Sacred Land (5)
Around the time Ulfrik was preparing for departure, there existed in the Sacred Land across the North Sea a royal force without a king: the Dragon Horn Tribe. Though they had lost much of their power after their king was assassinated in a coup by the Yarls, opportunity had finally come knocking.
"The imperial army has really requested negotiations with us?!"
"Yes, that's correct!"
The supreme commander of the northern imperial army, Rosian Marquis, had realized he'd stirred up a hornet's nest by raiding the general's camp. As an escape strategy, he'd requested mediation from the Dragon Horn Tribe. Interim Yarl Arjen was overjoyed.
"Heh, our interests align so perfectly..."
"It seems our ancestors are finally lending us their aid."
"If these talks go smoothly, we can restore some of our lost authority!"
Reports had already indicated that the vile Yarls were only looking out for their own tribes. What if they stepped in now, negotiated peace with the imperial army, and then aided the smaller, damaged tribes and clans? They'd surely gain the support of countless people.
Arjen and his tribesfolk spun happy fantasies like that. But life never goes according to plan.
BAM!!!
"Y-Yarl! Disaster has struck!"
"Led by the Bear Claw Tribe, nearly all the Yarls are gathering in one place!!"
"What?!"
An unprecedented event was unfolding—one even the days of the king couldn't achieve. And they could roughly guess how all the Yarls had gathered.
A warrior wielding the Rune Hammer that calls thunder, the treasure of the first king, has been confirmed.
The bearer of the Rune Hammer is none other than Ulfrik Ragnarson of the Bear Claw Tribe.
"Thanks to the authority of the first king's treasure...?"
"No wonder all the Yarls are gathering."
"W-What do we do...?"
Arjen couldn't tear his eyes away from the info about the Rune Hammer. But right now, something more urgent demanded attention. The assembled Yarls were about to attack the northern imperial army.
'Then all our plans fall apart!'
He had to stop this battle at all costs. Arjen swiftly dispatched messenger birds and sent an envoy carrying a letter accepting the talks—
PING!!!!
"Wh-Why're they suddenly shootin' arrows into the sky?"
"No point explainin' to a dimwit like you."
"That bastard's got a mouth on him..."
The Dragon Horn Tribe's plans were utterly thwarted by the bizarre actions of Leidal Crowson, Yarl of the Black Crow Tribe.
********************
No matter what the Dragon Horn Tribe did, an ironic blaze of heat rose in the frigid far north.
Thud!! Thud!! Thud!! Thud!!!
Countless warriors shook the snow-covered ground. Word of the massive army naturally reached other tribes, and the Yarls smirked upon realizing a stage had been set to teach the warriors of this generation.
"Kukukuk, Ragna and his son have stirred up something truly entertaining this time."
"Let's join this grand stage!!"
"Tired of just defending—perfect timing!! Let's go!!!"
"Waaaaaaah!!!"
Ragna Bearhandson, the laid-back Yarl of the Bear Claw Tribe, grinned broadly. Thanks to his easygoing nature, he was on good terms with nearly every Yarl. When the Bear Claw Tribe raised such a huge army, the others decided to join in. Like a snowball rolling and growing, Ulfrik's forces swelled rapidly.
"Ulfrik!! I brought these sneaky bastards dey!"
"Haa..."
Finally, even the White Wolf Tribe and Black Crow Tribe joined. The completed Nordic legion faced the northern imperial army along the coast.
"Y-Yarl, that's way too many barbarians?"
"Gods above..."
"...Will we ever set foot on our homeland alive?"
Most scholars claimed the empire couldn't claim the land beyond the North Sea due to its murderous climate. But the truth was always simpler.
"Honor awaits us!!"
"We'll avenge the blood of our comrades—!!!"
"Ancestors!!!"
When the true warriors of the Sacred Land gathered, it was like a living calamity.
***************
The northern imperial army's morale was already rock-bottom. Facing this mad horde of heathens amplified the pressure beyond imagination. Rosian Marquis, leading them, gritted his teeth.
"Damn it... What happened to the Dragon Horn Tribe?"
"N-No contact whatsoever."
"Should've known better than to trust filthy barbarians!!"
Thud!!!
Their recent attempt to break the blockade had failed. Now, without the empire's greatest strength—heavy cavalry—they had to either clash head-on and win, or pin their last hopes on meeting the Nordic legion's commander.
Thus, their envoy carrying final hopes stepped forward, risking death under the killing glares of the mighty Yarls.
"Rosian Marquis desires parley!!!"
"Heh, gotta respect the guts."
"Not bad. Right?"
