Prologue: Silvermoon's Wrath
Game Title: Scions of Asgard: Bloodline Epoch
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PROLOGUE: A PRANK BY FATE
In the year 2047, neural-link technology hit a singularity-level breakthrough.
Seven global tech giants made a joint announcement—an all-sensory VR game with "99.87% immersion," Scions of Asgard: Bloodline Epoch, officially entered open beta.
In the trailer, a giant eagle cut across snowbound mythic mountains. Wolf packs ran the moonlit plains. Foxfire winked in and out of ancient forests. This wasn't just another fantasy game. The official tagline—bolded, underlined, and impossible to miss—declared its core premise:
"In here, you will no longer be human."
"You will return to the most primal shape buried in your bloodline, awaken the wildness sealed by civilization, and—within the vast world forged from the shattered fragments of Asgard's Nine Realms—recast legend in the form of beast."
The forums exploded overnight.
The hottest pinned thread shot past ten thousand floors:
[Class System Revealed: Choose Your Race. Let Fate Decide Your Class—Your Power Is Heaven-Ordained.]
The replies were a wall of wailing.
"Pick your race? Let's go! I'm gonna be a dragon and burn castles down!"
"Wake up, bro. The announcement said mammals and some birds. Dragons are reptiles. Not on the menu."
"So I can pick a race freely, but class is a dice roll? What if I pick Tigerkin and roll… Bard? Sing lullabies at enemies on the battlefield?"
"That's nothing. I'm picking Succubus Foxkin. If I roll Paladin… I'll 'charm' demons into becoming good?"
"Official's playing way too big with this one…"
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Lin Yao closed the forum and put on the newest Odin's Eye neural-link helmet.
A countdown floated in the center of his vision: 00:02:17.
He took a slow breath. As a game reviewer and veteran player, Lin Yao understood exactly why this setting was valuable—absolute freedom fused with absolute unpredictability, guaranteed to spawn endless drama.
And drama meant traffic.
His objective was clear: pick a race with both looks and potential, build a character that could consistently produce high-quality content, and pull an audience. As for the class?
Leave it to fate.
The timer hit zero.
Darkness receded like a tide.
Lin Yao "stood" beneath an infinite star vault. Beneath his feet was a mirror-smooth plane reflecting the Milky Way. A grand orchestral swell mixed with distant beast roars and bird cries—sound that bypassed ears and punched straight into his nerves.
"A wandering soul, welcome to the Echo Realm of Asgard."
The voice in his mind was neither male nor female, as if it were woven from song and running water.
"Ragnarök has passed. The World Tree has withered. The Nine Realms have shattered into countless floating isles, suspended in the turbulence of time and space."
"But life endures."
As the words landed, the stars above rippled. Countless beast-shaped constellations flared—wolves, bears, stags, great cats, raptors—each carrying a faint, ancient pressure, as if gazing down from beyond myth.
A translucent interface unfolded before him.
[Please select your race.]
Options cascaded like a catalog. He skimmed past Bearkin, Wolfkin, Leopardkin, Eaglekin… then paused.
Silvermoon Foxkin.
Elegant. High spirit affinity. Strong mental aptitude. A race made for illusion, elements, mind tricks—exactly the kind of kit that could generate insane highlight reels and clean, consistent content.
He confirmed.
A cool, silvery light poured over him.
Bones reshaped. Muscle distribution refined. His center of gravity changed. Balance—no, grace—settled into every motion like it had always belonged there.
When the light faded, a tall, slim fox youth stood on the mirror-plane—silver-white fur with darker gradients, three tails trailing behind him. At each tail-tip, tiny points of deep blue shimmered like cold starlight. His eyes—clear, bright amber—held a sharpness that didn't feel human.
The strangest part was the tails.
They didn't feel like decorations.
They felt like extra fingers—responsive, precise, controllable by pure intent.
[Appearance fine-tuning permission unlocked (60 seconds).]
Lin Yao moved fast. He adjusted the fur's light-to-dark ratio to make the silver-white pop harder. He tuned his irises into a more crystalline golden amber. He brightened the blue tail-tip glow slightly. He kept seven-tenths of his original facial structure, then sharpened it with foxlike traits—narrower eye corners, a longer gaze line, and a faint, elusive smile that made him look mysterious in a way that was undeniably not human.
A beautiful, elegant Silvermoon Fox youth—dangerously charming—stared back at him in the "mirror."
[Confirmation complete.]
[You will now be transferred to the Hall of Fate for the final "Talent Awakening"—class assignment.]
