No weapon. That was a problem. But not a dealbreaker. And spending time wondering why Myth had tweaked the Berserker kit since beta? That was a waste of energy. He had bigger priorities. First step: unlock a path. Rage. Straightforward, brutal, reliable. And he knew exactly where to start.
He followed the slope down through thick snow, toward a cluster of rough wooden buildings huddled beneath wind-swept pines. Skarholt’s farmland stretched out around him, fields dusted with frost, their strange, gnarled crops hunched low against the cold. They looked stunted, even malformed—but he couldn’t say for sure. He’d never touched farming or herbalism in beta. Total waste of a build slot unless you were deep into crafting salves and potions. And let’s be honest—who picked farmer on purpose?
A solitary figure caught his eye: a man in a worn wool coat splitting logs with practised efficiency. Each swing cracked through thick timber like it was nothing. Between strikes, the man kept glancing toward the far edge of the field. Tense.
"Hey there! You lost, stranger?" the farmer called, pausing mid-swing to stretch his shoulders.
"Not lost," Knox replied, approaching. "Just seeing if there’s any work. Combat, hunting, anything that pays."
The farmer eyed him up and down. "You don’t look like much of a hunter. Got any experience with monsters?"
Knox gave a half-smile. "A little. I can hold my own. I’m looking for a good fight, not a handout."
"Well, you might get one," the farmer said, stepping aside to rest the axe on a stump. "My far field’s crawling with feral pigs. Big ones. Mean. They’ve torn through most of the crops, and I’ve already written off the yield. If you can clear them out, I’ll figure something out for your trouble."
Knox raised an eyebrow. "Feral pigs? How bad are we talking?"
"These aren’t barnyard animals. They’re half the size of a wagon, travel in groups, and go straight for your throat if they catch your scent. I got a couple with traps, but it’s risky work. Damn near suicide trying to set more."
"Fair warning taken. One issue, though—I don’t have a weapon. You got a spare?"
The farmer squinted. "You came out here without a weapon?"
Knox rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, not ideal. But I’m a Berserker class. Improvised weapons might trigger a passive unlock, so honestly? The weirder, the better."
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With a long look at the axe in his hand, the farmer sighed and passed it over. "Here. Just don’t die with it, its my good axe."
Knox crouched low behind a snow-covered shrub, keeping to the downwind side of the field. He’d taken the long route, circling to avoid alerting anything prematurely. This was a critical moment—no skills, no passives, no second chances.
Three pigs grazed and dozed in the snow-dusted ruins of the field. Two were asleep, stomachs bloated from overeating. The third snuffled among broken stalks, tearing up another root vegetable.
He ran through his plan again. The Sanguine Berserker wasn’t about quick wins or flashy crits. It was about stamina, attrition, control. The longer the fight, the stronger he became. The best way to unlock the path he needed was to take some damage. And the best way to get the passive skill he wanted? Take a lot of damage.
It was risky, sure. But in beta, this method had always worked—triggering the Fury path if he managed to survive long enough. He’d done it before. A dozen times. Success rate was maybe one in three. But today, he didn’t have the luxury of waiting.
He launched himself out of cover.
The pig didn’t react until he was nearly on top of it. Knox lunged, bringing the axe in low toward the beast’s rear leg. He aimed for the joint—the hock, if he remembered right. The blade connected with a sickening crunch, severing the hoof cleanly.
The pig squealed, whirling around to face him.
Knox checked the others. They’d stirred but hadn’t moved. Good.
He turned and sprinted.
The injured pig barrelled after him, surprisingly fast despite its missing limb.
It lunged. Knox veered at the last moment, just enough to avoid being flattened. The impact still caught him across the lower back, hard enough to jolt his vision. The simulated pain was sharper than it should’ve been—definitely not what he remembered from beta. Another silent update from Myth. No time to think about it.
He stumbled but recovered quickly, spinning around as the pig skidded past. He brought the axe down on its flank. Then he ran again.
Again it charged. Again he let it hit. Again he countered.
The rhythm was brutal but familiar. Each time he took a hit, it wore on him—but he could feel it building. Something under the surface. A pressure. A heat. Not quite pain, not quite power—potential. Raw and waiting. Something he could shape… or lose.
[Fury Path Available.]
He accepted instantly.
A surge of energy rippled through his limbs. Movement came easier. His breathing steadied. The fight shifted.
The pig was weakening now. Its wounds bled freely, staining the snow in wide, messy arcs. Knox ducked and weaved, striking with increasing precision, avoiding direct hits.
Eventually, the creature collapsed—not from a killing blow, but from sheer blood loss. It bled out beneath the grey sky, steam rising faintly from its wounds.
Knox stood over the corpse, his breath visible in the cold air. His body throbbed with strain. He felt like a cracked vessel—barely holding together, every movement tight with pain. There was no health bar to check, no stats to rely on. Just the raw, aching sense that one more mistake would have been the end.
But he was still here.
He glanced at the far end of the field. The other two pigs remained asleep or uninterested. Either way, they weren’t a threat. Not yet.
Dropping to one knee in the snow, Knox opened his menu. Several skills had unlocked during the fight. He scanned past most of them until one caught his attention.
[No Room For Pain] – Fury Path Skill - Taking hits temporarily grants stacking damage bonuses.
He accepted without hesitation. The potential locked into place—an anchor inside him. With limited slots per path, every skill mattered. This one would be the foundation of his build.
The Sanguine Berserker path favoured extended combat—fights that pushed you to the edge, then dragged you back, bleeding but alive. Each wound empowered him. Each near-death moment brought clarity. He wasn’t just meant to fight. He was meant to endure, outlast, and eventually overwhelm.
This was how it started. Exactly as he’d planned it.