Defense (Strength)

  Progression: Expand stone walls, engrave Dwarven runes, reinforce battlements.

  Current: Runefort Walls (Durability 350/350)

  Bonus: +90% total Defense (Stone + Rune + Dvergr + Divine)

  New Effect: Shield of the Wolf-King — 3-minute moonlight shield auto-triggers under siege.

  Next Upgrade: Sanctum-Fortress (Tier IV) — Requires Blessing of Thor and Freyja, 1,000 Stone, 500 Iron, 500 Gold.

  But Visby wasn’t the only thing to benefit. Karl kept his promise to Magnus and sent the green thumb back to Fröjel to help rebuild their farms, which Mýra helped to speed up the process; knowing those families would be well fed made it easier for Karl to sleep at night. Maybe there was always a better option when making decisions as a leader, maybe it didn’t always have to be a game of picking between poisons to ingest.

  Karl had also grown in his cooking and Alpha Path in that time, with plenty of cooking and hunting with Kara in his expanded kitchen, though not as much, as he had spent most of his time, well, enjoying the fruits of being a newlywed.

  Health (+70): lvl 11 (90/110)

  Alpha Path: lvl 6 (140/160 Reiði)

  Glory (+140): 2,025

  Level: 36 (350/370)

  “Hey—do you see that?” Kara asked, pulling him out of his self-reflection.

  Karl squinted, spotting a ship approaching from the distant horizon past the busy piers. It was a small boat, and only one man stood on it, holding the mast with one hand.

  He was a younger man with long blonde hair that draped past his shoulders. He looked strong and, for some reason, incredibly familiar. Karl first thought it was Björn, but that was impossible—Björn and Mýra were busy building a log cabin deep in the woods, Mýra’s idea.

  “Want to check it out?” Kara asked.

  Karl nodded, rising from the pier and firing an arrow at the boat to Elf Leap them aboard. They teleported onto the deck, Kara drawing her sword and Karl aiming his bow at the young man.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa—hold on,” the man said, stepping back.

  “Who are you?” Karl asked, his glowing blue antlered helmet casting soft light across the man’s face.

  “I’m Hvitserk,” he said. “Ragnar’s son.”

  Karl frowned, glancing at Kara.

  Does he have a son named Hvitserk? Karl asked through their continuous Pack Link.

  He does, Kara replied in his mind.

  “What do you want?” Karl said as he lowered his bow and Kara lowered her sword and extinguished the flame.

  “It’s about my father,” Hvitserk said. “He needs your help.”

  “With what?” Karl and Kara asked at the same time.

  “There have been… complications in raising the Great Heathen Army to invade England,” Hvitserk said.

  A problem in a system-enhanced world. Of course there was.

  Before Ragnar’s son even explained, Karl already felt they were about to go on another adventure; and for the first time, he felt genuinely excited with not a hint of fear.

  “Okay,” Karl said as he wrapped his fingers around Kara’s. “Let’s hear it.”

  EPILOGUE

  The Roman Empire had its Industrial Revolution almost two thousand years early.

  Sporus could hardly believe it as he walked hidden amongst the crowds of the Eternal City. Steam hissed from the hundreds of bronze vents carved into marble pillars and from the marble-paved streets bustling with life. Glass windows were in almost every building, reflecting a new Roman people who were equipped with watches, glasses, and enchanted bracelets mandated by the Empire that tracked their System status and their movements.

  Vendors lining the streets in their booths sold all kinds of devices like warming plates for coffee or mechanical familiars as companions. Sporus stopped to behold a machine horse at one of the stalls, joining the children who were astonished at the gear and tube comprised mare. Steam hissed out of its nose, causing some of the children to cry, but many to open their mouths in astonishment.

  Camilla would have liked to see this, Sporus thought, as he readjusted his dark hood to conceal his face. Thoughts of his deceased beloved pained him, so he buried the thought as he returned to his mission.

  The Roman Emperor Maximus had truly transformed the Empire at a breakneck speed. Ever since Maximus’s wife, Cleopatra, had passed in childbirth months ago, he became obsessed with bringing Rome up to the modern world, which he had originated. He literally never slept, working all hours of the night. There were a plethora of rumors for how he achieved this, from having a constant stream of coffee into his veins—of which he was famously obsessed with—to having become a god himself and not needing sleep after his famous sleepless quest in which he defeated Julius Caesar.

  Whatever the truth was, it was impossible to know, as was the whereabouts of Maximus’s two sons, Romulus and Remus, both of whom Sporus intended to find today.

  Ahead of him was Domitian’s palace, the heart of Maximus’s Empire. What had once been a colossal marble fortress was now a mega complex with brass towers stretching upward toward the clouds, where bronze eagles circled through the air, their metallic wings clicking as they hovered over the Emperor’s home.

  It would be impossible to gain access to the palace, even though Sporus was technically Maximus’s friend. They had lived through much together, and he had aided Maximus in taking down Julius Caesar. But Maximus was no longer the same, and Sporus did not think he could be trusted anymore.

  The key evidence of that was the obscenely large gladiator tournament coming up—an event not intended to be Roman-only, but truly a global phenomenon. Banners for the deadly games fluttered throughout the packed streets, hanging from red wool with lettering stitched in gold.

