Awaken: Berserker

[CorenKeitaro]

The forest at night was covered in a thick layer of darkness; the animals within were silent as the grave, proof that they knew of the predator within their midst.
Above the ground, perched upon the branch of a tree, was a man; his body, covered in markings of crimson fluid, had only a loincloth to cover it. In the darkness, you could not have seen it, but his pupils had dilated almost to the point of being unable to discern the color of his eyes.
In spite of his drugged look, this man’s senses were sharper than they had ever been in his life. He didn’t need his eyes here; they betrayed him to the shadows, told him of movement where his more faithful senses said there was none.
He could feel the every shift in the air, from the slightest breeze to the breath of an animal hiding near the roots of the tree upon which he sat.
Nothing could be heard in the forest, save for the constant, heightened beating of his heart. Adrenaline pumped through his body; his hunger for this hunt hammered at his temples and echoed in the empty pit of his stomach.
He could feel his prey, just as it could feel him. He could smell the scent of its fear, taste the coppery flavor of the blood that flowed through it. Hunger and thirst crept up his throat, twisting in his stomach and demanding to be sated. But he knew better than to give in; he knew that he couldn’t afford to move hastily, to make even the smallest mistake. Between the two of them, his prey had the advantage by far; it knew the area better than he did, had a more experienced mind and more suited body. He had not but a loincloth and his bare hands, resting at his sides; loose, but ready for movement at a moments notice.
Patiently, he awaited the time; ignoring his hunger, ignoring his thirst, and ignoring the pain in his muscles as they screamed for movement, he remained completely still, waiting for his prey to move and begin the chase.
Time dragged to a halt; the very wind even seemed to cease all movement, burying the forest in an unbearable stillness. The wait started to grate upon his very being, but still he did not move. Hunger lashed at his stomach and thirst ripped at his throat, yet still he did not move. His back hurt and his naked feet were bleeding from the strain of this hunt, pleading for rest.
He did not move.
How much time had passed? Minutes? Hours? Years? Time had seemed to mean nothing, but every second was like torture. He was now at the precipice for his fall, almost ready to merely give in and jump at his prey. His hand twitched and his muscles coiled, but when he was to leap, his prey broke out into a mad run.
Without any thought or planning, the chase had begun. Leaping from branch to branch, he ignored his hands and feet as they tore upon the rough trees and ignored the splinters as they dug deeply into his flesh. There was only one thing that mattered.
And that was his prey.
Fifty meters divided them. Fifty meters filled with obstacles and an unpredictable path. Pain went to the back of his mind.
He could not punch it from this far.
He had to get closer.
He leapt to the ground, abandoning the trees and landing upon the ground in a roll, sprinting ahead without losing speed.
Forty meters. Despite the uneven ground, he sped up only further. His shoulders scraped against the trees often, but even as the flesh peeled away, dragged by the brambles and branches, he would not, could not let this slow him down.
Thirty meters. If his eyes had not failed so many ages ago, he would’ve seen it. He needed only for his prey to slip up a single time, and it would all end.
At twenty-five meters, Lady Luck finally smiled upon him. His prey saw a thick bush covered in thorns and quickly circled around it, but it had taken too long. As he closed in, he could feel the fear of his prey heighten to a peak as it put a single, desperate dash between the two.
It was not enough.
With a bestial roar that chilled the very air around him, he leaped right over the brambles of the bush and landed his hands upon the hind-quarters of his prey. His nails began to bleed just as his prey did as it tried to escape, but he merely tightened his grip with one hand and slammed the other into its flank once more, driving his fingers down to their second knuckles as he pulled back.
His prey couldn’t escape now; it knew this as well as he did. But it did not wish to die here; even as he dug his hands deeply into its body, it swung around, kicking backwards and bashing into trees in hopes of dislodging him.
But he did not move.
It threw itself about, but he merely lashed out with a hand as its head to drew to close, grasping it by the throat as he brought it closer to him.
Then, he bit.
As he tore back his head, so did he tear from his prey its throat.
In a soundless attempt to scream, his prey raised its head to the sky as the light disappeared from its eyes and it collapsed.
He was standing there, his prey’s flesh in his mouth, bathed in blood both his own and not as he stood above the corpse of the one that had eluded him for three days now. Below him laid a gargantuan deer, its lifeless eyes frozen open in death, the terror still visible.
Still, even though he was exhausted, hungry, thirsy and bleeding from all of his body, he couldn’t help but feel that elation, that primal euphoria as it swelled in his chest. The taste of his prey’s blood was as if it were the Nectar of the Olympians, and its flesh tasted like nothing he’d ever known.
But despite his hunger and thirst, he merely spat it all out; his job was not over yet, and he would not complete this with a stomach full.
But for now, as that beauteous feeling in his chest reached its crescendo, he raised his blood-covered face to the sky, and with a bellow befitting of only the strongest of beasts, he declared his victory to the starless skies above.
This man was Jacob Remitz McGregor.
And he had only just begun.

