Chapter Four: Psychic energy

"Yes, Odin managed to thwart Ragnarok. He was able to slay Fenrir, the Devourer of Worlds, seal Surtr the Fire Giant within Muspelheim, and obliterate the army poised to annihilate Asgard." Bestla's voice was steady, her words carrying the weight of an ancient tale. The flickering light from the hearth danced across her weathered face as she continued, "But as the Rune Walkers—Odin's greatest weapons—grew in power, they slipped from his control. What began as Odin's solution to Ragnarok became the seed of a new calamity."

Her gaze swept across the room, her audience of children silent and wide-eyed. "Odin, desperate to protect Asgard, made the fateful decision to close off the Bifrost, the shimmering bridge that bound the Nine Realms. This severed the connection between Yggdrasil, the World Tree, and the realms it sustained. Without Yggdrasil's lifeblood, the Odr—the essence of existence—vanished from the other realms, including Midgard."

Ragna listened intently, his mind racing. The World Tree, he thought. It sounds like Yggdrasil was more than a tree; it was the embodiment of this universe's will. A force that connected all realms and sustained them. Without that will, it makes sense that Midgard would be devoid of ambient energy. But how, then, did the Vikings continue to cultivate if the World Essence was gone?

"What happened then?" Torvi, the black-haired girl with sharp eyes, asked, her curiosity cutting through the silence.

"Without Yggdrasil, the other realms withered and died," Bestla replied. Her voice was low, almost mournful. "Their inhabitants had no choice but to flee to Midgard, the last realm still standing. But Midgard was no sanctuary. With the gods abandoning their creations and sealing themselves within Asgard, chaos reigned. The Rune Walkers, driven mad by the absence of World Essence, turned against all living things."

"Why did they attack everything?" Anders, a young Volur child with an inquisitive nature, asked softly.

"The story says that without World Essence, the Rune Walkers became corrupted. Their once-noble purpose twisted into a consuming hatred for creation itself. They sought to end all life, a grim echo of the destruction they were designed to prevent." Bestla's expression softened as she added, "Mankind and the other surviving races sought refuge here, on this land. A land they believed was left behind by the gods. It was here that the Five Kingdoms were born, and peace, fragile as it was, returned to the world."

She paused, letting her words sink in. A faint smile graced her lips as she looked at the children. "And that, my dears, is how our world came to be. But it's getting late. We should all prepare for bed."

A collective groan rose from the children as Bestla stood, her chair creaking beneath her weight. The door to the room swung open, and their parents entered. Towering figures clad in leather armor, their presence filled the space with quiet authority. Ragna observed them closely, marveling at their height and build. Both men and women were tall and lean, their bodies sculpted with powerful muscles that hinted at lives of relentless training and battle.

Ragna focused, carefully controlling his mental force as he extended his senses. He felt the flow of Essence within them, a vibrant energy coursing through their cores. How do they have Essence and a core if there is no World Essence? The question gnawed at him, a puzzle he couldn't ignore. If he was ever to form his own core, he needed to uncover their secret. He considered studying his parents. His mother, in particular, radiated an almost intimidating power. But how could he analyze their bodies without them noticing? The risk was too great. His parents were formidable warriors, and he couldn't afford to expose himself. Not yet.

After the children were gone, and Bestla took Ragna to his room for the night, Ragna was left to pace around his room, mulling over the story his mother had told. He knew the story couldn't be entirely true. Over time, facts likely twisted into myths, becoming the tale it was now. To Ragna, it sounded like the gods, if they existed, were merely ancient cultivators who had reached the Divine stage of cultivation—a goal he had pursued relentlessly in his past life.

"It seems to me godhood is more easily attainable in this world," Ragna murmured. In his previous life, cultivation was an arduous, grueling process that demanded immense effort, patience, and luck. Only a rare few reached the summit, and Ragna had been one of the fortunate ones, born with an extraordinary cultivation talent.

