Chapter 13: Invaded

As Klade stood bemused, his gaze alternating between the frolicking wolf and the seemingly unperturbed man, a lengthy sigh escaped the latter. He pushed himself up slightly more upright, his motion causing Asura to caper around with even greater enthusiasm. Wiping a mythical liquor from his lips, he leaned in a bit, as if ready to impart some grand narrative or perhaps just finding it easier to maintain balance with his hands on his knees.

The man burped, "Welcome to the Centurial realms, stranger. Or should I say, welcome back, seeing you've got the scent of our troubles all over," the man began, his voice tinged with a mellower sobriety that contradicted his earlier demeanor. He offered a hand in casual greeting, "Name's Halgrim, by the way. I tend to spirits—both the drinking kind and the calling kind," he chuckled lightly, perhaps amused by his own local humor.

Klade, still slightly dumbfounded, nodded slowly, eyes fixed on Asura as the wolf scampered around Halgrim playfully, clearly adoring.

"Huh?" Klade said, still in shock.

Halgrim continued, leaning back on an invisible support only he could feel, "You're smack in the middle of the Drangvik Plains in the Völundrheim region , mighty warrior. This land? It was known for its relentless warriors and profound mystics, governed by the old runes and the ancient pacts of allegiances. But that's old history now, faded like the echoes of our ancestors' feats."

Klade said, "Asura? Buddy?"

As Asura bounded up to lick his face, Halgrim absently patted the wolf's head, maintaining a steady stream of exposition. "The royal blood of Rathgor, they've dug their claws in deep, pilfering powers meant for the gods themselves. Got themselves wrapped in divine essence thicker than the old bog mud around these parts. And with it, power—power they aim to use to bend the will of the realms."

Klade blinked, his warrior mind parsing the tactical information, even as he watched Asura envelop Halgrim in a joyful frenzy.

'What…the…FUCK IS GOING ON?!' Klade thought.

Halgrim explained, "Now, the Lances, those warriors like yourself, perhaps, they're our bulwark against the divine heist Rathgor's been pulling off. They clash against gods' summons and demigods alike—rough business, all to keep these usurpers from securing what they seek most ferociously—an embryo, a child prophesied to weld all realms under a 'righteous' rule. As righteous as a wolf's snarl, I'd reckon," Halgrim explained further, his tone turning grave.

"The rest of us?" Halgrim swept a hand expansively, gesturing to the spectral landscape, "Caught between prophecies and power grabs. Here in Drangvik, and all over—from the frost-tipped hills of Frostgard to the storm-swept coasts of Thunreal, we were once proud, now mere shadows under Rathgor's ambition."

A soft, albeit melancholic smile crossed Halgrim's weathered face, "But spirit, ah, that they cannot govern. Nor the loyalty of a good beast," he murmured, scratching Asura affectionately behind the ears.

Klade's eyes twitched, "Asura?"

'What the HELL IS ASURA DOING HERE AND WHY IS HE WITH THIS OLD NAKED MAN?! DOES ASURA NOT KNOW ME ANYMORE?!'

Halgrim concluded with a snort, bringing Klade's focus back, "Anyhow, that's our world, yours now too, it seems. What brings a hammered hero crashing down from a serpent's belly into the heart of our struggle, eh?"

Klade twitched again, "Asura?"

Halgrim sighed, "Seems you've annoyed the little valiant night watch."

"Asura…"

The evening air of Völundrheim surged with tension as Halgrim, staggering slightly from his intoxicated state, and Asura, his monstrous pet, faced down the advancing horde of sinister Einherjar Brutalists. The dim moonlight cast long shadows as the battle began to unfold with ferocious intensity.

Halgrim petted Asura on the head, "Let's go, Raid! We're gonna take them down before they get us first."

Klade turned around with a menacing stare, saying, "WHO THE HELL IS RAID?! THAT BETTER NOT BE HIS NAME."

Halgrim chuckled, "Yeah it is his name. Cause' I named him that. Way better than ASURA. Whatever that means."

"Shut up.."