  Sporus ignored the massive rewards listed beneath, which were worth more than what any empire could hope for, along with the hundreds of people crowding around the ticket masters selling seats for the big event, and those recruiting combatants for the upcoming fights, which were to be held in the newly reconstructed Colosseum.

  If Sporus wanted to confirm the dark rumors about Maximus’s sons—whom no one had seen—then he would need to enter more discreetly. If he simply approached the palace, Maximus would know in an instant, as he could see all futures of anything and everything with his unique ability, Historical Insight.

  It was simply impossible to outthink him. But Sporus had acquired something that would be most beneficial to uncovering the mystery of what had happened to Maximus and his sons: information.

  The streets were the cleanest in all of Europe—and indeed the world, even the Americas—because Maximus had implemented sewage tunnels aided by pipes and other mechanical inventions that helped flush out the waste. Truly a modern wonder, many had said. Indeed, not smelling refuse in the streets was a strange luxury that Sporus was grateful for. However, something sinister lurked in the heart of the Empire, of that Sporus was sure. He had spent enough time finding and eliminating the members of the Cult of Eternal Night to know that something was amiss.

  Sporus made his way there, weaving past the people until he reached the Tiber River, where the sewage entrance was located beneath an archway of marble, fitted with a bronze gate.

  Steam-powered small boats drifted by on the Tiber, where people from all around the world marveled at the amazing inventions made by the Roman Emperor. But Sporus paid it no mind. Instead, he checked his surroundings to make sure no one was looking.

  And then he internally activated his Blessings of Pluto, which allowed him to become invisible. Since Sporus had significantly leveled up his Pluto Blessings, he’d be able to jump in and out of invisibility if needed. He could only hope that Maximus didn’t have his secret police patrolling the area, which, given the Emperor’s knowledge, he probably did anyway.

  Sporus dove into the Tiber River, holding his breath. He ignored the sewage drifting by as he kicked through the water to reach the bronze gate. He paused once he reached it, grabbing onto the gate and waiting to see if anything followed him. Satisfied he wasn’t being chased, he summoned his Fors Fortuna ability, Cor Fortunæ, to phase for a heartbeat to the other side. Sporus appeared on the other side, having left no mark behind him.

  Though he had to wait for his ability to cool down to use again, he was extremely grateful he had accepted and survived the quest of the past from Fortuna that gave him it, even though the quest made him relive Nero.

  Sporus kicked up to the surface, being careful not to come bursting out of the sewage waters, lest there be a spy or patrol. Sure enough, as his lips broke the water and he slowly raised his invisible head, taking in a shallow breath, there was a single guard along the tunnel walkway, taking a piss into the very water Sporus was in.

  Gross, Sporus thought, trying not to think about it.

  He moved quieter than death as he crept up onto the walkway, drawing his dark wood Arcus Noctis bow, which was once Camilla’s. He drew a shadow arrow from the dark, preparing to end him. But then the man finished his business, clicking a button on his helm which turned the light back on his helmet next to his retractable metal visor, and walked in the other direction.

  I’ll spare him, Sporus thought, creeping without a sound as he followed the man. It was a wise thing he did, as two more guards showed up further down the tunnel, which was one of many, all connected beneath the city. He had to wait a few minutes for the guard he was behind to walk across a connecting bridge to the other side of the tunnel to reconvene with the other men, but once the man was gone, Sporus made quick work of dashing through the shadows beneath the warm, hissing pipes that hung over him.

  The sewage tunnels were a maze as he ran silently through them, and he would have gotten lost if not for the map he had gathered earlier from a source whom he, unfortunately, had to silence and then fake his death as a suicide. Such was Maximus’s ever insightful gaze. Sometimes Sporus wondered if even the gods could face him.

  The map had been added to his internal parchment map, which he could see when he summoned it in his mind. It was about twenty minutes of stalking through the dark when he finally came upon where the map directed him: a giant closed funnel. The metal contraption was raised above the sewage river, which acted as a release valve that would spew out water every few hours to help flush the sewage. According to his watch, which somehow glowed in the dark and could tell time, he had exactly a minute left.

  Too close, Sporus thought, preparing himself for the opening. He would have to dive from the ledge and into the valve once it finished releasing water, as it would snap closed immediately. If he did it too late, it would dice him to pieces.

  Suddenly, the valve gears inside the walls began to grind, and steam hissed somewhere in the dark. Even the ground trembled at the coming water.

  Sporus braced himself.

  The valve instantly opened, spewing a tidal wave of water right before Sporus. It gushed for a few seconds. The moment it slowed down, Sporus dove. The water shut off just as quickly as it came out, but Sporus had timed it just right, landing hard on the wet tunnel floor just as the metal valve slammed shut.

  Sporus jumped to his feet and continued running. Though he didn’t have to go far, for the Palace was strategically positioned above the valve to help prevent any attacks from beneath. Sporus was the exception, though.

  Here, now just beneath the Palace dungeons, were dozens of bronze gates and toilet holes above him, presumably for the privies and bath houses of this newer expansion. All Sporus had to do now was find⁠—

  “—you’re form was off. That’s why he left.”

