It had been a few weeks since I stepped aboard the ship bound for home—but the smile I wore that day had never quite left my face.
Heh…
I caught myself grinning like an idiot again, eyes unfocused as they drifted toward the sea, lost in memory. I could still feel it—Merida's lips brushing mine, sudden and electric. It had caught me off guard, sure… but I hadn't wanted it to stop. Not for anything.
The crew had noticed, of course. They always did. There were a few raised brows, a couple of exchanged glances, and one dramatic sweatdrop from the helmsman—but no one said a word. By now, they were used to my quiet daydreams, my goofy expressions. They let me have them.
Then came a soft, deliberate cough.
I blinked and turned, already knowing who it would be.
There stood my father—rigid posture, eyes sharp as ever. The kind of man who didn't waste words unless they mattered.
"Son," he said, his voice steady, "have you truly decided to wed Princess Merida?"
I met his gaze, heart calm, smile gentle. "Yes, Father."
There was a pause—long enough to make me wonder what he'd say next. Then his expression shifted, just slightly. The stern lines of his face softened, the steel in his eyes dimmed.
"I'm proud of you, son," he said, voice lower now. "Make sure you protect her well."
I nodded, my voice quiet. "I will, Father."
He returned the nod and turned, walking away without another word.
I watched him go, watched the stiffness in his shoulders that had never quite left. And in that moment, I saw it clearly—he still carried the weight. The ache. He had never truly healed from losing Mother.
Sigh…
A few months later, I found myself in the middle of training when something unsettling hit me—I'd reached a wall. Not just in skill or stamina, but something deeper, like I'd hit the ceiling of what Berk could offer. Every fight felt routine. Every opponent, predictable. Even Father—when he had time—no longer pushed me the way he used to.
My Fire Dragon Slayer Magic hadn't evolved either. I didn't know what it needed, only that it wouldn't grow in the stillness of this island.
I needed more. Something real. Something dangerous.
So, I decided—I would leave Berk. Go out into the world and seek the kind of challenge that scared me.
But first, I had to talk to Hiccup.
The sky was streaked with gold as I walked past the forge. The clang of metal echoed softly, and there he was—huddled over a worktable, goggles slipping down his nose, completely focused.
I stepped closer and called out, "Hey, Hiccup."
He looked up, blinking behind the lenses. "Yeah?" Then his face lit up. "Oh! Erik—I'm making a new tailfin for Toothless."
I laughed. "Another one? What's this, number one hundred?"
"That's an exaggeration," he said, puffing up a little.
"Oh yeah? So what number is it?"
He hesitated. "…Forty-seven."
I blinked.
He gave a sheepish smile. "Okay, okay—I know I obsess a little."
"You're not wrong. Toothless deserves the best."
He smiled at that, then tilted his head. "So… what's up? You don't usually come by unless something's bothering you."
I hesitated. "Can't a brother check in without having an agenda?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You? No."
I sighed. "Alright, you got me. I need to talk."
He set his tools down and turned toward me, serious now. "What's going on?"
"I'm… planning to leave Berk. For a while."
His brow furrowed. "Leave? Why?"
"I've hit a wall. Training here—it's not enough anymore. I'm not getting stronger. I need new challenges. Real ones. Ones I won't find on this island."
He frowned. "You've always pushed yourself harder than anyone else. But—what does that even mean? Not getting stronger? You're already stronger than most grown Vikings. What else do you think you need?"
I looked away. "It's hard to explain. It's like there's this… pressure inside me, like I'm meant for more. Like I'm standing still while the world moves."
Hiccup was quiet for a moment. "You sound like a storm that doesn't know where to break."
I smiled faintly. "Maybe I am."
"You know Dad will never agree to this."
"I know. That's why… I'm not telling him."
He straightened. "Wait—what?"
"I wanted to. I did. But he'd never let me go. You know that. He'd lock me in the house, assign guards, shout until the windows shook. So I'm leaving without asking."
Hiccup looked stunned. "Erik, he's your father. You're his heir. If you disappear, it'll break something in him."
"I'm not disappearing. Just… leaving. For a while. To figure out who I am when I'm not under his shadow."
His voice dropped. "And what about me?"
That one cut deep.
"I'm not leaving you behind. You're part of who I am, Hiccup. But this… this is something I have to do alone."
He didn't argue. He just looked at me with that quiet sadness he wore better than anyone else.
"At least leave a letter," he said after a long silence. "Please. Don't make me the one who has to explain this."
I nodded. "I will. I promise."
Then he reached out and pulled me into a sudden hug. "Don't do anything stupid."
I smiled, hugging him back. "You know me. I always do something stupid."
"Yeah," he muttered. "That's what I'm afraid of."
(Erik's POV)
When I got home, the house was silent. No sign of Father.
I moved quickly to my room and sat at the small desk near the window. The sea wind tugged at the curtains as I pulled out a piece of parchment.
For a moment, my hand hovered over the page.
Then I began.
Father,
If you're reading this, I'm already gone. I've trained hard here—harder than anyone—but I've hit my limit. I've stopped growing. I don't expect you to understand, but staying here would mean stagnating. Shrinking.
