Another of Mýra’s potions.

  The same that had put their enemies to sleep earlier now washed away the bloodlust, snuffing out his fury and replacing it with something warmer, far less appropriate for a battlefield.

  His growl melted into a breath.

  Kara stepped closer, unaware of the pull twisting through his chest.

  The smell of blood lingered, but so did the perfume. And for a terrible moment, Karl wasn’t sure which stirred the wolf more.

  The sweetness hit him first—soft, like honey warmed by the sun. It mixed with the remnants of Mýra’s potion that still drifted through the air, heady and floral. Together, they melted the fury inside him. The wolf’s rage receded.

  His fur shimmered with moonlight before dissolving into steam. The Moonlight Meter burned out, and in the next blink, Karl stood human again.

  Naked.

  Both women turned toward him. For a moment, no one moved. His face went scarlet. Heat flooded his ears as the cool air bit against his bare skin. The potion’s lingering scent made it worse, winding through his head with dangerous softness.

  Then, mercifully, his enchanted clothes shimmered back into being, materializing over his skin in a ripple of white light. He drew in a shaky breath and stood upright, forcing composure.

  “I—uh… I’m sorry,” Karl managed.

  Kara stepped closer, her expression calm but unreadable. “No need to explain,” she said, taking his hand gently with her left. The contact grounded him. Her fingers were cold against his palm, but her grip was steady—human.

  From behind them, Mýra’s voice cut through the quiet. “She’s still alive.”

  Karl turned, startled. Mýra had already walked to where he’d hurled the feline huntress against the tree. The woman’s body was mangled—limbs bent at unnatural angles—but her chest still rose and fell. Shallow, trembling breaths.

  It didn’t seem possible she’d survived.

  Vines slithered from Mýra’s hands, coiling around the woman’s torso to pin her to the bark. “Best she doesn’t try to crawl away,” Mýra muttered.

  “That’s not necessary,” the huntress rasped. Her voice was rough, more growl than words. Her amber eyes flicked open—slit pupils gleaming in the half-light. “Your dog over there already did enough.”

  Karl froze. The voice clawed at something deep in his memory.

  No. It couldn’t be.

  He stepped closer, his pulse drumming in his ears. “That can’t be…”

  Kara’s gaze darted to him. “What is it?”

  Karl stared at the woman’s face smeared with blood. Beneath the broken sneer and wild markings, he saw that cruel smirk that used to haunt every school day.

  He swallowed hard. “You’re… Agnetha.”

  The name tasted like ash.

  A flicker of recognition passed through her expression before it twisted into something far darker. Her lips parted in a smile that was more fang than flesh, blood staining her teeth.

  “Well,” she croaked, voice hoarse but dripping with venom. “Hello, Karly.”

  The old nickname struck harder than any arrow. His gut turned cold.

  Agnetha—the girl who’d stood beside Viktor, laughing as they’d shoved him into lockers. The girl who’d looked at him with disgust when he’d tried to fight back.

  And now, somehow, she was here. Blessed by Freyja.

  PART II

  WOLF

  10

  BLUETOOTH

  The smell of burnt pine and blood still clung to the clearing. Snow fell in wet, heavy flakes, melting on Karl’s armor as he crouched beside Agnetha’s body.

  “Mýra,” he said quietly. “Can you keep her alive?”

  The Huldra didn’t answer. Her red hair was plastered to her face with sweat and melted snow, her vine-covered hands moving in practiced rhythm. Green light pulsed beneath her fingers as she pressed healing balms into the woman’s torn chest. The vines wrapped around Agnetha’s body like serpents, holding flesh together that didn’t want to stay whole.

  Karl’s hope thinned with every heartbeat.

  He glanced toward Kara. She stood nearby, her arms crossed, eyes shadowed with worry. They watched as Mýra’s efforts faltered. Agnetha’s lips twitched once, then stilled. The wicked little smile she’d worn before losing consciousness vanished, replaced by a slack emptiness.

  Then her eyes rolled back, and she went still.

