HERO OF MIDGARD 2

  G. A. JENSEN

  ALSO BY G. A. JENSEN

  Hero of Rome Series (Roman LitRPG)

  Hero of Rome: Box Set (Books 1-6)

  Caesar Royale: A Hero of Rome Novella

  Hero of Midgard Series (Viking LitRPG)

  Hero of Midgard: Book 1

  Hero of Midgard: Book 2

  Ragnar Raids Valhalla: A Hero of Midgard Novella

  The Shepherd Saga (Epic Fantasy)

  Birth of Destiny

  Tales of the Old World

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank my beautiful, beloved wife, Megan Jensen, who has continued to support me in everything I do. The countless hours I have spent writing were only possible because of her encouragement. Thank you, truly, for everything. And thank you for bringing our children into the world and taking such good care of them. My heart has never been fuller. I love you.

  I would also like to thank Jon Shreve, who gave me tremendously helpful feedback.

  And as always, I want to thank my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who has saved my soul and blessed me far more than I ever deserve.

  Copyright © 2025 by G. A. Jensen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  G. A. Jensen has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

  Wake early if you want another man’s life or land. No lamb for the lazy wolf. No battle’s won in bed.

  — HÁVAMÁL

  CONTENTS

  I. Jarl

  1. Smells Like Bacon

  2. Jarl of Visby

  3. Werewolf Powers

  4. Chop Chop

  5. Tasty Trolls

  6. Homemade Cooking

  7. Pack Fur Life

  8. “Peaceful” Negotiations

  9. You’re Not From Around Here, Are You?

  II. Wolf

  10. Bluetooth

  11. Stress Eating

  12. Unicorn Snacks

  13. Turn Up the Heat

  14. Dvergr Forge Dungeon

  15. Brokk Prime

  16. A Familiar, Ugly Face

  17. Rocket Man

  18. Slay the Blessed Bastards

  III. Bastards

  19. Cooking for Life

  20. Dwarven Armor

  21. Viking Feast

  22. Archery Competition

  23. Siege of Constantinople

  24. Oh Whale

  25. Never Drink With a Viking

  26. Overcrowded

  27. Murder Garden

  28. I’m Sorry

  29. Viking Beauty Pageant

  30. Just a Hint of Lust

  31. Mirror Mirror

  32. Rock Climbing Sucks

  33. Stealth Mode

  34. False Faces

  35. Smarter Than He Looks

  36. Get Your Head in the Game

  IV. Bully

  37. One Last Feast

  38. Rainbow Party

  39. Cloudy With a Chance of Death

  40. Trial of Thor

  41. Franklin

  42. The Pack

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Hero of Rome: Book 1 Sneak Peek

  1. Antiquitus

  More From G. A. Jensen

  About the Author

  PART I

  JARL

  1

  SMELLS LIKE BACON

  Karl burst into the forest, snow exploding beneath his paws.

  For a heartbeat, he thought he was dreaming. The claws before his eyes—his claws—sank into the crusted ground, yanking him forward at a speed beyond anything Ullr’s blessing had ever given. His body stretched, all four legs pounding, the rhythm alien yet frighteningly natural. A roar ripped out of his throat, so sharp and wild that the trees hurled it back at him.

  What am I? Karl thought, horror pressing against his mind.

  We are one, Fenrir’s voice chuckled inside him, hot and heavy as iron against his chest. This is the price for binding my soul into yours. You will be as I am. A beast.

  “No.”

  The word tore from Karl’s throat, but it came out as a guttural snarl, saliva flecking the snow. The rage in him burned like a furnace, magnetic, always tugging toward Kara. Her face filled his mind even as his wolf’s body carried him forward, and how she held the stump of her severed right hand…

  She had fled only moments ago, her own curse bursting forth, her form twisting into a sleek wolf. Disgust and shame had driven her into the night. Now Karl sprinted after her, desperate, terrified of losing her.

  Her scent lingered—a faint musk of pine sap and steel oil—but new senses crashed down on him. Every heartbeat in the forest struck his ears: the frantic thump of a rabbit buried under snow, the sly scuttle of a fox weaving through brush. His pupils widened, and the night flared bright as day. Shadows sharpened, every trunk and branch etched in silver.

  Behind him, Visby smoldered. The smoke carried the sweetness of tavern stew and the harsher bite of charred wood. It mixed with the iron tang of blood still staining the ground from the battle against the Cult of Eternal Night.

  Karl vaulted a fallen log, claws skidding on ice, and landed in a spray of powder. A red notification seared across his vision.

  New Quest: Bring Kara Home

  “She ditched you mid-howl. Track her down before you join the full-moon singles club.”

  Primary Objective: Track Kara’s trail across the wilds (0/1)

  Rewards:

  +250 Reiði

  Pack Skill (telepathic link with Kara)

  The words burned in his mind, visible only to him. Reiði meant nothing right now. Come on, come on, he begged, racing harder.

