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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Shio
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[Whoosh-!]
The spear I threw with all my might arced through the air toward Edmund, slicing through the headwind with a sharp whistle.
[Neigh-!]
Whether it was an instinct to protect its master or simply startled by Edmund’s tight grip on the reins, the white horse, feeling the pressure around its neck, reared up abruptly. It blocked the spear’s path as it soared through the air.
[Thud!]
“Gah!”
The spear tip sliced through the white horse’s soft belly effortlessly, severing the beast’s spine. Still powerful, it continued forward, only expending its remaining force when it finally struck the human body behind, with the shaft quivering at the end.
“Cyning! Cyning Edmund! Come to your senses!!”
“Protect the cyning! Hurry!”
The throwing spear that had pierced the beast was undeniably powerful. From my vantage point, blood—uncertain whose it was—flowed profusely around Edmund, who was pinned under the fallen horse.
As their king was struck down by my unexpected throw, Edmund’s bodyguards, now in a state of panic, scrambled to clear the bloodied white horse while hastily forming a shield wall to guard against me.
‘Do you think I’ll just leave you alone like that?’
Just as Scipio of ancient Rome cleared a path for Hannibal’s elephants, the Angles around me scrambled to escape my gaze, their eyes wide with fear, none standing their ground.
With every swing of my arm, blood was spilled. For mere farmers, facing me was an impossible task without extraordinary courage. I swiftly dashed forward, pushing off the ground, determined to end this senseless slaughter.
“All who block me will die!”
I gripped my scratched shield, bearing marks from the farmers’ clumsy but forceful spear thrusts, and reached for the hand axe to the right of my waist. And I tightened my hold gently yet firmly, as if wringing out laundry.
Before I could fully feel the strength rising in my right forearm, the blood of an unknown Angle, which had trickled down my helmet, dripped onto my eyebrow. At the same moment, a warrior’s spear came dangerously close to my face but was deflected by my shield.
[Clang!]
Ignoring the tingling sensation in my left arm and the dull impact, I used the momentum of my forward charge to kick the shield, marked with a cross, with the sole of my foot.
[Boom! Crack!]
“Argh!”
The shield shattered with a resounding crack, and the brave Anglian warrior’s left arm hung at an unnatural angle. As the warrior fell to the ground, clutching his broken arm, my view cleared to reveal Edmund, now mounted on a new brown horse with the help of those around him.
“Edmund…!”
If words had the power to kill, Edmund would have already met his end from the name I just spat out with lethal intensity.
“Stop that man! Protect the cyning!”
“In the name of God!”
“Die, barbarian!”
The equipment of the warriors who thrust their blades at me with obvious effort to protect their leader was of much higher quality than that of the farmers still falling behind.
“Who are you calling a barbarian?”
[Whoosh! Thud! Whoosh! Clack!]
I sliced through the head of the nearest bushy-bearded man’s spear with a sharp swing of my axe, then deflected another spear from behind with my shield.
[Whoosh-! Crack!]
“Aagh!”
My axe, swung with force, cleaved through the shield of an unnamed warrior as if chopping wood, lodging itself precisely in his wrist. With no other option, I yanked the sword my father had gifted me from my left hip.
[Ching!]
The blade, catching the sunlight that had just pierced the clouds, flashed silver with the name [VLFBERHT] engraved in its gleam.
“Hoo-hah!”
Edmund’s warriors discarded their broken spears and drew their secondary weapons. I seized this brief moment to regulate my breathing before striking.
[Slash!]
In one fluid motion, I severed the neck of the warrior glaring fiercely at me from behind his battered shield.
‘I don’t die from glares alone, warrior.’
I then pivoted to deflect a blade aimed at my waist with my shield.
[Ting! Thud!]
Without hesitation, I thrust my sword into the exposed right chest of another opponent.
“Ugh…! Gurgle…!”
Meeting the gaze of the warrior as he choked on his own blood, I withdrew my blade, which had sliced through his ribs, and parried an incoming spear thrust.