  Alpha Path: lvl 4 (30/140 Reiði)

  Wealth (+8): 6,273 Gold

  Karl waited for the System’s cold confirmation of the failed quest, and it didn’t disappoint.

  Quest Failed: Meat for the Many

  “So much for diplomacy. The Ravenjaw Lodge and Hollowfang Kin decided that “sharing the forest” meant sharing each other’s throats. Visby’s granaries remain emptier than your promises, and the villagers have started chewing on bark again—this time without seasoning. Congratulations, Jarl. You’ve achieved the rare feat of making starvation political.”

  Settlement Impact:

  Food Stores: –20 (Famine Deepens)

  Morale: –15

  Project Locked: Smokehouse Construction (Tier I)

  Karl exhaled through his teeth. One glance at his Settlement Overview confirmed his failure.

  Resources

  Population: 312

  Happiness: 70% (Proud, but hungry)

  Morale: 58% (Worried about food and Jarl)

  Food Stores: 8/100 (Fields ruined by chasm; hunters lost)

  Wood: 10

  Stone: 75

  Iron: 12

  Gold: 540

  The glowing red words soon vanished, leaving behind an eerie silence.

  He stared down at Agnetha’s body. She’d been his enemy, but she’d also been human once. Maybe even good, long ago. Now he had to ride back to Visby and tell the widows there’d be no food again.

  Kara broke the quiet. “She was your high-school bully?”

  Her hand absently stroked Glær’s snowy mane, voice soft but curious.

  Karl nodded. “One of the worst.”

  He didn’t look at her as he said it. His eyes stayed locked on Agnetha’s pale face, her blood seeping into the snow like spilled wine. He opened the pack-link between their minds.

  Instantly, the memories flowed.

  Running through dark trees. Laughter behind him. Viktor’s voice shouting his name as the other boys and the two girls of the group chased him into the frozen creek. The moment he tripped, his knees cracking on ice. The wolf that came from the fog, eyes gleaming gold, the same shade as the nightmare that had never left him.

  The memory blurred, shifting. A cafeteria table. Agnetha smirking as she poured glue into his carton of milk. He couldn’t even remember who had packed that lunch—only the taste of glue on his tongue, the sickness that followed, and the shame of being laughed at while he vomited on the floor.

  Sorry, Karl said across the link, though he wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to.

  Kara’s presence pulsed faintly in his mind. I’ve seen worse.

  And then her own memory surfaced, unbidden. The Justinian Plague. He saw through her eyes—her own body covered in swollen buboes, her sister dying beside her. The smell made his eyes water. He gagged, pulling back instinctively.

  Kara smiled faintly when he looked at her again. Her eyes were ancient. “You don’t get to live this long without dying a few times.”

  A wet, unpleasant sound snapped both their heads around.

  Mýra was elbow-deep in Agnetha’s chest.

  “Oh gods,” Karl muttered, horror and fascination mixing in his gut. “What are you doing?”

  The Huldra looked up, expression blank as she withdrew hands slick with blood. “What?” she said, confused by his tone. “It’s not like she’s going to need any of this. And she was unkind to the animals.”

  She twisted her wrist, pulling something wet and glistening free. “It’s only fair,” she added, “that she feed them now.”

  Karl’s stomach turned, but he couldn’t look away. The vines that bound Agnetha’s corpse began to slither, curling around the extracted organ.

  You could learn from her, Fenrir’s voice murmured in the back of his mind. She wastes nothing.

  Karl’s hands trembled, though whether from disgust or the wolf’s dark approval, he couldn’t tell. Snow continued to fall, creating a ghostly hush around them.

  Karl stared at Kara, horrified. Blood steamed from the snow in crimson veins, yet she barely flinched.

  She exhaled softly, brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. It didn’t seem to faze her much.

  And why should it?

  The Vikings had lived in a cruel era marked by warfare and cruelty. Whatever Mýra was doing—elbow-deep in Agnetha’s remains—wasn’t the darkest thing Kara had witnessed.

