The Song of the Great Warriors

It's one of those days where I just want to swing my sword without a single thought in my head. So I decided to do exactly that.

With the funeral right around the corner, I figured sparring would be a good way to kill time. Of course, my opponent was Riana. Facing Seria would hurt too much, and picking on some random passing warrior would be pathetic. Above all, Riana was perfect for mindless beatdowns. A win-win situation that suited both of us.

Riana swung her jet-black axe. The sharp blade carved a straight line with enough force to crack my skull open. Damn it. Was that actually serious?

Bete looked like he was about to cry at Riana's wild movements. Not that he has a face. It's just a figure of speech.

"If it's that annoying, why don't you just die?"

"Oh, right. You did."

Bete screamed while desperately holding back the urge to puke. I wondered what it felt like for him. Like riding a roller coaster on repeat? Or maybe a gyro drop, since he also gets slammed into the ground?

"Pfft."

I chuckled and swung Mistilteinn. The curved arc of the blade unleashed crackling lightning that split the air.

Crackle—!

Riana twitched at the faint electric shock, the corners of her mouth curling up.

"Haa... G-good... Hero, please swing the electricity harder!"

"Hey! Are you even trying?"

"...But if it's not like this, there's no point in sparring."

This damn woman. Her common sense is completely broken. I was starting to suspect she'd been dragged off to some mad scientist's lab and had her brain rewired. Who the hell treats sparring like a BDSM session?

That must be why she immediately accepted when Seria asked for a match. I knew Riana had always been like this, but... why did it still feel so weird?

"Hero, this axe is incredible! To think I'm personally wielding a former Legion Commander... Hoo..."

Riana's heavy breathing filled the air. Mixed with her sweat, it created a strangely seductive atmosphere. But no matter how attractive the shell was, the contents were too far gone for me to feel anything.

Bete begged for mercy. It must be dizzying for him. But what could I do? I needed this spar. I was bored out of my mind. No phone, no computer. The only entertainment available was alcohol and gambling. Alcohol was fine, but I had a strict rule against gambling.

So I politely declined.

"...Uh, sorry."

This was the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠first time I actually felt bad for the guy. What he did as a Legion Commander could never be forgiven. Sure, he'd escaped the power of Solitude and regained his original human personality. But that didn't erase the memories of his time as one of the undead.

At least he regretted what he'd done. Still, his mind and instincts remained those of a monster. He'd spent far more time living as one than as a human. That was why we still called him Bete despite him having a real name.

Shaking those thoughts away, I unleashed a flurry of punches.

"Riana, how about this!"

"...O-ohhh♥"

"A little more—"

"—Faster."

"More intensely...!"

"Punish meeee!"

Aaaargh! Did she have to steal my lines so naturally? And what the hell was she saying out loud? People are watching! They're giving us weird looks!

I stopped throwing punches. Riana drooled with excitement, and I looked at her with pure disgust. The more I did, the more she trembled with delight.

"What the hell is this nonsense?!"

"Hoo... Hoo... What a wonderful fist. Hero."

The more I understood how Bete felt, the more annoying it became. But what could I do? The more I dealt with Riana, the more exhausted I got. It was even more ridiculous that she was more sane than Ragner. At least she hadn't caused any civilian casualties during the war. That alone made her pass the test.

Of course, if a more normal and stronger warrior showed up, I'd recruit them. But I'd grown too attached to just throw her away...

While we were busy with our usual antics—

"Hero. The preparations are complete."

Isabel had come to find me. She must have been busy, yet she came all this way in Seria's place. She'd worked hard.

"...It's already time?"

"Yes. His Majesty is waiting as well, so please hurry."

"Ugh."

That old man was going to be there too. I nodded in acknowledgment, sheathed Mistilteinn, kicked Riana's panting ass, and started moving.

A clear sky without a single cloud. Everyone had been waiting. Everyone shed tears.

The gentle stream flowing between the sands headed toward the sea.

"...The warriors await before the gates of Valhalla."

King Lugnar Sigurdson licked the blood from beneath the ship of the dead. All eyes were fixed on him. The rippling calm only heightened the tension as everyone raised their hands toward the sky.

"...Seria Lionblood."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Seria snapped her fingers, issuing orders to her subordinates. Having received the signal in advance, they piled pyres atop dozens of ships.

A newly widowed wife wept. The children left behind simply smiled brightly, not understanding what was happening. But they must not be sad. The fallen had not truly died.

Once this funeral ended, they would open the gates of Valhalla. A future of feasting and laughter with the gods awaited them. They would enjoy bloody battles by day and drink by night. All of them were Odin's chosen Einherjar, guided by the Valkyries. They would carry the honor of defending Asgard.

Therefore, no one grieved. They had met a glorious death. To mourn before a glorious death would be an insult to them.

"May the gates of Valhalla open."

The shaman chanted the ritual. Honestly, I couldn't understand a word of it, but the majestic atmosphere overwhelmed me. So I kept my mouth shut and paid my respects to the warriors.

"U! U! U! U! U!"

The sound of shields beating gently echoed. They raised shields to their chests and struck them against wood. Wood was the only medium through which they could speak with the gods. That was why everyone joined together in a song filled with mourning.

