The Bloodaxe

“A berserker?” Moira asked again, seemingly now speaking to herself in disbelief. They were walking down another set of corridors, apparently going to the practice field.. “Are you certain?” This was now the fourth time she had asked if he was sure of his claim.

Slightly bemused, John simply looked at her and said, “Moira. I am absolutely certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am a berserker. I have it on, as I understand it, the highest authority. Now can you stop asking me if I’m sure, and actually tell me what’s going on?”

She looked at him a bit sheepishly. “I am sorry, John, I simply…” She shook her head slightly and turned to face where she was walking. “Alright. I sent a text when we left the gardens, to the person I am asking to train you. She is a berserker herself - the only one we have on hand, in fact - so she should be best suited to help you.”

They went through a door and turned a corner, then walked underneath an exterior covered walkway, with a half-wall facing the courtyard.

John asked, “Who is she? I-I’m not sure how, er, ‘safe’ I am?” Moira glanced at him in confusion, so he pushed on with it, “Well, you know, when I first became a, er… berserker, I guess, was with, er, the j-jailer.”

She stopped and faced him, curiosity stamped on her features. “You became a berserker? As in, you weren’t before, and it was intentional?”

He looked away, wishing he could take that back. “I-I’m going to have to say this to this woman too, and I…” he paused and swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat.

She gently placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him. “That’s alright. We are here now. Forget I asked. Come along.”

John nodded thankfully, then followed her, staying close. She stepped through the stone arch they’d stopped next to, and entered the courtyard. It was a large space, partly paved with small slabs and partly covered in grass. There were a couple of small groups of armoured knights practising various weapons and spellcasting, and a pair at the very back of the paved area, by the racks of weapons, which Moira was clearly headed towards. It was Velvet, and she was speaking with a tall, and undeniably attractive, blonde.

To John’s credit, he was able to keep his eyes from freely roaming across the beautifully toned midriff, or the long legs that put thoughts in his head, and even from looking too intently at the way her cleavage pushed the armour she was wearing outwards. In truth, he was more interested in the intricate markings, or tattoos, that curled their way around much of her skin, overlapping and interlocking like some beautiful living celtic knot. He even recognised one or two runes amidst the lines, from games or other nerd culture, though he had no idea what they might mean.

She spun her head around, sending her dirty blonde braids flying behind her, as she turned to look at John and Moira approaching. John idly noticed that she had crow’s feathers tucked into her braids, and somehow they didn’t look even slightly out of place.

“Moira! You took your time,” she called out across the intervening space with a grin.
Moira and John closed the remaining distance and John caught the girl’s mutter to Velvet as they got close. “...some things might upset you. We’ll talk later. Trust me.”

Moira replied to the blonde when they were close enough, “I’m sorry, were you waiting overly long, Erica? I had to speak with John.”.

“Nah, I’m just messing with you. The extra time let me get acquainted with Vel here, so I could work out what she needed for her training.” She slyly looked at Velvet. “Eion did pretty well. The girl’s as good as she looks.” Velvet began to blush rosily, and Erica laughed triumphantly as she turned back to Moira. “And she’s great fun to tease, let me tell you.”

Moira rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Must you?”

“Hm… yeah, I think I must,” she mimicked Moira’s tone, and looked John over slowly. It was oddly uncomfortable, as if he were being evaluated for auction or something. “So, this is the guy? The… berserker?” Moira nodded, and Erica faced John, still examining him. “...Are you sure about that? No offence or anything, it’s just…”

John sighed. “Yes, I’m sure I’m a damn berserker. Is it that hard to believe?” He had been tolerant of Moira’s disbelief, but the visual evaluation that this blonde girl was giving him and the almost dismissive tone of voice was unexpectedly bothering him.

“Honestly? Absolutely is. You look more like the kind of person that spends all day, every day, indoors on your computer. If it wasn't for Moira vouching for you, I would have dismissed it without a thought.” Erica’s voice never faltered, and her intense eyes had locked onto John’s with an inscrutable look.

“Erica-” Moira tried to speak, her voice shocked, while looking at her friend like she’d sprouted an extra arm, but Erica steamrolled on.

“In fact, I wouldn’t even think you were Abyssal. I can barely feel your magic. Sure, I can see there’s a little power behind your eyes, though it’s not much. But a berserker? You don’t know the first thing about that. You’re not a fighter.”

John realised he was clenching his fists again. This girl’s words were biting away at him, and the spots she was targeting were still raw from the day before. He caught the inside of his cheek and bit down until it hurt, trying to keep himself focused as she continued.

