“I gotcha,” the Trickster said, chomping through the chain with his mechanical jaws. Somehow, it tore through. The moment the link severed, Karl’s neck was freed.

  “By the gods,” Karl said, choking as he grabbed his throat.

  “There is only one god, blasphemer,” Harald said before kicking Karl in the face with his metal boot.

  Karl flew backward next to the burning cross. Harald advanced on him with his own broadsword that hummed with power. The man began drawing a burning cross in the air. Karl did not want to know what the result would be. He scooped snow from the ground and smashed it against the burning cross, deactivating the debuff.

  Show them what my will is, Fenrir growled in Karl’s mind.

  As much as Karl hated to do the evil god’s bidding, he didn’t have much of a choice.

  Karl activated his werewolf ability, exploding into the transformation as his muscles stretched and his bones cracked to form the massive black monster he could become. He immediately lunged at Harald before the Templar could finish the cross, slashing him with a Moonfang Strike that made his claws glow more silver than the moon.

  He swept his claws down in a diagonal strike straight through the holy fire, which burned him as if it were ice-cold. But his glowing claws carried through, tearing apart the Templar cross on Harald’s chest before Karl followed up with a savage bite around the knight’s helmet.

  With a sickening crunch, he tore off the head. Harald Olaf screamed as he limped to his feet and raised his glowing sword to attack Karl.

  “You will burn in hell for this, dog!” Olaf shouted.

  Karl growled, not in the mood for theological debates, before taking a running sprint and leaping at the knight as the man swung his holy sword at him.

  2

  TEMPLAR THREAT

  “No, you cannot eat him,” Karl said for the fifth time as he dragged the bodies of the two Templars back to Visby in his werewolf form.

  “Oh, come on, what a buzzkill,” the Trickster said as he purred mechanically on Karl’s shoulder.

  Karl rolled his eyes. The Templar Olaf hadn’t stood a chance against Karl’s might, but he had put up a good fight. Still, it was not a match for Karl’s abilities; yet the attack unsettled him.

  Who the heck were those people?

  A second later, the System sent him a glowing red message to answer, along with the experience gained from the battle.

  System Message: “Wow, way to go eliminating the Norwegian kings Saint Olaf II Haraldsson and Harald Hardrada. Their God will have a special spot in hell for you now. At least you get to keep their loot!”

  Alpha Path (+1): lvl 7 (0/170 Reiði)

  Reiði Points (+1): 5

  Moonlight Meter is now 120/120

  Intelligence (+10): lvl 4 (30/50)

  Glory (+40): 2,065

  Level (+1): 37 (20/380)

  Skill Points (+1): 4

  Wealth (+6): 11,100 Gold

  Karl frowned as he threw the bodies before the Dwarven rune walls, which now glowed like a rainbow thanks to his new Bifrost Reactor blueprint that converted weather energy into a defensive shield.

  Karl’s archers on the walls scrambled to get down to him and open the gate. He could feel their fear and beating hearts, making his mouth salivate, but he had already gotten a snack—mostly from the Templars.

  Thanks to his leveling up of his Alpha Path, he could now purchase the third werewolf ability, which he happily did with his five Reiði Points.

  Moonflayer Veil

  Description: You erase your presence from hostile minds.

  Effect: Enter stealth for 10 sec as your body becomes liquid shadow. Enemies literally forget you exist unless directly harmed. Any enemy that attempts to notice you suffers −50% Perception for 3 sec. First attack deals +60% dmg and applies Confusion (1 sec).

  Cost: 5 Skill Points

  Stamina: 30

  Cooldown: 20 sec

  To become liquid shadow would be a great boon in a fight. That would have been extremely helpful against the Templars, especially since he could use it every 20 seconds. Oh well, at least he had it now.

  When the Trickster farted on Karl’s shoulder, Karl got an idea.

  “Hey, are those your shrooms?” Karl asked, pointing to a nearby tree.

