Chapter 14: The Weight of Power

Athenor stood amidst the wreckage of his battle, breathing in the cold air of Midgard's wilderness. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as if he were still expecting another enemy to appear. The fight with the Seiðr-infused troll had been unlike anything before.

But what lingered most wasn't the battle itself.

It was the power.

For the first time, he felt the vast gulf between who he had been and who he was becoming. His body no longer ached from exertion; it hummed with raw strength like an instrument finely tuned to destruction. Every motion felt impossibly light, yet devastatingly heavy. He was stronger. So much stronger than before.

And yet…

He had lost himself in that battle.

He could still hear the echoes of his rage, the way his vision had blurred red, the way his mind had abandoned all reason for the sole purpose of ripping, tearing, and destroying.

The moment he had given in to the berserker instinct, the world had faded into something distant, insignificant.

Even now, standing in the silence of the aftermath, he could feel a part of himself craving it again.

It terrified him.

Athenor shook his head, his golden eyes narrowing. He needed clarity. Understanding.

He moved forward, stepping over the remains of the battlefield. Each step was light, too light. The power coursing through him had changed something fundamental. Before, he had felt the weight of his muscles, the strain of his movements. Now, his body responded with unnatural efficiency.

There was no hesitation, no burden.

He came across a fallen tree—one that had been destroyed in the wake of their fight. Athenor crouched slightly, placed his hands under the massive trunk, and lifted.

It felt light.

Too light.

The tree, which should have been impossibly heavy, barely offered any resistance. His arms flexed as he tested his grip, but the strain never came.

He let out a slow breath and set it back down. What was his limit now?

His eyes roamed the landscape until they settled on something else—a boulder, larger than himself, embedded into the earth.

Athenor approached, his footsteps eerily silent despite his weight. Without hesitation, he crouched, dug his fingers beneath the stone, and lifted.

The earth cracked as the massive boulder rose effortlessly into the air.

Athenor didn't struggle. His muscles didn't tremble. He simply held it, as if he had been lifting a wooden training weight.

This was Hercules' strength.

Or at least, a fraction of it.

Athenor set the boulder down carefully, his heart still steady. He had fought, trained, and pushed himself to his limits every day, but this—this was different.

He was changing. Becoming something else.

He closed his eyes, recalling the system's last notification.

[System Notification]

Mission Completed: The Unshackled StrengthObjective: Defeat the Seiðr-infused Troll.Reward: +20% Template Integration

[New Template Integration: 46.9%]

Nearly half.

Nearly half of Hercules' power.

Athenor exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the cold air. He knew what this meant. The difference between 26% and 46.9% wasn't just numbers—it was an entirely different league.

A leap of strength so vast that he had felt it the moment the battle ended.

And yet…

Power alone meant nothing if he couldn't control it.

Athenor glanced down at his hands, then slowly curled them into fists. The way his bones no longer creaked under pressure. The way his muscles no longer screamed for rest.

Was this the path of a warrior?

No, warriors had limits. He had broken past them. He was something else now.

But power without discipline… was just a path to ruin.

The Berserker Instinct

His mind drifted back to the moment he lost control.

The sheer rage.

The way his body had moved on its own, chasing destruction like a starving beast.

He had felt unstoppable.

But he had also felt lost.

Athenor clenched his jaw. He had trained himself to be disciplined, but that instinct—that unrelenting need to fight, to destroy—had consumed him too easily.

What if it happened again?

What if next time, he couldn't pull himself back?

Athenor exhaled slowly.

There was only one way to ensure control.

He needed to test it. To push himself further. To refine his strength and confront his berserker nature before it consumed him.

He turned his gaze toward the deeper parts of the wildlands, where the air grew colder, where stronger creatures roamed.

If he were to master this strength, he couldn't simply be satisfied with what he had achieved.

He needed more.

He needed to hunt again.

The hunt continued.