188. Ragnarok (3)
*
“Retreat! Fall back!”
Kirhas urged the trembling warriors as she ran. Having pushed deep into the camp, this area was directly under the influence of the gateway.
Everyone, regardless of allegiance, was soaked in despair and fear, trembling uncontrollably. Even the warriors of Kazalid, who had never hesitated to face demons or follow their orders, were no exception.
In this place, Kirhas was the only one who kept her composure and burned with determination. Like a mother dog dragging her stiffened puppies by the scruff of their necks, she pulled the rigid warriors along, shouting.
-Whack!
“Ugh…?!”
“Snap out of it! If you stay here, you’ll die!”
Kirhas saw no clear path. Everywhere, everything was glowing red. A blood-like red premonition overflowed around her. But she couldn’t give up. She couldn’t stop here…
‘Your Excellency, how could you move in such moments?’
‘Taking action is always more beneficial than being optimistic or despairing, Kirhas. Complacency in reality is akin to regression. Time is equal to all, so you must assume that your enemies are always using that time to solidify their position. Ability is relative; if your ability has stalled, it means you’ve regressed compared to your enemies.’
Desperately trying to escape the encroaching despair, Kirhas recalled Fernandez’s voice. Yes, let’s move. Doing your best is always better than despairing, no matter the moment.
“Follow me, run! Don’t give up! I won’t abandon you!”
Her heart was too upright to abandon her helpless subordinates in this death-ridden area and seek survival alone. She gathered the stiffened warriors and ran.
-Kugugugung…!!
At that moment, she staggered and fell. A powerful vibration struck the earth, and everything turned red. Her turquoise eyes desperately scanned the surroundings. Death, death… Everywhere, there were only corpses.
“Your Excellency.”
It wasn’t a matter of will. This was a matter of the soul. Under the overwhelming presence, she was as powerless as a moth caught in a spider’s web. The strength in her sword-holding hand was fading.
“Your Excellency, I hope… I hope I was of some help.”
Kirhas slowly closed her eyes. Since everything was burning red, it was better to close her eyes. The sticky air, filled with magic, licked her skin as it passed by.
“Get up.”
“…Abel.”
A cool breeze blew for a moment. Kirhas weakly opened her eyes. Abel stood before her, looking down and extending her hand.
Cool fingers tightly gripped the sword hilt that hung limply in Kirhas’s hand. Supporting Kirhas, she whispered.
“It’s too early to give up.”
“Why did you come? This place… there’s no hope of survival here. You… you should have lived. How could I… with what feelings…”
“Shh. I’ll listen to your complaints after this is over.”
Even under the presence of the slowly opening Hell’s gateway, Abel moved as if unaffected. As if swimming through frozen time, she leisurely pulled Kirhas and the surrounding warriors along.
The soul of a dragon reaches the level of a demigod. Beyond the spirituality of mortals, that realm, those eyes holding the gaze of great beings. Under them, the warriors began to gasp for breath, vomit, and stand on their feet.
“Hope always crouches at the very bottom of despair. No matter how fierce the winter snow, won’t the buds sprout in the spring?”
Abel spoke and raised her hand. She pulled out a wooden plank hanging from Kirhas’s waist. On the plank, a small flower bud hung, half-withered.
“Or is it not so, Banadis?”
-Pop!
A white flower sprouted on the wooden plank. And soon—
-Pop!
-Pop! Pop!
The flower buds broke through the frozen ground, spreading out. A faint path unfolded before her eyes. Abel smiled as she saw it.
“There’s still a way.”
*
“Move, move!”
Aeren looked down at her axe-wielding hand with bloodshot eyes. Thumb, index, middle finger… slowly, her fingers twitched and gripped the axe. If she could fight even for a moment, that would be enough. She would never fall helplessly and wait for death.
Death is fair to all, and the only condition that determines the moment it comes is whether you are in front of this axe or behind it. She intended to swing her axe once fairly at anything that came at her head-on.
-Crunch.
Her stiffened shoulder made a strange sound as it moved. It was sore, but it was fine. She could still move. She looked down at the rigid warriors and threw the axe in her hand at the snickering demon.
-Crash!
“Ugh!”
“You idiots! I’m-! Still-! Alive-!!”
She shouted roughly and pulled another axe from her waist. Though her whole body wasn’t moving perfectly, the fact that she could move at all in this battlefield set her apart from the others.
The demons looked down at her and burst into laughter.
“Soon, our mother will arrive. What meaning does your little struggle have? You, and your handful of warriors, won’t live past today.”
“I don’t–! Care–!!”
Aeren shouted with veins popping. Her hair rose like a lion’s mane. Magic enveloped her body. Her body felt lighter. It was a good sign. At least it meant she could die fighting.
She straightened her back, holding the axe, and climbed over the corpse of a fallen demon. Her stiffened, trembling warriors all looked at her.
“If you have arms, then fight!”
Raise your spirits! If your arm falls off, bite with your teeth! Warriors! Warriors of the North! Do not submit to death, for death is neither our enemy nor our master. It was merely our friend!”
Passion filled the eyes of the warriors. Fragile and faint, but unmistakably. Sardiel of strength and justice. The dormant archangel within her soul awakened, and its influence began to radiate in all directions.