[Splurt-! Splurt-! Ching!]
The warrior collapsed, blood pouring from the wound where my sword had exited. Leaving him behind, I no longer pushed away the spear aimed at my blind spots. Instead, I calmly met the tip with my blade, then grabbed the shaft with my shield hand and yanked it toward me.
“Huh!?”
[Crack! Crunch!]
“Gak!”
A warrior never relinquished his grip on his weapon. While this principle usually ensured survival, it proved fatal for the unnamed warrior. Overwhelmed by the sudden tug, he lost his balance, and I brought the hilt of my sword crashing down onto his neck.
[Thud!]
“Hoo-”
With three enemies down in quick succession, only one remained before me. The Norsemen’s cheers filled the air, while the Angles were reduced to screams and desperate flight. What could soldiers with shattered formations accomplish?
The battle was effectively over.
‘Edmund…’
Abandoning the fallen white horse that lay in a pool of bright red blood, Edmund frantically retreated on a brown horse surrounded by about ten guards.
“…Lord, protect us.”
“Give it up, warrior. The battle is over.”
Among the groans of fallen warriors and the wails of fleeing soldiers, the last remaining warrior before me steadied his stance. He called upon his god, crouched to maintain his balance, and held his shield high without obstructing his vision. His spear, pointed directly ahead, remained steady. This warrior, like the three who had fallen, was formidable.
“…The Lord’s sword does not turn its back on the enemy. Heathen…!”
“…”
The retort “Then what about your king fleeing over there?” nearly escaped my lips, but I simply nodded and slowly advanced toward the brave warrior blocking my path.
“Hoo- Hyah!”
What thoughts crossed the warrior’s mind as he faced the approaching blood-soaked Norseman? Perhaps memories of family? A deceased father? The well-being of the king who had abandoned him? Or divine protection?
[Whoosh–! Thud!]
“Gak!”
Whatever his thoughts or resolve, they likely faltered quickly. His spear thrust, though perfectly executed, was no match for a superhuman like me. My perception of time was simply different.
I easily evaded the slow, linear thrust, sidestepped with a weave, and then brought my shield down onto the warrior’s forehead. With a dull thud, he crumpled to the ground like a marionette with severed strings.
[Thud!]
After this final strike, I tossed the battered shield aside and shook the blood from my sword, which remained sharp despite the toll of battle.
[Swish- Swish-]
“We’ve won-! We’ve won-! Blow the trumpets of victory! Let Odin know of this victory!”
[Buuuu-uung-]
“Aaaah-! Valhalla-!”
“Freyr! Tyr-!”
“He-l!”
Those who had previously exhibited extreme calmness before the fight now howled to the sky like beasts, their restraint evaporated by the taste of blood.
Among them were Hrolf, with his graying hair and beard now matted with blood, and the promising young Storolf. But above all, Ivarr, the commander-in-chief, was fervently blowing his horn trumpet, drenched in the spoils of battle.
Watching this, I knelt quietly and placed my hand on the ground.
“Hel, I dedicate this victory to you. Please watch over my mother.”
Wasn’t it ironic that, after mercilessly killing others’ sons, I now prayed for the safety of my own family?
But wasn’t such hypocrisy only natural? I lived in the 9th-century after all.
After briefly feeling the warmth of the earth, now soaked with the blood of the fallen, I stood up and moved toward Ivarr. This was only the first battle. There was still much to be done.
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At the same time that Edmund of the East Anglian kingdom and Ivar’s vanguard clashed, Earl Eadbert of Dover in the Kingdom of Kent faced unwelcome visitors.
“Lord, have mercy…”
The sight of twenty dragon ships peering over the white cliffs was still vivid, but now even more ships had arrived.
[Dong-! Dong-! Dong-! Dong-!]
The incessant ringing of the bells only compounded Eadbert’s already troubled mind.
“Would someone stop that bell ringing?”