  He found her tracks at last: deep claw marks pressed into the snow, the scent of sap and oil clinging to them. It was her. He bent low, nose brushing the ground, ignoring Fenrir’s whisper.

  Don’t fret, the wolf mocked. You can always find another mate for your pack.

  Karl shoved the thought aside. His eyes glued themselves to the trail, every broken twig, every snapped branch a breadcrumb pulling him deeper. So focused was he that he never saw the trunk until it slammed him square in the chest. The impact splintered the bark into shards.

  He staggered, stunned. But instead of searing pain, his body absorbed it like he had struck a sack of hay.

  “What… am I?” Karl rasped, rising to his hind legs. His new body loomed taller than ever before, muscles coiling with unnatural strength.

  More than you will ever realize, Fenrir chuckled.

  “Go away,” Karl growled aloud. His voice was darker, menacing, as if it no longer belonged to him.

  Thirty-two seconds, Fenrir replied.

  A glowing bar flickered into Karl’s sight.

  Moonlight Meter: 32/60

  Karl blinked. “What the heck is that?”

  The measure of how long you can hold my form. With each level of Wrath, another minute. Devour enough prey, and it expands faster.

  Karl brushed snow from his limbs, realization dawning that he was—once again—completely naked, though this time as a werewolf. “Why am I always naked in the forest?”

  Wolves don’t wear clothes, though you can prevent transforming into your weak, naked vessel if you just ate someone, Fenrir said slyly.

  “I’m not going to eat anyone⁠—”

  “Hey! Who’s there?”

  The shout came from behind. Karl dove into the snow, heart slamming.

  Twenty seconds left.

  The stench hit him before the sight: rancid sweat, piss, rotted breath. A bandit lumbered forward, boots crunching. The man’s stink should have repelled Karl, yet beneath it pulsed something intoxicating. The blood. A hint of fear. It coated Karl’s senses like butter sizzling in a pan.

  No, Karl thought, but his throat burned with hunger.

  Do it, Fenrir urged.

  No.

  Devour him. NOW!

  Karl clenched his eyes shut, the beast clawing inside his skull. His body trembled as the bandit stumbled closer, torchlight bobbing. And then Karl saw beyond the man, past the trees, where a soft orange glow flickered.

  A camp.

  Firelight licked up the trunks, shadows jittering. Karl’s vision sharpened on the scene: three prisoners bound to trees, wrists lashed so tight that blood ran down their fingers. Gags frozen stiff with spit. One was a boy, shoulders shaking with muffled sobs.

  Around the fire lounged eleven more bandits. One hunched with a spear, carving its tip while leering at the captive wo
man. Another gnawed greasy meat, yellow teeth grinding, each crunch loud enough to drive Karl insane. The grease dripped into his beard, shining in the fire. Others passed a skin of ale, laughing, their laughter edged with cruelty.

  The smells slammed into Karl’s mind, pulling him forward: sweat, iron, woodsmoke, roasted meat. His stomach growled, half hunger, half revulsion. Unconsciously, his claws flexed, scraping ice, as he imagined them tearing into throats.

  Don’t, he told himself. That’s not me…

  Fenrir’s voice slid through him, velvet over a blade. This is what you are now: Predator. Do you not feel how sweet their fear is? How warm their blood will be on your tongue?

  Karl forced himself to think of Kara instead. Her eyes. How she laughed in the thrill of battle. The way she looked back before bolting into the night. If he gave in now, would she ever forgive him? Would he forgive himself?

  The Moonlight Meter ticked again.

  Moonlight Meter: 07/60

  His time was almost gone. Soon his strength would vanish, leaving him naked, shivering, and weak like before.

  The bandit closest raised his torch, peering into the dark. “Thought I saw something.”

  Karl’s breath hissed between sharp teeth. The scent of the man’s blood filled his nose, intoxicating. Hunger surged again, a tide he could barely hold back.

  Give me the reins, Fenrir whispered. Just for a moment. I will feed us both.

  Karl gritted his teeth, claws gouging deep grooves in the snow. “No.” His voice came out ragged, almost human.

  The torchlight swept closer. Prisoners whimpered, their muffled cries mixing with the laughter of their captors. The boy’s wide eyes reflected the fire, desperate, pleading.

  Karl’s muscles coiled. His rage and hunger burned together, so fierce they almost drowned out his fear.

  Almost.

  One of the bandits leaned close, his voice sharp and nagging, more needling than commanding. “Where’s the treasure, old man? Tell us, and maybe your brats live.” His chest puffed like a rooster, finger jabbing the prisoner’s face. From the purple bruises and welts carved into the captives’ skin, the interrogation had dragged on for hours.

  Karl’s claws dug into the earth. Rage boiled through him.

  Five seconds, Fenrir’s voice whispered, as if taunting. And you will be too weak to save them. What a shame.