Deciding he needed more answers, Ragna left his room, heading for the library on the third floor. His mother had assigned specific times for him to visit, and this wasn't one of them. But desperation drove him. He had to uncover more about cultivation in this world. Walking up the stairs, Ragna moved with precision, his mastery over his body enabling him to step silently. Reaching the library door, he carefully unlocked it with a practiced ease. The library, though not the grandest he had ever seen, was far superior to the public one accessible to the villagers. The public library had disappointed him, offering little on cultivation or anything remotely advanced. Here, however, he hoped to find real answers. Ragna began scanning the shelves, passing volumes on seafaring, raiding, and conquest—remnants of the Norsemen's traditions before Ragnarok. Now, such practices had been largely abandoned to maintain the fragile peace of the Five Kingdoms. Ragna had no interest in those pursuits. His only desire was to grow stronger. After a methodical search, he finally found what he was looking for. This section of the library was forbidden to him; his mother controlled his studies and restricted his access to certain knowledge. Normally, such control would have infuriated him, making him think she was hindering his progress. But he knew better. In her eyes, he was just an eight-year-old child, too young to delve into complex matters. She might see him as a prodigy due to his rapid learning, but she still treated him as a child—even spoiling him at times. Her strictness was born of love and a desire to give him a normal childhood, something he appreciated deeply.

This life stood in stark contrast to his past one. In his former world, Ragna's mother had died giving birth to him, her death a consequence of the power he had been born with. His father, a cold and calculating king, had raised him not as a son, but as a weapon to safeguard his dominion. Ragna had grown to despise both the man and the endless wars fought in his name. Here, things were different. His mother, a princess of the Kingdom of Norland, showered him with love. Even as the son of the Earl of the village, Ragna was treated as both a prince and a cherished child. He could feel his mother's love as though they were still connected by an unbroken bond, a stark contrast to the detached, utilitarian treatment he endured in his past life. The book he sought finally caught his eye: a thick, black tome titled "Runic Magic and True Names." Fixing his gaze on it, Ragna extended his mental force, willing the book to come to him. Mental force was not just a tool for expanding perception beyond physical senses—it could also exert influence on objects within its range. The strength of that influence depended on the type of mental force used. As Ragna focused on the book, drawing it toward him with basic mental force, he felt a sudden disturbance—

Ragna's focus shattered as a voice broke through his concentration. "So your psychic energy is awakened," said his mother, standing in the doorway. The book he had been manipulating fell to the floor with a dull thud, and Ragna jumped, startled. She stood there in a yellow nightgown, her golden hair cascading loosely over her shoulders. Ragna quickly calmed his racing heartbeat, silently cursing himself for failing to monitor his surroundings. He had grown accustomed to suppressing his mental force at home to avoid alerting either his mother or Aksel, but it had clearly left him vulnerable.

"Wait… what do you mean, psychic energy?" Ragna asked, his voice guarded.

"This," Bestla replied, gesturing towards the fallen book. It rose smoothly from the ground, carried by an unseen force, and floated back to her hand. Ragna's senses tingled as he detected the subtle fluctuations of her mental energy at work.

So they call mental force psychic energy in this world, he thought. I'll have to remember that.

"Psychic energy… what's that?" Ragna pressed, trying to glean more information. Bestla smiled as she returned the book to its rightful place on the shelf. Over the years, she had suspected there was more to her son than met the eye. His insatiable curiosity, rapid development, and uncanny ability to learn were beyond even the expectations for a child of Lothbrok's blood. She had also occasionally sensed faint psychic fluctuations emanating from him, always suppressed, as though he were intentionally hiding his awakened powers of insight and awareness. It confirmed her suspicions: her son was no ordinary child. No one should have awakened psychic energy from birth, and yet he had.

"Psychic energy is the force that exists within our minds," Bestla explained, tapping her temple for emphasis. "It is the power that gives us insight and awareness into the other forces that shape the universe."

Definitely sounds like mental force, Ragna mused.

"Psychic energy acts as a source of strength that allows our mind's eye to perceive beyond the physical world."

Mind's eye, huh? That's basically internal sight, he thought, filling the terminology away for future use.

"Ragna," Bestla said, her tone soft but probing, "are you a reincarnated person?"

