Ch.28

"What are you doing, kid?" Munin landed next to her contractor in the town's plaza where Erik was digging out the statue, her gaze discontent.

"Obviously I'm getting my reward," he said, holstering the unearthed statue off snow, its size shaming two normal adults, the treasure glistened inside and weighed as much as two men. "The Fate Quest said the ghosts would allow me to take their treasures. So I'm taking what's mine."

Erik's grin grew wide with greed and hastiness to shower himself with diamonds and gold. The warm brilliance of gold came third on a Norseman's bucket list, just before glory and honor. A sudden peg of guilt at the Wildfather's head stayed in his hand.

He sighed, and looked at Munin for an answer.

"Oh, finally realizing you're profaning a sacred statue?" The raven said, "Took you long enough."

"Is it truly considered profaning since the Beast God is dead?"

"Foolish kid, of course, it is! Just think about it. Stealing the treasure is akin to spitting on his tomb!" She admonished, her tone that of a teacher scolding her student. "The ghosts might have allowed taking their treasure, but it isn't their right to allow you to take what's inside this statue. It is the Wildfather—" Munin paused and squinted her eyes as if someone was talking to her. "Lucky brat. Take it. You're the Beast God's Inheritor, after all, this is yours by right of succession. Think of it as an inheritance."

Joyful, Erik brought back the statue inside the church, careful not to break it this time around, and spilled some of its content on the ground, forming a small pile that barely went over his toes. Gold, rubies and diamond shimmered beautifully, along with a silver ring on top of the pile.

"Is that all you're taking?"

"This much is enough," he said, respectfully mending back the Wildfather's head with Rock's help before lifting the statue and gluing it where it was supposed to be. "More would be dishonorable."

Munin scoffed, "You're indeed better than your predecessors." She landed on the tiny hoard and picked the silver before placing it in Erik's palm.

"I can pick this up myself." He said.

"Without knowing the true value of this tool, certainly." She retorted. "Since you were reasonable I'm willing to tell you. It's a true spatial ring capable of storing an entire town's worth of lifeless things. Chances are, there are still items in it. Put it on, you'll be able to sense its content once your wyrd is connected to it."

"Amazing!" Erik had heard of such tools before but never got his hands on one despite originating from a wealthy family. Within was a pocket dimension artificially capable of storing items. And since it was a true spatial ring, it could only have been crafted by the now extinct dwarf species. A rare find to say the least.

When he put it on his right central finger, runic symbols appeared on it. He felt a peg of pain as needles penetrated his skin to connect with his life circuits, a feature reserved for those that couldn't manifest wyrd outside their bodies yet.

Connected to the spatial ring, he indeed felts its content; gold, silver, and iron, enough to fill the church whole.

Staring at the ring with disbelief Erik's jaw dropped. It took him a few minutes for his mind to take back control over his body despite Munin's caws.

He's never owned so much money before and there was room for more!

Instantly, he injected his wyrd inside, summoned a hoard big enough to shy a nobleman's wealth on top of the tiny one already decorating the ground, and jumped in it.

'So satisfying!' He thought, remaining oblivious to his contracted beast's complaints. If it weren't for the direwolf meat roasting on the broach, he would never have left this new home!

***

An hour later.

"Eighth, wake up!" A drunk Erik hurled a snowball at his Ogram's face resting by the fire. "It's time to feast!"

"NO! Don't t, t, touch me with your dirty white hands!" The pig face teenager jumped to his feet, and growled when his broken ribs seared. His trauma caused by paranormal activities still fresh, it took him a few seconds to recognize his sibling. "Ninth?"

Ogram's inquisitive gaze traveled left, a raven nested on an improvised fur bed with a face asking impolitely what he wanted.

His gaze traveled right; a golden retriever sleeping under warm fur.

"Wolf meat?" Erik asked, pointing his survival knife at a wolf corpse still cooking atop the fire. Then the blade pointed elsewhere, "Direwolf meat? A bit chewy if you don't have the bite strength."