“And then Vel here tells me all about how you ‘heroically defeated’ a fully grown Abyssal criminal to save her, because he was threatening to rape her. Now that’s an interesting story.”

John closed his eyes and he realised he could taste iron. He hadn’t noticed he had torn through his inside cheek. His teeth hurt. He was clenching them too hard. He forced his words past the fire in his chest, “Stop talking. Please.” After choking out those words, he began to follow the same routine he used when Frank had beaten or ridiculed him. Deep breaths, tense and relax his muscles, and force his thoughts to calmness.

“Is that what you begged the jailer to do? What was his name again, Toby, right? Or did you ask him if you could watch?” Each question cracked through the air like a whip, tearing strips out of his mental hide.

He was shaking slightly now. He could recognise the signs, even if they were new to him. His muscles were locked, tensed up. His nails were digging into his hands so much he could feel the flesh about to tear. The fire in his chest was growing stronger, and his words were spat out past it, even as he desperately held to his calming thoughts. “No. What I told Toby was that I would kill him if he touched Velvet.”

John could hear Moira’s sharp intake of breath and her attempt to speak, “Erica, what are y-”

“Yeah? And then what? Didn’t work, did it? ” Her eyes were locked on him, never blinking, seeming to glow a slight icy-white. Her words bit into his skin like frostbite and poured pitch onto the fire over his heart. “Maybe next time you could offer yourself in her place. See what it’s like to be in her shoes and let someone competent handle the foe. But there’s no glory in that, is there, Mr. Hero?”

Moira realised suddenly what Erica was attempting to do. The blonde wanted to push John too far, throw the boy into the berserker rage. And… the Lady forgive her, the Warden wanted to see what would happen.

John was simply too unassuming, that was the reason. He was everything she overlooked at Ashcroft: the unkempt brown hair, the plain soft brown eyes, the complete lack of any imposing presence. He was too polite, too soft-spoken, simply too nice. To see him succumb to the battle-rage of a true berserker as she had seen in Erica, despite all that kindness and gentleness… it set her emerald eyes alight with an almost perverse curiosity.

Even if she could have stopped Erica right then, she would not choose to.

John had grim humour in his mind. This blonde just didn’t get it. He barely even knew her name, and she’d insulted him in everything other than his dick size. Called him a liar, pathetic, said he was only in it to make himself look good - Hell, she even called him a fucking cuck. White-knuckled, he stood there, motionless.

What she didn’t understand was that her words didn’t mean anything to him. Years of abuse and cruelty from Vanessa and Frank had desensitised him to anything that other people said. He knew he was a pathetic, often perverted, and remarkably weak person. It didn’t matter what they said because he’d heard it already, or thought of it himself. The downfall of an erudite mind was that he was infinitely more effective at labelling his faults than either Frank, Vanessa or even Erica could ever be.

The moment of quiet seemed to have lasted for much longer than it truly had. Erica broke that silence, “Or have I got it wrong? You weren’t in it for glory, were you? Nah, you wanted to take poor, sweet Vel here for yourself, didn’t you?”

The boy’s eyes opened, and Erica saw that they had changed. She’d smiled a wry, tense smile. It’d been cruel of her to test John this way, certainly to suggest that final insult, but the key element to a true berserker was rage. She’d learned that a long, long time ago. It wasn’t enough to have anger, you had to control it and channel it. John had impressive self-control, considering he had no training. If he could direct his emotions even half as well, there was considerable potential there.

Still, she had taken it a bit too far. Some of what she’d said made her stomach twist in revulsion and her skin felt icy cold. She closed her eyes, let out a frigid breath and recollected herself. Moira looked horrified, but she’d understand, especially if the blonde judged that twinkle in the Warden’s eye right. Velvet and John would understand too. Once she apologised, that was.

She realised that he was audibly growling, and it clearly wasn’t an intentional act. That was a rarity. It was an intimidation tactic, but one so animalistic that not many trained fighters actually used it. It was more a stereotype that popped up in fiction, from those that didn’t understand berserkism. This was different. It was not intimidation, or even intentional. This was him unconsciously echoing his anger, the same as the intensity that had set his eyes alight with power. She narrowed her eyes and rolled her shoulders as she stepped forward to meet the challenge, noticing Moira moving out of the way and guiding Velvet as well.

