lanky looking, with wiry muscle and a beard that had yet to fully realize its glorious potential. They were both young, in their very early 20’s. “I’m Alf.” He reached over to shake their hand as well.

“And I am Evira.” The woman who had been seconds away from eating a knuckle sandwich added after the two men had introduced themselves. Saga reached a hand out to shake but she apologetically declined. “I think I broke a finger. So I shall refrain from a handshake.”

“You did?” Saga asked, looking to see where the woman's right hand was swollen. “I guess I didn’t just hit the spear with that last shield slam.”

“Nope” The woman winced but grinned. “Right of the thumb.”

“Ow. Hell. I am sorry.”

“What for. You fight pretty damn good for someone I hear is new to this. Instinctive.” Evira said with a chuckle.

“I have to admit, that I quite literally have no idea where it comes from,” Saga confessed, rubbing the back of their head as Olaf approached. He looked them all over with a critical eye.

“Evira, you have a good idea for reading the situation, but you are also too slow to act. You second-guess yourself too much. That will get you and yours killed.” He said, motioning to her broken finger and to Torbjörn.

“And you Torbjörn.” Torbjörn winced. “You are too flat on your feet. You didn't properly position yourself even as you saw someone charge you and lost balance as a result. Olaf's eyes then fell on the last of Saga's opponents.

“You need to be more observant and quicker to react, but good throw. Good instincts and excellent aim.” Olaf said, giving Alf an approving nod. Saga gulped as Olaf pivoted on them.

“You are dead,” Olaf said, very calmly.

“I am,” Saga confirmed. “Spear to the back.”

“At this level, yes. With enough brawn and spirit, you can live through a lot. And If you rage you might just survive.”

“I wasn't critically damaged. So it didn't activate, because this was never a life or death battle with real weapons.” Saga said and as they did they came to realize something.

“That's why a lot of berserkers don't make it far. Isn’t it? How do you train and level when your path needs you to risk life and limb.” They said with a slightly panicked expression.

“That is indeed the issue you are going to be facing a lot, going forward,” Olaf said, his voice level and calm.

“This keeps coming up and I am once again wishing I had gotten a mage path instead,” Saga exclaimed and the others shared a glance.

“Are you the bookish type? Do you like sitting through hours of theory?” Alf asked.

“No,” Saga said. They liked books. Just not books that lacked something fun. So academic reads were disqualified per default.

“Do you enjoy doing nothing but perfecting a single rune or diagram?” Torbjörn asked as Saga hesitated.

“No.”

“Then you do not want out be a mage. Not really.” Evira said with a chuckle.

“I guess. But I don’t want to die.” Saga said as if to drive the point home that mage still had been a better path in life.

“Who does.” Torbjörn shrugged.