Aurafall: Fragments Of Power-Chapter 37: Countless Colors [2]
Multiple large humanoid beings traveled across the darkness of the dungeon toward a blinding light.
These creatures had human physiques, their bodies covered with brown fur. They wore leather and metal armor, their skin scarred with marks. Most of them were missing body parts which had been replaced with metal, be it an iron limb or a shoulder.
They had battle-hardened expressions and carried all sorts of weapons. Some were walking, while others traveled on large creatures.
They chatted and argued about how many lives they would take, sharing their disdain for their enemy. They were rough, disorganized, and animalistic by nature, yet they were valiant warriors, dangerous fighters, and a united race.
...They had only just united, of course. United to finally get revenge on their enemy for stripping them of their power years ago. United to destroy the descendants of the one who had once destroyed them.
That was because they were Vikings!
Leading these warmongers at the frontline was a Viking with a powerful physique and an elegant build. He had white, dreaded hair and wore only brown leather pants, leaving his upper body bare. An azure mark ran across his chest down to his torso, the rest of the marking hidden beneath his pants. He wielded a spear long enough to bring a three-meter giant to his knees.
This was Hafgrim Bjorn, the current leader of the Frost-Rime Marauders.
Today, Hafgrim would lead his Vikings to Earth and, alongside his younger brother, seek revenge for the deaths of their father and brother.
They had both done much to reach this day. First, they had to end the malice between the Viking factions, seek the help of Queen Flaurina, and devise a plan to ambush humanity on the Day of Awakening.
Truth be told, Hafgrim knew all this would not have been possible without his younger brother, Sigurd Bjorn.
He turned his gaze to Sigurd, who was sitting on a large creature that looked like a crossbreed between a lion and a dragon, with three separate faces connected by a maned neck.
Sigurd was younger—likely the youngest of every Viking present in the dungeon. Sigurd was also humanoid, but unlike everyone else there, his skin was a strange shade of blue. He also had white hair, which was braided into two long ponytails. He was wearing a light white tunic and wielded a long blue staff topped with a crystal.
Sigurd turned and noticed his brother’s gaze. He smiled, revealing normal white teeth. Hafgrim smiled back and nodded, turning his gaze back toward the blinding white light.
Everything was well-planned. This was a war, after all, not a brawl. War had to be strategic; it involved finding the enemy’s weak points, breaking them indirectly, and finally confronting them directly.
Hafgrim knew he had succeeded in that, for the most part. With the help of Flaurina, the malice among the Vikings had ended.
"Flaurina sure has her way," he mused with a smile.
Furthermore, opening countless portals on Earth at the same location was a massive feat. Earth was known for its formidable fortifications, and it would usually take multiple high-ranking Aura Farmers to break them.
Vikings were known to possess very low aura, with their prowess lying instead in their muscles, swings, and arcs. They were resilient fighters both mentally and physically, but not fully spiritual. Only a few were blessed.
For Vikings to be able to perform such a feat—breaking Earth’s fortifications at such a rate—was something that would be whispered across kingdoms, realms, and worlds.
Hafgrim frowned. "Tch," he hissed.
He knew it was all a lie. The Vikings had done nothing. Opening countless portals would not have been possible if that human hadn’t helped them.
Hafgrim couldn’t forget the human. He had appeared suddenly and told Hafgrim he would help them. He hadn’t asked for anything in return. He came and he left, and now he had helped them break the fortifications, allowing them to breach his own world.
Why? Was that traitor out of his mind? He could have requested something in return, even if Hafgrim had no intention of giving it to him in the end. Then why? What did he have to gain by turning the city into a slaughterhouse?
The human was mysterious and appeared very powerful. Perhaps it was for a political reason; this was war, after all. War was unpredictable and twisted; things like this were bound to happen.
"What if this is all a trap?"
Hafgrim knew it could be, but why would he miss such an opportunity to avenge his father and brother? Why would he miss the chance to reclaim the power taken from them? To punish those who had ruined the Vikings and created a rift between them for years?
He wasn’t going to stop now. Humans had to die. Blood had to be spilled. Those on the other side of the portal had to suffer.
"Don’t worry, brother. We will win," Sigurd’s voice echoed in his ears.
He turned to his younger brother on the creature and smiled. "We will win for sure."
Sigurd was only thirteen years old and had awakened a Core at birth, making him one of the most gifted among the Vikings. He was still developing, having recently progressed from a mortal to a Capricorn.
It was still a great feat, considering how weak Vikings usually were spiritually regarding aura. Thirteen years was all it took for Sigurd to cross onto the Farming Path.
What a prodigy!
Hafgrim might not have been as gifted as his younger brother, but they both shared one thing that made them prodigies in their own right: an unrelenting goal to avenge their loved ones, which was more than enough to turn them into self-trained masters.
They reached the blinding light. A wind came from nowhere, blowing against them violently, but they stood valiant.
Finally, they would get revenge on that damn princess from Dravenor.
"I’ll make you pay, Elara Atlantis."
Hafgrim stepped through the blinding light, and the rest followed.