  “Where?” the Trickster asked, the gears in his neck whirring as he looked with desperation. Karl grinned as he activated the Moonflayer Veil. Since Ratatoskr was not an enemy, he did not forget about Karl, but still, as Karl dashed away, causing the squirrel to fall face-first to the snow, he became nothing more than a shadow.

  The Trickster shook the snow from his metal face, looking with confusion at the spot Karl had been standing at moments ago. “Karl⁠—”

  “BOO!” Karl shouted right in the Trickster’s ears. The robotic squirrel squealed, oil trickling down his leg in fear as he scrambled backwards.

  Karl died of laughter at the sight as his furry form became visible a few seconds later.

  “Ha ha, so funny,” the Trickster mocked, shaking his body in the snow as if to rid himself of fear and his industrial urine. “I’ll make sure to wake you up like that one day with your new wolf bride.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Karl said, still grinning despite the Templar bodies cooling in the wind beside him. “She might just eat you.” For added effect, he snapped his jaws at the Trickster, who this time did not flinch.

  Karl let his Moonlight Meter count down to zero, allowing him to become human again, though he was naked for a few moments before his armor reformed around him. Before his men could reach him, he made sure to loot the Templars.

  There wasn’t much left, save for one item that felt like it burned him when he touched it.

  Item: Olaf’s Holy Gauntlet (Legendary) — Touch cleanses minor poisons, disease, and deformities. If the user places his hand on an ally’s wound for 2 seconds, stops bleeding and restores 5 percent HP. Once per long rest: Purifying Strike — user punches an enemy with a radiant blow, dealing +60 holy damage and dispelling one buff.

  “That is so strange,” Karl said as he pocketed Olaf’s Holy Gauntlet. The rest of the loot was completely eviscerated by his attack. He would have to be more careful if he wanted better loot.

  He was curious about whatever rune they had used to activate that True Cross of Christ ability. It reminded him of Harald Bluetooth, who had long since passed, with his ability to cancel out divine blessings around him. This was stronger, though.

  “I think that was an earned ability,” Ratatoskr said as he leaped down to try to eat from the bodies before Karl snatched him by the metal tail and put him back on his shoulder.

  “Please,” Karl said.

  “Fine,” the Trickster said, huffing in disappointment. “But anyway, some cults and groups give abilities only to members. I doubt you’re going to be a crusading Templar anytime soon with your pagan establishment.”

  Karl was envious that he couldn’t get that power, but it made sense.

  “Karl!”

  A loud boom came from the gates as his men rushed out to surround him. Thorstein, the Werebear, came lumbering with a limp. His baggy bear eyes looked extremely tired—and maybe a little drunk if the ale on his breath was any indication. But he looked wide awake now, his eyes fixed with confusion on the two bodies before Karl.

  “So it’s true,” he said as he hobbled over. “I’m glad to see you’re okay, although that was a very dumb thing to do—to go out there by yourself.”

  “I think it’s part of the new buff I received about not being afraid anymore,” Karl said, shrugging.

  In hindsight, it was very dumb, but he survived.

  “Let’s take them back to the others. To the hall,” Thorstein said before ordering a few guards to help drag the bodies. “Hvitserk and Björn and the others are still awake, having drinks. We should discuss with them.”

  “You guys drink a lot,” the Trickster muttered as Karl followed the Werebear back into town.

  “Not surprising coming from you,” Thorstein said, chuckling.

  “Hey, I don’t drink as much anymore,” Ratatoskr said, folding his metal arms. “Alcohol doesn’t do wonders for my engine-like gut anymore.”

  “What’s that?” Thorstein said.

  “Ignore him,” Karl said.

  When they reached the hall, Thorstein hadn’t been jesting. Björn sat beside a sleeping Mýra—now human—lying in his lap as he chugged another ale horn and laughed in the great hall.

  Egil sat next to Björn, his face as red as his fluffy beard and messy hair as he laughed about some poem he was trying—and failing—to recite because he was very drunk.

  Glær, as usual, was mounted above the throne-like chair where Karl would sit at the back of the hall. He gazed down like some kind of god, tilting his head with curiosity as Karl, Thorstein, and the Trickster entered.