I wanted to ask you for permission, but I already know what you'd say. So I made the decision myself.
Please don't be angry with Hiccup. He didn't stop me, but he didn't help either. This was my choice—and mine alone.
I don't know how long I'll be gone. A year, maybe two. But I will come back.
Stronger.
From your favorite miracle,Erik Horrendous Haddock
I placed the letter under a small dragon carving I'd made from driftwood.
Then, with the quiet resolve of someone who had already said goodbye in his heart, I left.
The docks were nearly empty. A few fishermen were tying down nets, their faces lit by lanterns swaying in the wind.
They waved to me, unaware of the weight I carried.
I found the small boat tucked beneath the pier. Untied it. Stepped in.
And for a long time, I sat there—watching the lights of Berk flicker in the distance.
My home.
My family.
My little brother probably staring out the forge window, pretending not to worry.
Then, with a breath I didn't know I'd been holding, I pushed off.
The boat drifted out, swallowed by the dark water.
I didn't look back.
Stoick's POV
Creak.
As I opened the door, the usual scent of freshly cooked food didn't greet me.
"Sigh… one of those days."
It had been a long day—since morning, I hadn't left the village hall. Complaint after complaint, issue after issue. I could barely think straight.
"I can't wait to pass the torch to Erik…" I muttered under my breath.
Stepping inside, I closed the door quietly behind me, unfastened my cloak, and made my way to the kitchen. The silence was heavier than usual.
I washed my hands, gathered ingredients, and set the stove alight.
One hour later
"And one," I said to no one in particular, setting the last dish on the table.
Creak.
I looked toward the door and saw Hiccup step in. His shoulders were stiff, his eyes unsure.
I smiled faintly, brushing off his unease as nothing more than a reflection of my own exhaustion.
We sat down in silence, eating slowly, waiting for Erik.
Ten minutes later
I frowned. "Where is Erik?" I muttered. He was usually never this late.
Another ten minutes passed.
A knot of worry tightened in my chest. Something was wrong.
I glanced at Hiccup again—his face was pale, lips pressed thin, eyes full of guilt. I knew that look.
I straightened. "Hiccup," I said, firmly.
He flinched.
He knows something.
"Where is your brother?" My voice was steady, but cold.
He swallowed, avoiding my gaze. "Uhm… maybe he's in his room," he offered, voice shaky.
I stood, the chair scraping back.
Without another word, I walked down the hallway, Hiccup following closely behind. I reached Erik's door, grasped the knob, and turned it.
The room was empty.
I stepped in, scanning every corner—bed, walls, shelves—until my eyes landed on the work table. A piece of paper, held down by a small carved figure.
I moved forward slowly, removed the carving, and picked up the paper. My hands trembled slightly as I unfolded it.
As I read, a cold fury rose in my chest.
By the end, I couldn't hold it in.
"ERIK!" I roared, the name echoing through the house.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
The wind howled as I stared, dumbfounded, at the endless blue sea. It stretched in every direction, a vast, rippling carpet of water that shimmered under the pale light. No land in sight. Just water. Miles and miles of water, as far as my eyes could see.
"…Sigh. I'm lost," I muttered, dead inside, my voice barely audible over the gusts.
I opened my system inventory and immediately felt a tiny flicker of hope. The familiar interface popped up like an old friend offering a comforting pat on the back. I smirked. "Good thing I brought a bunch of food with me. Can't explore the archipelago on an empty stomach."
Rows of neatly stacked food icons glowed in my inventory grid—dried meats, survival rations, and… ten suspiciously shiny apples. I didn't question it. Not now.
With a flick, I switched to the Gacha tab. My eyes locked onto the number like it was a treasure chest overflowing with gold: 50 tickets.
I rubbed my chin like a wise old sage, the kind who gives cryptic advice and dies dramatically in the third act. "Hmmm… tempting. But no. Not now."
I narrowed my eyes at the screen. "My luck's been garbage lately. If I roll now, I'll just get fifty duplicates of 'Common Stick.' Again."
The sting of that last pull still haunted me. A full ten-roll. Nothing but sticks. I swear, one of them had splinters.
I closed the Gacha tab with a dramatic sigh, dragging it shut like a heavy curtain. "Besides, I have hundreds of Skill Upgrade Cards just sitting here."
Rubbing my hands together like a cartoon villain before executing an overly complicated plan, I cackled. "Time to level up, baby."
I dove into my skill tree, fingers dancing across the interface like a pianist playing a crescendo. Ping. Ping. Ping. Each upgrade sparkled, each level-up sound more satisfying than the last.
"It's time to upgrade!" I shouted triumphantly—to no one. Absolutely no one.
After a few glorious minutes of power-tripping, I leaned back, satisfied. My stats looked like they belonged to someone who knew what they were doing. I was stronger. Smarter. Hungrier, for some reason.
And then… I felt it. That weird chill down my spine. The kind that says, Hey, you're about to regret everything you've ever done.
I glanced around. Fog. Out of nowhere.