“Alright,” Erica muttered to herself, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

John’s growl reached its height, and turned into a shout of rage, and even without her runes, Erica could feel the eruption of mana that blazed around his figure, a sense that was supported by Velvet’s light gasp in the background. She kept her stance loose, watching his legs as they tensed. Her body threw itself forwards into a roll that tumbled past his lunge. The ground cracked apart beneath his feet as he launched himself at the spot she’d been, howling in incoherent fury. It abruptly cut off as he slammed into the weapons rack behind where she’d stood. He tumbled and landed face first as the rack’s contents scattered around him.

The blonde berserker made a mental note, adding the ability he’d just showcased. He was erratically strong. Strong enough that she’d need to respond in kind. She whispered a brief prayer to the All-Father, just enough to infuse her tattoos with mana. Her body heated up, burning away the last traces of the cold shiver on her skin, and she called forth her legacy, and the origin of her moniker ‘The Bloodaxe’. The weapon manifested in her hand, taking the form of a small handaxe. She didn’t want to hurt him if she could help it, after all.

John rose to his knees, and his muscles tensed again. He leapt upwards and forwards at Erica, face contorted in rage. His eyes were locked on hers, but she could see in them none of the awkward intelligence he’d held before. Instead, they burnt, hot embers embedded in rich mahogany, fueled to flames by fresh winds of rage. She sidestepped him, tossing her axe down to the dirt and catching him as he flew past her. Using his momentum, she spun. John saw the sky for a moment before being slammed down into the ground. Erica grabbed the back of his throat, pulling to lift his face out of the mud. She couldn’t. His body was immovable. She gritted her teeth and mana flowed through her body, enhancing her enchantment bit by bit until she felt his body shift. Her muscles strained as she added another mental note.

John twisted underneath her. Her grip loosened as he flipped onto his back, then she clenched her fingers around his windpipe. She didn’t want to hurt him, much, so Erica held back from choking the boy. For a second they remained there as John seemed to gather his wits again. His eyes flashed with momentary clarity and he clamped one of his hands to the arm on his throat, trying to shift it. Erica smiled. That was more like it. Suddenly, she felt something around her ankle and instinctively released her grip on John. She resisted the urge to punch him in the face as she let him pull her off balance, using it to tumble forwards and cleanly rise to her feet, axe in hand once more.

Her foe climbed to his feet, snatching up a fallen weapon for himself as he did so. It was a short sword, and he almost immediately seemed to decide against it, as he almost casually threw it at Erica like a dart. She batted it aside with her axe as John leaped again. She realised she couldn’t dodge in time and braced herself for impact. Half her breath whooshed out of her lungs as he struck her midriff, carrying her forward to the ground.

With a couple of quick motions, she kneed upwards into his gut, slammed the heel of her palm into the centre of his chest, and brought the flat hammer-like part of her axe down to hit the back of his reeling head. She pushed him to one side and spun out to rise to her feet, expecting him to stay confused for a moment. Instead, Erica found him already up, eyes locked on her, entirely disregarding the flow of blood coming from where his temple had split on contact with the ground.

‘Great. Way to go, girl. You really fucked up this time,’ Erica thought. She’d wanted to test him and feel out his limits, not start a deathmatch. Well, she’d managed the former and the latter was still a work in progress. The berserker berated herself for not asking Moira more questions first. She’d have no trouble ending her battle-trance, in fact she’d barely had to step into it, but John? The kid would keep going until he couldn’t any longer. She was certain of that by now. It was odd, given his age. Learning to handle the trance was the first thing that had been drilled into her, but perhaps his was different.. A curse, maybe, or a spell gone wrong.

It didn’t matter, really. What did was John’s safety. As she looked carefully to predict his movements, there was a brief glow, barely more than a flicker, of red at his temple. When it was gone, the wound that had dribbled blood down his face was gone. Adding another mental note, she realised that her assessment of him fighting until he was forced to stop was wrong. If he had access to some variety of extraordinary healing, then nothing short of complete immobilisation or death would stop his trance right now. ‘Fucking excellent job, Erica. Truly, a skilled professional.’

Her stupid mistake might cost him and the dude didn’t deserve to pay for her failure. She was going to make that up to him, if he let her.

Right now, she couldn’t afford to let him keep thrashing around.

She reached down with her free hand and channelled some mana into the Íss rune, letting her axe dissipate into smoke. Frost crawled up her arm. Her nails cracked as steam rose from them and Erica bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. The magic held, hissing and popping as John ignored it. His eyes were locked on hers, his gaze nearly feral.

Erica sighed. “Alright. Naptime.”