  “Oh, shove it up Umbra’s butt.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  The voices coming from the grates stopped, only to be replaced by grunts and what sounded like the clashing of swords. But the fighting was not what froze Sporus in his tracks. It was the voices.

  They sounded exactly like Maximus.

  Sporus withdrew his gilded Dagger of Deceit—which once belonged to his former husband, the Roman Emperor Nero—and crept through the dark tunnel to the far end, where the voices were coming from one of the above grates.

  What sounded like pistons firing and magical spells crashing thundered above Sporus. Indeed, a slew of orange sparks sprayed through the grate and right before Sporus as he reached it, peeking through cautiously to inspect the two fighters. The room was a miniature sand arena, but with moving training platforms that rose on steam pistons. There were a plethora of training weapons on the racks encircling the room, many of them glowing with enchantments.

  But nothing compared to the strange sight skirmishing in the middle. It was two young men, perhaps in their mid-teens, sparing with spears. Both were shirtless as they sparred ferociously, their carved muscles glistening with sweat on their olive skin. They were identical twins; except one was more broad-shouldered, wore an early beard, had black hair that was a bit messier, and favored aggressive strikes against his brother. The other was leaner, his hair neater and face clean shaven, and he moved with graceful precision, dancing on his feet as they fought.

  “I think your failed parries were what upset him, Remus,” the slightly bearded one said as he thrust a successful blow at Remus’s abs.

  Remus cursed before dropping his spear, grabbing hold of his brother’s, and yanking him forward, only to trip him in the fluid motion.

  “Always so clumsy, Romulus,” Remus said, kicking sand into Romulus’s face. Despite their anger, they both laughed, punching each other.

  Sporus felt his limbs go limp with horror. It was impossible. These boys should be toddlers, not full-grown teenagers.

  How in Pluto was this possible?

  “Let’s go see those girls Umbra’s been talking about before father forces us back in Saturn’s Hourglass Ring,” Romulus said, and together the two of them ran out of the practice room, leaving Sporus alone.

  “What are you planning, Maximus?” Sporus asked himself, the darkness smothering his hopes for Rome.

  AFTERWORD

  Thank you so much for reading Hero of Midgard: Book 2!

  It would mean the world to me if you could leave a quick and awesome review on Amazon. Reviews are more valuable than gold to authors. I genuinely want to hear from you about what you liked, what you thought could be improved, or anything that stuck with you after turning the last page.

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  ALSO, I am looking for ARC readers.

  If you are interested, become an ARC Reader at my website to receive early access to upcoming releases in exchange for honest launch-week reviews (+3 free books)!

  Also, enjoy a sneak peek of the Amazon Best Selling Complete Series Hero of Rome, which will have a large role to play in the next Hero of Midgard book (it’s going to be EPIC).

  I appreciate you, dear reader. Veni vidi vici!

  HERO OF ROME: BOOK 1 SNEAK PEEK

  1

  ANTIQUITUS

  Islammed my computer shut, apathetic to the depravity glowing inside of it. My eyes closed in shame as they had so many times before.

  I hate myself, I thought as my eyes opened to see the plastic Roman bust of Emperor Augustus next to my computer. A reminder of what a real man was. A man of consequence.

  The opposite of myself.

  Rising from my computer chair, I walked to my bed like a zombie. It was well past midnight. I knew I’d feel exhausted during my morning shift at the distribution center tomorrow. Another pointless day, going absolutely nowhere.

  The only thing I was looking forward to was listening to another history podcast. Something to get my mind off of the existential crisis I found myself in. Loneliness and purposelessness threatened to remove the will to live. It was best to distract myself from it.

  But when I closed my eyes, I found a glowing text painted blood-red humming across my line of sight instead.

  Loading world…

  Analyzing subject…

  Determining place of origin…

  System Message: “Welcome Maximus D’Ambrosio! The World of Antiquitus has summoned you. The most notorious empires, men, monsters, and mythologies await you. Your one task is to survive. Let’s see if you have what it takes! Don’t worry, this is real life, so if you die you will not return to your home world. You will now spawn at the capital of the Roman Empire. You may encounter others from your world as well. Good luck!”

  New Skill Unlocked: Translator [Roman]

  “Congratulations! You’ve unlocked the Roman language for the Translator skill. Now you can understand and speak ancient Roman languages like Latin, Oscan, and Umbrian. Use this skill to decipher texts, negotiate with cultures, and uncover the mysteries of Antiquitus. Just remember, with great linguistic power comes great… well, more linguistic power, I guess.”

  What? I thought as the red text disappeared into darkness. Before I could persist, something wet seemed to wrap itself around me, like a snake coiling around its victim. For a moment I even heard a serpent hissing and could see massive scales and wings swimming around me. Then it was gone, though it still felt like I was suffocating.

  The water became visible as light shone through above.

  I am suffocating!

  My lungs screamed for air as water trickled into my mouth. I kicked myself to the surface as hands reached down to grab me. The air smacked me in the face as I got yanked out of the water and placed on the ground, coughing the water out.