  I like her, Fenrir murmured, voice curling through Karl’s skull like smoke.

  I’m not surprised, Karl thought back, forcing the image of Mýra’s crimson-soaked hands from his mind.

  After watching the Huldra carve into his former bully like a deer, he had almost forbidden her from touching another corpse. But with more than forty bodies littering the snow—Ravenjaw and Hollowfang hunters alike, torn apart by their own frenzy—he finally relented when she promised not to desecrate any more.

  He was glad he did. The loot was considerable.

  Item: 20x Hardened Leather Straps (Common)

  Item: 6x Iron Wolf-Head Pendants (Rare)

  Item: 3x Frost-Bound Antlers (Rare)

  Item: 1x Bearskin Cloak (Rare)

  Wealth (+563): 6,836 Gold

  Honor (–25): 2,000

  The message burned across his vision before fading. Karl grimaced at the loss of Honor. Even the System had a sense of irony.

  When the last pouch was tied shut, he noticed Kara standing apart from the group. Her hand rested over the mouth of a slain hunter, one missing several fingers. Karl’s stomach knotted. He remembered that man’s scream when he’d torn into him as a wolf.

  A flicker of guilt passed through him like cold fire.

  There has to be a way to help her, he thought, watching the sorrow shadowing her face.

  Fenrir’s dark chuckle rolled through his mind. Help her? Or yourself?

  Karl didn’t answer. He turned toward the horses instead. Snow crunched under his boots as he lifted one of the heavier packs onto Glær’s saddle.

  By the time they started back toward Visby, the sun had dipped low, staining the snowfields gold and blood-orange. The silence between them stretched, filled only by the creak of leather and the dull clop of hooves.

  Karl’s stomach growled loud enough to make Mýra glance up. The hunger had returned—stronger this time, gnawing at him like claws beneath his ribs. His werewolf curse demanded constant feeding. It felt like he was going through puberty all over again.

  He dug through his satchel and pulled out three wrapped troll steaks, surprised to find they hadn’t rotted. Their seared edges glistened faintly blue with enchantment.

  “Hungry?” he offered.

  Mýra wrinkled her nose. “I prefer my meat without curses.”

  Kara shrugged. “I’ll take one.”

  Karl tossed it to her and downed the other two himself. The taste was thick and smoky, the texture oddly sweet—like venison soaked in blood and sprinkled with lightning. Warmth spread through his limbs almost immediately, easing the ache in his ribs.

  Item: Seared Troll Tenderloin x3 (Rare) — Restores 55 HP and 55 Stamina. Heals +10 HP every 60 sec. Grants 5% Cold Resistance for 15 min.

  His Health bar glowed, filling slowly. Still, the hunger didn’t fade. Not completely.

  The more you grow in my power, Fenrir snarled, the hungrier you will become.

  Karl swallowed the last bite. Is that why you wanted to eat the Sun?

  The wolf’s laugh scraped through his mind. Yes.

  A vision followed—of a blazing sphere devoured by jaws of shadow, the sky tearing apart in silence. Strangely, the image made Karl’s mouth water.

  He shook it off and urged Glær forward. The forest deepened around them, branches sagging under the weight of snow. Wind hissed through the pines, carrying the faint cry of ravens.

  Neither woman spoke. Mýra hummed under her breath, the tune faint and dissonant, while Kara rode beside him, eyes scanning the trees.

  Karl’s thoughts churned in the quiet.

  How could Agnetha be here?

  He hadn’t said the words aloud. Not even Fenrir answered. But the question wouldn’t let him rest. If Agnetha—the girl who’d tormented him back home—could exist in this System-twisted Midgard, then others could too.

  Could Viktor be here?

  The name alone made his fingers tighten around the reins. Back on Earth, Viktor had been the worst of them, being the leader of the bullies. Here, with System powers and enchanted weapons, the man would be an unstoppable menace.

  The thought of facing him again, in this savage new world, chilled Karl more than the winter wind.

  He needed something to focus on—anything to drown that fear. So he opened his interface and spent his accumulated wrath on a new werewolf ability.

