The Ritual

"So what are my attributes, exactly?" Solam was curious.

Granny Karom answered readily. "Strength 14, Constitution 14, Intelligence 18, Dexterity 10, Wisdom 15, Charisma 12."

(I should explain that an untrained human usually had basic attributes of around 10. The Avalon Orcs, on the other hand, were naturally built like beasts and had trained from childhood, so their attributes were generally very high. If I had to give a standard, an adult Orc's Strength and Constitution would be around 18 or higher, while their Intelligence was generally low, around 8 or 9. Their Dexterity was about 15, and their Wisdom was usually not very high, only around 8 to 12. Also, people didn't gain points as they did in games. They generally improved in whatever area they trained, and an attribute could even decline if they neglected it. For example, a Mage who was always cooped up in a Mage Tower would usually lose Constitution.)

So Solam's highest attribute was Intelligence. But he didn't know what a normal score was, so it didn't mean much to him yet.

Everyone else, however, was stunned. A twelve-year-old Orc with attributes like these was remarkable. As far as Strength and Constitution went, he was already doing quite well compared with an ordinary Orc child, and was stronger than his peers. And he was a half-breed! Even more astonishing was that this little kid's Intelligence was a whopping 18. That was rare among the Orcs. They had never lacked naturally strong warriors, but most of them weren't very bright.

They knew Solam was clever, but they hadn't expected him to be this clever.

The old man's eyes widened. "What a waste not to become a Mage." He had traveled around in his younger days and knew how powerful a Mage could be.

"What do you mean, 'what a waste'? Are you saying becoming a Shaman would be beneath him?" The old woman was displeased at once. "What's so good about those scrawny Mages? A gust of wind could blow one away." Occupational prejudice was everywhere...

The old man saw Granny Karom fly into a rage and quickly shut his mouth. There was no point arguing. Avalon didn't have any Mages anyway, and even if it did, that wouldn't matter. Solam's Berserk talent was something Mages couldn't fix; they'd still have to rely on a Shaman's power. Besides, the old man himself looked down on Mages' lousy physical constitutions. Shamans were better by comparison, though not by much. Occupational prejudice really was everywhere...

Granny Karom turned to Solam. "The most important attribute for becoming a Shaman is Wisdom. Generally, if your Wisdom is above 12, you have a chance of becoming one. Your Wisdom is so high that you'll surely be fine. And your Intelligence won't go to waste, either." A Shaman's Wisdom determined the strength of their spells, while their Intelligence determined how many spells they could cast. (Shamans didn't cast spells through the Weave, so the number of spells each one could cast varied.)

After all that, Solam was of course willing. Besides, he'd be able to cast spells! Just thinking about it was exciting.

So everyone agreed to hold the Spirit Communion Ritual three days later.

Three days later

Honestly, this was the first time Solam had thought becoming a Shaman was such a raw deal. Ever since the day they decided he would undergo the Spirit Communion Ritual, he hadn't eaten anything or been allowed to sleep. He had to empty his mind for the ritual, so he couldn't have any distracting thoughts, or they might interfere with its effect.

Solam himself didn't understand why emptying his mind meant he couldn't eat or sleep. He didn't even know what it felt like to have an empty mind. All he knew was that he was exhausted and starving, and felt so groggy he could barely think. Forget emptying his mind—he figured he'd pass out any moment. But it wasn't up to him. And he wasn't even allowed to faint; every so often, someone came by to make sure he was still conscious. The whole time, Solam felt like he was being tortured. He even wondered if his family was punishing him for his recklessness last time. If so, he'd rather take a beating. He only had to grit his teeth and endure it, and surely his family wouldn't beat him too badly. That would still be much better than being slowly tortured like this.

Just as Solam was drifting in and out of consciousness, lost in his thoughts, Granny Karom finally came in and told him the ritual was about to begin.

Solam didn't even have the energy to feel happy that his ordeal was finally ending. He was like a mindless corpse, dazed and vacant. If Aunt Solari and Krum hadn't come over and helped him up, he wouldn't have known how to stand.

In that dazed state, Solari and Krum helped Solam to the open-air altar. Snow stretched in every direction. Almost naked, wearing only a pair of shorts, Solam knelt on the altar. All around it stood the clan's Shamans, including Aunt Solari.

