8 - The Ashen Burial

15th Year, 7th Month, Autumn

He was not always the last of his kind, nor she the last of hers. They were born to loving families and raised in ordinary households. Were fate any kinder, it would be under those circumstances that they lived and died, but it was not meant to be. He was snatched by the madness of war and she the jaws of the hunter.

He became the lord of malediction, turning lament to power and hatred to justice, while she became the ruler of reincarnation and presented rebirth to the fallen to live out their heart’s desires.

Their power stood on a mirror’s edge, beholden in stark contrast by their conflicting methodologies. Yet with both bound by a fervent wish to see their species revived, Builledracht, god of curses, and Flux, goddess of the flow, were fated to coconspire.

Scripture of the Savage Gods, Verse 9-1

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I took a deep breath and steadied my trembling hands as I continued down the hall. I vaguely remembered that my steps were meant to invoke a set of negative effects, but I couldn’t be bothered to keep track of precisely what they were.

Even if my body was steady, my mind was not. I couldn’t help but lose myself in the vision still fresh in my mind. There were so many questions and points of uncertainty that I wasn’t sure where to start. I needed to know why she rejected me. I needed to know why I had understood and accepted it. And most of all, I needed to know how we had arrived at such a circumstance to begin with.

But there were no answers.

The goddess refused to explain no matter how intently I stared. She only looked at me, her lips slowly twisting into a deeper frown with every moment that passed. It wasn’t like I didn’t understand. The vision meant to hone my resolve had filled my head with flowers and distracted me from the task at hand. It was most likely by design. She had chosen the memories and predictions she had precisely because they were distracting. They were supposed to pull my focus so I would more easily succumb to her phantoms.

But that was also why she was so disappointed.

I was meant to be one of her chosen. And yet, there I was, failing to meet her expectations, tarnishing her high hopes on account of a woman. I understood her frustration, but I had no intention of correcting my behaviour, or at least not until I reconsidered the state I was in when I proposed. For everything to go exactly as it had, I would have to ascend—I would have to pass Vella’s trial.

A sigh escaped my lips as I turned my eyes to my seventh opponent. The goddess had already introduced the lizardman, but his name had gone in one ear and out the other.

I didn’t care for it. Just as how I didn’t care for his continued existence.

The distance between us vanished in a heartbeat. My blade slid through his gut and split his body in two. He might have been a famous warrior—a bonafide champion acknowledged by the goddess of war—but he was entirely irrelevant. Without the speed to keep up with my blade, he was no different than any of the other apparitions.

A familiar sense of excitement accompanied the white curtain that followed his death. When I opened my eyes, I found myself standing in front of the manor with my whole family by the door to see me off. Everyone was dressed in festive garments unbefitting of the early morning. Everyone but me in my hunter’s robe.

“Are you certain you have everything? Have you sharpened your spear and checked your arrows?”

“I’ll be fine, Father.”

I breathed a tired sigh. It was the tenth time in thirty minutes that he had asked the very same question, and my answer had never changed. I almost didn’t understand why Father was so concerned. I spent as much time in the woods as I did at home. For the most part, its population was made up of nothing but goblins, wolves, and bears. All creatures that I could easily defeat barehanded.

Though barely an adult at the time, I was already one of the house’s tallest members. I stood at a full three and a half metres, and my frame was lean and muscular. It was a physique sure to inspire jealousy. Few centaurian subspecies could grow to such a size; goat and deer-derived variants maxed out at two metres, and the standard horses averaged around three. And I hadn’t even hit my second growth spurt. With a few more years under my belt, I could easily hit four, excluding my antlers.

Alas, such fanciful headdresses would remain out of reach for another few years. As a boy, even one about to embark on his coming-of-age hunt, my horns were only big enough to peek out from my platinum hair.

“It is a father’s job to worry.” The older moose patted me on the shoulder. “Especially about cheeky little calves like you.”

“I’m fifteen, father. I’m not a calf anymore, I’m not little either.” I stepped away from the overly touchy parent and made for the forest. “Just you wait, I’ll be back with a dozen wolves within the hour.” In just a few strides, I leapt over the fence and vanished into the trees.

“Virillius! Wait! Twelve is far too many! And don’t forget to wa—”

I felt like my father had said something important, but he was muted by the shaking of the trees. I wasn’t all that far away, but the dense wood was filled with water-laden leaves, still moist from the morning rain; it was hard for his voice to ring true.

I was no stranger to the forest and its bounty. It was hardly my first hunt. I’d done it a thousand times, both by myself and with the others. I knew the place like the back of my hand, and I was especially well-versed in stalking my prey while the sun was still rising. It was the easiest time to catch a local creature off guard.

The birds were the only ones active at daybreak, but I didn’t care much for them to begin with. I could easily grab them out of the sky if I leapt from the branches, but they were too small to eat. An individual would amount to a few mouthfuls at best, and that was assuming I went through the painstaking process of carefully removing their feathers. For my coming-of-age hunt, I wanted something meatier and more impressive. I didn’t just want to feed my family. I wanted the servants to have their share, and for that, I would have to catch some much bigger game.

