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Being a Viking Isn’t Fun – Chapter 2

.。.:✧ Chapter 2✧:.。.

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Shio
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In a land slightly west of Uppsala, the largest city in Scandinavia, Northern Europe, lay a city called Aros. Nearby, a large river flowed down from the high northern mountain range and met the dark blue sea.

When interpreted, Aros translated to ‘the mouth of the river’—or ‘the estuary.’

Situated where the Earth had decreed a port city should be, this once-conceptual city, akin to the satellite of Uppsala, the first city, had suddenly experienced explosive economic growth, absorbing all the surrounding population and resources.

To put this absurdity into perspective, what if the people of 21st-century Seoul, South Korea, suddenly swarmed to one area?

Within this world of Earth-187, medieval Northern Europe, Sweden—though it didn’t exist yet…

People came to my city, Aros, from Uppsala in the east, Kaupang in the west, Roskilde in the south, and even from the vast northern mountain range, all chasing after a rumor.

And that coveted rumor went like this:

[Within the eastern sea lay Aros, ruled by a Konungr blessed by the Goddess Hel.]

‘A Konungr, how absurd…’

Of course, the people of the early Middle Ages weren’t so naive as to believe all the rumors floating in the air.

While they may have shouted the names of the gods and drank wildly upon seeing an aurora in the night sky, at least by the common sense standards of the Middle Ages, these people were rational.

But for the people of the Middle Ages, the existence of gods was a given, so my existence, which literally brought change to this land from the moment of birth, was sufficiently ‘divine’ to these people at least.

[Trait-Green Hand]

It was one of the various traits I had chosen when starting the ill-fated dimensional transfer game Europa Kings.

Thanks to the fact that I had fortunately read the trait description right below the genius, robust, and charming traits (afterwards, I was too lazy to read the descriptions and just selected all the green traits that looked good), I remembered it.

[In this person’s territory, hunger cannot be found.

The acquisition rate of all resources increases according to stats.]

With this extremely broken trait and my abilities that were maxed out to the system limit, a miracle occurred in this coastal territory of Aros, allowing it to produce enough food to feed the entire population of Scandinavia.

The sudden increase in grain harvests, fish that were literally throwing themselves at the fishing boats, bees that boasted a strong reproduction rate and were expanding their real estate everywhere, hundreds of fruits suddenly ripening on a single branch, gathering land animals and birds…

At first, people cheered, then they feared, and gradually they became suspicious and worried.

“What is this?”

“Is it a blessing from the gods?

Or a curse?

Odin?

Thor?

Tyr?

Freyr?”

“Then why?

Why only at this river estuary?”

From the Konungr of the neighboring town Uppsala, my father Ragnar, to all kinds of priests.

They took interest from the moment the rumors started flowing, and soon they were finally able to find an answer…

“These changes began when Asta, the priestess of the goddess Hel, and the son of Konungr Ragnar were born on this land!”

Some day during the year 847…

On the way back from a long expedition, the adventurer Konungr Ragnar, curious about rumors of a priestess of Hel—an unfamiliar figure even to the locals—soon discovered that she was a great beauty.

And after many complicated adult circumstances and courtship, he finally won her love!

However, Ragnar, who already had an official wife (who was his third), could not bring himself to start a new life in Aros and hurriedly returned to Uppsala.

Soon, as the priestess’s belly grew and a healthy boy was born with a loud cry, Ragnar, despite the hostile gaze of his first (third) wife, used his authority as Konungr to recognize this sixth son as his own. He named him Helgi, granting him rights to his mother’s wealthy landed family.

All of this was firmly decided at the sacred Thing¹ (a type of assembly – or more accurately a regional tribal meeting) held in Uppsala.

I, Helgi Ragnarsson, became a Jarl² (a lord) of a region the moment I was born.

Thus, Aros fully reaped the effects of me, an unprecedented systemic monster in the human world.

Within about 10 years, due to that endless productivity and all kinds of traits that even I myself did not know of, people gradually became healthier, more robust, warriors became stronger, and the silver coin pouches carried by merchants increased.

However, as with all human affairs, where there was light, there was darkness.

