In one seamless motion, Vikram flicked his axe backward. The blade intercepted a black arrow that had been aimed directly at his skull. Steel clashed with dark magic, and the spell dissolved on impact. The projectile shattered against his axe, its force nullified. His instincts had saved him from a strike that would have ended it all.
But the interruption did not slow him down.
If anything, it made him faster.
Fueled by fury, his momentum surged. He advanced like a tempest, tearing through his enemies with savage precision. Spells crackled in the air, knives clattered at his feet, but Vikram tore through them like a beast unshackled. Each swing of his axe was raw, unfiltered destruction. Every movement was deliberate, brutal, and terrifyingly fluid.
He was in overdrive.
And he was slaughtering everything around him.
But bloodlust came with a cost.
At some point, he stopped thinking. His body moved on its own, driven by violence rather than clarity. Precision gave way to recklessness. Grace was swallowed by brutality.
He swung too wide.
He stepped too close.
A fireball seared his face. A blade pierced the soft flesh beneath his ribs.
And then—
[You have been slain.]
Vikram respawned with a guttural breath, but this time, he smiled.
Because in that moment of death, he had seen a glimmer of something deeper. A system message hadn't told him. A guide hadn't explained it. But something inside him had shifted. For the first time, he had caught a glimpse of the true nature of his Embryonic Primal Blood.
And now, when he activated it again, something new appeared before him.
A bar.
Simple. Crimson. Alive.
At the leftmost edge was the image of a man screaming at the heavens, blood flowing from his eyes.
The more he activated the Primal Blood, the more the bar filled with a liquid red light. With it, his power rose—steadily, inexorably. The strength was not just physical. It was primal. Elemental. Bestial.
If he could master this blood, he could clear this scenario. He was sure of it.
Thus began another cycle.
Death. Respawn. Rage. Repeat.
The aura around him deepened, red and wild like a storm wrapped in flesh. His movements turned savage but precise. His brutality became controlled. His power no longer lashed out—it hunted.
The wind howled around him.
Steel rang.
His eyes turned bloodshot, and his strength became something otherworldly.
An ethereal red aura cloaked him like a tempest. He looked like a tiger descending on a helpless rabbit, pouncing into enemy lines with murderous intent.
The Neu fell like grass beneath a scythe.
He was winning.
After countless attempts, he had finally found rhythm in the chaos. He slammed his axe backward, catching a charging Neu off guard. With a flick, the corpse flew through the air and crashed into a cluster of its kind.
The burning lamp it held ignited mid-air.
Vikram recognized the chiming before the flames. The moment the Neu died, the lamp had turned into a living Molotov. He had died several times learning that lesson and developed a trauma around those cursed lanterns.
Now, he didn't wait. The moment he heard the faint bell-like jingle, he moved to kill.
His instincts were vicious. His reflexes flawless. He no longer gave them a chance.
He even started growing irrational fears of children, because those damn Neu lantern-bearers looked too much like hunched, gleeful toddlers in silhouette.
He rampaged until there was no one left.
Then, still and panting, he looked around like a bull denied its matador. His gaze flicked upward. A slight blur on the roof caught his attention.
Without pause, he threw his axe.
It sank into the chest of a hidden mage trying to snipe him from above.
Vikram exhaled deeply.
The heat in his blood faded, and the rage storm around him began to settle.
He had done it.
He had mastered the manipulation of Primal Blood.
A faint system sound echoed in his mind. He brought up the panel.
[Name: Vikram Rathore]
[Existence: Pre-Existence]
[Realm: None (Supreme Foundation)]
[Souls: 235]
[Techniques:]• Axe Throwing Technique – Major Accomplishment (!)• Breath of the Crimson Pulse – Major Accomplishment (!)• Ironbreaker's Axe Form – Major Accomplishment (!)
Controlling the Primal Blood hadn't come easily.
It was like trying to rein in a maddened bull coursing through his veins. His circulatory system had collapsed too many times to count. He had died from internal bleeding, from blood bursting through his eyes and ears, even from sheer cerebral pressure as the flood reached his brain.
His mastery over the Crimson Pulse had helped. Eventually, he refined it to Major Accomplishment, and that was when he finally gained some hold over the storm inside him.
But his delay in mastering the Primal Blood wasn't just because of difficulty. It was because of belief.
He had carried too many assumptions.
He thought barbarian skills were simple. He thought rage meant recklessness. He thought the red bar filling up would strip away his mind and turn him into a mindless berserker.
But when he finally let the bar fill, the result stunned him.
It did not consume him. It awakened him.
A link to something ancient and rooted, like blood itself had memory. The longer he held the transformation, the more control he gained, the more insight flooded into him.
This was no accident.
This cultivation path had evolved across generations. The barbarian way had changed, shaped by battle, failure, and death. Rage had once been a curse, but it no longer was. Their very biology had adapted to resist the old flaws.
Vikram was no exception.
His body had started developing a resistance to what he called Rage Blind—that mindless bloodlust that dulled thought. He wasn't immune, but he was no longer helpless before it. If he kept his focus while the red bar filled, he would reach a state of temporary invincibility.
A peak of power that could only be accessed through control.
And now, he had it.
Vikram stretched his limbs. His joints cracked, his blood calmed.
He had passed the trial.
But the scenario wasn't over.
He looked ahead toward the Inner Village. He had explored the Outer Village already, and his instincts were screaming now the same way they had then.