Bow Before the King of Nords
The mythical warriors who had brutally, cruelly, and overwhelmingly trampled the Wights into victory before entering the territory now showed absolute obedience to a single man.
The man wore a crow mask, a cloak and leather garb woven from feathers. He gazed down upon them, head held high.
Ash could find no words for the emotion surging within him at the sight. Who the hell was this guy, to make them kneel? And why? How? How could he stand so boldly before these monsters!
Ash wanted to voice the questions burning in his heart, but courage failed him. He had witnessed the majesty of the Berserk Warriors. Even from afar, he could feel the overwhelming presence they exuded.
He couldn't even imagine the lengths they had gone to—forsaking their humanity to grow stronger, the countless lives they had crushed along the way. Before such beings, Ash—who had been raised in a greenhouse relying on his background—couldn't muster the nerve to even speak.
Then, the leader kneeling at the forefront slowly raised his head and cried out.
"The newborn Asgard! The hundred Berserk Warriors! Their captain, Kudan Raguna! The shrine maiden, Kankun Raguna! And I... Aum Linia! We come at the summons of the King of the Nords to pay our respects!"
"Summons?"
Loki's lips twitched, though Ash didn't notice. He could only repeat their words in his mind.
'Newborn... Asgard? Berserk Warriors? And... King of the Nords? What the hell does that mean?!'
Newborn Asgard? Why speak of a newly born nation? Berserk Warriors? Was that the name of their knight order? King? King of the Nords? What nonsense was this!
As Ash clamped his mouth shut and stared at Loki and Aum Linia, Aum met the gaze of Loki, who smiled down from the shadow of his crow mask. Red eyes locked with Aum's blue ones.
Aum smiled back. At last, the meeting with the Constellation had come to pass.
"Mm—! Permission granted!"
A gleeful voice echoed from within a Berserk Warrior's beast helm. He slapped his weapon against his palm and declared,
"Who are we?!"
"Asgard's Berserk Warriors—!"
Other Berserk Warriors shouted in response, but the speaking warrior shook his head.
"No, no. The muster order has been lifted. So what are we now?"
At his words, sinister smiles spread beneath their helms.
"Plunderers."
Mad glints shone through the slits of their helmets.
"That's right! We are Nords! Beasts who live by plundering others' happiness! So everyone...!"
They aimed their weapons toward the direction the fleeing Wights had scattered.
"Begin the hunt."
With the muster order lifted—save for a few Berserk Warriors—they would now hunt as individuals, as plunderers chasing prey.
They dashed off at speeds beyond human limits, leaping across rooftops despite their heavy gear, picking off Wights one by one.
"By the shrine maiden's command! Save and heal the wounded and infected!"
The territory's residents and refugees gathered in one place. The remaining mustered Berserk Warriors rounded up survivors in Harma Territory for treatment.
It was Kankun's order, and she herself was busy rescuing residents and refugees. But the treatments used mere herbal salves for wounds, and for the infected, they disguised purification potions as holy water.
Aum, who knew Kankun well, had strictly warned them to heal but never reveal the potions' existence.
"Any oil?"
Kudan asked, and the Berserk Warrior shook his head.
"None in the territory, it seems. Probably used up in the siege defense."
"...Then rip off straw or wooden doors and burn them. Ensure no more infections spread."
At Kudan's command, the Berserk Warriors smashed house doors for firewood, piled corpses, and set them ablaze. Black blood and Worm Pest remnants were torched along the territory's exit paths using straw.
"Speaking of... Loki's one thing, but Aum's stubborn as hell too."
Kudan glanced toward Loki and Aum. There, Aum Linia still knelt, with four Berserk Warriors behind him, foreheads pressed to the ground.
"The proxy of the Nord race, Aum Linia, humbly speaks for the eighth time. O King! Please return to the homeland...!"
"Return to the homeland—!"
As Aum bowed and cried out, the Berserk Warriors behind echoed him. Loki's cheek muscle twitched at the sight, straight out of some historical drama. The exaggerated tone, gestures, even the voices—Aum had calculated precisely what Loki would hate most.
"I refuse."
Aum's mouth repeated the same lines.
"The proxy of the Nord race, Aum Linia, humbly speaks for the ninth time. O King! Please return to the homeland...!"
"Return to the homeland—!"
Only the number kept rising.
"Even a hundred times the same words—refused."
"Then we shall beseech a thousand, ten thousand times."
"......"
Loki eyed not just Aum, but the Berserk Warriors behind him. He had expected a visit, perhaps with Kudan or Per as escorts—but never an army.
The Berserk Warriors: Asgard's strongest human weapons. Excluding Loki's skeleton legions of death, they were unmatched on the continent.
He never dreamed they'd bring them as an "escort." And Aum deliberately used the title "King of the Nords."
