Progenitor's Burden

Sinclair stumbled over to the fire with his friends, all three trying to support him in some way. Ed, apparently, had chosen the route of 'humor'.

"Sinclair, buddy. I don't know what you have been eating but please, please stop. You are so heavy it's like trying to move a small mountain when you stumble."

Chuckling—a little—Sinclair grunted his acknowledgement. "Hey, if it wasn't for all that added mass you would be Frost Giant food. But, just for you, my little friend, I shall do as you ask."

"Oh… Right. Well in that case, how about another sandwich?" Ed had always been the one to make a situation lighter.

Setting Sinclair down back in the cave, where it was somewhat warm, they all took seats around him. Sinclair, for his part, could only sit there and breathe. Staring into the fire, he could feel the warmth coming back into him. He could sense Rose standing near him and he desperately wanted to speak to her, but he had no words to adequately describe how he was feeling. Everyone settled down to a quick meal made up from the last of his food. As so often occurred, Sinclair found himself distracted by notifications.

Enemy Defeated: Jarl Fulvragg

Experience Awarded: 39,450

Rewards:

Frost Dragon Ring x1

Gold Coins x160

Silver Coins x23

Frost Born Guards - pair

New Title: Thane of the Titans

Description: The title of Thane of the Titans is awarded to those exceptional warriors who have proven their mettle by defeating a foe 50 levels their senior in single combat. This prestigious title is a testament to your extraordinary combat skills and strategic prowess, marking you as a paragon among warriors. As the Thane of the Titans, you have demonstrated an unparalleled ability to overcome overwhelming odds; you embody the very essence of courage and strength in the face of formidable adversaries.

Effects:

Titan's Resolve:

This skill significantly boosts your resilience, enabling you to endure and outlast attacks from far stronger opponents, as if you had the tenacity and endurance of the Titans themselves.

Giant's Insight:

You gain a significant increase to your perception in combat. This allows you to discern and exploit the vulnerabilities of larger and more powerful enemies, making you a master of tactical combat against formidable foes.

+15 Base Attributes:

You are granted a permanent enhancement to all your base attributes, reflecting your elevated status as a warrior. This comprehensive improvement enhances your overall combat abilities, ensuring that you continue to be a force to be reckoned with, no matter the battlefield.

As the Thane of the Titans, your name is synonymous with bravery and unparalleled combat prowess. You stand as a living legend, a warrior capable of facing the mightiest of foes and emerging victorious, altering the tides of battle with your skill and valor.

He went ahead and clicked on both pieces of armor.

New Item: Frost Dragon Ring (Legendary)

Description: This ring was crafted from the tooth of an elder Frost Dragon, preserving a fragment of its ancient magic. It allows the wielder to channel frost energy and emit a cone of icy power in the direction they point.

Effects:

Grants +15 to Intelligence and +10 to Willpower.

Allows you to channel a cone of frost for devastating effects.

New Item: Frost Born Guards - Pair (Rare)

Description: These shoulder guards were traditionally gifted to Frost Giant Jarls during their naming ceremonies. They imbue the wearer with the strength and resilience of their frost-forged heritage.

Effects:

Grants +15 to Strength and +12 to Constitution.

Provides +10 to Willpower for enhanced fortitude.

Sinclair whistled as he read the stats off to his friends. He equipped the pieces right away. He immediately pointed his right index finger out the cave and triggered the cone of frost from the ring. Power flooded from his body through the ring and out the cave entrance, making a loud roaring sound that almost deafened him. He shut the power off as his mana dropped over a hundred points in a couple seconds.

He looked over at his friends, who immediately began yelling at him for scaring the shit out of them. Oops, I probably should have warned them about what was going to happen.

Navigating over to his class screen, he finally was able to look at the information on his new class.