Unable to stand the scent, his belly empty, Ogram jumped on the direwolf meat, only for a hand to slap him midway.

"Oi, where are your manners, eighth?" Erik said with a playful smile, his cheeks reddened by alcohol.

"Please." To his surprise, his brother got on all four, and begged. "I've had n, n, nothing for the past two weeks, subsisting on snow only."

It dawned on him how much Ogram had changed. The brother he knew would have been too prideful to concede. In this life, Ogram's paranormal trauma and the holmgang's defeat have turned him into someone else.

For better or worse, he did not know yet.

"I…," Erik sighed, regretting his attitude, the hatred he felt for his brother subsiding a little as he empathized with his trauma; going hungry in a chilling place while ghostly voices harassed your sanity was probably one of the worst imaginable psychological torture.

Slicing a leg muscle, he threw him a good chunk of meat weighing around 1kg. "If that's not enough, there is plenty more. Eat your fill, eighth."

"Thank you, little brother!" The teenager gobbled his food, barely taking his time to chew, tears of joy dropping from his face and meat juice in his mouth.

There, at that moment, Erik's hatred towards his brother changed into dislike; begrudging the stutterer for actions he hadn't technically committed yet felt wrong, more so now because Erik understood why his brother was messed up. Well, he'd be lying and inhuman if he'd forgive everything just from that, but he was starting to be willing to give his brother a second chance.

Perhaps in this life, they could have a different relationship. Was it alcohol talking or his subconscious thoughts?

Cough!

The inevitable happened, Ogram choked on his food.

"Drink," Erik unsealed his second clay pot and handed it over.

Alcohol set Ogram's throat on fire, then unclogged it. "What is t, t, this!?"

"Home-brewed mouffette, vendors aren't exactly roaming the mountains so don't expect top quality stuff."

"How can you d, d, drink that foul liquid? My throat is a, a, ablaze after a sip."

"Haha! It's a sign you're learning eighth! A true drengr must know how to handle his mug!" That and he hadn't distilled the alcohol, so it was bound to be stronger than what's sold in a normal store. Not that mattered, they were cultivators, their constitutions could handle this much.

"Is that so?" Ogram eyed the transparent liquid tentatively, the word "drengr" baiting him into taking another sip, and another, and another.

A few minutes later.

"A, a, alcohol with meat is the best!" Ogram took a sip while swallowing his meal, pushing out a satisfied sigh.

"Right!? Nothing like alcohol after a hard-won victory!" He laughed merrily, taking a huge gulp.

"Kids," Old Bone shook her head.

"What'd it say?" Ogram asked, squinting his eyes to better see the raven. "Hey, ninth, why do you have three r, r, ravens as totem beasts?"

Erik sent him a quizzical gaze, looked at Old Bone, then Rex for no reason, then the direwolf still cooking above the fire, then snow falling out the broken rose window, the ceiling looked quite beautiful too, then his gaze returned to the raven, no, there were three of them!

"It's her special ability," Erik explained articulating every word because his mouth felt like it was floating. "She can split, no, clone herself would be more accurate."

"Hey, kid, you haven't unlocked that ability, yet," Old Bone declared, sending him a worried gaze. "You are just drunk."

Ogram's mouth grew progressively wider, to the point his brother could see the pieces of meat stuck in between his teeth. "That's so c, c, cool!"

'He is just another kid after all,' Erik thought, smiling. Like every young cultivator, his older brother liked cool cultivation stuff; mystical powers, cultivation arts, alchemical solutions, etc. Playing dumb, he boasted, "Ha, wait, you haven't seen it all, she can also fart lightning!"

"Breathe, not fart!" The proud raven snarled, outraged at the misunderstanding.

"W, W, Wildfather, that's disturbingly awesome." Ogram took another sip to digest the news.

"Yeah, with her by my side, my enemies will fear my rear, haha!" Erik gloated when a lightning breath struck him.

