The Berserkers' Onslaught
The Wights standing around blankly tilted their heads at one another. They couldn't understand the language, but they could sense it instinctively. That these people regarded them as nothing more than prey!
Normally, Wights would charge without hesitation... but the unfamiliar sensation kept them from acting rashly.
-Kueeeek!
But their gnawing hunger didn't let the hesitation last long. As one lunged forward, dozens, then hundreds followed. Their speed rivaled a cavalry charge. Their racing feet were invisible, kicking up clouds of dust that shrouded the earth. The ground trembled, and the monsters' wails like mournful dirges echoed through the air.
In contrast, the Berserk Warriors were utterly relaxed. Rather than watching the enemies closing in, they fiddled with their weapons, inspecting them meticulously.
As the hundreds of Wights drew near, Aum Linia at the front flashed a sinister smile and uttered a single word.
"Kill."
In that instant, the air around the Berserk Warrior unit expanded explosively.
"The command is given!"
"Kill them all-!"
"Massacre them-!"
"May the glory of Valhalla be with us-!"
The roars bursting from their previously silent mouths drowned out the Wights' cries. Even the bloodthirsty Wights mid-leap faltered in surprise.
But that hesitation was the opening they needed. The moment that gap appeared, the Berserk Warriors grinned fiercely beneath their helmets and stomped the earth with all their might.
Thud-!
The hard ground beneath their feet cratered. At the same time, their bodies rocketed forward.
As the distance closed, the Wights flew like flimsy straw dolls before the Berserkers' swinging weapons. Yet the warriors' immense weight was proven when those Wights crashed into the ground, shattering it with heavy thuds. Like wedges driven into a log, the hundreds of Wights split in two.
Their weapons crushed skulls, pierced bodies, and cleaved torsos in half. Human in form yet wielding inhuman strength, the Berserkers' laughter of ecstasy mingled with the Wights' screams.
Under the overwhelming power, the Wights' numbers began visibly dwindling.
-Kueeek?
A questioning cry escaped a Wight, as if baffled. Wights moved by starvation alone. The death of allies meant nothing; they pressed on toward prey.
But the Berserk Warriors were the same. They trusted their comrades utterly. No one would die. And neither would they. To require aid in peril was to become dead weight—a warrior's shame. To avoid that disgrace, they gave their all against even the weakest foes.
Especially against the continent's apex predators. No room for carelessness.
Kankun drew her Holy Sword Brurtgang as well. Her gauntleted hands gripped the blade tight as she dashed forward at terrifying speed for her slender legs, zigzagging and slashing. Each swing bisected a Wight.
One Wight swung at her, but Kankun halted mid-stride, snapping her head back to dodge by a hair's breadth. As her hair whipped, she spun, severing its neck.
Black blood and Worm Pest erupted from the stump, but Brurtgang's runes glowed, reducing them to ash.
As the ashen Wight fully vanished, more leaped at her back, jaws agape. Kankun closed her eyes gently, turned, and raised her sword. As she murmured with eyes half-lidded...
"[Light-]"
Brilliant radiance exploded from the blade.
"[-Slash!]"
A flash streaked across the earth. The charging Wights burst into nothingness in the explosion of light. Those behind split apart, and moments later, the ground itself shattered with a massive roar.
Dozens of Wights vanished in puffs of ash in an instant.
Kankun smiled, regripped her sword, and charged on. Her goal was saving the people here, but deep down, she felt the thrill. The pleasure of battle, of destruction proving her strength. She was a Nord, after all.
"...That girl Kankun will catch up to me soon enough."
Kudan scratched his head.
"Then me too..."
He unwrapped the cloth from the object slung over his shoulder. A massive hammer etched with golden runes. Its head spanned two meters wide and one high, but the handle was a mere fifty centimeters—a bizarre shape.
Mjolnir.
The weapon from Norse myth wielded by the god Thor, slayer of giants who tormented gods and men.
Mjolnir's skills were simple. One: [Lightning] to incinerate all. Two: [Summon] to recall it from anywhere. Three: Multiply the user's strength sevenfold.
Kudan activated his Divine Gift [Superhuman Strength]. His body swelled massively. Mjolnir's effect amplified it further. His frame grew monstrous, muscles like steel. Even his armor groaned, expanding to match.
A Wight raced toward him on all fours, too fast to track. Kudan ignored it, hoisting Mjolnir. Sparks flew from its head. With all his might, he slammed it down.
The earth shifted.
Centered on Kudan, the ground caved in. Currents surged through the crater, charring Wights black before fading.