New Class: Ulfhednar (Legendary)

Description: This class is earned through walking the deepest paths of the Wolf Lords. As the class evolves you will gain more skills and powers, according to the specific traits your path takes. The Ulfhednar used to roam the land taking on quests and jobs where they were needed. They were a natural force, neither good nor evil, but, all the same, they made the world better for their existence.

Classes also increase the level bonus attributes granted for your race. Ulfhednar gains the following per level, replacing your racial bonus.

+ 5 Strength

+ 3 Agility

+ 4 Constitution

+ 3 Intelligence

+ 4 Willpower

+ 5 Endurance

+ 4 free stat points per level

Well, that is really handy. Selecting the last message, he grinned to himself.

Your base stats have changed!

+ 25 Strength

+ 30 Agility

+ 15 Constitution

+ 10 Intelligence

+ 10 Willpower

+ 15 Endurance

Sinclair's body, having reached its limit after enduring such immense physical and emotional strain, could no longer sustain consciousness. As the overwhelming weight of his stat changes set in, his eyes rolled back, and he slumped over, succumbing to unconsciousness. Unbeknownst to him, his sudden collapse sparked a wave of panic among his friends. Chewy and Leia, despite their attempts to provide reassurance, only added to the group's concern due to their inability to communicate verbally.

After several tense minutes, signs of life returned to Sinclair's form. He began to stir, groaning and clutching his head as if trying to contain the pounding within. Alice was the first to notice his movement, and her reaction was immediate and loud. "Sinclair, are you alright? What happened? Please stop scaring us. I don't think my heart can take much more," she exclaimed, her voice piercing the quiet. To Sinclair's beleaguered senses, her concerned words sounded like a scream though, in reality, her tone was probably just a notch above normal.

Raising his hands in a placating gesture, Sinclair managed a weak whisper, requesting a bit of time to gather himself. His head throbbed as if a claw hammer were relentlessly at work inside his skull. The relief in the eyes of his friends, despite their lingering worry, was a testament to the bond they shared—a bond that had just weathered one of its most severe trials.

Rose approached Sinclair with a bottle of water and a clean rag, her movements gentle and caring. She assisted him in cleaning up; in the process, he discovered that he had had blood seeping from his eyes, nose, and ears. Wow, it's like the pressure of the recent transformation caused everything to squeeze out of every orifice. Er… I'm really not going to let Rose check everywhere though.

Gradually regaining his composure, Sinclair began to recount his experiences and tell his friends about the new Class, as he tried to make sense of the recent chaos. His friends listened intently, though their expressions were tinged with concern, rather than amusement. "Look, guys," he said, earnestness coloring his voice, "I'm not trying to scare you on purpose. All of this is almost as new to me as it is to you. I can't predict what each day will bring, and without some guidance from the system, it's all pretty unpredictable."

There was a moment of shared understanding among the group, a mix of empathy and a touch of embarrassment for how they had initially reacted. When they thought about it properly, they could recognize the unpredictability and challenge of what Sinclair was facing; it was only too easy to acknowledge the difficulty of navigating such uncharted waters.

Sinclair's gaze then shifted to Rose, who had settled down beside Leia, her hand gently stroking the wolf's fur. "Thank you, Rose. I really appreciate the help," he said, his voice soft, but filled with gratitude.

Rose's response came with a playful smirk. "Get us home, and we'll call it even. That, and I want a share of the cool loot you keep talking about. I'm not leaving this crazy place without some souvenirs."

Sinclair couldn't help but chuckle at her remark. He reached for some water and food, his appetite seemingly insatiable, a problem only intensified by the recent surge in his stats. As he ate, the group settled into a comfortable silence, resting by the fire that apparently required no tending. Sinclair still felt somewhat disoriented, the effects of his transformation lingering.

If Sinclair had been able to see himself from the outside, he would have noticed one other change that none of his friends had mentioned, perhaps all finding it trivial compared to all the strangeness, perhaps just finding it too creepy to be worth mentioning. Sinclair's eye color had, impossibly, changed. Where they had once been a grayish-blue, they now had transformed to have a golden hue, making him look more like one of the two wolf pups. He certainly no longer looked entirely human.