In this social system, which was nothing more than a Germanic chiefdom, ‘sacred duels’ were still a valid political means.

In other words, although my mother was a priestess of Hel, the goddess of death, whom people found difficult to approach, and under the direct protection of the Konungr.

The distance between Aros and Uppsala, alongside the fact that she was absurdly beautiful and young, caused men with wicked thoughts to appear one by one.

‘I’m the Jarl of here and there, I’m the descendant of some Konungr…

There were all kinds of crazy bastards.’

My mother, who had sworn to devote her entire heart to the goddess Hel and my upbringing after her union with my father Ragnar, naturally rejected all those vile proposals, and some aggressive warriors who were not used to rejection tried to show their pure love through sacred duels, but they chose the wrong opponent…

It was none other than I, Helgi Ragnarsson, a peerless warrior of mythical renown.

Actually, it wasn’t easy to accept reality after waking up in this medieval world.

Of course, thanks to the influence of the [Calmness] trait, I didn’t experience extreme sadness or panic disorder, but being reborn as a medieval Viking prince in an instant after sitting in front of a desk monitor was not part of my life plan.

Frankly speaking, the toilets were pit latrines, all the food was hard bread or smoked meat, there was no toothpaste to brush your teeth with, and instead of fragrant soap, I had to wash my hair with that something in the process of becoming soap…

After experiencing the medieval times, you came to understand why people of this era would die early.

Fortunately, these Norsemen had a custom of going to a stream once a week to wash their bodies and always carried a comb to groom their hair and beards all day long, so they were surprisingly very clean…But still, how could it compare to the hygienic environment of the 21st century?

Even my mother, a priestess of Hel, who held a position just below the king in this warrior society, brought geese, pigs, and two dogs into the house to spend the winter.

For a weak city-dweller from the 21st century, the nightly struggle with crawling insects was horrific.

In the end, I somehow adapted, but the amount of mosquitoes due to this swamp-like neighborhood still unnerved me.

The only reason I was able to endure all these hellish conditions was purely thanks to my mother’s love.

‘I realized for the first time that a person can do this much for their child.’

A devotion comparable to pouring one’s very soul into something.

Sitting next to me all day, caressing my hands and feet with loving eyes, helping the old and weak as a priestess of Hel, guiding them on their final journey, and checking to see if her son was uncomfortable in any way…

The image still remained in my heart.

It wasn’t often that effort and hope were rewarded in this world, but perhaps the goddess Hel took pity on my desire to grow up quickly and help my mother.

My body grew abnormally and was uncannily strong.

Let me say it again, it wasn’t that I became strong, I was just strong from the beginning.

Didn’t they tell such stories?

In sports, especially sports that use tools like rackets, talent was everything.

That effort was something that only those with talent should put in .

In my previous life, I had no physical talent, so I just brushed it off, but in this life, I could deeply empathize with those words.

‘My senses are completely different.’

When Hrolfr, the great warrior appointed by my father, the administrative head of the Temple of Hel, my protector and teacher, first placed a wooden sword in my hand, I instinctively realized how to wield it.

The next day, I defeated my teacher.

“Jarl, the blood of gods flows in your body.”

The moment we exchanged a single sword strike, Hrolfr, who couldn’t withstand the force of my blow and lost his grip on his own sword, could only stare in amazement at my eyes, which had already grown to his chest level at the age of 9, as if seeing something beyond human.

“From now on, I will deal with those who challenge my mother’s authority with wicked intentions.”

“But Jarl Helgi, being good with a sword does not necessarily mean being good at fighting.

After I have taught you everything I can teach, when you have grown to my height, I will gladly relinquish my position as your protector.”

“…I understand, Hrolfr.”

A year later, at the age of 10, I won my first sacred duel, and since then, I have never been defeated.

The people of Aros and Uppsala, who witnessed all my duels, gave me various nicknames and titles, and in the end, only one nickname remained:

‘Helgi the Strong (Sterk)’.

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Like the indifferent river that flowed majestically.

Time moved forward without pause, and in the second month of this year’s summer, I turned 17.