  Karl’s breath steamed as his Moonlight Meter bled away. His control slipped like snow through open hands.

  But then one of the bandits wandered toward the daughter, fingers tracing her chin, cruel smile widening at her trembling.

  Karl broke.

  He launched from the shadows like a spring snapping. Snow exploded as he slammed the closest man into the ground. The bandit shrieked, runes glowing faintly in his palm, but Karl’s jaws clamped down before the spell could flare. His teeth tore through beard, flesh, and throat in one savage crunch. Hot blood sprayed across Karl’s muzzle, steaming in the cold, pouring into his throat like fire.

  The man convulsed once, then went limp. The snow beneath turned pink, melting from the heat of life draining out of him.

  For a moment, Karl froze, both disgusted and electrified. The taste burned bitter yet thrilling, a lightning bolt of strength filling his limbs.

  Moonlight Meter: 07/60

  Alpha Path: lvl 0 (10/100 Reiði)

  The bandit leader spun, eyes wide. “A werewolf!”

  The others scrambled, weapons snatched up in a frenzy. “Get him!”

  Axes crackled with sparks. At least three of them bore Thor’s blessing, lightning hissing off the runes etched into their weapons. They charged together, unwilling to face Karl one-on-one.

  The first hurled his axe. Karl blurred forward with blinding speed, closing the gap before the weapon even struck snow. He slammed into the man, driving him back into the frost, and ripped his throat wide. Warmth surged into his body, the Moonlight Meter ticking upward.

  The corpse hit the snow just as two more thundered down with electrified axes. They slammed the ground, the force shaking the earth and blasting Karl backward into a pine. Bark shattered, splinters stabbing into his back.

  Health: 80/120

  Karl staggered up, surprised the blow hadn’t gutted him. His wolf hide had absorbed most of the damage. He bared his teeth, growl rattling as a warning.

  Two others burst forward, unnaturally quick. Their feet hardly touched the snow as they circled him, trails of white powder spraying with every darting step. Freya’s blessing, her speed, helping them move faster than mortal men. Karl swiped in a wide arc, claws gleaming. He caught one, his strike tearing him apart in three gruesome pieces. The second slipped through, faster, knife flashing.

  Steel slashed Karl’s shoulder.

  Health: 60/120

  “Not good,” Karl snarled through clenched teeth. He whirled and slashed the bandit into ribbons, fury ripping through his claws.

  Another voice cut through the fray, deep and sharp. A man with eyes black as ravens advanced, spear tip glowing faintly. “Strike his tendons!” he barked. His weapon thrust again and again, always just ahead of Karl’s movements. Cuts opened along Karl’s arms and legs, shallow but stinging, as if the man could read his intentions.

  Karl stumbled back, scrambling in the snow. His chest heaved, blood steaming from fresh wounds. Can I activate any powers while I fight?

  You can, Fenrir murmured, amused. But you shouldn’t need them. You are already enough.

  An Ullr-blessed archer raised his bow, string glittering with frost. A flurry of ice arrows hissed through the night. Karl dove, snow bursting under his claws. He seized a clump of packed ice, hurled it with inhuman force past the spearman, and vanished.

  He teleported directly behind the archer thanks to his Elf Leap ability, claws already swinging. The strike tore through the spine and ribs, severing the man clean in one blow.

  The bandit beside him screamed in heartbreak. He must have been a friend. The burly man raised a shield glowing with Týr’s justice and slammed it forward, tears filling his eyes. The impact shuddered through Karl’s body, vibrating with divine force. But Karl was too heavy, too monstrous to be moved. With a snarl, he caught the shield, pressed against its glow until cracks spread across the rune-work, and slammed it back into the bandit’s face. Bone and steel caved in with a sickening crunch.

  Karl tore free, leaping into another pair of bandits. His claws became a storm, ripping through armor, flesh, and bone. Each kill dissolved the blackened corpses the raven-eyed man had raised earlier, their foul smoke dissipating into the night.

  Moonlight Meter: 18/60

  Another Thor-blessed warrior rushed forward, lightning spitting from his axe. Then he blurred, split, and split again until six identical figures surrounded Karl. They spoke in unison, voices booming like thunder. “Which one is real?”

  Karl lunged, clawing through one illusion, then another. Each was shredded into black smoke. His strikes hit nothing solid, only scattering the mirages. They closed in, axes raised high, lightning sparking across the circle.

  Fenrir’s laughter rumbled in Karl’s skull.

  Karl’s chest heaved, his vision swimming with rage, fear, and bloodlust. Eleven bandits had become fewer, but every survivor was blessed, every strike threatening to end him.

  Karl’s claws sank into snow and flesh at another strike, at last, the apparitions shattering like smoke when he struck. Their false forms vanished, leaving behind the last three real bandits, wide-eyed and cornered.