BZZZT!

Electrical current flowed through his body, damaging him less than he'd give it credit at first glance. Thanks to his new body type, it was akin to discomfort like…, "That tickles." Approaching the bird with his moonshine, his gaze turned dark with playful malice.

"W, w, what are you doing?" Old Bone stuttered, getting ready to flee.

"Vengeance!" Faster than before, Erik caught her leg, pulled the raven closer, and forced alcohol into her beak. "Drink!"

"T, t, that's the way, ninth! A B, B, Basara always pays back his grudges tenfold!"

"Nooo!" The raven tried to complain, hardly succeeding with the strong liquid flowing down her throat.

A few minutes later.

Caw! Caw! Caw! Or so Ogram heard.

"Listen closely you wingless child!" The raven teetered, and stumbled but managed to catch herself on Erik's leg. "I, Munin, the Beast God's firstborn, the leader of the Wild Hunt, the great Storm Raven, deem you, Erik Basara, a worthy contractor!"

Old Bone, hiccuped, paused, looked at the pillars, noticed how uselessly beautiful they were and continued.

"Rex was right, you are worthy. I knew it from the moment I saw you. Pride and grudges blinded me until the last born almost died. My fault, all my fault. As the great Storm Raven, it was my duty to help you awaken the Beast God's Divine Seed! If I had done so before the fight, then…, maybe, the hunter would still be alive, celebrating with us." Ashamed, she lowered her head and closed her eyes, as if praying for Sieg's soul.

"And that's why I'll train you!" She then said, illogically jumping topic. "Once I'm through with you, they will fear you as Stormfist, haha!" And finally, her head lowered again, eyes closed.

A few long silent seconds passed. Worried she was a clone, Erik poked her. The bird fell to her side, sleeping soundly.

"I think she drunk too much," said the one who has drunk more than the others.

The small feast went on with more merry jokes. At some point, Erik retold the story of their fights from the beginning to Ogram who drank his every word and liquor.

Once the story was over, both siblings stared at the dwindling fire in silence, appreciating the warmth.

At some point, Ogram broke it. "You know, I e, e, entered these ruins on my way back to the clan, hoping to find treasures or something I could salvage."

Classic, Erik would have probably done the same at his age, which reminded him to give his brother a handful of coins, after all, Ogram had fought alongside him and deserved a tiny, tiny, very tiny share of the spoils. But that could wait for later.

"When I was searching what looked like a very old inn, g, g, ghosts came out of nowhere," he started trembling, the memory marked with red iron. "Then I r, r, ran. Eventually, I entered this church. Can't help but think they baited me inside, just so I could die a slow d, d, death. There was nothing I could do. I had power over n, n, nothing. Perhaps I could have eaten a corpse, h, h, however, since I've lost our holmgang and you asked me to never lower myself to cannibalism, my honor forbade me to."

'Asking…, huh?' He thought. That wasn't exactly how Erik remembered it. No matter, so long as his brother did not turn like the crazy one he had known, all the better.

"And so, after going hungry for two months, in this cold weather, with his still feeble c, c, constitution,…," Ogram bottled up his pot, "my totem beast died of hunger. Berk was a reindeer you know, a herbivore. Even if I pleaded him to eat human meat he refused, maybe he c, c, couldn't. On the bright side, his death saved my life, I had enough meat to last for a bit longer…, but…"

His eyes became wet, and one teardrop after another ran down his cheeks. To a Basara, losing a totem beast was among the worst feeling possible. Their bonds linked them deeply, their companion's death would be akin to losing a part of their soul.

"I m, m, miss him, ninth. I miss him so much."

*****

Lore Extract:

"I know the major events to come. I know the future of some people. I know what the world will look like in 21 years. But I don't know everything and I fear my current knowledge might not help me foresee my new future. Plus, I have yet to meet other regressors whose actions will certainly differ from their past ones. That thought has me worried."

—Erik Basara