-Whirr!
A brilliant light descended behind her head. Her lion-like, flowing hair shone pure white, and the warriors, bathed in that light, slowly turned their gaze to her and began to adjust their weapons.
“You, heroes of the North! Do not live as slaves to death! Rise, rise! Our fate has already left our hands, and rather than living a day as cowards, let us die as heroes in a single moment! No one, no one at all!”
“No one can live forever!!”
The warriors shouted in unison with her speech, shaking off their fear. Seeing this, a demon frowned and began to approach her.
-Kugugugung!!
Soon, beyond. Beyond the camp, eerie vibrations and noises echoed. Like flames extinguished under a storm, the starlights faded, and in the wind, a mix of sticky oil, sulfur, and the stench of blood, flesh, and decay filled the air.
The approaching demons and despair. Though she couldn’t see their true form, she instinctively realized that the final act of this battle had begun.
-Kiiiiik—!!
The sound was like a scream from the heavens. Aeren gripped her axe and watched as the horde of demons thundered toward her. She would take as many as she could. She would not die alone.
“I heard your speech well, friend.”
At that moment. A voice tinged with laughter came from above her head. In a moment that felt like time had stopped, Aeren felt a chill run down her spine as she looked up at the being gazing down at her.
“Touching. Yes, that’s right. I wanted you not to fear me. So, ‘friend’. My friends. Aren’t these lives too precious to fade away like this? Hmm?”
With wild hair spreading in all directions, a face and limbs revealing bones. Loft hummed as he watched the approaching demons.
“Leave the battlefield of the gods to the gods, and Ragnarok to the Einherjar. That’s what we’ve been preparing for… Now, isn’t that right, Botan? Freya? Banadis, I’ll borrow your power.”
-Kugugugung!!
The blue lights floating around his body scattered in all directions. Like a rain of snowflakes, tiny blue sparks seeped deep into the ground where she stood, where her warriors stood.
Like the conductor of an orchestra, Loft waved his bony fingers and laughed.
“Now, Banadis. With your authority… and with the authority I hold. I will open… the Hall of the Einherjar.”
-Kwaddeuduk.
Aeren flinched and stepped back. The ground beneath her feet began to tremble. Soon, bones broke through the surface. Followed by rusted steel weapons, faded armor, and tattered banners…
Ah, Aeren narrowed her eyes as she saw their forms. Withered, decayed, and crumbling, but beneath the stiff woolen fabrics, faintly visible patterns she knew all too well.
Hazart Haran, Hazart Kazal, Hazart Turan… and countless other clans. Those already fallen, or now forgotten. Regardless of their origins…
Beneath the ground where she and her soldiers stood, one by one. Skeletons that looked as if they would crumble at any moment began to rise.
From the distant past, when the Northern Temple of the Gods was pure. Warriors who fought for honor were rising. The Einherjar, even after death. Warriors who had sworn to prevent the end of the world were rising from the Hall of the Slain.
Warriors who had forged their souls into swords for eternal struggle. Armor forged from ancient steel, rusted chainmail, and cold remains devoid of muscle or blood.
But their souls and wills were not bound by the limits of matter.
-Kugugugung!!
The tide of demons was upon them. The skeletal warriors raised their weapons and faced forward. Soon, a brutal collision swept across the battlefield. Blood, flesh, and shattered bones began to scatter in all directions.
But they did not falter. Even before the vast horde of demons, they did not falter or crumble. The skeletal warriors moved forward, slowly and painfully, but step by step.
-Kwang! Kwang! Kwajijijik!
The noise of the battlefield enveloped everything. Yet it was closer to silence. There were no screams, cries, or groans that should have filled a battlefield.
A rusted, broken sword shattered the demon’s sturdy breastplate and rose. As they held back the endless tide of demons, these silent warriors only let out a mental roar.
[…!!]
Aeren stared blankly at the ancient warriors swinging their swords at the front lines. Their mental cries slowly began to echo in her mind.
Unfamiliar words and tones, and rough shouts. They were repeating one phrase. Over and over.
[Val—halla—!!]
That was all! The chorus of the dead, the battle cry, the final words, the screams, groans, and roars. All those words were solely for the glory, honor, and duty of Valhalla!
And the scene from the ancient epic that prophesied the end, the legendary scenes, were being realized on every battlefield before their eyes.
Aeren quickly regained her composure and shouted to the warriors standing in a daze.
“Go! Follow your ancestors! Do not retreat!”
The warriors, who had been cowering and overwhelmed by the enemy’s numbers just moments ago, raised their weapons in unison. A new passion began to burn in their eyes. No matter how the war began, it would end here. Even if the worst moment comes, it would only be death!
Warriors who had thought death was certain and tried to flee to avoid a meaningless death. Even those who had resigned themselves to death and let their weapons hang. They all looked at their ancestors marching ahead and steeled their resolve.
“Fight! Die! No one lives forever!”
“Only! Glory is eternal!!”
“Heroes of the North! Fight and die!”
“Val—halla—!!”
The warriors poured out the same words as their ancestors and began to advance toward the front lines.
It was the beginning of Ragnarok. Loft looked down at the scene and smiled contentedly.
“Botan. This is the North we dreamed of.”
![[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")