Halgrim, muscles tensing and eyes narrowing, launched forward with staggering speed. He delivered a flurry of rapid punches, each blow carrying the wrathful whispers of spirits. As his fists connected with the lead Brutalist's armor, ethereal echoes reverberated, cracking the dark metal. The Brutalist staggered but swung a massive axe in retaliation. Halgrim, agile and fueled by battle-lust, ducked beneath the blade, feeling the whoosh of air as it narrowly missed his head.

"Dumb Vikings." Halgrim chuckled.

Not far behind, Asura roared fiercely, its body swelling in size as it transformed into a giant fiery beast. The ground trembled under its weight. With a thunderous bellow, Asura charged, enveloping enemies in a wave of scorching black and red flames. Enemies screamed as their armor heated, the intense temperature melting metal and searing flesh.

Halgrim capitalized on Asura's fiery distraction, spinning into a devastating elbow strike that shattered the skull of a nearby Brutalist. As the warrior fell, Halgrim leapt up, grabbing another Brutalist by the neck, hurling him into a fiery patch left by Asura, cremating the foe upon impact. Suddenly, a hail of flaming arrows clouded the sky, launched by distant Brutalist archers. Asura, with incredible might, whipped its tail, creating a gust of wind that deflected the incoming projectiles. Halgrim, meanwhile, rolled forward, using broken shields and bodies as cover.

Gaining ground, Halgrim darted amongst the Brutalists, his strikes ghostly blurs of motion. Every punch left an afterimage, a trail of spectral energy that disoriented his enemies. He focused his spirit energy into a powerful double-fisted smash that erupted through the chest plate of his assailant, exploding in a shower of sparks and blood. Not to be outdone, Asura morphed into a massive ball of fire, rolling through the enemy ranks. Each rotation left a Brutalist scorched, their cries drowned out by the crackling of the flame. Its explosive claws lashed out randomly, severing limbs and igniting anything within reach.

Klade was staring at them fighting together, his eyes still twitching like a psycho, "Asura…fighting…with a naked psychopath?!"

Surrounded now, Halgrim and Asura stood back to back. Halgrim blocked a sword strike with his forearm gauntlets, countering with a headbutt that left his enemy dazed before snapping his foe's spine with a precise kick. Asura, shrieking in a furious pitch, sent shockwaves through the ground, toppling a cluster of enemies for Halgrim to dispatch swiftly. As the enemy momentarily recoiled, Halgrim and Asura used the brief respite to synergize their next moves. Halgrim sprinted into Asura's fiery aura, channeling the flames along his fists. He exploded forward, his punches now sheathed in fiery wrath, searing and shattering armor on impact.

A Brutalist of immense size charged, carrying a spiked club with shadows attached to it. With a growl, Asura leapt high, its silhouette a dark shape against the sun, before descending claws-first onto the Behemoth, its explosive claws detonating on impact, blasting the creature into fiery oblivion.

Halgrim, using the chaos, spun like a top, extending his legs in lethal kicks that connected with multiple heads, necks, and chests—each hit snapping bones and sending helmets flying. Asura whipped flaming tails, clearing the debris and bodies, making room for more movement. Catching a Brutalist's axe handle, Halgrim twisted it forcefully, wrenching the weapon free and using it to cleave through the approaching foes. Blood sprayed in arcs, decorating his face with the ochre hue of war as he roared defiantly.

Asura, sensing Halgrim's aggression, charged forth, tearing through the ground, tumbled rocks and dirt flying. It rammed into a phalanx of enemies, their formation shattering under the sheer, explosive force of its flaming body.

Halgrim and Asura found themselves pushed back to back once more as fresh Brutalists approached. With a grim determination, Halgrim whispered to the spirits, calling for their full might. He outstretched his arms, releasing a powerful surge of spiritual energy that tore through the advancing horde like a scythe.

As their numbers dwindled, the remaining Brutalists utilized their technique—a cursed dark fog. Asura, with a powerful and loud bark, dispersed the fog, revealing Halgrim, who was glowing with spectral light, his every strike now an echo of thunderous fury.