Around the fire, Sinclair began to share more details of his adventures. Laughter filled the air as he recounted his escapades, particularly the instances where he had to fight and run without any clothing. His friends teased him, calling him a "perv" among other light-hearted jibes. The mood was light and jovial, a much-needed reprieve from the tension and danger they had recently faced. In these moments of shared stories and laughter, they found a semblance of normalcy, a comforting reminder of the bond that united them.

The brief respite was shattered by a sudden, brilliant display of lights outside the cave. Sinclair, ever the vigilant protector, mused dryly on the impossibility of prolonged peace in this realm. Unlike the previous flashes, this light show was a kaleidoscope of colors, more intricate and closer than any before. It was right outside their refuge.

Sinclair sprang into action, his survival instincts kicking in. He quickly armed himself, positioning his body as a shield between the cave mouth and his friends. The flash of light had been alarmingly close, almost at their doorstep.

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The snow outside churned into a frenetic whirlwind, obscuring visibility. Even with his enhanced vision, Sinclair could barely pierce the veil of the swirling snowstorm. Yet, he sensed a presence approaching, a singular entity making its way toward them through the blizzard. However, he had no sense of impending attack. Danger, certainly—to his senses there was an overwhelming weight on his senses—but he was certain they did not approach with harm in mind.

Gradually, a figure materialized from the snowy maelstrom. It appeared to be an elderly, stooped and frail man, leaning heavily on a staff. The man's hand, gripping the staff, was weather-beaten, and his long gray cloak was tattered and torn. His head was sparsely covered with thin, wild hair, and liver spots dotted his balding scalp. As he drew closer, his face became clearer—a visage weathered and etched by time, reminiscent of an old farmer who had spent a lifetime toiling under the sun. Intriguingly, faint blue tattoos snaked over his skull, disappearing into the neckline.

The mysterious old man halted just inside the cave entrance, making no hostile moves. Yet, he held Sinclair's gaze with a firm, unwavering stare, an unspoken challenge—or perhaps an assessment—hanging silently in the air between them.

The old man's voice, when he spoke, was so faint that Sinclair had to strain his ears to catch the words. "You are Sinclair Hagerson, one of the only descendants of the original Wolf Lords. Will you welcome an old man to your fire and break bread with him, or will you stand there all night like a simpleton?"

Sinclair found himself momentarily dumbfounded, his gaze locked on the stranger with a mix of incredulity and suspicion. How did this enigmatic figure know him? The mention of being a descendant of the Wolf Lords only deepened the mystery. Questions swirled in his mind, but one thing was clear: this old man seemed to possess answers, possibly crucial ones. Despite his confusion, Sinclair's instincts nudged him towards hospitality – it never hurt to be polite, and besides, if things turned sour, he could always resort to his newfound abilities.

"Please, come in and have a seat," Sinclair invited, stepping aside to allow the old man passage. His tone was cautious yet courteous. "You have me at a disadvantage, as you seem to know of me, yet I know nothing of you." There was an underlying tension in the air, a palpable sense of anticipation. Sinclair couldn't shake off the feeling that this encounter was about to unravel some of the mysteries that had been shadowing his path. The old man—seemingly fragile yet exuding a strange aura of knowledge and power—slowly made his way to the fire.

As they gathered closer to the heat, the old man settled himself on the ground, extending his hands towards the welcoming warmth of the flames. Sinclair subtly signaled his friends to join them, though he positioned them slightly behind him as a precaution. Despite the aura of mystery surrounding the old man, there was something about him that instilled a sense of calm in Sinclair. He felt an inexplicable urge to trust the stranger, yet he could not fully surrender to this feeling just yet.

The stranger, seemingly rejuvenated by the fire's warmth, fixed his gaze on Sinclair and began to speak. "Thank you for inviting me in. It was getting rather windy out there," he said, his voice carrying a tone of age and wisdom. "Forgive my lack of introductions; it's been a long while since I've had company. But we have been talking for a while through your display. Well, I have been talking anyway."

