Feuding Twin Peaks (Part 2)
Ulfrik came face-to-face with an ancestral spirit gripping a rune hammer that commanded thunder itself. Just as he was thrilled at the realization that he could finally fight shoulder-to-shoulder with his ancestors, stripped of any rank...
"Kukukuku... What a descendant I've never seen the likes of."
"Huh? You can talk?"
"The others might not hear us, but you? You're worthy of our voices."
The ancestral spirit laughed raucously, clearly delighted to meet Ulfrik.
"Of course, it's a bit of a shame that shaman's butting in, but since he's our pretty granddaughter's disciple, we'll let it slide."
"Well... from your perspective, Helga's your granddaughter, I guess."
"Think what you will. Anyway, descendant, before we dive into battle, let me ask: What do you think honor is?"
Was this the ancestor's test right now? But Ulfrik's answer was set in stone.
"Explaining it with your own mouth defeats the purpose!!"
"Hahahaha! That's it exactly!! Any child of ours should know that!!!"
With the exchange over, the two instantly dropped into combat stances. In the frigid ice cavern, where only silence had reigned until then—
BOOOOM!!!
Ancestor and descendant clashed weapons. Ulfrik swung his twin axes with wild abandon, pressing the assault. Naturally, the ancestor parried effortlessly, then swept his lightning-wreathed hammer left, right, left—three rhythmic arcs.
BOOM!! BOOM!! BOOM!!!
Each clash with the rune hammer sent bolts of lightning surging through Ulfrik, electrocuting him repeatedly. But he powered through the agony on sheer grit, axes flying relentlessly. The duel of these tireless warriors stretched into dozens, then hundreds of exchanges.
This brute-force grind could go on forever, but to showcase more of the rune hammer's might, the ancestor suddenly leaped back. Then, like a cannon firing from his grip—Ulfrik barely dodged the hurled hammer—
THWOOM!!!
"Guh?!"
The rune hammer whipped past Ulfrik's head, executed a sharp U-turn, and cracked into the back of his skull. His vision swam from the skull-splitting impact, but he blocked the ancestor's follow-up as the spirit reclaimed the weapon.
"Talk about weapon cheese!!!"
"Hahahaha! Bet you're jealous of it now!!"
From there, the ancestor unleashed the rune hammer's full potential. He scorched the entire cavern with lightning storms or kept up unpredictable assaults by hurling the boomerang hammer. But Ulfrik quickly found the counter.
As the ancestor flung the hammer again, Ulfrik hurled one of his axes in response.
CLAAAAANG!!!
The massive shockwave shot the rune hammer down, but Ulfrik's axe shattered. Instead, he snatched the falling hammer.
RUMBLECRACK!!!
A violent rejection surged, blasting his body with ferocious lightning. But then something astonishing happened. Ulfrik gripped the storm-raged hammer tighter and swung it at the ancestor.
Caught off-guard by the extreme gambit, the ancestor took a direct hit. No longer able to endure, Ulfrik chucked the rune hammer back. As the spirit's form flickered, the two warriors charged again, axes and hammer colliding in a massive shockwave.
That's when Ulfrik felt a familiar energy.
"Yes!! That's it!! Use your battle spirit! Descendant!"
He'd first sensed it delivering the killing blow to the holy knight. Felt it again slicing through the Red Skull tribe's chieftain. And now, clashing with this ancestor, he finally named it.
Like a temple dog reciting poetry after three years, Ulfrik instinctively grasped how to wield battle spirit. His overflowing grit—his very war fury—shifted from mind to heart, manifesting as tangible power.
THRUM!!WHOOOOM!!!
Now Ulfrik commanded battle spirit, a primal force distinct from mana, with total freedom. Seeing his descendant's growth, the ancestor laughed heartily even as he was pushed back, swinging to the end.
After endless clashes, the rune hammer flew from the ancestor's grasp, clattering across the floor. Ulfrik seized the opening and swung—but true to a warrior who knew honor, he halted.
Halt!!
"Thanks, old timer."
"Kukuku... Don't mention it."
Ulfrik paid his respects and lowered the axe.
*************
Fighting that ancestor revealed the true nature of this grit.
WHOOOM!!!
"So this is battle spirit?"
"Aye, the power us Nord folk have wielded since time immemorial."
"But why doesn't anyone know about it?"
"I didn't know either, honestly."
I'd never heard of battle spirit from our mighty Huscarls, my father, or even Granny Helga. But hearing the ancestor's explanation, it made sense why.
"So basically, the grass is always greener."
"Spot-on analogy."
We Nord fight mainly south—in the Empire's lands. Watching our foes' techniques...
"At some point, knights' mana started looking better than battle spirit."
"Battle spirit's high-risk, high-return—lose your fury, lose everything. So they shifted to stable mana, I suppose."
"And now it's totally obsolete."
The ancestor seemed deeply regretful that we'd abandoned battle spirit. But spotting my mastery of it, his eyes sparkled with expectation.
