180. Interlude: Crisis is an Opportunity
*
“Kill him.”
“Yarl, Yarl!! Please, just one more chance… give me one more chance…”
Deep in the black night. A night where cold snowflakes fell sporadically. A warrior knelt, tears streaming down his face as he pressed his forehead into the snow-covered ground. Please, please… It wasn’t that he didn’t want to die. It was that he didn’t want to die like this.
“Shh.”
A young boy walked up to him. His black cloak dragged along the ground. His pale, youthful skin was covered in black, spiderweb-like scars. The boy spun a large axe, as big as his own head, in one hand.
“Besan. If I were to give you another chance, tell me why I should.”
“Yarl… I have served your family with nothing but loyalty since the time of your ancestors.”
“Your loyalty is a pitiful excuse for your incompetence. I already gave you another chance. A chance to defend your failure.”
-Swish.
The axe gleamed coldly under the moonlight. The boy stared down at the middle-aged man kneeling before him with dry eyes. He looked ready to strike at any moment, yet he stood still, as if daring the man to make a move.
“You bastard.”
The warrior gritted his teeth and muttered.
“Is this all my loyalty was worth? Just this! You traitor! You betrayed humanity!”
The warrior sprang to his feet, pulling a dagger from his chest. In one swift motion, the dagger shot toward the boy’s throat like a flash of light. The boy’s small stature made the surprise attack astonishingly quick.
-Clang!
But the blade shattered in half on the first strike.
-Swish.
Before the broken blade could even bounce into the air, before the man could even react, his arm was severed.
-Whoosh—. Thud.
The centrifugal force spun the axe around, finally cutting through the man’s neck and head. The boy, having completed three movements in a single strike, spun the axe once more, shaking off the blood, and sheathed it at his waist.
“Clean this up.”
As the man, now missing vital organs, collapsed weakly, the warriors behind him silently grabbed his legs and dragged him away. A trail of blood marked the snowy ground. The boy indifferently looked at the dagger fragment embedded in the back of his hand, then pulled it out and dropped it.
“It wasn’t an execution, but a duel. His soul must have reached Valhalla. That is the reward for your loyalty.”
The boy turned on his heel and walked away. His black cloak swept across the snow-covered ground. The warriors who had been watching bowed deeply and whispered. ‘Erik’. ‘The Great Yarl’. ‘The King of the North’…
Erik the Pitch-Black. The warriors didn’t dare rise until his presence had faded.
*
When Erik returned to his tent, servants immediately approached, removing his garments and wiping his body with warm, damp cloths. His small frame was covered in scars and scabbed wounds, so the maids’ hands were extremely cautious.
One maid accidentally touched the still-bleeding wound on the back of his hand. Erik’s eyebrow twitched, and the maid turned pale, prostrating herself on the ground.
“F-forgive me!!”
“It’s fine.”
Erik took the trembling maid’s damp cloth and roughly wiped the wound. The bleeding stopped, and a scab formed almost instantly. Another scar to add to the collection. Erik silently watched this, then handed the cloth back to the maid.
“Leave. I want to rest.”
“Yes, yes!”
The maids bowed their heads in unison and quickly exited. At the same time, a silhouette appeared behind him, as if fog had gathered.
“Kind-hearted as ever, Erik.”
“Baldur.”
“Haha, was that really necessary? Huh? My heart aches every time I see that little body of yours covered in more scars. My Great Warrior. Even if your heart were torn out, you wouldn’t die, you know.”
Baldur’s blessing was ‘Invulnerability’. A life without flaws, a life fit for a king. With that blessing, Erik couldn’t die even if he wanted to.
Long ago, when Baldur was first born, the great goddess Frigg bestowed upon him a blessing that no being in the Material World could harm him. ‘Invulnerability’ was a lesser version of that blessing, ensuring that no being in the Material World could kill him.
So, from Baldur’s perspective, what Erik had done was utterly pointless. A farcical tragedy, a hollow puppet show.
“Only in those moments do I feel alive.”
“Tsk. Mortals.”
But the blessings and curses of the gods are synonymous. The absence of the threat of death meant the absence of the sensation of truly living. From a very young age, Erik could only feel alive when he was wounded.
Baldur looked at the densely clustered scars on Erik’s left chest, as if chunks of flesh had been torn away. The heart beneath it likely bore no fewer scars.
It was unpleasant. The Great Warrior, blessed by the god of ‘Perfection’, should have been flawless in appearance as well. Baldur frowned as he watched Erik slowly put on his robe.
“So, what brings you here?”
“Am I not allowed to visit my Great Warrior without a reason?”
“At least you should have one.”
Erik’s words made Baldur’s irritation evident. His overwhelming presence pressed down on Erik. Erik, expressionless, faced Baldur’s anger with the same detached demeanor.
After a brief standoff, Baldur chuckled and waved his hand.
“How are things progressing lately?”
“Fine.”
“Right, right. I’m sure you’re handling it well. No successful operations, huh? Just chasing down remnants, even supporting their wounded families. Pathetic tribes, pathetic people. Haha!”
As Baldur sneered, Erik’s expression gradually hardened. Seeing this, Baldur chuckled.
“Of course. Banadis got involved.”
“…Banadis?”
“Yes, our dear cousin. The dwarves’ whore, the filthy half-breed… Freya Banadis. That woman has awakened.”
“One of the underground tombs we missed, then. We should have pried them open one by one, even if it took time.”
“Well, we were short on time back then. Not anymore. In fact…”
“The one short on time isn’t us, but that woman.”
Baldur chuckled as he approached Erik.
“Kill all the younger lives in your clan.”
“…Why?”