So that's where those strange messages have been coming from, Sinclair thought. I wonder if he's behind how impossibly hard these challenges are.

He found his attention drifting momentarily, pulled into his own thoughts, but then the stranger's voice brought him sharply back to the present.

"I have been known by many names, but most refer to me as Odin, All-Father. That title may hold some significance for you, as I am the creator of your lineage, many ages past." Odin's eyes gleamed with something like pride. "You have proven yourself admirably here, albeit with some... encouragement. I did not expect the first Wolf Lord on this planet to be quite so aptly suited to the class."

Sinclair felt a jolt of disbelief. This unassuming, elderly figure before him was not only Odin, but the orchestrator of the trials that had endangered his friends? Indignation surged within him. "You put my friends at risk for this?" he demanded, his voice tight with controlled anger. "They didn't need to be involved in whatever game you're playing. I would have accepted the challenge regardless, but your cryptic messages and manipulations? My world was already in chaos." Sinclair's rage felt justified. In his eyes, there was no excuse for involving innocents in such a dangerous gambit. He awaited Odin's response, his heart pounding with a mix of anger, disbelief, and a desperate need for answers.

Sinclair held Odin's gaze, the deity's sole blue eye unyielding, radiating a sense of ancient authority. "I did what I thought best, not just for you, but for your friends, and this world." Odin stated firmly, his voice resonating with the weight of countless ages, and, somewhat bizarrely, sounding more Scottish than Norse. "I will not apologize for that. Your friends are safe, and you have grown stronger. Many have lost far more for much less. I always act for the greater good. Remember that, as it is a wisdom you may one day need."

Odin's tone was not unkind, yet it brooked no argument, unsurprising from a being who had shaped worlds and destinies. Leaning forward, the flickering firelight casting shadows across his weathered face, he locked eyes with Sinclair. "Before we proceed," Odin continued, his voice taking on a deeper, more somber timbre, "understand that the story you are about to hear is woven into the very fabric of your world, your heritage. Listen carefully, and do not interrupt."

He inhaled deeply, as though gathering the threads of a long and complex narrative. "Your planet, Earth, was once known in the cosmic lexicon as Midgard. It did not stand alone. Midgard was an integral part of Yggdrasil's grand design, one of nine pivotal realms under my care. These nine realms, along with numerous lesser worlds and satellites, maintained a delicate cosmic equilibrium."

As Odin spoke, his voice seemed to echo with the echoes of distant memories, his words painting a picture of a universe far more vast and interconnected than Sinclair had ever imagined. The revelations about Earth's place in this ancient cosmic order hinted at mysteries and truths long hidden, now slowly opening up before him.

Odin's gaze took on a faraway look, tinged with a sense of loss and remembrance. "Your histories do not capture the grandeur of those times. Much has been rewritten or lost during my prolonged stasis. It was a golden era when I created the first of your kin, the revered Wolf Lord, Snorri Hagerson." At the mention of the name, Sinclair felt a stir of recognition. "Snorri traversed the nine realms, serving as my loyal envoy and guardian. Others followed, but Snorri's legacy always burned the brightest. He was at my side during our gravest crisis: the Myrkr invasion."

The burden of those memories seemed to weigh heavily upon Odin, casting a shadow over his ancient features. "The Myrkr, malevolent entities, emerged suddenly, leaving a trail of destruction across the realms, annihilating worlds in their wake. The image of their inexorable tide, a relentless flood of shadows and abominations, is indelibly etched in my memory. Led by Snorri, our Wolf Lords waged a valiant struggle, their bravery and sacrifice becoming the stuff of legends. Yet, despite their heroism, they were always outmatched."