  Moonfang Strike

  Description: Your claws and teeth become empowered by lunar energy.

  Effect:

  Deals 150% weapon damage as physical + radiant.

  Applies Lunar Bleed: 15% of target’s max HP over 8 sec.

  On critical hit: bleed duration increases to 12 sec.

  Cost: 3 Reiði Points

  Stamina: 25

  Cooldown: 12 sec

  Would you like to purchase?

  A dark purr rippled through Karl’s mind as he purchased Moonfang Strike with his remaining Reiði points.

  Karl ignored him, though he could still feel the weight of the upgrade burning through his veins. His muscles thrummed with power, his senses sharpened, but his stomach—gods, his stomach felt hollow again, as though something vast inside him had opened its jaws.

  If he was going to be cursed, he might as well be strong. But strength, he was learning, came with its own appetite.

  By the time the snow-covered gates of Visby came into view, his hunger had twisted into something sharp and restless. The sight that greeted him didn’t help.

  Dozens of villagers waited at the palisade, their faces pinched and expectant. Children clung to their mothers’ skirts. Men leaned on spears, eyes hollow with hope. Even Thorstein, Björn, and Egil stood near the gate—faces brightening as Karl rode closer, only to dim when they saw his expression.

  Thorstein’s friendly grin collapsed into a heavy frown. Behind him, several widows who had watched Karl ride out that morning began to weep silently, their shoulders shaking. Their children whimpered beside them, voices thin from hunger.

  A crimson blur streaked through the falling snow.

  Ratatoskr landed on Karl’s shoulder in a puff of frost, tail flicking like an excited banner. His eyes glowed an unnatural red—less manic than before, but rimmed with exhaustion.

  “Ah,” the Trickster sniffed around Karl’s cheek, “our new Jarl returns! Judging by the smell, he ate everything. Did you at least spare the hunters?”

  Karl gave him a tired glare. “We were ambushed.”

  He didn’t add and it was my fault.

  He led his horse through the gate, trying not to meet the widows’ eyes as their sobs rose behind him. Mýra dismounted quietly, Björn helping her down with a disappointed grunt.

  Karl gave the short version of what had happened. He left out the part about Agnetha. No one needed to know that one of his old-world ghosts had followed him into this realm.

  Thorstein tried to cheer him. “At least you brought back good loot.”

  Egil, ever pragmatic, pointed toward the farmland beyond the main hall. “And we finished the terraces. Björn and I made sure no one broke their neck climbing down. Took all day, but the first shoots are already pushing through the soil.”

  Karl followed his gaze. Where the chasm had once yawned lifeless, rows of pale-green terraces now gleamed under the thawing sun. Water trickled from ledge to ledge, catching the light like silver veins. Villagers moved along the paths, planting seedlings in the moist earth. Children carried buckets of meltwater and chased each other between the levels, their laughter echoing through the canyon.

  For a moment, he just stood there in his exhaustion. The wound in the land looked less like a scar now with the abundance of life taking root.

  Quest Completed: Soil from Stone

  “Well, well. Look at you, turning divine punishment into real estate. The chasm no longer looks like Fenrir’s chew toy—it’s now Gotland’s most scenic death trap with stairs!”

  Rewards:

  Food Output: +10/day (Terraced Fields operational)

  Morale: +10 (Villagers proud of their “Hanging Gardens”)

  Unlocks New Project: Verdant Chasm (Tier II Agricultural Upgrade)

  Honor (+25): 2,025

  Charisma (+10): lvl 2 (10/30)

  Glory (+200): 925

  Level (+1): 28 (50/290)

  Skill Points (+1): 3

  Bonus Rewards:

  Item: Chasm Pebble (Unknown) — Vibrates faintly when dropped.

  Still, the System’s faint red glow did little to ease the weight in his chest. They could have had thirty food a day, not just ten.

  Nevertheless, it felt good to see his Visby stats increase. Plus, he did get a Chasm Pebble, which vibrated slightly in his pocket for some reason.