As the last of the Brutal fighters fell, Halgrim stood over them, breathing heavily, his body a canvas of blood and soot. Asura, shrinking back to its normal size, prowled beside him, its flames dimming. Together, they surveyed the destruction, their enemies vanquished, their bond through battle stronger and more sacred.

Halgrim grinned at Klade, who was still in shock.

"Want power like that? Follow me."

Klade stood up like a zombie, swaying back and forth, "What have you done to Asura?"

"Huh? Nothing. I found him almost dead under a bridge."

"He talks?"

"Nope."

Klade sighed, "Dammit."

"What's the matter, kid?"

"I had a familiar before, looking just like him. His name was Asura, a Bloodhound. The last of his kind."

"He might be yours still, but he doesn't seem to know who you are."

"That IS him. But for some reason he doesn't know me or recognize my scent."

Klade began to think about the royal family in the castle.

'Rothgar…Grendell…Vardan…Eiren…Seraphelle…and Glefnir. My enemies. Rothgar made Asura disappear back at the castle, and now he's here with no memory of me? Did they realize they couldn't take a Bloodhound? Taming Asura was not easy, Elma from the Ember Tree had to give me a divine collar to tame him, and he took a liking to me. That's something that had to be crafted with a list of ingredients that women made me fetch. I hate seeing Asura like this..it doesn't feel right. I wanna tell him so much, everything that happened after that incident.'

In the blink of an eye, Halgrim stood in front of Klade, with his hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe you need some booze."

"Gross."

"Come with me we might be able to help your little pup. And make you a little stronger."

"Why do you want to help me?"

"Me and my daughter can read souls, we can tell the true emotions and heart of those we look at. Spirit tuning, and what you saw back there, seeing me just MASSACRE those zombie Vikings, I channel spiritual energy into my attacks."

"What did you see in me?"

"Rage. Pain. Revenge. The three fucked up things to make you a man. So you coming or what?"

Klade looked down, and saw Asura looking up at him.

'I have no choice, do I? This old naked guy doesn't seem too bad. And he has a daughter the same age as me. Do I have to meet her? Of course I will. Around females, I'm a nervous wreck. Tch.'

Klade said, "Okay then. I'll follow. But where are we going?"

"Back to the homestead. It's awesome there. My daughter hates my guts, but we're working on something big. Might be something you'd be interested in."

"Me?"

"Yep. Let's go."

Halgrim gestured expansively for Klade to follow, stepping forward into the undulating swaths of tall nordic grass shimmering under the odd-skied light. Asura danced ahead, occasionally turning back to ensure the two men were in tow. 

"So, you've landed yourself directly into the Iron Wheel of the Centurion realms," Halgrim continued, his stride confident even as he navigated the rough underbrush with a stumble now and then. "This whole expanse, see, it's caught in the throes of conflicting legacies and the relentless push of the present. The Royal Family of Rathgor has the regions under their thumb, pulling all manner of threads—chaos, division, magical, you name it."

He paused, pointing towards a distant mountain range where the shadows seemed to twist and turn as if alive. "Beyond those peaks lies the Hall of Echoes. Used to be a sacred site, where the sounds of the past could be heard in the whispers of the wind. Now, it's little more than Rathgor's listening post, hearing out for dissent or the stirring of old gods. Stinky Bastard."

Klade listened, his expression a mask of grave attention, processing every detail that might later be a sliver of advantage. Halgrim seemed to appreciate the gravity of his audience, his tone dipping into deeper revelations. He wanted to know everything about this new world and more.

"And these beasts and phantoms you see skirting the edges of our vision," Halgrim waved a hand towards a translucent figure darting in the distant fog, "they're remnants of the world's old magic, left to roam after the Rathgor royal family siphoned the bigger sources. Some say they're now guardians, others reckon they're just lost souls. Crazy what they can be."

Klade looked around, noticing spirit-like holographic phantoms of humans and beasts alike frolicking around like ghosts, then disappearing seconds later.