Upon hearing that the “Duel of Aros,” a rare event postponed due to a lack of challengers, was being held again, the people of Aros joyfully embraced the festive atmosphere and scurried towards the dedicated arena on the outskirts of the city.

‘Even though the dedicated arena is just a circular area roped off, with steps built around it to provide tiered seating.’

At first, people challenged my mother out of pure love, twisted love, or greed for wealth. But out of nowhere, the atmosphere shifted into something like a heavyweight championship dedicated to beating the champion, Helgi.

People even attached the renowned term “Duel of Aros” to the duels I engaged in.

“Jarl Helgi! Jarl Helgi! My Jarl!”

“Valhalla awaits! Foolish warrior! Val-hal-la!”

“Blood for Odin! Gods, behold your great warrior here! Today, Helgi fights again!”

Among the people shouting in excitement, I could see cups overflowing here and there.

How did these duels turn into such a spectacle?

We were just gladiators fighting in a Colosseum.

‘Above all, I am the son of a priestess who serves the goddess Hel…

I have little to do with Valhalla.’

Valhalla was where warriors who died in battle go to Odin, and half of that share was taken by the goddess Freyja.

But neither of them had much to do with the goddess Hel.

All those who died ordinarily were the share of the goddess Hel.

“Br-ha-raa!”

“Let’s go!”

But the people didn’t seem to care at all about my faith.

‘Well, what’s good is good.’

I lightly swung my arms in a wide arc to loosen my shoulder, adjusted the strap of my shield, and firmly grasped the hilt of my sword.

A pleasant feeling soon flowed throughout my entire body, along with a powerful force.

If I failed to control this power even a little, the bones of an ordinary human would be shattered. And that was not what I wanted.

“Jarl Helgi. Thank you for accepting this sacred duel.”

Across from me, a warrior with a sturdy build who had come out to prove himself bowed his head, showing me the utmost respect.

[Thud!]

I tapped the shield strapped to my left forearm with my right fist, a gesture of both readiness and respect.

“Let us ask the gods about each other’s honor today.”

“Agreed!”

Soon, the two warriors who stood facing each other in the center of the arena lowered their helmets deep over their heads, and as they raised their shields and swords to aim at each other, the people surrounding the arena let out a huge cheer as if they couldn’t contain their excitement.

In their eyes, it looked like a small hill challenging an insurmountable mountain.

Beyond the people who had lost their minds with anticipation at the chance to witness the legendary martial arts of Helgi Ragnarsson, who was already treated as a demigod or a descendant of gods, the shields of the two warriors finally touched.

[Bang!]

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[Translator Notes]

“Helgi Ragnarsson, who was already treated as a demigod…”

Let’s be real guys. If you can accidentally turn someone into human meat paste by failing to control your strength even a little, you’re a demigod. Like that’s just not human. Anyways, I can’t wait to see how this fight’ll pan out.

Notes:

1: The “Thing” was a governing assembly / tribal council in early Germanic society. In the Viking Age, Things were assemblies of the free men of a country, province, or a hundred (county division) used to solve disputes and make political decisions. Things also operated as a place for public religious rites.

2: Jarl is a rank of nobility in Scandinavia. I likened it to “Lord” because Jarl means “chieftain” in Old Norse, more specifically a chieftain that ruled over a territory in a King’s (in our case, a Konungr’s) stead.

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Being a Viking Isn’t Fun

Being a Viking Isn’t Fun

Score 9.8
Status: Ongoing Type: Author: Artist: Released: 2022 Native Language: Korean
Life is about overcoming the waves that ceaselessly come crashing in, and yet the people of the North still live on today.

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infinityreads
infinityreads
3 months ago

Bro is living life on easy mode lol

Tibarias
Reply to  infinityreads
25 days ago

He practically set it up that way to play casually…

unseenhz
3 months ago

Bro’s practically Heracles without being a literal demigod

Xiie
Xiie
1 month ago

Man… I haven’t read such a boring premise in a long time. In my imagination, if you use the nords for your story, it should be gritty. Not whatever this is…

Tibarias
25 days ago

Noice…

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