Odin's voice softened, infused with a lingering sorrow. "When it became clear that the battle was lost, we retreated to the very core of this planet. There, I cast the most powerful spell of my existence. It severed the mana lines that connected Midgard to the other realms, plunging this world into an isolating darkness. This drastic act, while it shrouded Midgard, allowed me to protect my people, giving us a chance to regroup, rebuild, and one day, mount a counteroffensive."

As Odin recounted this epic saga, Sinclair felt the weight of history upon him, a legacy far grander and more complex than he had ever imagined. The revelation of his connection to this ancient narrative was both humbling and awe-inspiring.

Odin's voice took on a reflective quality as he delved deeper into the consequences of his spell. "The severance of Midgard set it adrift, isolated in a galaxy cut off from system access and mana. My existence hung in the balance; preserving my essence was crucial, so I limited my interventions, biding my time. I knew The Architect would eventually extend its reach to this secluded sphere. When the seeders came, planting their harvest seeds, I knew my long wait was nearing its end. But your case, Sinclair, was an anomaly. The Architect's process typically consumes a sentient being, integrating their essence into The System. However, something different occurred with you."

Odin continued for some time, leaving the four humans—and two wolf pups—increasingly bemused, amused and confused. Sinclair, in particular, struggled to assimilate the barrage of revelations, eventually reaching some sort of boiling point. "So, to summarize," he interjected, seeking clarity and a moment to think, "you're planning to reconnect Earth to the mana system in a few weeks. Once that's accomplished, and you can sustain yourself, everyone will gain access to a system similar to mine. What then? Are we to become instruments of your will? Soldiers in your battle against the Myrkr?"

Odin paused before responding to Sinclair's question, a momentary silence that left Sinclair apprehensive about how blunt his question had been. The tales of Odin he knew did not portray the deity as particularly tolerant of impudence. Which is, I guess, pretty standard for deities. Odin finally spoke, his tone measured.

"Do not forget yourself, Sinclair. You are human, I am a god. That is a detail I would prefer you keep in mind in our future interactions. In some respects though, your assumptions are correct."The timeline is approximate and extremely subject to change due to circumstances well out of my control. Your interpretation, though somewhat blunt, isn't entirely off mark. While individuals are largely free to choose their paths, I intend to ensure that this planet is prepared for the Myrkr's arrival. The Myrkr are too dangerous to ignore. With the advantages of foresight and the system, we stand a fighting chance. In a newly integrated system, the rewards and skills bestowed are more substantial than in worlds long accustomed to such a system. That is a small part of why you were able to achieve a mythic level class long absent from the cosmic stage."

Sinclair was surprised, and responded before he even thought to stop himself. "A small part? What was the rest of the reason?"

Odin gave a small, terse smile. "Me, young wolf. I am the main reason. Against my better judgment, I have gained a certain . . . fondness for you, and the way you have taken advantage of my gift to cheat the system."

"Cheating the system? What do you mean?"

"It's something you will need to discover on your own, impudent child. I see you have questions. Do not waste my time, just ask."

Sinclair absorbed Odin's words, a sobering reminder to temper his usual sarcasm, especially in the presence of such a powerful entity. His thoughts then turned to his friends, who had been unwittingly drawn into this larger narrative. "What about my friends?" he asked, his concern evident. "Can you grant them early access to the system? It seems only fair, considering they were unwittingly made pawns in your grand scheme."

His eyes held a mix of hope and determination as he awaited Odin's response. His friends deserved recognition and reward for their unwavering loyalty—and bravery—in the face of unknowable dangers.

Odin's response came with a patient, yet firm sigh. "I have already made it clear that I will not apologize for my actions," he stated, his voice carrying a hint of finality. "You should reflect on what I've shared with you. Consider whether you wouldn't have made similar choices to ensure your people's survival. As for your friends, they already have the necessary access. When you used Yggdrasil's Authority earlier, it initiated the activation process within them. After a night's rest, they will awaken with access akin to yours."