  Dozens of other Vikings were still drinking around the hall, with slave girls bustling about to provide drinks and other pleasures.

  “Ah, they came after all,” Hvitserk said, pulling up his pants as he came in behind Karl.

  Karl caught a whiff of piss and was slightly grossed out by the Vikings’ lack of sanitation. Hvitserk looked about the same age as Björn, with long blonde hair draping past his shoulders, fitted with many braids. He looked with disdain upon the Templars and spat at them, hawking a loogie onto the corpses as the guards dragged them into the hall.

  “You knew they would come?” Karl asked as they gathered with Björn, Egil, and Mýra at the table.

  “King Arthur is getting desperate,” Hvitserk said casually, as if nearly being assassinated was trivial.

  “Why didn’t you ask any of us for help?” Björn asked, his words slurring as he looked at Karl.

  “I think I can handle myself just fine,” Karl said with a smirk.

  “These assassins won’t be the last,” Hvitserk said, downing another ale horn, the drink dripping through his beard. “King Arthur assuredly will invade by spring. By the looks of it, he didn’t want you aiding Ragnar’s quest, which only further justifies you joining us.”

  Karl shifted uneasily on the wooden bench, wrapping his hands around a coffee mug handed to him by a brunette slave girl who stared at him with wide, awestruck eyes before leaving. He did not like the idea of leaving Visby, especially after everything they had accomplished and barely survived.

  “I will go regardless,” Björn said, raising an ale horn to Hvitserk, who nodded appreciatively.

  “What do you think?” Karl asked, turning to Thorstein, who stroked his furry chin while staring into the hearth, watching the flames flicker as if seeing something in them. It was hard to tell if he was just drunk or actually contemplating.

  “You will undoubtedly be safe here,” he began, “given your prowess, as you just demonstrated. But what are you going to do when the full host of King Arthur’s knights comes bearing down upon us?” He looked at Karl with sincerity. “The Vikings need a leader like Ragnar to unite them. But they all blame each other—and him—for their fleet being destroyed. But you, on the other hand, have the highest Honor ranking among us.”

  Karl thought of his back and leg tattoos that glowed white like ivory beneath his armor, thanks to his high honor.

  Karl sighed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised I got an honor quest because of it.”

  Hvitserk leaned closer to him. “The best defense for Visby is to help Ragnar launch his Great Heathen Army to England, to keep the armies of Camelot in their homeland. We cannot do this without you.”

  “Oh, sweet, I can’t wait to loot them,” the Trickster said as another slave girl handed him scrap metal from Knut’s Forge, which he had been eating a lot of lately. Karl grimaced as the Trickster crunched through the metal, sounding like nails on a chalkboard.

  “But I can’t just leave Visby,” Karl said, taking another long sip of coffee. It felt like magic in his body, waking every fiber.

  “I’m sure Thorstein and I can hold down the fort,” Egil said before letting out a loud burp.

  “Doesn’t sound very comforting,” Karl said with a weary smile.

  Thorstein chuckled. “We have our new god, after all,” he said, nodding toward Glær, who said nothing as he looked upon them like subjects—which, Karl guessed, they were.

  Karl wanted to ask both of them to come, but that would leave Visby too leaderless. Thorstein was a rock for their people, and Egil was the spirit, keeping morale high. Visby was humming like an economic machine thanks to Karl’s building projects and reforms.

  Still, leaving it behind felt sad. But what seemed like the worst choice was waiting around for King Arthur’s knights to invade Scandinavia and make their way to Gotland. That seemed cowardly—to let his people die while he sat in safety.

  Karl took a deep, heavy breath inside and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  Hvitserk smiled with relief, and the System prompted Karl with a new quest.

  New Quest: The Winter of Kings

  “Ragnar’s fleet has been shattered by Arthurian magic. If you fail to rebuild it before spring thaw, King Arthur will not wait for the Great Heathen Army. He will sail north, burn every holdfast from Denmark to Gotland, and convert the pagans to the Cross. No pressure. You’re only sixteen.”