[Warning: The awakening process is irreversible. It cannot be changed. It will bind to your bloodline and soul.]
[Asgard's fractured world follows the ancient law: Bloodline determines your starting point. Fate determines your road. And your will—will determine the end of that road.]
[Good luck, Wanderer.]
The mirror-plane beneath his feet shattered.
Lin Yao dropped into a tunnel formed from flowing runes and beast-shaped light. Sound howled. The streaking lights stretched long—
—and then he slammed onto solid ground.
He staggered two steps, caught himself. Foxkin balance was absurdly good.
He stood inside an ancient, circular stone hall. The ceiling rose so high it disappeared. A vast star map rotated slowly across the dome. In the center, nine colossal pillars carved with different clan totems formed a ring. Within the ring hovered a massive, intricate wheel forged of light.
The wheel was divided into countless tiny sectors—each one flashing icons and text too fast to read.
Hundreds of players were already gathered here, all in beastkin forms. Werewolves growled. Bearkin beat their chests. Eaglekin snapped their wings. Catkin licked their paws with idle curiosity. The hall churned with noise.
"Is that the Wheel of Fate?"
"Classes really get randomized by that? That's insane."
"I picked Rhinokin—please, please give me Heavy Vanguard!"
"I'm Clouded Leopardkin—assassin! Give me assassin!"
Lin Yao stood quietly within the small cluster of Silvermoon Foxkin. Several fox players around him looked calm and refined, murmuring expectations of Illusionist, Elementalist, or Mind Controller.
A fox girl with the ID "Moonshadow Waltz" chuckled softly. "Silvermoon Fox mental aptitude is cracked. We'll probably roll caster classes. Even if it's random, the system has to follow basic logic."
Lin Yao nodded. A reasonable assumption. Race talents aligning with class archetypes was fundamental balance design.
And yet, deep down, he wanted something… unexpected.
Because stories that matched expectations rarely went viral.
A vast, resonant voice boomed across the hall:
[Sequence GN-77441, Lin Yao (character name pending), step forward.]
Under countless stares, Lin Yao walked toward the luminous wheel within the nine pillars. He could feel his three tails tense without permission.
[Place your hand on the center of the wheel.]
He did. A foxkin palm pressed against the cool, smooth light-wall.
[Silvermoon Foxkin bloodline detected… Spirit Affinity above average… Mental Fortitude excellent…]
[Initiating "Fate Weaving"… Ancient Einherjar of Asgard, guide his path…]
Every icon and line of text on the wheel blurred, melting into a chaotic sea of light.
The light-sea spun. Faster. Faster. A low hum grew in the hall.
The crowd went quiet. Everyone held their breath.
In Lin Yao's mind, his top picks flashed by:
[Illusion Master], [Moon-Tongue Caller], [Spirit-Fox Hexweaver]…
Even [Elemental Fox Shaman] would do.
The spinning reached its peak—
—and then it stopped dead.
A searing column of golden light erupted from the wheel's center, swallowing Lin Yao whole.
Every foxkin froze.
Gold?
Shouldn't a foxkin awakening be silver or blue—colors tied to mental power?
The gold contracted, then condensed into massive sigils carved from thunder and flame. They twisted, reorganized, and finally formed a clear class emblem—
—a pair of crossed barbaric battle axes, backed by a roaring beast-shadow.
At the same time, the system's cold, ringing prompt blasted through the Hall of Fate and appeared on every player's interface:
[Announcement: Player "Lin Yao" (Race: Silvermoon Foxkin) has awakened the class—]
[Berserker Warcry Shaman!]
The hall stayed silent for exactly three seconds.
Then it detonated.
"What the hell is that combo? Berserker Warcry Shaman?!"
"Isn't a Shaman supposed to call elements and ancestral spirits? Warcries are barbarian warrior skills, aren't they?"
"You're missing the point! A Silvermoon Fox! A Silvermoon Fox rolled WARCRY! Hahahahaha!"
"A fox playing berserker? I can't even picture it. Can he lift an axe?"
"And the shaman part? He summons an ancestor spirit and scratches people with tiny paws?"
The foxkin group collectively turned to stone.
"Moonshadow Waltz" stared with her pretty fox mouth shaped into a perfect O. Even her tail went stiff.
Lin Yao stood there as a cold stream of data forcibly flooded into his consciousness.
His skill bar expanded against his will. Icons lit up one by one:
[Warcry · Intimidate] (Active): Release a terrifying roar, reducing nearby enemies' Attack and Defense.
Cost: Rage. Cooldown: 15 seconds.