Wolves and bears would suffice, of course. A few of them would provide enough delicious meat for the whole family, but despite what I told my father, I was sick of eating the same old things. I’d long decided on something much less boring—I would seek none other than the mightiest hunter that dwelled within the forest’s depths and claim its head as my milestone bounty.

I had encountered the creature on a fair number of occasions, but never before had I possessed the equipment to hunt it. The wooden spears I was typically allocated were too weak and flimsy to pierce its hide. Being everything but a military man, Father generally refused to buy any weapons whose purchase he could avoid.

For a Cadrian, it was eccentric behaviour. My father was one of the few in the country who believed the calm of peace to be of greater value than the rage of war. My brother and I had no choice but to craft our spears and arrows from sticks and branches; our equipment was worse than that of the local farm boys’. It was no wonder that we had no chance against the three-buttholed ape that was the forest’s greatest challenge.

But today was different. I was not equipped with a piece of makeshift wood, but a genuine metal spear. The entire five-metre-long weapon was made from a chunk of solid iron, and it was heavy enough that even some of the manor’s guards had remarked that it was unserviceable, but I had no trouble wielding the birthday gift. From our long sessions together, my brother had known what I could handle and adjusted the present accordingly. My other weapon, my other gift, was just as deadly. The rawhide-backed bow came with a set of jagged flint arrows, far better than the headless fare I typically had on hand.

I was ready to fell the beast.

Upon entering its territory, I found the forest dead silent. Even in the morning, while everything was still inactive, there should have been birds and other critters moving about, chirping and scurrying. The gorilla should have rushed me as soon as I encroached upon the edge of its domain. But there was nothing.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Venturing further into the apex predator’s territory, I found the trees toppled, the undergrowth stomped down, and bright, red marks splotched across the leaves. They were so fresh that the blood was still dripping, running down the nearby trees.

The ape had fought something. And if its severed fingers were any indication, it had likely lost.

I gulped when I saw the tracks carved into the ground. They were somewhat bear-like, only much larger and with many times the number of toes. They curved all around the paw print, like a fan of knives in the hands of an assassin. The trees suggested that the monster was of an abnormal proportion. Some bore claw marks on the uppermost part of their trunks, nearing the top of their canopies.

All signs seemed to point towards an ascended ursine, a bear that had broken past its limits, taken a step towards godhood, and evolved into a more powerful creature. The last time I had encountered such a beast was during my outing with Ragnar.

I’d later learned from the local hunters that such creatures appeared whenever the bear population boomed. They touted that such animals were best left to those with combat experience and shied away in favour of paying the local mercenaries and adventurers to defeat them. And while I understood that seeking help was best, from a logical perspective, so too did I believe that their claims were overblown.

Ascensions were incredible sources of power. Many of the warriors I knew had sprouted wings or gained hardened skin upon reaching their fiftieth levels. But some of them, I could still best in combat, and they were all stronger than the bear that Ragnar and I had encountered.

The decision was easy. Tightening the grip I had on my weapon, I followed its tracks and ventured deeper into the forest. It didn’t take long to find it; it was right by the local lake. And surely enough, it was an overgrown bear that was digging into the local apex predator, its massive fangs ripping the dead ape’s flesh with every bloody bite. But while I had certainly expected an ursine creature, what I found was far beyond my expectations.

Just looking at it sent shivers up and down my spine. It was nearly ten metres tall, with six sets of legs, and four fully developed arms sticking out of its body. It had only one head, but at least seven mouths built straight into the back of its neck. The monster’s appearance, however, was not the main drive of my fear. My gut was unresponsive. My sixth sense was always going off, not only around the wolves and bears, but the manor’s ascended guards as well. Before the beast, however, it was deathly silent, quiet as the monkey’s corpse.

I couldn’t kill it.

I knew that I had to run. Every bone in my body screamed for me to turn tail and flee, but I kept my feet anchored and stood my ground. My brother had always claimed that prey drive was not entirely accurate. Though slim, there was a chance to triumph over my foe as long as I created all the right conditions. And triumph was the point of coming of age.

I refused to back down, even as it turned its eyes upon me. The beast almost seemed unconcerned with my presence. Perhaps having failed to see me as anything but an oversized deer, it hadn’t even bothered with a roar before returning to its meal.

A sheer display of hubris. And for that, it would pay.

I raised my spear whilst pawing at the ground with my hooves. With an annoyed snort, I charged like a bull. My hooves destroyed the undergrowth, breaking through the fallen trunks with ease, and leaving deep imprints in the bloody mud.

I thrust my spear as I closed the gap and drove it towards the beast’s throat. The weapon was heavy enough to ignore the trees. It punched straight through them, as it would pieces of paper. And yet, it was incapable of piercing the bear’s monochrome hide. My heart practically sank into my stomach when I found the blade tangled in its fur. But while I was certain that I was dead, the bear was largely unbothered. All it did was curiously raise its head before swatting at me like a fly.

It was hardly the fastest or heaviest attack, but it took everything I had to dodge. Only by screaming at my body to move did I duck beneath it and deliver another blow. I used the full force of my momentum to bat at its chest with the side of my blade. But again, it was entirely unharmed. The beast only swatted again, huffing in mild annoyance as it continued its meal.