Honestly, the Yarls were fully prepared to fight right then. But they wouldn't miss the chance to give a rising star some experience.
"So you want me to meet this marquis or whatever?"
"It's all~ experience, son."
"JeHAHAHA! When else ya gonna see somethin' like this? I'll go with ya, no worries."
"Couldn't ask for better if Riman steps up. And since you raised this army, Ulfrik, it's only right you lead."
"No arguments then."
The Yarls knew Ulfrik would never accept the imperial request. They even knew he held the first king's treasure, so they all acknowledged his authority. Ulfrik then strode to the battlefield's center with Riman, Ragna, and Huscarls.
Rosian Marquis emerged with his guards, and the two sides faced off.
"…………."
"…………."
A chill hung between the forces. The two Yarls and Huscarls growled like beasts at the knights, while the marquis's elite knights maxed out their mana, hands on hilts.
After a frozen standoff, Rosian spoke first.
"You're awfully young. You must be the warrior Ulfrik."
"My fame's spread across the whole empire, huh?"
"No one in the empire's north hasn't heard your name. And you're the reason this war started."
Ulfrik and his warriors raiding the small city of Cardia had snowballed into this. Reminding him of that, the marquis urged no more bloodshed.
"Why's that my fault?"
"W-What?"
"You lot got robbed by a few hundred of us—that's on you. And you chose to invade this land, but now you're blaming others."
Did someone hold a knife to your back and force you to start the war? As Ulfrik pressed, fury rose in Rosian—but his final words froze the marquis.
"You can start a war on a whim, but we decide how it ends—no matter how much your emperor cries and begs."
"That means..."
"What? You think we're here for a picnic?"
The Nordics displayed overwhelming numbers. If the marquis lost here, the empire's north would be ravaged swiftly. Whatever Rosian said next, Ulfrik rejected all proposals, and talks collapsed.
"...All units, prepare to defend for the homeland."
"Everyone!!! Ready to attack!!!!"
Their stances flipped.
**************
The Nordics filled the field with roars and stomps. The imperials held silence for defense. Stalemate dragged tension sky-high—then a hush froze the battlefield.
Ulfrik, at the front, stepped forward.
Advance!!!
Ha!!
His step and the warriors' cheers shattered the silence. Stomping spread like waves; the halted field came alive. Imperial arrows and spells rained down, but Nordic warriors pressed on heedless.
Especially the Bear Claw Tribe's Berserkrs and Ulfrik at the fore—they absorbed nearly every attack. They slammed into the imperial line with minimal losses.
As shields and weapons clashed endlessly, Ulfrik swung.
BAM!!! ZZZZCRACK!!
"Gaaaaaaah!"
"Hraaaaaah!!"
The Rune Hammer's destructive force, laced with immense Fighting Spirit, sprayed blood and tore a hole in the line. Knights rushed to intercept Ulfrik, but—
WHOOOOM!! Slash!!!
"Kyaa!! Tastes like victory!!!"
"Riman, old man!!"
"Son!! Let's go!!"
"We'll help too!!"
Riman and his White Wolf Tribe unleashing Rune Magic, plus Ragna and Bear Claw Huscarls, swept the knights. Massive arrows like parasols crushed more from afar; Ulfrik grinned.
Other mighty Yarls and Huscarls crashed into the first defense line, tilting the battle sharply. The northern imperials didn't yield, though.
Slash!!! Swoosh!!!
"Guh?!"
"Cough!!"
Horse or no, knights' blades felled Nordics with fatal wounds. And at their pinnacle—
Shiiiing!! Claaaang!!!
"Ha! Empire's got some decent ones after all!"
"You blood-mad heathens!!!"
A Sword Master blocked Ulfrik's path.
********************
Valtein, pinnacle of the Iron Hammer Knights backed by House Rosian, clashed with Ulfrik and gnashed his teeth.
'Damn it!! What the hell is that weapon—!!!'
His sword, called a dwarven masterpiece, was being pushed back by Ulfrik's hammer. Worse—
ZZZZZCRACK!!
"Grraaaaaah!!"
"Hahaha! Armor makes the electricity flow so nice?!"
Every clash triggered Mjolnir's power, searing his body. But if Valtein fell here, the empire would be ravaged. And Ulfrik before him had to die.
'So young, yet this strong!! Can't give him more time!!'
More experience, and he'd be a calamity beyond the empire—to the world. Luckily, the dumb barbarians didn't interfere in the duel. Valtein was confident he could kill the monster.
His secret art unfolded; mana and blood accelerated wildly. In a blink, Ulfrik's body was slashed.
SPLURT!!!
Normally, it'd shred him—but
'Shallow!!!'
