Rickert Berserk Novels & Stories

He spun on his heel in a roundhouse kick that slammed into my jaw with the force of a siege hammer, spattering thick saliva and blood across the black ash. A tense murmur rippled through the Northern spectators. I wiped my chin on the back of my forearm, baring my fangs in a savage grin. Pain did not deter me; it only fed the berserker tide burning through my veins like Greek fire. “Is that all your star‑pack teaches, pale dog?” I rumbled, voice rising from the depths of my chest. Varek howled in fury, shedding his aristocratic composure. His body cracked into a terrifying partial shift: jaw dislocating into a lupine muzzle of frost‑white fur, ears sharpening, and thick freezing mist billowi

“Just a scratch.” “We need to fall back to the eastern line. Rowan’s trying to regroup.” “No time,” he growls, eyes darting toward the hill. “They’re bringing the berserkers.” My blood chills. The berserkers. Rowan told me they are Nightowl’s most unstable fighters. Feral. Rabid. Uncontrollable. “Kaia!” Rhea shouts from the rooftop. “We need you, NOW!” I see her then, surrounded by three berserkers, each the size of a tree, foam dripping from their jaws.

Last night, I was as cranky as an old lady who lives with at least ten cats. My wolf laughs, finding my words funny. The dragon may be right, I do have a sense of humor. I wonder if my fighting against two berserkers has anything to do with me feeling a bit…off. Berserkers, or werebears, are known for their strength. What if I hit my head so hard during the fight it threw me off my balance? ‘But the witch gave us a healing potion,’ my wolf reminds me. It did heal my body, but maybe not my mind. ‘What if magic was used in the fight? That would explain why my skills with a sword are so rusty.’

"What?! How can Berserkers be in this place?" asked Tristan in a bit of a panic, knowing that there were Berserkers in a private place like this. Bersekers were wolves transformed by a witch's curse, and they tended to never transform into humans at certain times like other werewolves, but they were still able to maintain their rationality. They tended to hide in the middle of the forest, along with their pack, and had very little familiarity with humans. They almost never had any contact with humans unless a human intruded on their territory.

I typed 'Berserker' and a lot of meanings appeared but there is one thing that caught my attention. Although similar groups have been found around the world, berserker generally refers to the small class of Nordic peoples who could be found preforming inhuman feats on the battlefield. When in combat a berserker would fight nude and/or completely unarmored, sometimes taking the skins of bears, wolves or other beasts to heighten his appearance. Uncontrollable rage is the signature of the berserker. To enter this rage many would have pre-battle ceremonies in which they would consume alcohol, and work themselves up into a violent, bloodlusting mood through dance and similar actions, and then oft

Derek was nearby too, watching us fight — no — he was coordinating the whole fight, controlling every ultima. I heard a chuckle. “Enough playing around. We don’t want our audience to get bored, do we?” Derek’s voice. “Last command. Go… berserk… Damen!” I widened my eyes and started looking around frantically. The ultima who was standing in the middle of the crater lifted his dark eyes to me. I flew in the air and hovered above him, feeling the blood cool in my body. I just had a feeling — this really sad and strong feeling that —