She stepped forward, the hostility draining out of her, and John’s expression flickered with confusion. It was too late though. She stepped into his guard and brought her hand to his chest, not trying to strike him, but simply touching him. The spell surged away from her, leaving her fingers aching painfully as ice raced across John’s skin. He thrashed against it for just a moment, but the spell drained his energy away faster than he could break free of it.

Erica stepped back, blood dripping from her fingers, and hissed in pain. She absolutely hated using ice magic in any circumstances. Fucking Aurora.

Then, she waited for John’s energy to wane and his battle rage to end, turning to explain herself to the girls while they waited.

John’s return to active control was much more gradual this time, and when he realised what had happened, he looked at the blonde berserker with intense, but sane, anger.

She noticed he’d come around and sighed, then placed her hand on his chest again. He could feel the wicked bite of the ice receding, as if it were returning to her body, and he fell backwards onto the ground with a gasp.

Looking up, he saw the blonde extending the other hand to help him up. She winced in pain and said, “Sorry, dude. That was on me.” He narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion and she waved her open palm at him tolerantly. “C’mon, I promise I won’t bite.”

He still didn’t like it, but saw Moira nod when he looked over at her, and Velvet didn’t look… Well, actually, she looked a little pissed, but it didn’t seem like she was violent towards Erica. He took the proffered hand and let Erica pull him up, and then brush the dust off his shoulders. She moved back, and he cleared his throat. “So… mind telling me what the fuck that was?” He didn’t even try to restrain his pissed-off tone.

The blonde sighed. “I really am sorry, dude. That was entirely my fault, so don’t go blaming Moira, alright?” She leaned back against the half wall they were standing by. “Moira told me she was bringing a berserker that needed some speed-training to me. I figured the quickest way for me to work out what you’d need was to get you angry, fight a little, then we both stop. I didn’t count on you being completely untrained and… well, let’s just say your rage is a bit different from mine.”

She shook her head, her eyes dark and cloudy. “I fucked up, dude. I didn’t think things through properly. I got you riled up and you weren’t coming back without snapping my neck, or me putting an axe through your skull. So, I had to freeze you solid until you calmed down.”

John took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. It hadn’t been the best idea, clearly, but it was well-intentioned. “Okay. Apology accepted. Don’t do it again, okay? There are some things you just don’t fucking say.”

She nodded solemnly. “I get it. I didn’t mean a word of it, I swear, dude.”

He let out another deep breath. “It’s alright. I believe you.” He frowned slightly as he pieced something together. “Besides, I don’t think you would have expected whatever specifically happened anyway. Not without warning at least. I’m told it’s apparently rare?”

“He’s a late bloomer, Erica. He said it was some kind of special learning ability,” Moira chimed in, and Erica’s eyes widened.

“Wait, really? That’s so cool! What’s your thing? Just the berserking or have you got other cool tricks?” The blonde was suddenly grinning and excited, and John was struck by just how bizarre his week was going so far.

“Actually… I may have missed a bit out of that,” John admitted, scratching the back of his head. “My powers sort of do that, but it’s a side effect. I’m like… well, like a video game character. I have, like, a character sheet, with a health bar, a mana bar, and all the rest of it. As far as I can tell, nobody else can see it.”

All three of the girls stared at him. Moira eventually said, “So… do you have this character sheet thing open now?”

“One sec,” John said, and willed it to open. “Okay, now I do. Right here, directly in front of me.”

Both Moira and Erica looked blankly where he was pointing, with Erica even waving her bloodied hand through it.

Moira shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t get it. What in the blazes are you talking about, John? Did Erica hit your head too hard or something? There’s absolutely nothing there.”

“I think I do, maybe? Understand it, I mean,” Velvet raised her voice with a curious note. “You say your power is like a video game? I don’t play much of anything, for obvious reasons, but they usually have groups, right? You can join other people?”

“Yes, just like that kind of game! I haven’t found anything about inviting you to a party yet thou-”

Invite Velvet to Party?

John stopped, and then said, “Seriously? Is it that easy? Alright then. Invite Velvet, Moira and Erica to Party.”

All three reacted differently when the simple window opened before them.

Moira stared at it in open confusion, trying to move around it and examine it every way she could before eventually pressing the ‘agree’ button. Erica looked at it for a moment, then grinned and pressed it.

Velvet, however, stared at it. She didn’t move, or speak; in fact, John suspected she might have stopped breathing for a moment. Then she slowly began to shake, and tears started to flow. She stared with sightless eyes at the party invitation...