"The ritual begins," Granny Karom announced, standing before Solam.

All the Orcs gathered to watch dropped to one knee, bowed their heads, and paid their respects to the altar. The Shamans around them began to dance. They were dressed in ceremonial garments, with ornaments carved from bones and other things hanging from their bodies. Their faces were covered in paint, and they sang songs no one could understand. Each carried an instrument, playing as they danced and swayed like ritual performers. The scene was lively. Granny Karom stood with her back to Solam, murmuring words no one could make out.

As the ritual proceeded, a faint glow began to spread from the altar. When the Shamans saw it, they danced with even greater fervor, and Granny Karom's chanting grew faster.

The music and dancing grew faster, and the light on the altar grew brighter, until it completely engulfed Solam. Granny Karom abruptly turned, knelt, opened her arms, and began praying to the sky. The other Shamans stopped dancing and, like Granny Karom, knelt with their arms spread wide, praying to the sky. The light on the altar seemed to respond, brightening even more until it formed a pillar of light.

When Granny Karom saw the pillar of light above the altar, her face lit up with joy. Everyone else stared at it in amazement. Clearly, no one had expected this.

As for everyone else, Solam had completely blacked out as soon as the ritual began. But after a while, he felt someone calling him. The voice drew closer and closer, growing clearer, though Solam couldn't make out what it was saying.

The voice woke Solam. He struggled to open his eyes, but the altar was gone. All around him stretched endless darkness, and he floated alone in its vast emptiness. Before he could figure out what was going on, a light appeared in the distance and shot toward him. The closer it came, the louder the voice grew.

Suddenly, the light struck Solam, completely surrounding him. Its brightness stung his eyes, and he instinctively shut them. When he opened them again, he was in another space, one filled with dazzling colors. The voice had suddenly grown much louder, as if countless people were talking right beside his ears. It was a cacophony, and he couldn't make out a single word. Just as Solam stared blankly, unsure what to do, all sounds suddenly ceased.

Solam immediately looked around, but there was nothing except the dazzling colors. Still, he could feel someone—or something—watching him.

"A special soul," a massive voice said, deep and slow.

"The scent of the River Styx," said a gentle woman's voice, so soothing that it made him feel intoxicated.

"Eternal radiance shines within this soul," said an ethereal woman's voice, drifting around him, elusive and hard to pin down.

"This soul is favored by the world," said an irritable voice. It sounded like its owner might lash out at any moment.

"What should we do?"

"The ancient pact must be honored."

"I'm very interested in him. Since I answered his call, I've decided to honor the pact."

"Then it's settled."

As soon as the words were spoken, four beams of light, each a different color, shot toward Solam. He passed out again. Damn, why was he so unlucky? That was Solam's last thought before blacking out. He hadn't been conscious for more than a few moments over the past several days.

At the altar, just as Solam passed out in that unknown space, the pillar of light surrounding him abruptly expanded, then burst apart. In an instant, the whole world turned pure white, and everyone squeezed their eyes shut as if they'd been hit by a flashbang.

When everyone opened their eyes, they saw Solam floating in the air, surrounded by four totem poles of different colors: red, yellow, blue, and white.

As the four totem poles slowly disappeared, Solam descended as well.

Solam woke up again. Yes, "again."

This time, his first thought wasn't that he was hungry. It was that he'd awakened another ability.

Ability—"Communication." A very peculiar ability, a bit like a universal translator. In other words, someone with the Communication Ability could talk to anything. It was a lot like a Druid's skill.

In his previous life, the ability hadn't been anything special; it had just let him talk to animals. But now, Solam felt something different. He could sense many other things. For example, he could feel the wind and water elements dancing in the snowstorm. He even felt he could communicate with the elements and make them obey him. That had been completely impossible in his previous life, and he sensed there was more to it than that.

While Solam was still lost in thought, Frostfang saw him wake and immediately ran over, ready to pounce on him. Solam saw it coming and hurriedly tried to make Frostfang stop. But before he could say a word, Frostfang stopped. Solam froze. Direwolves were clever, but not clever enough to read his expression. Frostfang sat on the ground, looking at Solam, and Solam immediately felt its joy.