“Banadis’s power is the ‘Breath of New Life.’ If that woman starts causing trouble, every area with young children will fall under her sight. So, kill all the young mortals. There are countless replacements anyway, aren’t there?”
“There will be significant resistance. Most of the clan warriors took up arms to protect their families.”
“Hah, now? What if those bastards rebel? And those vermin have outlived their usefulness. If they resist… well, do as we always do.”
As always… Erik swallowed the words that rolled around his mouth like thorns. The implication of sacrificing rebels to the demons weighed heavily on his throat.
“If a being with such power has joined them… it means they have a focal point too.”
It wasn’t just luck that allowed them to evade pursuit; there was some organized group secretly helping them shake off their pursuers. Probably one of the clans that had been shattered by him.
“Oh, splendid. That must be it.”
“And it means they’re not just fleeing to safer grounds but preparing to resist.”
“That’s probably right. Banadis isn’t some naive saint. She’s been preparing for Ragnarok for a long time. Her petty cause isn’t just about saving refugees.”
Baldur stroked Erik’s short hair and whispered.
“So, provoke your clan warriors. Make them betray you. And then kill all the traitors, every single one. Let more blood flow…”
“What are you saying?”
“Before Banadis left, half of the Einherjar were under her command. There was a damn legion that vanished mysteriously. Somewhere in the north, probably in one of the underground tombs we missed, there’s a gateway to their realm… Banadis will surely try to open that gate to win this war.”
“Then we should release the warriors to search the tombs again.”
“No, not that, kid.”
Baldur’s eyes gleamed cruelly.
“Let them be triumphant. Make them think we’re walking into a trap. Make them dig the trap deeper. Remember, a trap is both a threat and an opportunity. To dig a trap and face us, all their strength and resources will be concentrated there. Once that’s dealt with, this tedious war will be over.”
In truth, there had been almost no direct confrontations or large-scale battles since the early stages of the war. Most battles were about exterminating fleeing enemies or finding and eliminating scattered refugees.
If we were to unify the north by sheer force, Erik’s legion would be overkill. The clan warriors had no way to deal with the demons summoned by sacrificing countless humans.
“How does my warriors’ betrayal help? If that goddess summons her legion, shouldn’t we prepare for a battle?”
“You think your soldiers can stop the Einherjar? That’s a funny joke, hahaha. Only the Einherjar can stop the Einherjar, and the remaining half of the Einherjar is in Valhalla. And the gates of Valhalla only open to the deaths of warriors…”
My great warrior. Slaughter your warriors on the battlefield to open the gates to Valhalla. The fallen god whispered in Erik’s ear.
“Thus, except for the puppets who wouldn’t dare betray, the gates of Valhalla will open over the blood of all the dead warriors. The Einherjar will descend to prepare for war, the long Fimbulwinter will end, and finally, the earth will burn, and the age of the wolf will come. Over a world where the sea evaporates and the clouds burn… Jormungand will descend.”
Like an ancient shaman prophesying in madness, Baldur slowly whispered in his ear. Erik still said nothing, bowing his head. The fate of the gods, Ragnarok…
“And when that era ends, with the earth crumbling and the sky collapsing, a new era will be born on the compost of old ruins, and I, Baldur, the promised king, will become the sole ruler of that world. Young Erik, are you afraid of this destruction?”
Baldur hissed like a snake. Erik slowly raised his bowed head and looked into Baldur’s eyes.
“It feels like being alive.”
Erik’s black eyes burned like a land engulfed in flames. Baldur laughed brightly as he watched.
*
[He’s started his nonsense, Baldur.]
Freya, who had been sitting with her eyes closed in the command tent, suddenly opened her eyes and muttered. Kirhas, who had been coordinating the war situation for five days with little sleep, looked at her with a tired face.
“What do you mean?”
[My cousin has noticed my existence. Still a damn sly bastard.]
“You mean the fallen Aesir?”
[Yes. That hypocrite who pretended to be so pure. Ah, there’s one unlucky brat who dared to call me, the great Vanaheim Freya, a ‘half-breed.’]
Freya slowly unfolded her legs and stretched. Her stiff body trembled.
[He’s noticed me. And he’s doing the most terrible thing, the kind of thing only he would do. I want to stop it, but there’s no way to stop it. So we must hurry.]
“What do you mean?”
[That bastard has started slaughtering all the young lives near their legion. It’s a shallow trick to avoid my eyes, but…]
“Their morale must be at rock bottom. There might even be infighting.]
[You’re right.]
Freya looked down at the garden she had spread out. Looking at the map of the north represented by flowers, Freya frowned.
The goddess of new life. She was a goddess symbolizing motherhood and mercy. To her, the death of a child was always painful. She felt a pang in her chest and twitched her hand. The red flowers on the map trembled and died black.
[Among the last scenes I saw, there was definitely infighting. Here, here, and there. Cracks have appeared in their bloated front. A civil war has broken out.]
“That’s… an opportunity.”
[We must hurry. If he fully controls the civil war, the gates of Valhalla will open. Until Fernandez opens the gates of Vanaheim and leads my legion here, we must buy time.]
Time is the most precious strategic resource. The Einherjar of Vanaheim were originally designed to buy time to rally refugees, but not all war situations go according to plan.
Though a considerable threat, to field commanders like Kirhas who have reached a certain level, a threat is also an opportunity.
Kirhas’s eyes shone brightly. Freya nodded as she watched her. Kirhas turned her gaze to the warrior standing behind her and said.
“Call Yarol. The war begins.”
![[TS] Obsessed Gamer: The Ultimate Return](https://i3.wp.com/novelhitam.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/TS-Obsessed-Gamer-The-Ultimate-Return2.png?resize=85,105 "[TS] Obsessed Gamer: The Ultimate Return")