  Primary Objectives:

  Unite the Winter Jarls under Ragnar’s banner (0/1)

  Rebuild a Fleet Worthy of the Heathen Army (0/1)

  Rewards:

  Settlement Upgrade: City of the Moon — Unlocks Mythic Mounts (Can summon your mount ANYWHERE via moonbeam, Mounts gain +50% Speed and +40% Defense). All food production +300%, food buffs last twice as long, warriors recovering here heal at +100% rate.

  Item: Wolf-King’s War-Standard (Legendary) — When raised on a battlefield or ship: All allies gain +30% Damage, +30% Defense, Fear Immunity, and frost and moonlight swirl around user, granting +20% movement speed.

  Item: Holmegaard Bow (Dei) — Time slows by 50% for everyone but the user, and its unbreakability allows it to be drawn in any condition (like Werewolf form).

  Fleet Reward: Viking Armada — 20 Heavy Longships, 40 Standard Longships, 1 Flagship, +35% Naval Damage, +30% Speed.

  “When do we leave?” the Trickster asked as he nibbled on the Templars’ battered sword behind them.

  “Tomorrow,” Karl said, the word heavy in his mouth.

  When Karl returned to his room, crouching carefully to activate his stealth bonuses so he wouldn’t wake Kara, he was surprised to see she was very much awake. She moved with haste as she picked up her blacksmithing gear and supplies from the tables along the walls, along with Brokkr’s Whetstone, which Karl had given her after defeating Hakon the werewolf so long ago. It glowed like an ember.

  “Oh, good, you can help me pack,” she said as she tossed him her new Ice Troll Bag, which Thorstein had ordered handcrafted for her using Karl’s Ice Troll Hides from his first days in Midgard. It would allow for forty items, similar to his Dwarven metal bag, which allowed thirty.

  “I’m guessing you overheard the conversation?” Karl asked with a playful, raised eyebrow.

  “They’re loud when they’re drunk,” she explained, shoving more things into her backpack, including clothes and what looked like perfumes.

  Kara had been very proactive and encouraging Karl to take on the quest to aid Ragnar, doing her best to dismiss his fears of leaving the town behind.

  Karl smiled as he watched her carefully place the wooden baby spoon teether Sigrid had given her as a wedding gift. Thorstein’s now-wife had been very proud to give her the grimy thing, as it had been Sigrid’s as a child, supposedly brought back to this new world through a System quest. It meant a lot to the tavern chef to give it to Kara.

  And Kara happily accepted it, as she had nothing yet in the way of baby toys, clothes, or anything for a newborn.

  Thinking about their upcoming child, Karl felt two terrifying emotions. He was completely unprepared for having a kid, and they were about to go on a dangerous quest with that kid growing inside her. Kara did not seem to mind.

  She finished packing her bag and tossed a couple of pastries Karl had cooked into the bag he was holding as he stood there. “You’re not worried at all about going to Sweden?” he asked, hesitant, as he helped her shove more clothes and supplies into her Ice Troll Bag, along with the werewolf Beta Pelts that lay messily across their bed; Kara had been excited to use those as their bed sheets.

  Karl frowned with a playful smile. “Why should I be? It’ll be good for him,” she said, rubbing her belly. Karl did not want to argue, especially since neither she nor he had any experience with children, though Karl was very excited to be a father.

  Karl didn’t even try to force her to stay, as that would be pointless. And even though he’d be endangering their child and her by going on this quest to Sweden, the intensity of their love made it feel impossible to leave her behind.

  And, abashedly, he didn’t know how long he could go without her.

  “You’re blushing again,” she said before giving him a quick kiss. Karl shook his head, trying to hide his red face, but she caught him and drew him near to her.

  “Let’s enjoy our last night before we have to sleep next to Ratatoskr,” she said, flashing him a smile.

  For a second, Karl thought with dread about sleeping next to Ratatoskr on a ship and enduring his deadly farts. But one glance at Kara’s pearly white teeth and rosy lips made him forget all about the dangers of tomorrow.

  3

  GOODBYE VISBY