The Berserkers didn't know Loki's true form, so it fit—and it elevated his status.
'No objections from the Berserkers because they've been coached?'
Otherwise, they wouldn't take "King of the Nords" so calmly. Or perhaps Aum aimed to officially brand Loki's current alias, "Hoon," as a true authority.
Constellation Loki. King of the Nords, Hoon.
Whether Loki or Hoon, it might bind him from easily leaving Asgard.
'Playing it like this, huh...?'
Calculated moves to drag him back to Asgard. Only one response to that.
"...I said clearly. I'm not going."
Blunt dismissal.
As Loki turned away, a Berserk Warrior sprang up, knelt in his path, and slammed his forehead to the ground.
"......"
Loki shifted direction; another blocked ahead, kneeling and bowing.
"...Move."
"If it were a command, we would obey. But Asgard cannot endure your absence, my lord. Countless subjects would suffer. Please reconsider!"
"......"
Such words from a Berserk Warrior? Clearly Aum's scripted lines.
Loki felt veins bulging on his forehead as he glared murderously at Aum.
"You... going to keep this up?"
Aum raised his head, eyes burning with resolve.
"Return to the homeland, please. The nation needs its pillar now. Entrust your desires to us...!"
"Aren't I here because you couldn't handle it?"
"......"
Loki sighed, slipping a hand under the crow mask to massage his temples.
"...Enough. We'll talk later. Let them rest first. Even with their brutal training, they'll be fatigued."
Aum had no choice but to yield. Pushing further would undermine both their dignities. It wouldn't sway the Berserkers, but it looked poor.
Aum knew and stepped back.
"Um..."
Loki lowered his gaze at the familiar voice. Salat tugged his cloak from the side.
"Who are those humans?"
Salat eyed the Berserk Warriors warily. She had never seen such a formidable army. Even monster hordes wouldn't match them.
Loki replied casually, as if it were nothing.
"Allies."
"...Allies?"
This time, Ash reacted. As a prince, he had greeted foreign dignitaries countless times, witnessing knightly drills and duels to flaunt national might.
And now, thrust into war's heart, he had seen real combat—knights charging to kill.
To him, no one he knew could beat even one Berserk Warrior.
Not even the Holy Church's elites. To call such beings allies so casually...!
No, not allies. They showed obeisance of submission.
Their demeanor radiated true loyalty, fit for a king or emperor.
What is this guy's deal?'
He bore the insignia of the Black Judges, the Holy Emperor's direct force. He wielded power to erase Wights in one strike and commanded over a thousand such warriors.
Was he truly the King of the Nords? If so, the king of those plunderers...
'Never make him an enemy!'
Ash paled, recalling his past rudeness. He knew better than to judge by appearances—that was royal and noble relations. Smiles hid schemes; the frail baited counters.
It was everyday for him. Yet, trapped by that lowborn noble "Pam," he repeated the mistake!
'Pathetic! Only now recalling the most vital lesson from imperial studies!'
Not truly learned from books. Raised on pedigree, looking down was natural—and Loki's eerie guise contributed. Plus, traveling with a heretical elf? Devout Azelanite, his attitude was inevitable.
What to do? Make amends, close the distance somehow...!'
As Ash pondered, a beautiful woman passed before him.
Her face dusted with dirt, yet her beauty eclipsed it. White skin, blue eyes brimming with resolve. Armored, yet her stature was almost holy.
As she walked, lustrous blue hair swirled before Ash's eyes.
'H-How stunningly beautiful...!'
It was Kankun. With emergency treatments stabilizing, she hurried to Loki, bowed her head in greeting.
"Asgard's shrine maiden, Kankun Raguna, pays respects to Lord Hoon."
"...It's been a while."
Loki's voice was stiff as he regarded her; Kankun smiled warmly.
Gauging his mood, she ventured cautiously,
"Um... Lord Hoon."
"Call me Loki."
"Really? But aren't you hiding your identity?"
Kankun tilted her head.
"Not particularly."
"Still, the Berserk Warriors don't know. They'd be shocked."
She glanced at the wounded refugees.
"What of... them?"
"They have their own path. Not our place to interfere."
"I see..."
Kankun eyed Loki, timing a request.
Loki scanned the wounded. Most sobbed or groaned from lost families and injuries.
He felt no pity or compassion. No ties, no familiar faces.
One did catch his eye: a woman with a bulging belly. Pregnant, she struggled upright, tending other refugees. Her smile was forced, obvious at a glance.
...Yuan's wife, perhaps?'
Not certain. Low odds in a territory with one pregnant woman.
Loki recalled Yuan's end. Wight-turned, clutching his foot, jaws wide—but his expression pleaded.
...If connected to him, I could help. But unsure.
Loki gazed at the letter Yuan had left.