They called the name of the chief god in low voices. The grandeur and solemnity spread through the surroundings because everyone did the same. I too beat my shield before them in mourning. The vibration against the round wooden plank made my chest tremble.

My sorrow wasn't as deep as that of their families and friends. But I could still mourn them properly. After all, I had seen them fall into hideous monstrosities. I had driven away their darkness with the light of the Holy Sword. I had been angrier than anyone.

"Not exactly a pleasant feeling."

"I agree."

Isabel nodded. After all, a person's death meant you'd never see their face again. It was only natural not to feel good about it.

We turned toward the ships floating on the water. White lines stretched across the surface. The cold corpses of the warriors could be seen. Those carrying the bodies of the fallen walked slowly, holding them in their ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠arms. It was time for their noble sacrifice to shine.

Wrapped in pure white cloth, one by one they were laid upon the pyres. The ship carried their shields and their warriors.

"You're the one who caused this."

It was the same even now. The traces of his time as a Legion Commander remained. But he had lost his power. His mind was now closer to how it had been in life. I thought it was fortunate that he showed signs of remorse. If he hadn't, I would've smashed him to pieces regardless of whether he was a weapon or not.

"Begin."

The King of Vanaheim spoke in a voice filled with mourning. The ships that had been raised advanced along the gentle waves. The honorable corpses of the warriors were carried forward within them. Those ships would become the vessel that carried them to Valhalla.

Seria and I stood side by side. She looked at me and smiled softly. I returned the smile. We were sharing this glorious moment together.

Originally it should have been Vidar, not Seria, performing this duty. But the guy was nowhere to be seen. I had no idea where he was or what he was doing.

With a sigh, I nocked an arrow.

"Shall we begin?"

"...Odin. Please accept them."

I lit the oil-soaked arrowhead. Whoosh—! Flames spread instantly, radiating heat. The blazing fire reminded me of the warriors' fighting spirit. I hoped this flame would ignite their will even further.

With that wish in my heart, I drew the bow. As the bowstring traced a parabola, many people sang the song of mourning. Dozens of flaming arrows filled the clear sky in accordance with the melody. They flew above my head and to both sides.

They became the key that unlocked the gates of Valhalla, setting the warriors' ships ablaze.

"L-look at the sky!"

"Rain?"

It was someone's shout. The clear voice cut through the singing, making everyone look up. I did the same. So did Seria. Beside her, Isabel covered her mouth, unable to hide her astonishment.

"...That's..."

"The gods. The gods have come to welcome them."

"Odin!"

"...Thor. Freya."

Rumble—!

It had been a perfectly clear sky without a single cloud. Yet now black clouds gathered as if Thor himself were angry. Thunder descended.

Whoosh!

Arcs of fire continuously burned the ships. The warriors rejoiced. They beat their shields with tears and laughter.

U! U! U! U! U!

The sky opened. I could see the heavens parting through the black clouds. It was the touch of the gods. The power of transcendent beings guiding the warriors. Thor's thunder would become the path and the gate that guided their souls.

A pure, clear voice sang, and the sky opened. Light descended through the suddenly gathered clouds.

"...Odin."

I saw it clearly. A massive hand guiding them from above the burning ships. The light was the path to Valhalla, the hand that guided them. No one needed to say it out loud. We could all feel it because we were here together in this moment.

I tightly grasped Seria's hand. It was warm. It made me feel alive. She felt my touch as well.

"If the hero dies... I won't hold a funeral."

"Then what?"

Seria's eyes darkened. With a sticky, heavy atmosphere, she covered her mouth and giggled. Her expression was lost in ecstatic fantasy.

"Hmm... Wouldn't it be better to preserve your form as much as possible and keep you by my side forever?"

"Ah, that's right! Searching for an elixir of eternal youth would also be a good— Eep!"

I gave her a light flick on the forehead. How could she say such terrifying things so casually? When would this obsession of hers ever be resolved?

"Haha..."

"...My lady. You're standing too close."

"What does it matter? I want to be close."

"...B-but people are watching!"

At Isabel's words, Seria let out a little "Hmph" and glanced sideways. Then, as if to make a point, she wrapped both arms tightly around one of mine. I could feel her full, soft breasts pressing against me.

"If you're jealous, just say so. Don't beat around the bush."

"...I'm not particularly jealous."

"Really?"

Isabel's face turned bright red like a ripe tomato. Then she slowly moved to my left side.

"...Hmph."

She ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hugged my other arm. Both sides felt suffocating. This indescribable situation was just... incredibly happy.

Pfft heh heh. You guys have never experienced anything like this, have you?

"Ahem. Let's focus, shall we?"

The solemn procession of the warriors continued whether we acted like this or not. The opened sky revealed pure light. We knelt and bowed our heads. Of course I did too. If they said kneel, I would kneel. Obviously.

We watched as the gods welcomed them. Though they had met death, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their end would be magnificent.

"Odin."

At the chief god's name, everyone rose. Tears blurred their vision as people drank and cheered.

"It's finally over."

"Yes."

And so the funeral ended.

"What the hell."

"...?"

[?]

What is this about?