[Warcry · Rally] (Active): Release an inspiring roar, increasing nearby allies' Attack Speed and Crit Rate.
Cost: Rage. Cooldown: 20 seconds.
[Savage Strike] (Active): Your next melee attack deals additional physical damage and a slight knockback effect.
Cost: Rage. Cooldown: 8 seconds.
[Shaman's Heart] (Passive): You can faintly sense ancestral spirits and natural spirits, but cannot communicate effectively.
Mental Resistance slightly increased.
And then the one that made his brain go blank:
[Bloodline Conflict] (Negative Status): Your Silvermoon Foxkin bloodline violently rejects the "Berserker Warcry" class core.
All Warcry-type skill effects -30%. Skill costs +20%.
Additionally, you cannot equip heavy armor or most two-handed weapons.
Lin Yao: "…"
He slowly lifted his hands.
Furry. Delicate. Built for weaving spells.
Then he looked back at that lineup of brutally simple, muscle-flavored icons—ROAR, ROAR, HIT.
Finally, his eyes landed on [Bloodline Conflict].
A surge of absurdity rose, iced over by the reviewer part of his mind—cold, calculating, already running numbers.
—Livestream impact? This was beyond "impact." This was a nuclear strike.
—Class potential? A berserker core nerfed by a race debuff, plus a shaman who couldn't wear heavy armor or wield heavy weapons—half-baked at best.
—Gameplay loop? A fox that should be living off charm, illusions, and agility… forced to stand on the front line, open its mouth and go "Awooo," then swing an axe heavier than its own body?
Public chat was already losing it.
"Legendary comedy moment! First ever perfect mismatch between class and race—congrats to this poor guy!"
"Silvermoon Fox berserker? Rename him 'Yipping Rage Fox'!"
"It's over, bro. Delete and reroll. Deletion cooldown is only 72 hours!"
"Congrats! You've unlocked the rarest achievement in the game: [Fate's Prank]!"
Even the system announcement—somehow—seemed to carry a faint, subtle mockery as it surfaced again:
[Extremely rare condition detected: Bloodline-to-class compatibility below 10%.]
[Note: In Asgardic legend, every impossible mismatch may also be… the beginning of a new legend?]
[Enjoy the game, "Yipping Rage Fox," sir.]
All three of Lin Yao's tails exploded into full bristle.
The deep-blue tail-tip lights crackled wildly.
What bristled wasn't just his fur. It was the part of his mind that lived on cold math.
Delete and reroll?
That meant giving up the golden first 72 hours of the open-beta rush—resetting everything to zero. For a content creator, that was fatal.
Not deleting?
How was he supposed to play this performance-art class combo?
Stand in the newbie village and "Warcry" at a slime, then get plastered with slime goo?
Laughter, jeering, and pats on the shoulder hit him from all sides.
"Nice courage, man! Later when we're short a dungeon mascot, we'll call you!"
"Want big bro to carry you to level? Those tiny arms and legs—don't let a chicken peck you to death, hahaha!"
Lin Yao drew a deep breath. Foxkin lungs were efficient—but this breath still made his chest ache.
He shoved away the heavy hands. Turned. Said nothing.
And walked toward the Gate of Fate.
Behind him, the laughter and discussion still hadn't stopped.
"Look at him—he's definitely deleting."
"If not, what, keeping it for New Year's?"
"Such a shame. That Silvermoon Fox body looks so good…"
At the gate, Lin Yao stopped.
He looked back at the massive Wheel of Fate.
Then he looked at the icons in his skill bar—those out-of-place symbols that didn't belong on a fox.
His golden-amber fox eyes narrowed.
Delete?
No.
A start this absurd…
…often meant a variable even the system couldn't predict was being born.
He raised a hand and typed three characters into the character name field:
[FoxNoWay].
Confirm.
Then he stepped through the gate.
Before the light swallowed him, he thought he heard the vast voice—very softly, as if amused—laugh once.
"A new legend… begins."
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(End of Prologue)
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[Next Chapter Preview]:
Forced to descend onto the newbie floating isle "Emeraldwood" in the body of a "Yipping Rage Fox," Lin Yao discovers he can barely even swing the most basic wooden club.
Then a gang of arrogant Boarkin players surround him. In desperation, he lifts his built-in in-game livestream mic and releases a hopeless, shrill fox scream—
[! Extreme emotion detected. Unknown resonance with Silvermoon Foxkin talent "Silvermoon Howl"…]
[Warning: Skill data overflow…]
[Re-defining…]
The whole server announcement is about to explode.