Thick. Creepy. Definitely ominous. It coiled low across the water, slithering toward me like it had a personal vendetta.
"A dragon?" I whispered, hopefully.
"No. Definitely something else," I muttered, less hopefully.
I slipped into a combat stance, because obviously, fog means danger. That's just science. Basic science. Fog 101.
The fog kept creeping in, swallowing the horizon. One second I could see for miles. The next, I was in a soggy cloud of nope.
ALERT ALERT
SYSTEM —Host, you have entered a Secret Realm. Difficulty: Myth.
"What?!" I shouted.
"Calm down, host," the system droned. "Nothing will attack until you have arrived on land."
"Oh great. That's supposed to make me feel better?"
"Yes, host. That was my intention."
"You messing with me right now?"
"No, host. I am incapable of 'messing.' I do not possess a body."
"You fu—"
A few minutes later…
The thick fog slowly began to fade, curling away in wisps like smoke dissolving into the sky. Bit by bit, the world beyond the mist started to reveal itself. A silhouette appeared on the horizon, firm and unmoving. My breath caught in my throat.
"Finally," I whispered, almost disbelieving, as my eyes locked onto the distant stretch of land ahead. I leaned forward instinctively, as if the sight alone could pull me closer.
Without hesitation, the moment the boat scraped against the shore, I leapt off, the soles of my boots sinking into the damp earth. My legs trembled slightly—not from fear, but from a strange mix of relief and anticipation. Solid ground. A new place. A new challenge.
Then the system's voice echoed in my mind, cold and mechanical.
System: Host, this realm is extremely difficult. Your current strength is insufficient. Even after maximizing all potential upgrades, your estimated chance of survival remains at a mere one percent.
I froze. My heart pounded harder against my ribs.
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, fists clenching.
I took a deep breath and looked around at the unfamiliar terrain. "How do I leave this place?" I asked, my voice low and tense.
System: To exit this realm, you must defeat the strongest beast that inhabits it. Only then will you be granted the Ring of Passage.
A chill ran down my spine. "Where do I find him?" I asked, not sure if I truly wanted the answer.
System: Host, I strongly recommend against it. You are currently far too weak. The creature you must defeat is an evolved species—one that has already surpassed the natural boundaries of its existence. It has reached the absolute limit of its power.
I frowned. "What exactly is an evolved species?" I asked, even though part of me dreaded the explanation.
System: An evolved species is a being that has pushed beyond its original design. It has broken free of all natural constraints and ascended into a higher state of being—faster, stronger, and vastly more dangerous than anything you've encountered before.
My throat went dry. I paused, staring off into the trees ahead. "How strong is it?" I asked uncertainly, the words barely leaving my mouth.
System: Even if there were ten thousand versions of you—at your current level—you would not be able to make it bleed.
"…Fuck."
I stood there, stunned, the weight of the task sinking in like lead. As I tried to process the hopeless odds, a low growl suddenly cut through the air. My instincts flared. I spun around instantly, heart hammering.
"A wolf…" I breathed, narrowing my eyes.
But as it stepped out of the trees, my breath caught. My eyes widened in disbelief.
It wasn't just a wolf.
It was enormous—easily taller than me at the shoulder, its eyes gleaming with feral intelligence. Its presence radiated power, and something else… something ancient.
Its fur shimmered, almost metallic, strands of silver rippling as it moved. Every step was silent, like it had mastered the art of walking without sound. Its breath misted in the air, not from the cold, but from something deeper—something magical.
System: Warning. Detected presence: "Moon-Touched Direwolf, Variant Alpha." Threat Level: Catastrophic.
"Why do you even bother with levels anymore?" I snapped, backing away slowly.
The wolf tilted its head. For a split second, I could've sworn it smirked.
I tightened my grip on my sword—not that it would do anything. My blade, freshly upgraded and enchanted, still felt like a toy compared to the monster in front of me.
Then the wolf spoke.
Yes. Spoke.
Its voice wasn't sound. It was pressure, thoughts sliding into my brain like ice water.
You are not ready, little flame. Turn back.
I blinked. "You can talk?"
The wolf's eyes narrowed.
I have consumed languages older than your bones. Leave, while your soul still belongs to you.
The ground beneath me felt suddenly unstable, like the very earth was considering whether or not to keep supporting me.
"…I don't suppose we could negotiate?" I tried, hoping maybe evolved beings liked diplomacy.
No.
Of course not.
The wolf took a step forward. My system pinged again.
System: Host, automatic defense protocols engaged. Calculating emergency escape route… error. No viable path found.
I was about to panic. Actually, no—I was already panicking. I was about to do it louder.
Then the wolf stopped. Its gaze flicked past me.
Something worse comes.
"…Worse than you?" I asked, voice cracking.
Yes. Run.
It vanished. Just blinked out of sight like it had never been there.
I didn't need another warning. I turned and sprinted into the woods. Twigs snapped underfoot. Branches clawed at my arms. The wind screamed through the trees, and something deep in the forest screamed back.
Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I heard the system whisper:
System: Welcome to the Trial of the Mythborn.