"D-Dangerous!"
"K-Kudan doesn't hold back—that's the problem!"
"Not just Kudan—Kankun doesn't either!"
The Berserk Warriors recoiled in horror, fleeing as far as possible. Some, barely dodging, fell on their asses, gulping dryly at the scorched earth.
All wide-area skills, threatening even allies. No wonder the panic.
Kudan Raguna. Kankun Raguna. In Asgard, none surpassed them.
The Wights' numbers plummeted in moments. Even the charging ones shuddered at these alien foes.
Wights lacked reason. Or so it was said.
But now, for the first time, they felt fear.
Glancing warily, the Wights began edging backward.
"...Guess I'll be forgotten here."
Aum frowned. Regrettably, he lacked standout power. One-on-one with any Berserk Warrior here, he'd lose before exchanging a few blows.
Unable to shine, he sensed something odd behind and spun, thrusting his sword. It flew true—a strike any trained knight would admire.
Aum's blade sank into a Wight's maw. He smiled.
The Wight clamped down to snap it, but Reran's dwarven steel shattered its teeth instead.
Realizing it couldn't break the sword, the Wight grabbed the blade with its hands. As Aum startled, it pressed on heedless of the piercing wound, closing the distance.
With brute persistence, it neared. Then a Berserk Warrior hurled an axe, smashing its skull. Black blood and Worm Pest sprayed; Aum released the hilt and retreated.
"......"
He was a Nord. But his talent for battle was pathetically lacking. Even against a single Wight, victory wasn't assured.
Aum's eye twitched as he forced a humiliated smile toward Harma Territory.
"...This pisses me off. Can't even kill one of these bastards! Grr! I'll wipe them all out right now and storm the gates. No more embarrassing shows!"
At Aum's words, the Berserk Warriors surged forward, annihilating the Wights.
***
The Berserk Warriors entered Harma Territory.
Charging Wights died effortlessly, splattering blood and maggots, but the bone-armored warriors trampled them indifferently.
Harma Territory brimmed with black blood and writhing worms everywhere. The Berserkers ignored them, pressing on. Heavily armed, they feared no infection—purification potions neutralized curses and plagues.
Wights gaped and shied away. Packs fled at top speed from the Berserkers. Newcomers attacked but perished pointlessly.
One hundred beasts. Two warriors beyond human. One commander.
Near the gates, Ash gaped at the intruders. Their bold advance made his body tremble unwittingly.
"What... are they...?"
Even one Wight could shatter an army's formation. Without elites, numbers meant nothing—ten thousand, a hundred thousand, a million.
Yet they faced thousands, not dozens or hundreds. With no strategy or tactics, just raw, merciless might. Enough to terrify Wights into flight.
Ash felt a thrilling shiver. He later realized it was awe.
The entering warriors evoked legendary armies from fairy tales or myths. To Ash, they seemed knights led by angels.
Perhaps he stood at the heart of an event for the annals—or even myth.
'An army? No. Mercenaries? Not that either! If monsters like these were mercenaries, the continent would have fallen into chaos long ago!'
If such beings served as sellswords, kingdoms and empires would stop at nothing to hire them. Their wars would end in victory; losers, in hell. Feared across the land, none would dare oppose. Or the hiring power might collapse under their weight.
Such was the Berserk Warriors' absolute might.
'Whose side?'
Ash observed. No banners. Possibly independent.
'And beast helmets.'
No known knightly or mercenary orders used beast bones. Their armor and helms were utterly alien, unseen anywhere.
Why? How? For what reason here?
The Berserk Warriors panted heavily, fatigued. Spotting Ash's group, they halted. Breaths grew ragged with excitement. Joy at discovery.
"We have found you."
Found? They advanced, reaching Ash.
Leading: a man in fine garb. Flanking: a muscled middle-aged warrior and a beautiful woman. Behind: the Berserkers.
Aum Linia knelt. Kudan and Kankun followed; the rest knelt in unison.
"......!"
Not an army, he'd thought. Wrong.
Perfectly synchronized, all dropped to one knee, heads bowed. Weapons lowered, hands to chests, backs bent.
The fealty of vassals to lord. Submission to sovereign.
Ash thought, no way. Who here deserved such obeisance?
Only he bore noble blood. Royalty. Future king.
His heart surged, face brightening—then freezing.
The divine warriors knelt beside him.
Not to him. Their lord was elsewhere.
He was...
'...That... guy?'
Ash's eyes bulged as he stared at Loki.