Sinclair wrestled with a whirlwind of emotions, grappling with concern for his friends and the weight of Odin's revelations. They were strong individuals, but this was a burden he hadn't intended for them to bear. He turned to his friends and, using his Valkyrie's Gaze, he examined each one of them. "They all show as level 0, like me, and their class is listed as 'not available'," he said, glancing at Ed with a playful smirk. "Except for Ed, whose class reads 'No Class'."

Name: Rose Arrington

Race: Human

Class: Not Available

Level: 0

Name: Edward Brashear

Race: Human

Class: Not Available

Level: 0

Name: Alice Wright

Race: Human

Class: Not Available

Level: 0

The revelation rendered Sinclair's friends momentarily mute, their expressions frozen in a mix of astonishment and disbelief. Even Ed, typically quick to engage in playful banter with Sinclair, found himself at a loss for words. The realization that they were about to become part of this enigmatic and vast system, with all its potential and perils, was overwhelming. This moment signified a profound shift in their lives, ushering them into a realm of possibilities they had never before conceived.

Rose, gathering her composure, voiced the question that seemed to hang in the air. "So, you're saying when we sleep tonight and wake up, we'll have abilities like Sinclair?" Her voice quivered slightly, betraying the enormity of the change they were facing.

Odin regarded her with a kind, almost paternal smile. "Yes, my dear, that's precisely what I mean," he confirmed warmly. "Although, I might suggest setting your sights beyond Sinclair's accomplishments as your benchmark. I think perhaps you might manage a somewhat more…cerebral approach than he can manage. But, my congratulations to you all. Welcome to a new era. I can offer little more than my blessings at this juncture. However, Sinclair," his gaze shifted, locking onto Sinclair with a discerning eye, "there remains the matter of a certain reward for you."

New Blessing: Blessing of the All-Father (Mythic)

Description: The All-Father, Odin, creator of your ancestral line, bestows upon you this divine blessing. Recognizing your potential, He designates you as the one to resurrect the Wolf Lords, a charge of significant importance and grave responsibility. In this role, you are expected to complete quests and carry out duties as one of the prominent leaders in a world on the brink of reintegration. To aid you on this daunting path, the Blessing of the All Father grants you enhanced experience gains and increased rewards for each quest successfully completed. The journey may be arduous, but your faith and perseverance, guided by the All Father's favor, will light your way.

Effects:

You now gain 17% more experience

The quality of the rewards you receive on quest completion has increased

Grants Skill

: Might of the Einherjar

Grants Skill

: Huginn and Muninn

New Item

: Cuirass of the Forest Wolves

Sinclair decided it best to wait before analyzing his new skills and gained items. Odin's appearance seemed more fatigued than ever after imparting the blessing and sharing his knowledge. There was a tangible weariness about him, a testament to the immense energy and effort required to bestow such gifts and guidance.

Odin spoke, voice quieter than before. "Hopefully, these will aid you in your journey." His voice was tinged with exhaustion. "I will contact you via your system interface in a few days, after I have had time to recuperate. Take your friends home, and rest. The challenges ahead of you are formidable, and you will need your strength. The Huginn and Muninn skill will be invaluable for gathering information. Use it wisely and consider your questions thoughtfully, for it comes at a high cost."

Sinclair, having tempered his initial reaction, now felt a sense of gratitude towards Odin, along with a desperate desire to find out what the skill in question actually did "Thank you," he responded, his voice finally reflecting the awe expected from meeting one's god. "I'm beginning to grasp the seriousness of our situation. My earlier outburst was driven by fear for my friends, and I apologize. I can see that you are doing what you can, and I commit fully to our shared cause. I have loved ones to protect, too."

Odin slowly rose to his feet, the simple act seeming to take a concerted effort. He brushed himself off, each movement deliberate and measured. Making his way to the cave's entrance, he paused for a brief moment, giving Sinclair and his friends a final nod of acknowledgment. Then, with an almost ethereal grace, he melted back into the snowy night, disappearing into the swirling white abyss.