Chapter 7 - A Meal Fit for One

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 "Wait a minute!" and in what feels like the second after I fall asleep, I bolt awake.

Footsteps rush down the hall outside my door, and within seconds after my exclamation Mold in in the doorway; "What, what's wrong?"

"God, I must have been tired yesterday, I completely forgot."

"Brady, I have been up for several hours watching Beefcake snore, and I'm in no mood to play the pronoun game, what is it that you forgot."

"Okay, okay, right, sorry." I take some deep breaths and get out of my covers; "I guess I forgot to tell you during our... little chat last night, but something really weird happened yesterday, after I got confirmed to take part in Ragnarök."

Mold follows me to the bathroom, standing outside the door while I turn on my shower and get undressed. As I wait for the water to heat up I tell her about the scuffle I had with the creepy kids on the street, and then the further chaos that I caused in the coffee shop.

"Okay," Mold finally says after I finish my story; "unless you're about to step into the shower, can you open the door for a second?"

"Alright..." I quickly wrap myself in a towel and poke my head out the door.

Before I can open my mouth to ask what it is that Mold wants, a fist is hurtling towards my face. Instinctively I flinch back, and then when I can tell that no further attacks are coming I open the door.

"What the hell are you rubbing your hand for, you missed, idiot."

This claim is apparently fairly startling for Mold, as she stops rubbing said hand for a moment to look at me closely; "Oh, that's very interesting. I missed, huh? Take a look at yourself, Brady."

I go back into the room again, slowly turning to the bathroom mirror, though I think I already know what I'm going to see: Blood, running from my nose to my chin. And almost as soon as I see it, I feel it. A throbbing pain emanating from my face, much sharper than it was last night.

"Man, now that's just kinda freaky." I mutter as I close the door on Mold again and get in the shower. As I wash the blood off of me I shout at her over the noise of the water; "so you seemed like you knew exactly what was going to happen, what's your explanation for this?"

"Eh, it's not a particularly convoluted problem this time, assuming that I'm right. You're a descendant of Týr, a Norse war god. I wouldn't find it particularly surprising if you had some berserker blood mixed in there as well."

"Okay, that could make sense, but from the few things I saw about berserkers in my research most of it attributed that state to some sort of magical or self-induced condition instead of a genetic trait."

"Yeah, there are plenty of ways to interpret it, each of those could be as valid as the next. I've heard stories of it being a genetic trait as well, so I wouldn't count that option completely out. The one thing that's undeniable though is that you do in fact have some sort of cool godly ability, so we'll have to keep an eye on it and see how it develops."

Eventually the blood stops running from my nose, and the warm water falls comfortingly onto my head. For a brief moment I feel truly calm, forgetting about everything and just enjoying the water's embrace. Then Mold bangs on the door and announces that she's making breakfast, and the moment passes.

Berserker blood, huh? I mean, if all that it's going to do for me is make it so that I can't feel pain, then that almost seems more like minus, since I'll be more inclined to put my actual life at risk when I don't know how much damage I'm taking. But... but maybe there's more to it. Maybe there's more to learn. When I finally noticed the pain from Mold's punch, it certainly hurt more than it did when I noticed the same injury last night... but I've been hit in healing wounds before, and they've always felt worse than that, even in less sensitive areas of my body.

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