Klade thought, 'In the old world, these were the remnants of other players who nodded through the area before you got there. It was easy to turn off in the settings. But seeing it here too just freaks me out knowing I can't turn it off.'

The landscape gradually changed as they walked; the earth seemed to breathe beneath their feet, imbued with an ancient, somber energy. The flora subtly shifted—twisted branches grasping at the sky, leaves whispering secrets long forgotten.

As if on cue, a gust of wind swept across the plains, carrying with it whispered chants and the clanking of distant battles, blending reality with the spectral. Klade's eyes narrowed slightly, taking in the sight, the sound, piecing together this world from its fragments.

Halgrim stopped abruptly, looking out towards a darkened forest that loomed ahead. "Eboncrag. Originally Known for its mines and blacksmiths, capable of forging the finest steel in the known realms. Eboncrag has been seized as a major resource site for Rathgor, its blacksmiths now forced into servitude. However, it is also the birthplace of a formidable group of blacksmith-warriors who forge weapons for the Lances in secret caverns. And there's also Midhall,   Originally known for the cultural heart of the realms, known for its festivals and bardic colleges. But since everything has happened, Midhall remains a contested zone with the Rathgor attempting to commandeer its influence over the people's hearts and minds through controlled performances and rallies. Secret cabals of bards travel as minstrels, spreading coded messages of resistance wrapped in tales and songs. But they get wiped out by the family easily."

Klade asked, "What about the mythic reaches and such? And if this is the new world, how come everything is already in order or everything used to thrive?"

"That's a situation that's super duper confusing and I'm not smart enough to decipher it so I won't waste my time with it. Anyway, there's the elves; forest-dwelling, have retreated deeper into realms like Gloomwood, their natural affinity for magic making them prime targets but proficient guerillas. Dwarves: Particularly affected in Eboncrag, resist through subterfuge, leveraging their underground cities to undermine Rathgor's efforts. Demigods: These lesser celestial beings, once revered, are divided: Some have reluctantly sided with Rathgor, promised realms of their own, while others support the Lances, seeking to restore the divine balance and reclaim their dignity. And the Lances, disparate yet formidable alliance of warriors, mages, and even common folks, unified under a banner of resistance. From the aerial skirmishes by Skyguard to the silent blades in the shadows of Gloomwood, each faction of the Lances plays a crucial role in this grand conflict, aiming to strike at the heart of Rathgor's tyranny and free the realms from oppression. But it's damn tough. There are millions of other races out there, since this world is practically endless."

"Oh."

"That's enough exposition. The Einherjar brutalists are basically the so-called protectors of this area of the Dranvik plains. Many merchants who travel alone through the apocalypse get harassed by them. And sometimes even killed. Dumb idiots they are."

"Who's a dumb idiot?

"The merchants."

"DUDE?!"

"What? It's true. They know the brutalists are brutal, they earned their name for a reason. They built a makeshift castle in the mountains and is protected by a Demi-god. In reality, the brutalists use the Demi-god for protection and power, because they fear the royal family will arrive and wipe them out. It won't be long until they do. Remember what the hell I told you. This world is endless. Literally. There's no telling when the royal family gods will arrive here in this region."

"There's something else. I know it. About those brutalist guys."

"Ah. Yeah. The merchants are meant to give offerings to the demigod these brutalists serve. As a way to let them pass. And if they don't have anything valuable to give, they consider them evil. And boom. Dead."

"Tch. It's already bad enough with the royal family walking around with the power and essence of gods from the old world, and now these bastards are making it worse."

"Mhm, and what are you gonna do about it? The brutalist group being around is ruining trade and  ruining people and even Lances from getting good material."

"What am I gonna do about it?"

"Yes!"

"Absolutely nothing."

"…HUH?! You made it sound like you were gonna do something!"

"I'm not strong enough, duh. What the hell do I look like going out to clear an entire camp of brutalists and a demigod at my current level?"

'Which is level 3…it would've been an instant yes if I was level 999. I was such a badass.'

