Snow burst beneath their boots as the two clashed again.

Ludger stepped in, armguards gleaming, throwing a straight jab that cut through the air like a blade. Kharnek caught it with his forearm and countered instantly — his fist came down like a hammer. Ludger shifted aside, the blow missing his head by inches and punching a crater into the frozen ground.

The shockwave sprayed frost up his coat. He answered with a low kick to the chieftain’s side, but Kharnek twisted, catching it on his thigh before driving his elbow toward Ludger’s chest.

CLANG!

The sound echoed like a smith’s forge as metal met flesh and neither side gave an inch.

Ludger slid back across the snow, arms raised, breathing steady. The armguards’ glow flickered as mana redistributed through the metal, steam rising from his sleeves. Kharnek grinned, teeth flashing under the cold light.

“Not bad,” the northerner said, rolling his shoulders. “You’ve got speed. You’ve got bite. But where’s the fire, boy?”

Ludger’s expression stayed neutral. “I’m not in the habit of screaming while I fight.”

“That’s your problem!” Kharnek barked, stepping forward and swinging again — a flurry this time, faster, heavier, all pressure and instinct. “You think too much!”

Ludger blocked, deflected, countered, every motion efficient — but each impact drove him a step back, boots digging trenches in the frost. Kharnek’s laughter grew louder with each strike, until it was almost a roar.

“This is the north!” the chieftain shouted, his voice booming across the plain. “You don’t think when someone tries to break you — you hit back until the world remembers your name!”

He feinted left, then slammed his knee toward Ludger’s gut. The younger man caught it with both arms, mana flaring through his guards, but the force still sent him skidding three meters back, breath steaming in the air.

Kharnek stalked forward, eyes burning with that wild northern fire. “You’re strong, kid, but you fight like you’re afraid to get dirty!”

Ludger’s jaw tightened. He raised his fists again, silver and red glowing like coals. “I fight to win, not to perform.”

The chieftain smirked. “Then show me what winning looks like.”

He lunged. Ludger met him head-on, their fists colliding in a shockwave that cracked the ground beneath them. The wind howled through the field as they traded blows in a blur — strength versus precision, fury against focus.

A final strike slipped through Ludger’s guard, grazing his shoulder and sending him spinning half a step. He caught himself, boots grinding in the snow, and glared — brows furrowed, irritation finally flashing behind his calm eyes.

Kharnek saw it, grin widening like a wolf scenting blood. “There it is,” he growled. “You can get angry.”

Ludger exhaled slowly, the frost around his boots starting to tremble. “Keep talking, Chief,” he said evenly, his tone edged with steel. “You’ll see where that gets you.”

The chieftain laughed, lowering into another stance. “Good! That’s the spirit I wanted to see!”

And then they clashed again, the north itself echoing with the sound of fists, laughter, and the awakening of something fierce beneath Ludger’s calm exterior.

The spar didn’t slow—it escalated.

Each hit came harder, sharper, faster. The ground under their feet had turned into churned-up frost and dirt, every step cracking ice or throwing mud. Kharnek’s strikes were relentless now, his grin gone, replaced by something like focus—a hunter testing the limits of his prey.

Ludger blocked a heavy hook, twisted, and countered with a right cross that grazed Kharnek’s ribs. The impact made the chieftain grunt but not stumble. Instead, it earned Ludger a backhand across the forearm that made his guard flare red with mana.

“Better,” Kharnek growled, pressing forward. “But you’re still too damn relaxed!”

Their fists collided again—metal against flesh, mana against muscle. The air cracked with each impact.

Kharnek’s voice rose between the blows, booming and furious. “I can see it in your eyes! You’ve killed before, haven’t you?”

Ludger didn’t answer. He deflected a strike and drove a knee toward Kharnek’s thigh. The chieftain barely moved.

“That calm isn’t peace, boy—it’s a lid,” Kharnek shouted, forcing another punch through Ludger’s defense and slamming into his shoulder guard hard enough to shake the enchantment’s glow. “And you’re holding it too damn tight!”

Ludger slid back across the snow, boots digging furrows, breath heavy. His eyes narrowed. “You want me to lose control? That’s not strength.”

Kharnek advanced, swinging his fist down like an axe. Ludger blocked it with both arms; the impact thundered through his bones.

“No,” the chieftain barked, “I want you to control it! Anger isn’t the enemy—it’s the forge!”