---

He walked through the forest, the 400-pound deer slung across his shoulder as he thought upon how he had come to this place.
That book he'd found... A simple book it had been, bound in leather and with the breath of age about it, and with only a single word upon its cover.
"Grimoire", it had said.
For some time, in the library, he'd looked at it in shock.
It was how MageAnon had found his book, and it was a perfect replica of what Wiz had described.
It even had a water-to-wine spell!
But in there, it had been written that there was something called the 'Holy Grail War'. After reading up on it, he began researching other things.
Namely how to summon an improper Servant of the modern-age without all of the standard stat-decreases.
He hadn't found that out, but he did learn something else; something equally important.
He learned how to create an artificial summoning catalyst.
All he really had to do was create something that perfectly encaptured the soul of the one whom you wished to summon.
And you knew exactly who you were summoning.
That's how he found himself out here, meditating for two days straight without any food and hardly enough water to keep his body functioning.
He had to tread the line between life and death to hunt down this monstrous creature, and he had done so with the vigor of not merely an animal, but with the resolve of a true warrior.
With this deer and the other things he'd prepared, the ritual would soon begin.
As he pulled himself into a large clearing, within which was a magical circle the size of a small building. He slammed the deer into the ground on one of the three connecting points, a perfect triangle with a square in the center.
In the first point, the aforementioned deer laid; a testament to the abominable will of the warrior, one who will not let anything get in the way of that which you seek.
In the second laid a book; not the Grimoire from the library, but a book within which is inscribed the story of the warrior he seeks to summon, bound in leather from a bull that Jacob hunted and killed in hand-to-bull combat; killing it and skinning it with his bare hands, he'd tanned the leather and used it to bind the book; a monument to the being that he seeks to summon.
In the third and final point of the triangle was Jacob's companion, a sorrel mare by the name of Gleaming Aegis; just as his idol had had a horse he had cared for deeply, so did he. She stood there, patiently waiting for Jacob to begin.
He walked up to and rubbed her muzzle fondly.
With a voice that would give the girl from the Exorcist a scare, he told the mare
"You've done well, Aegis."
He turned and made his way to the center of the circle, his body still screaming for him to rest now, to end this ridiculous charade and move on to something else.
"Turn, turn and turn again; three times repeated as it shatters," he rasped out, calling upon the words of Mother Gaia.
"Foundations of bone and blood and the Lady of the Sun, and in the name of those without." It was now that I could feel the power of this 'Grail' flow through me, invading my very being.
"A wall unbreaking, to block all strikes;"
"The gates close from all paths;"
"A true warrior shall create his own path;"
"Come forth and craft your road in this world;"
The light began to shine throughout the area; Aegis stood at the ready, poised to leap in and protect you at any moment.
"I propose that our wills become one," Jacob called out, getting louder as the wind blew stronger.
The very spirits of the forest were visible now, feeding from the magical energy in the air.
"I propose that my life shall become your blood!" he roared out.
The spirits began to chatter, darting about and licking up the blood from him as they ripped new wounds into him.
"And I propose that thy strength shall become my fate!" he screamed out, the spirits now pulling away and interweaving with the circle.
"If thou hath chosen to walk with me, answer my call!"
The blue glow of the light turned bloody red as he felt the call returned in full force.
A roar split the air; a roar of rage tempered like steel, folded like the finest blade.
"Thou, clad with proof of victory, break your chains and come from the circle of great constraint!"
With this, Jacob moved his arm to draw a knife from the ground, holding it out.
"Bless this blade with thine will, Spirits of the Forest, and come to me," he said, his voice echoing out through the entire clearing.
"Champion of the Solar Empire!"
The light was blinding; nothing could be seen, but this was not new.
Jacob could feel the spirits as they flew about, feeding on his body and the body of the deer; they drank from his blood and drew themselves into his blade as the light began to fade.
"It's you..."
That was all that he could say.
A 7'8" giant stood, his body thick as the trunk of an oak tree, looking at the his summoner. He wore what appeared to be cloak of wood that seemed to bend and move about as if it were nothing but cloth, and beneath that he wore a pelt of fur across his chest that Jacob could remember was that of a griffon. His pants were a thick fabric with two insignia emblazoned upon them; the first, the emblem of the Solar Empire, and the other was the Lunar Republic's, each one on one of his thighs.
His brown hair rolled down to his shoulders and his eyes were a deep azure.
"Are you my Master?" he asked, his voice rumbling deeply as he towered above Jacob.
The inexperience magus stood there, shocked into silence for a moment before he nodded, raising his hand.
When this beast of a man looked at them, his face split into a grin and let out a barking laugh.
And then, everything went black.

---

When he opened his eyes again, he heard voices.
"My apologies, Anonymous," said a feminine voice he could almost place. "My Lord has spent three days without food or drink preparing for today. He told me that it was necessary, so I went along with it."
He thought for a moment, before it became clear.
"Ae-gis..."