Ragna froze, his mind racing. His blue eyes met hers, and at that moment, he knew there was no point in denying it. Bestla's knowing smile deepened as she crossed the room and scooped him up with ease. Despite himself, Ragna stayed still, mindful of his mother's incredible strength. Without a word, she carried him out of the library and back to his room. The space was cozy yet studious, filled with books, manuscripts, and a desk where he practiced his writing and studies. Bestla gently placed him on the bed, pulling the blanket over him before sitting beside him. She stroked his hair, her touch tender and reassuring.

For as long as she could remember, Bestla had felt an emotional bond with her son, a connection so profound it seemed to transcend the physical. Even after the umbilical cord was severed, her psychic energy had allowed her to sense his emotions and well-being with startling clarity. It was how she always knew if he was safe and where he was, even when he tried to hide.

"Is it a problem that I'm reincarnated?" Ragna asked quietly. Despite his best efforts to sound neutral, she could sense the tension beneath his words. He was bracing himself for rejection or fear.

Bestla's smile was warm and reassuring as she shook her head. "No, my son. It only makes you more extraordinary. Our world runs on reincarnation," Bestla said. "Everyone in this world is a reincarnation of someone from the past." Ragna raised his eyebrows at hearing that. "All souls are recycled and sent to the world of the living with a new life, especially now that Valhalla and Hel are gone." Valhalla. He had read about it. It was once a place in the afterlife where warriors were chosen to go as a blessing for their deeds as mortals. A great place where one could continue to cultivate their power and fight for the gods.

"It seems to me the difference between you and the rest of us is that you might have regained some aspects of your past life. Am I right?"

I see. She doesn't know my soul originated from a different universe than this one. It's better that way. Explaining the various multiverses might be too much.

"Yes, but I..."

"I don't care about that. Who you were or what you did in some past life doesn't matter to me. What matters to me is that you are my son. My blood," Bestla said. Ragna tried his best not to shed a tear, but even with the mastery he had over his body, he couldn't stop his emotions from affecting him. Tears slid down his eyes, and he tried to clear them, but Bestla stopped him. She liked seeing Ragna appear as a normal kid sometimes instead of him trying to appear as a stoic being. She waited a while for him to finish crying. After he wiped his tears, she decided to ask the question.

"So why were you in the library? You know you're not supposed to be there at this time."

Oh! Shit.

Ragna scrambled to think of an excuse, his mind racing as fast as it ever had. He couldn't tell her the whole truth about his intentions to dive deeper into the mysteries of cultivation or about his hidden ambitions to reach the Divine stage again. His mother had already caught him off guard with her surprising insight about reincarnation; he wasn't sure how much more he could afford to reveal without risking more questions he wasn't ready to answer.

"I...I couldn't sleep," Ragna stammered. "I thought reading might help. And I—I didn't mean to go into the restricted section. I just...got curious." Bestla raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. For a moment, Ragna wondered if she would press further, but instead, she sighed and shook her head.

"My son, your curiosity will be both your greatest strength and your greatest danger," she said softly. "But I understand. You've always been more restless than most children your age." She reached out and brushed a strand of hair from his face. "Still, you must learn patience, Ragna. There is a time and place for everything, and your path will become clearer when it's meant to."

Ragna nodded, though her words only deepened his determination to uncover the truth. He hated being treated like a child, even though he knew her intentions came from a place of love. "I'll try to be more patient, Mother," he said, forcing himself to sound sincere.

Bestla smiled again, satisfied for now. "Good. Now rest. Tomorrow, we'll talk more about psychic energy, and perhaps I'll begin to teach you how to control it properly. But for tonight, no more sneaking into the library." Her tone was firm, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

As Bestla left the room, closing the door softly behind her, Ragna let out a deep breath. His heart was still pounding from the encounter, but his mind was sharper than ever. So this world runs on reincarnation, he thought, and souls are recycled. But what does that mean for me, a soul from another universe?

He glanced at the window, where the moon hung high in the sky, its light spilling into the room. The knowledge he had gained tonight, though limited, had opened up new questions and possibilities. One thing was certain—this world's cultivation, psychic energy, and reincarnation system were far more intricate than he had first realized. And he was determined to uncover every secret, no matter what it took.

As he lay down to rest, his mind continued to churn with plans and strategies. Tomorrow would be another step forward, another chance to learn and grow stronger. For now, he would play the part of the obedient son. But deep down, Ragna knew that his journey was just beginning.