“Yes, Ealdorman Eadbert.”
[Dong- Dong- Dong- …]
As the frantic ringing finally subsided, Eadbert struggled to organize his thoughts while watching the dragon ships approach.
‘Wessex can’t help us right now. The king is on his deathbed, and it’s been two winters since his brother went to Winchester…’
Adding to his woes, news had arrived of renewed unrest from the foreign tribes on Wessex and Mercia’s western borders, while Aella, the tyrant of Northumbria, had brought disaster from the east.
‘Lord, please have mercy. Have mercy…’
The Kingdom of Kent had long since lost its strength to resist the Norsemen who struck like lightning. Now, all this aging lord, whose days were numbered, could do was clutch the token of trust given by the Jarl of the Norsemen who had come before—a gleaming amber ring etched with mysterious symbols.
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It was a resounding victory. Though dozens on our side were killed or wounded, the Angles lost roughly 300 men on the battlefield alone, and their army was scattered. Regardless of how Edmund might act in the future, Ivarr’s vanguard had undeniably gained momentum in East Anglia.
“You fought like Thor and Tyr from the myths I heard as a child, Helgi.”
Victory brought its own burdens. After the frenzied cheering subsided, the reality of battlefield cleanup set in—an inevitable part of a soldier’s life.
I couldn’t follow Ivarr’s directive to merely tend to our fallen and leave the enemy corpses for Odin’s ravens. Driven by ‘warrior’s honor,’ I insisted on gathering and burying those who had fallen to our blades. I personally set to digging graves and moving bodies.
At first, my brother and comrades stared at me with puzzled looks. But perhaps moved by my silent diligence, they quietly set aside their weapons and joined me in the post-battle work. Though they could have turned a blind eye, their help made the task go smoothly. When we return to Aros, I must reward them with at least a silver coin.
Of course, they probably pocketed anything shiny while handling the corpses, so their side income would be sweet, but then again, these were mostly farmers, so there probably wasn’t much.
They might not fully understand my reasons, but as someone from the 21st century, I knew well that leaving the corpses as they were could lead to water contamination and potentially an epidemic. Thus, my efforts served a dual purpose: honoring the dead and protecting our health.
Our warriors would go to Valhalla, while the Angles would be claimed by their Lord.
Once our grim task was complete, we washed the blood and grime from our bodies and equipment in the nearby stream. Norsemen, after all, could not tolerate being dirty.
I waited my turn and headed to the stream last. I was grateful that this was the British Isles, where rain was frequent, rather than a desert.
Ivarr, who had been watching me closely, decided to join me for the final wash. We splashed and sprinkled water on each other, enjoying a rare moment of playfulness.
I had never truly enjoyed a proper childhood, only duels and managing my domain. Playing in the water with my brother on the battlefield brought a fleeting moment of melancholy reflection.
“I heard you cut down ten men with a single stroke. Is that true?”
“…Where did such a story come from? How could one person cut down ten at once?”
Seeing my hesitation, Ivarr smiled slightly and playfully put his arm around my shoulder. Given our height difference, he had to stand on tiptoes to reach me.
“No, no. It’s even more impressive than that, Helgi. I’ve been fighting for years, but I’ve never seen a warrior shake the enemy’s formation like you did. You finished Edmund, Helgi.”
Ivarr’s gleaming eyes carried an expectation that felt heavy. As I turned my head, a bit awkwardly, Ivarr’s loud laughter echoed around us. The warriors, camped on a nearby hill, laughed and shouted my name.
Seeing that, I too began to smile.
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And with that, we’ve got the first battle of the novel. Hopefully this set the expectation for everyone. Trust me, the battles only get better. Helgi was a raging beast in this chapter.
Let me know how y’all enjoyed some of the descriptions during the fight, since I spent a little longer than I’d like to admit on them.
Anyways, as usual, thank you for reading! And ping Oihs in the Arcane Translation discord for any grammar mistakes!
Cool
Noice…