I had more questions, but his ethereal form was fading—it was time to part.
"You heading out, gramps?"
"Can't stick around or the others'll pitch a fit. Here, take this."
Whoosh!!!
He suddenly tossed the rune hammer—I freaked. But it didn't zap me anymore.
"It accepts you now."
"Wait, is this an ego weapon?"
"Kinda? Mana's fine and all, but flaunt that battle spirit to draw eyes."
"Battle spirit suits me better anyway—no worries."
"Kukukuku, good, good... Guess it's really time."
The ancestral spirit opened his mouth, laughing contentedly.
We are always cheering for you, our proud descendants.
Harcon and I waved farewell to the well-wishes.
****************
I realized Nord ancestors are truly great folk.
"They even left an exit for us."
"That'll take us straight out."
A portal had appeared where the ice throne stood. We could've bailed right then, but first, we had Vikings waiting after their Maggora with the ancestors.
Heading back, Harcon took a shine to the rune hammer.
"What? Wanna touch it?"
"A legendary weapon. I'd love to inspect it."
"It doesn't wear out, so... here!"
"W-Wait!! Ulfrik, that's—!!"
I can't be the only one zapped!! Harcon touched it and started dancing like he was tap-dancing.
ZZZAP!!
"GRAAAAAH!!"
"Kya~ That's the stuff!!"
Not as dramatic as mine, though? Normies don't show much externally from shocks—that's probably normal.
The hammer returned to my hand after toasting Harcon, who recovered surprisingly fast.
"Y-You're a real sadist."
"Kukuku... High praise, thanks."
Harcon, now tasered for the era, trudged on with me. No more lightning spirits blocked the way, so we quickly found our warriors—bloodied, arms crossed in the first cavern.
"""N-Nothing happened!!!"""
"You lot... KIYOL!!!"
Never thought they'd win a Maggora against the ancestors!! Sure, they'd taken wounds too severe for regen, but it was touching.
"Seeing you become true warriors brings tears to this instructor's eyes..."
"Sniff!! Instructor Ulfrik!!"
"Drengr!!!"
Grab!!!
With brotherhood reforged, we headed out via the ice throne portal.
"This place...?"
"Isn't this where we tethered the horses?"
"Drengr!! Look over there!!"
"The horses are still there!!"
Ancestors deliver!!! Leagues beyond the Empire's sky gods in competence. No more walking home—bliss.
To let the Berserkrs regen, I called a rest and set camp. As warriors boasted around the fire, Harcon scribbled in the corner.
"Whatcha doing?"
"Recording today's events."
"Why...?"
"Isn't it epic? The great Drengr Ulfrik's journey. Our descendants will sing it as sea shanties—"
Thwop!!!WHOOSH!!!
Too cringey—I torched the notes in the fire. But that shaman was crafty.
"Pfft, burning it does nothing, Ulfrik."
"...I'll torch every secret draft I find."
"Do as you please."
Harcon got weirdly stubborn. I finally got why Joseon kings suffered obsessive historians.
Then the warriors eyed the rune hammer at my belt.
"Drengr!! You really snagged the thunder-calling rune hammer?!"
"C-Could you show us...?"
"It's my lifelong dream!!"
No wear and tear, so sure. But Harcon pulled "not just you" again.
"I touched the rune hammer—felt insane power."
"What?! Harcon!! You've already...?"
"So jealous..."
"Easy, everyone."
They all wanted a feel—fine. Harcon and I innocently set it down. Excited warriors touched it.
ZZZAP!!
"GYAAAAH!"
"Why's he—? Me too... GRAAAAAH!!"
"What's wrong with them? Aaaah—KIIIII!!"
The whole night exploded in laughter.
****************
Next morning, we prepped to return home. Warriors' grit was dozens of times fiercer.
"Follow the Drengr, and beyond glorious battles, we get legendary adventures?"
"Hahahaha! Other tribes are so pitiful."
"Our descendants'll envy our feats."
High on honor—let 'em ride it. Suits 'em better.
Mounting up lighthearted, a warrior asked the hammer's name. Harcon chimed in.
"A weapon that mighty must have a name."
"And it's an ego weapon, right?"
Now I was curious too. Thunder hammer? Obvious name—!
(Rymr)
"This one's called Mjǫllnir."
"Ooooh! Mjǫllnir!! The name alone screams power!!"
"'The Crusher'... Perfect fit."
Mjǫllnir
Hey!! Don't you dare slap some no-name like Rymr on it!!! You're Mjǫllnir from now on, no matter what!!!
I was about to forcibly rename the plain-Jane ego weapon when ravens swarmed Harcon.
"Why so many shaman messengers?"
"Yeah? They've got letters—mind waiting?"
"Plenty of time—take it slow."
Harcon checked the ravens' missives and gaped.
"Hey, Harcon... Spit it out."
"The Drengr's curious too."
"Th-The Empire's invading these lands?!"
"Oh."
"Oh."
"Oh."
"Oh."
Our hearts began to pound.