"Dungeons. There are plenty of dungeons in this world, filled with things you can use."

"I'm a blacksmith, I can create armor and weapons out of anything I hit with my hammer."

'It'll definitely come In handy. The dungeons in the old world were filled with lesser minions, and at the end was the final boss. They were super easy. And there's a lot of loot there, and I created crazy weapons from what I gathered before.'

Halgrim walked forward with Asura on his shoulder, and he said, "Let's get going then. We're gonna get stronger. But I'm hungry as hell. We're gonna meet my daughter a few miles from here."

"Isn't she at home? How did you…"

"As spirit tuners, we can use astral projection, even communicate telepathically."

"That's so broken."

"I know right! Let's go!"

Klade looked at Asura, and Asura growled.

Klade said, "I'll cook and eat you. Remember your place."

Asura barked over and over and over loudly, and Klade argued back, "Shut up! Shut up! Since you wanna act all different now! I don't know what happened to you, but I'm gonna beat it outta ya!"

They kept going at it, even though Klade couldn't understand a word Asura barked.

In the twisted region of Völundrheim, the ashen path wandered beneath a sky flickering with the chaotic dance of liminal light. A realm surging with celestial energy torn asunder, it collided with the mundane to form landscapes both entrancing and eerie. Klade, his senses sharply attuned, traced the path less followed alongside Halgrim, a stalwart figure with the wolf cub, Asura, perched observantly on his shoulder. Unbeknownst to them, a spectral remnant—a little girl formed of ethereal whispers and faded memories—hovered silently near Klade, her presence as light as the passing wind.

'The ghost-like remnants..can't be a player right?' Klade thought.

Their journey was flanked by floating islands of moss and stone drifting aimlessly above, tethered to the warped earth by tendrils of ancient, magical energy. Below these levitating chunks of land, bizarre flora basked under a shifting hue of skies, at times ultraviolet, at others, a deep crimson, reminiscent of wounds old gods suffered in celestial battles. Plants like the Starblaze Bloom emitted a haunting glow, illuminating patches of the twisted underbrush in eerie blues and greens. Creatures of myth flitted around them; fireflies the size of fists pulsed in the dark while feral pixies darted between the floating rocks, their laughter both chilling and beautiful.

As they moved through a thick copse of Flarewood trees, whose bark shimmered with thermal heat, their path was periodically obstructed by the Azure Spinebacks—a species of large, crystalline tortoises moving ever so slowly, their shells a mosaic of gem-like structures reflecting the chaotic sky above. Each creature followed its cycle of existence, seemingly oblivious to the anarchy that tore through the fabrics of their world. Traveling beyond the copse, the landscape opened up to an expanse where the ground was littered with colossal feathers, remnants of a mythic bird shattered across millennia. The feathers quivered, resonating with the silent songs of a forgotten era. Here, spectral elk traversed the terrain, their forms translucent and shimmering with the remnants of life long lost, nodding to the presence of the ethereal child who skipped lightly around Klade, her form flickering like a candle's flame.

'This world is beautiful yet haunting…I can smell and taste the air. It tastes like blood.'

As the trio approached a grove where the sky turned a menacing dark gray, heavy with storm clouds, the world around them seemed to invert. Trees, roots skyward, hung suspended above their heads, dripping life back to the earth in a bizarre, spectral mirror of rain. Below, wooden houses, impossibly embedded within the ground, formed tunnels and chambers. This land was a mournful echo of Völundrheim's once vibrant heart, now a tableau of twisted beauty and somber reflection. Here, the spectral girl hastened her pace, leading Klade through a maze of upside-down trees and through the air-heavy with the scent of imminent rain. Lightning fractured the sky, illuminating her ethereal form, now almost desperate in her silent pleading for them to follow. As they reached the core of this dark grove, the rain began in earnest, casting the world in a veil of tears.

Klade followed her, and Halgrim asked, "Where are you going?"