Another strike. Ludger barely twisted aside.

“You’ve got fury in you, kid. I can feel it,” Kharnek said, voice like a growl over the howling wind. “Every man who’s seen death carries it. But you bury yours like it’s shame.”

Ludger’s arm trembled under the next block, the mana veins on his gauntlet pulsing bright red. Kharnek stepped in close, their faces inches apart.

“If you want to build your perfect world,” the chieftain hissed, “you’ll have to burn through everyone who stands in your way. Get angry—furious at anything that dares to stop you—and then rule that fire until it obeys.”

He shoved Ludger back, the force of it making the younger man slide several meters across the icy ground.

The words hit harder than the punch.

Ludger straightened, shoulders rising and falling with his breath. For a second, the air around him shimmered—not with the calm, measured pulse of mana, but with something rawer, hotter. His heartbeat sounded in his ears like a drum.

Kharnek grinned, teeth flashing. “There it is.”

Ludger’s eyes lifted, faint red light reflecting in their depths. “If I get angry,” he said, voice lower now, steady and sharp, “I don’t stop halfway.”

Kharnek spread his arms, laughing even as blood trickled from his lip. “Then don’t. Show me how an Imperial burns.”

Ludger exhaled once. The air around him trembled as Overdrive flared again, brighter this time, the red glow of his armguards deepening to molten crimson.

He exploded forward. The snow detonated beneath him, the air screaming in his wake. Every ounce of strength, every drop of fury he’d ever buried under calm focus, surged through his limbs. His right arm reeled back, mana spiraling around it in visible coils of light.

Kharnek’s own aura surged in answer. The ground trembled under his feet, veins bulging, skin darkening to a deep, heated red as steam rose from his body. The Northerner roared and met Ludger head-on, his massive fist swinging forward in a blur.

For one heartbeat, they were two meteors colliding.

Then the world exploded.

The shockwave blasted snow outward in a perfect circle, flattening everything within ten meters. The sound was less a crack and more a detonation—a thunderous roar that sent nearby soldiers ducking for cover.

Ludger’s eyes widened as pain tore up his arm like fire and lightning combined. Bone gave way with a sickening snap. The force hurled him backward, body twisting through the air before crashing into the snow and rolling until he came to a stop, leaving a long trench behind him.

He groaned, clutching his shattered arm, vision blurring from the surge of adrenaline.

Across the field, Kharnek staggered a step back, lowering his own hand—and grimaced. His knuckles were split and bleeding, and four fingers hung at odd angles.

He let out a bark of disbelief, half laugh, half growl. “By the gods—what in the frozen hells are you made of, boy?!”

He flexed his hand, grimacing again as pain lanced up his forearm. “You’re not even half my size, but you hit like a damn avalanche.”

The grin faded a bit as he glanced toward Ludger lying in the snow, breathing hard. “Still… guess I went too far for a training bout.”

He took a step forward—then froze.

Because Ludger was already pushing himself upright, jaw clenched, breath steady despite the pain. The glow around him flared again—not from fury this time, but concentration. He raised his broken arm. Bones shifted under the skin with a wet crackling sound as mana light flooded through the limb, tracing the fractures, fusing them back together.

Kharnek’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re healing it? Already?”

Ludger exhaled slowly, flexing his newly restored fingers. The last of the glow faded from his gauntlet. “Couldn’t let you think you finished the lesson.”

The chieftain stared for a moment—then laughed, loud and raw, his broken hand forgotten. “Hah! You really are insane!”

Ludger smirked faintly, rolling his shoulder. “You wanted me to get angry. Congratulations—you got what you asked for.”

Kharnek grinned back, eyes alight with wild respect. “Good. Now maybe we can really start training.”

Ludger flexed his arm one last time — the pain was gone, replaced by a dull thrum of power that pulsed beneath his skin. His heart still pounded from the fight, heavy and fast, like it didn’t want to slow down. The mana in his veins was still boiling, alive with the echo of fury.

He hadn’t realized how long he’d been standing there until the faint blue shimmer of a System window flickered before his eyes.

The words appeared crisp against the cold air.

[New Job Unlocked: Berserker Lv. 1]

Bonus per Level: +6 STR, +4 VIT, +2 END

Skill Acquired:[Rage Flow Lv. 1]

Harnesses stored anger into a controlled surge of power. Increases attack speed and striking force proportional to emotional intensity and skill level. Damage taken temporarily converts to bonus Strength. Reduces hesitation, suppresses pain response.