The second strike looked almost identical to the first, so I attempted the same evasion, but the predator lowered its claw mid-strike and caught me dead center.

I was already in the air by the time the pain registered. There was a sickening crunch as my back met the trunk of an old tree. I could practically feel my spine crumpling beneath the weight of the blow.

For a while, I lay there, walking the line between conscious and not. I was good as dead. But the bear couldn’t be bothered to give chase. It only returned its bloody maw to its prey as I grit my teeth, pulled myself together, and dragged my body off into the underbrush.

Victory seemed far beyond my grasp. My birthday gift was to the bear what my sharpened sticks were to the late gorilla. But I didn’t want to give up. Not on the day I came of age. I steadied my breath and watched my prey. I waited as it finished its meal and followed it along the riverbank once it abandoned the corpse. There was no need to be rash. I just needed to await an opportunity.

The bear spent some thirty minutes wandering about it. It stopped twice during the trek, once to eat a beehive in one bite, and again to terrorize a bushel of berries. Eating was all it cared for. Come another week or three, it would be winter, and even the ascended creature would have to join its peers in a long hibernation, a quiet home where it could sleep the cold away. And it was precisely that insulated space which marked the end of its journey—the perfect chance for me to use the one card that I still held above it.

Bears were not worth hunting when spring drew near, but in the earlier parts of the yearly freeze, they were among the most common types of prey. Their flesh was readily circulated in all centaurian markets, available even to the poor and downtrodden. Though some, like me, were capable of overpowering them with brute strength, it was not typically through physical ability that they were harvested. Weaker subspecies like sheep and donkeys could easily procure them as well.

I waited just outside my prey’s underground den. It had started snoring five minutes after its descent, but I waited another ten, just in case. Once sure it wouldn’t wake, I began my preparations in earnest. I began by throwing small objects into its dwelling, dead weeds, feathers, pine cones, and old logs I found around the forest floor. It almost looked like I was building the bear a bed, or perhaps even a home with the way I packed the dwelling’s entrance with mud. I sealed the doorway shut, leaving only a small hole around the size of my face. I stuck my iron spear through the gap and started striking it with the flint of my arrows. The sparks, enhanced by what pitiful magic I knew, caught right away on the dry foliage that made up its fresh grave.

And then, I pressed my face to the hole and stoked the embers with my breath, fueling them with air and mana alike.

It didn’t take long for the resident to catch on. The monster jolted awake, barking, roaring, and flailing its limbs in hysteria. A pointless struggle. The more it jostled about, the more flames it touched, and soon, its whole body was alight.

I could feel a grin coming up on my lips as I backed away from the hole. The plan was a success. My sixth sense’s voice was echoing anew.

Of course, without a magical seal, the enclosure could hardly hold the massive creature. It rose from the earth, bursting out with a roar, but I was ready. I thrust my spear straight towards its freshly burnt neck. Without any fur to protect its vitals, the monster was unable to resist the blade. It tore straight through the bear’s most important artery, severing the supply of blood to its brain.

Still, the creature raged. One of its fists emerged from the soil and nearly struck me through the gut, but I jabbed my spear between the ursine’s digits and countered by removing a claw. It reeled back in pain. And provided me with the opportunity to go for the kill.

I planted my hooves firmly into the ground and plunged my weapon into the beast’s heart. There was a feral cry, one last, weakened swipe of the claws. And then, it went limp, the blood flowing from its neck quenching the flames that accompanied its parting embrace. There was no doubting its death—my body had already started to mend as a result of the accompanying increase in my level, but I popped open my log to be sure and confirmed that the gods had acknowledged my feat.

Surely enough, the entry was there. Undeniable proof that I had overcome the trial before me.

I was tempted to open my status and immediately invest all the fresh points at my disposal, but one look at the bear reminded me that its meat would need to be treated. I had to drain the blood and get it to either a chef or a hunter, someone who could get it butchered and ready for the evening party.

My smile persisted until I noted again its naked form. There were only a few bits of its once majestic coat still remaining, proof that my solution had only been subpar; I would have been able to show it off to my brother if I had found a way to carve up its flesh while it was still protected.

“Maybe next time.”

A quiet laugh on my lips, I lifted the beast onto my back and made my way back home. I was practically skipping; my grin soon returned as I imagined the looks of surprise that their faces were all sure to feature. Such was the sheer absurdity of my most recent kill.

But it was not their eyes that went wide upon my return.

Because I soon discovered that my home was up in flames.

My mother lay dead, a spear through her chest.

And my father’s severed head hung from my own brother’s grasp.

The me back then was appalled, completely shocked into oblivion, but I found myself chuckling as I returned to the present. It was my most traumatic memory. The scene that had started it all. The singular event that had stolen my innocence.

Vella had tried to prod at my old wounds in an attempt to get me to focus. But again, they failed to register. And again, she watched me in silent frustration.

I didn’t even wait for my new mantle to finish taking its shape before I broke into a sprint.

Violet still dominated my mind.

I didn’t have the mental real estate to waste any thoughts on old grudges.