At last, they came upon a small clearing, where a body lay partially submerged in a shallow mirror of water, seemingly asleep but unmistakably lifeless. The woman, young and clad in garments that whispered of royalty, appeared as though she had only just lain down, her peaceful expression belying the tragedy of her untimely demise. The ghostly girl hovered over the body, her ethereal form slowly becoming one with the lifeless figure, her transparency waning with each passing second until finally, she was gone, leaving behind only a lingering touch of melancholy in the rain-soaked air.

Klade sighed, clenching the ground under him as he kneeled, saying, "I don't even know what to say…this is horrible."

'I wonder where the little girl is now..'

Klade and Halgrim, standing in the relentless downpour, watched as the scene of sorrow unfolded, the finality of the girl's quest settling in the sodden earth around them. In this moment, in the heart of a broken world, the boundaries of life and death, despair and hope, were as intertwined as the roots of the skyward trees above them, each drawing nourishment from the rains of Völundrheim's heavy heart.

Halgrim said, "So a little ghost girl, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Sad, really. Seen it too many times. These types of things you don't just get used to seeing."

"Yeah."

The somber tranquility of the clearing was shattered in an instant. The earth beneath Klade buckled and erupted violently, sending a scattering of mud and water skyward. From the tempestuous breach, a hooded figure surged forth like a phantom unleashed, tackling Klaid to the sodden ground with a force that expelled the air from his lungs. A wicked dagger, its blade a sinister dark green dripping with black, viscous liquid, pressed cold and threatening against his throat.

"What the hell?!" Klade gasped.

"Who are you?" The voice was sharp, a dagger itself, hidden within the folds of a dark cloak that absorbed the light of the stormy environment.

Before Klade could muster a reply, through the shock that tingled across his skin, a rumble of laughter cut through the tension. Halgrim, with a wry smile playing on his lips, stepped forward and reached for the hood of the menacing figure. With a swift tug, the fabric fell away, revealing the assailant as no foe, but Halgrim's own daughter.

Halgrim smiled, "Ooops, I forgot to tell her you were with me. This is my daughter, Klade. Her name is Seven."

Her hair, shoulder-length and smooth, cascaded with an intriguing stark black tone accented by a rogue streak of dark blonde—a birthmark that added to her striking appearance. A small rose tattoo adorned her cheek, lending a touch of delicate ferocity to her features, which were further highlighted by dark red glistening eyes that seemed to capture the tempest above them. Freckles danced across her skin, a playful contrast to her intense gaze. She was indeed beautiful, an impression not lost on Klade who, even in his recumbent and compromised position, couldn't help but utter, "You look very, very great." 

'Fuck! That was so awkward and lame. She's gonna hate me now definitely. Good job, Klade. You ruined it.'

The girl, known as Seven, slid off of Klade with a fluid grace, her eyes rolling in a gesture of dismissal as she looked away. "Tch. Heard that too many times. You're no different than the rest of them," she muttered, her voice tinged with the weariness of one too often objectified.

At this moment, Asura, the small wolf cub, emerged from the slight confusion, his tail wagging a rhythmic beat in the damp air. He sniffed curiously at Seven before rubbing affectionately against her, his puppy eyes wide and innocent. Seven's expression softened as her fingers found their way through Asura's fur, her actions gentle, revealing a tenderness that her tough facade had momentarily hidden.

As she petted the wolf cub, the air around them thick with the petrichor of rain-soaked earth and the electric charge of the storm above, a silent accord was struck. The tension ebbed away, leaving behind a scene of a rekindled family bond, the fierce loyalty of a protective daughter, and an unspoken understanding among souls woven together by the fabric of this dystopian world.

Halgrim said to Klade silently, "So. What do you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is she your type or.."

"You're so weird, old man."

"She needs a husband, every man that approached her she drove them off. She hates everyone. Besides me and that little Bloodhound wolf."

"Oh yeah? What makes you think someone like me can be with her? I'm awkward and I'm kind of a loser so it doesn't match."

"You're too hard on yourself."

Klade thought, 'I never even had a girlfriend before. Most girls rejected me even when I offered to help them with work.'

Seven then said, "I brought food. Don't eat all of it, dad."