It felt like slicing steel. Mad eyes still glared; his body regenerated in real-time—pure horror. Valtein calmed and unleashed barrages of secret arts, hacking Ulfrik.
But Ulfrik never yielded his neck.
KABOOOM!!!
"Guh?!"
"Finally landed one!!"
In the endless duel, ignoring defense paid off—Ulfrik struck Valtein's waist dead-on. Magic armor shattered instead, saving him once. But continuing meant certain defeat.
How to kill a regenerating monster guarding its weak point? This wasn't a normal duel; the battle worsened.
Slash!! KABOOM!!
"Die!!!"
"Hahahahaha! This is battle!!!"
"Vengeance for our comrades' blood!!!"
"Hraaaaaah!"
"Guh?!"
Mad cheers and imperial screams echoed. Spotting Valtein's anxiety, Ulfrik smirked.
"Tsk tsk tsk... If you're that distracted, should've just come at me."
"Shut up!!"
"Knights always say that. Oh, and this battle's over now."
Ulfrik paused his attacks, slinging Mjolnir over his shoulder.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
"Giving you a funeral."
"Wh-What do you—"
WHOOOOOOM!!!
Suddenly, pale green light poured from Ulfrik and every Nordic on the field. Fallen heathens with mortal wounds rose one by one. Valtein's eyes widened at the eerie sight.
Far off, something huge charged this way.
"Hey knight, know why this place is called sacred?"
"…?!"
"'Cause ancestors and spirits watch over it. Why not pray to your god?"
Ulfrik chuckled mid-sentence.
"Ask 'em to stop the Frost Giants who love the spirits."
KABOOOOOM!!!
Gigantic entities crashed onto the field, trampling imperials with overwhelming mass.
Ulfrik tsked before stunned Valtein.
"Whoa~ Granny Helga can get even bigger than 3 meters, huh?"
"Gods preserve us..."
The Frost Giant Tribe—Helga Skolvdoti and her shamans—had arrived in True Form. Imperials lost all will to fight in shock. But Valtein calmly closed his eyes and gripped his sword to the end.
"...A knight never drops his sword."
"Tch, shame we met like this."
Only their movements sounded; all noise vanished. Like alone in the world, utmost focus. Valtein unleashed his final slash—his life's strongest, knowing this was his end.
But the foe before him? This was just his first step. Mjolnir, wrapped in overwhelming Fighting Spirit, shattered all barriers and crushed toward his head.
The Sword Master fell to Ulfrik.
**************
As the northern imperial army was massacred by the Nordics, what were the imperial nobles and Rosian doing?
"Success, Marquis!!!"
"G-Good..."
"Throwing the soldiers as bait was the right call."
A huge coastal battle might draw the Nordic blockade into the fray. Betting their lives on that gamble, the nobles executed their final escape—and succeeded.
"Marquis, we had to warn of a massive barbarian invasion on the empire's north somehow. It was the right decision."
"Still... too many died. Even Valtein..."
Rosian and the nobles regretted the expedition deeply. As the cursed land faded behind, they sighed in relief—but a chill crept in.
"Why's it so cold?"
"Call the mages."
"Please wait a moment."
The pampered nobles sought warming spells. But beyond cooling—
CRRRRACK!!!
"Th-The sea's freezing?!"
"What's happening?!"
Trapped by freak weather, Rosian tried calming them from the deck, seeking answers. Then he spotted something in the sky.
What the—? Like a blue comet... Huh?!
The comet neared the ship. Rosian dove overboard, erecting a mana barrier—but
Line! Break!! Murder!!! Sea!!!! Strike!!!!!
KABOOOOOOM!!!
Ulfrik, wrapped in blue lightning, obliterated the ship itself. Rosian alone survived, having jumped early.
But was it fortune?
"You bastard!!! Coward!!! You ditched your troops and ran alone?!"
"G-Gasp?!"
Immense rage erupted ahead; blue lightning whipped the frozen sea. Behind, something huge approached.
Thud!! Thud!! Thud!!
"Oh dear... Empire's got issues too, huh? Back in the day, they wouldn't have chosen this."
The giant was Grand Shaman Helga. Ulfrik before, True Form Helga behind. As Rosian trembled in death's terror,
Ulfrik and Helga locked eyes and grinned.
"Grandkid!! Let's use that move you showed me before—right here!!"
"Hahahaha! That's my granny!!"
BAM!!
They stomped; muscles writhed. Rosian couldn't grasp what was happening. Grandkid and grandma didn't wait.
They charged full-tilt, arms raised.
"Leriot!!!"
"Leriot!!!"
KABOOOOOOM!!!
A fitting end for a coward.