Chapter 1: The Barbaros Clan
In the northern part of the continent, near the Frozen Northern Sea,
there existed a small village inhabited by the Barbaros Clan—one of the branches of the Ice and Snow Tribes, renowned for their specialization in demonic beast hunting.
Ulric Nightingale, a famous Barbaros warrior who had reached the Ninth Transcendent Level, paced back and forth anxiously in the small courtyard of his home.
From time to time, he would cast a quick glance toward his modest wooden house.
He—
a man who had once dared to face the most dangerous creatures in forests and wilderness alike—
was now gripped by genuine fear.
“Well, Ulric, look at yourself!”
a massive middle-aged man scolded angrily from the side.
“Are you still a warrior of the Barbaros Clan?”
Though no longer young, the man’s muscles were still powerfully built, and his nearly two-meter-tall body clearly embodied the meaning of ferocity.
This man was the Clan Chief of Barbaros.
“B–But Chief, isn’t—”
Ulric scratched his head and spoke in a subdued voice.
He was not shorter than the chief, and the fierce tattoos carved into his face gave him an especially savage appearance.
“Silence!” the chief interrupted coldly.
“Our ancestors will protect the child.”
“And if anything happens, it will only prove that the child is unworthy of the bloodline of the Barbaros Clan.”
“Strength is our glory—
and only the strong survive!”
The chief’s roar echoed across the courtyard.
The belief that only the strong deserve to live lay at the very core of the Barbaros Clan.
It was precisely because of this creed that Barbaros had endured for generations within the northern cave systems near the Frozen Sea, earning its reputation as one of the strongest clans in the north.
Ulric opened his mouth, but in the end, he said nothing.
He knew the chief’s words were not wrong…
yet as a father, he could not bear the thought of his child coming to harm.
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Still, faced with the authority of the old clan chief, he dared not speak another word.
At that moment, a small girl with snow-blue hair—only four or five years old—suddenly spoke from beside the chief.
“Uncle Ulric!
You’re the most famous warrior in our clan!”
“Your child must have inherited your blood. He’ll be born safely.”
“And when he grows up, he’ll definitely become a powerful Barbaros warrior!”
The girl’s name was Astrith.
Though still very young, she was strikingly beautiful and spoke with a maturity beyond her years, gently comforting Ulric as he stood on the verge of becoming a father.
“Thank you, Astrith…”
Ulric said absentmindedly as he looked at her.
“You’ll become a strong warrior someday too.”
Seeing this, the clan chief let out a quiet sigh.
He understood Ulric’s feelings and chose not to scold him further.
Silence fell over the courtyard.
Ulric continued pacing nervously,
while the chief sat calmly in place.
Little Astrith gazed at the house with curiosity, wondering what Uncle Ulric’s child—soon to be born—would look like.
Suddenly—
A loud baby’s cry rang out from inside the house.
A tall, beautiful woman emerged, carrying a swaddled infant in her arms.
Smiling, she said,
“It’s a boy, Ulric.
He’ll definitely grow up to be a Barbaros warrior just like you.”
Then she turned to Astrith and added gently,
“Astrith, you have a little brother now.”
Ulric’s body trembled with excitement,
and even the clan chief’s stern expression softened slightly.
Astrith stood on her tiptoes, staring intently at the baby—
the son of her uncle, the child she hoped would one day call her big sister.
Ulric eagerly took his son from the woman’s arms, lifted him high toward the northern sun, and shouted:
“Modi Bastad, my son!”
“I, Ulric Nightingale, have a son!”
Beneath the sunlight, the infant’s body seemed to emit a faint glow.
---
Five Years Later…
In the northern lands where the Barbaros Clan resided,
a handsome young boy with sky-blue hair sat atop a rock, lost in thought.
His skin was pale, like that of all true Barbaros descendants of the Ice and Snow bloodline.
Even at such a young age, he was striking.
If he were to grow up and travel to the imperial capital, he would undoubtedly charm countless nobles and ladies alike.
The boy let out a quiet sigh.
His name was Urael Barbaros.
But…
that was not his original name.
For the soul inhabiting this child of the Barbaros Clan
belonged to a young man from the Blue Planet.
At the age of four, his spiritual awareness had begun to develop,
awakening fragments of memories from his previous life.
After dying in that former life, he had reincarnated.
Yet he retained memories only up to the age of eight.
More unexpectedly, he discovered that he possessed a spiritual foundation,
allowing him to utilize certain techniques stored within his Sea of Consciousness.
Even though memories of his past life had returned,
his identity in this new life naturally took precedence.
He was no longer that former person.
Only the memories remained.
In practical terms,
even if someone reincarnated after death,
they would never truly become the same person again.
That person…
had already died.
Normally, memories and personality from a previous life resurfaced around the age of five,
appearing and disappearing multiple times before stabilizing.
Recently, those memories had finally settled within his Sea of Consciousness as structured information.
Although his past memories had returned,
Urael had not forgotten his current life.
Still, it would be impossible for him to continue living as an ordinary child.
In his previous life,
he had been nothing more than an ordinary person on the Blue Planet.
He had loved myths—
stories of immortals and gods.
And now?
He had arrived in a world governed by supernatural energy.
How could he not feel excited?
Yet a trace of unease surfaced
as he recalled several unpleasant experiences from recent years.
During his soul’s journey through the imaginary void,
it had connected to a virtual space that stored knowledge and technologies of advanced civilizations.
It could be said that his personal “cheat”
was a collection of meditation techniques, cultivation methods,
scientific concepts, magical technologies,
and runic knowledge learned during that passage.
However, the only technique he fully comprehended was—
Spiritual Visualization Technique,
and only its most basic version.
Visualization involved projecting an image within one’s mind.
It could be a living being.
A natural landscape.
Or an abstract concept.
Different visualization targets led to different cultivation results.
The deeper the understanding,
and the more detailed the visualization,
the greater the effect.
Thus, visualization methods were commonly used as auxiliary techniques in spiritual cultivation,
whether in orthodox paths, demonic cultivation, or even Buddhist practices.
In theory,
there were no limits to visualization.
You could visualize the sun.
You could visualize a god—
or a Buddha.
But theory was only theory.
If one visualized something beyond their ability to control,
the best possible outcome would be stagnation.
The worst?
Mental collapse.
Demonic deviation.
Or… sudden death.