Ludger stared at it for a long moment, then huffed a small, almost disbelieving laugh. “Of course,” he muttered. “Figures it’d have this name.”

Kharnek’s booming voice carried from a few paces away. “What’s so funny?”

Ludger turned toward him, still breathing hard, eyes faintly glowing with the afterimage of the System screen. “Nothing. Just found what I came for.”

The chieftain arched a brow. “And what’s that?”

Ludger’s smirk returned — small, sharp, and dangerous. “A reminder that rage doesn’t always need a potion to work.”

Kharnek’s grin split wide. “Hah! Then the north’s finally rubbing off on you, boy.”

Ludger looked down at his armguards, still faintly red from heat, the Torvares crest glowing like embers in the dawn light. He could feel the new class sitting within him — heavy, primal, but not uncontrollable. The pulse of fury wasn’t chaos anymore; it was rhythm, power with direction.

“Maybe,” he said quietly. “Or maybe I’m just learning how to burn properly.”

Kharnek laughed again, the sound echoing across the snow. “Good! Then next time, we see how long you can keep that fire burning before it eats you alive!”

Ludger smirked, sliding his hands into his coat pockets, the faint red still gleaming at the seams of his armor. “Deal.”

And as the snow swirled around them, the System window faded — but the new power lingered, thrumming deep in Ludger’s core like a second heartbeat.

The Berserker within him had awakened — not from madness, but from will.

Ludger’s breath still came out in sharp clouds as he stared at the fading System window. The words lingered in his vision, pulsing like a heartbeat that wasn’t his.

He clenched his fists. “Alright… let’s see what this thing can really do.”

He focused, calling up the new interface. The flicker of blue light responded instantly, rippling through his vision like a command seal. The effect was immediate.

His veins burned. His heartbeat kicked like a drum.

And his muscles tightened under the skin, the faint shimmer of rage turning into energy changing color — from his usual calm to a light crimson.

The air around him rippled. Kharnek’s grin faltered, turning into a puzzled frown. “…By the gods, to obtain such a control so fast…” he muttered. “That’s fast.”

Ludger’s breathing grew heavier but steady — not wild, not erratic. His body tensed with explosive readiness, the red aura pulsing in time with his pulse. He looked alive in a way that was both thrilling and slightly wrong — like a fire trying to remember it wasn’t supposed to think.

Kharnek stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “Your veins—”

“Yeah,” Ludger said, voice low, oddly calm through the distortion. “Feels like they’re full of magma.”

“Because they are,” Kharnek barked. “You’re channeling rage like a born Northerner… but controlling it like an Imperial sorcerer. That’s—” He broke off, shaking his head. “That’s wrong.”

Ludger looked at his hands. The glow from his gauntlets pulsed with every breath. His senses were sharper — sound, air pressure, even the tiny tremors in the earth underfoot. His strength hadn’t skyrocketed, not yet, but his response had. It was like his entire body had become one coiled spring.

Kharnek exhaled slowly, frowning deeper. “The effect’s still weak, thank the ancestors. But listen to me, boy—don’t push that too far. As you draw more power from it…”

Ludger turned his head, eyes still faintly red. “Why not?”

Kharnek’s expression hardened. “Because you’re still in a child’s body. That kind of strain will tear your bones apart before you ever see a labyrinth floor. Rage is a weapon, not a home. Use it too long, and it burns from the inside out.”

Ludger blinked slowly, the red glow flickering once before dimming as he took a breath and released the skill. The flow retreated, and the frost beneath his boots stopped hissing.

He exhaled through his teeth, flexing his fingers. His body still thrummed faintly from the lingering power. “Got it. Controlled bursts, not full immersion.”

Kharnek crossed his arms, still frowning but clearly impressed. “You learn quick. Still… it’s unsettling. You take a power that turns men into beasts and make it look like breathing.”

Ludger smirked faintly, red light fading from his eyes. “Guess that’s me.”

Ludger let the faint hum of power fade completely, staring at his hands one more time. Even after deactivating the skill, he could feel it — that wild heartbeat still thrumming somewhere inside, waiting.

And for the first time in a while, he smiled — small, sharp, dangerous.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “This’ll do.”

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