The Son Of Ragnar

Ulf had killed Birger with a single swing of his sword, and everyone, including Erik, awoke the moment the body hit the deck.

Ulf was breathing hard; he did not expect that he could kill Birger, no one did, but everyone hated him. Askild was satisfied with this outcome; he knew something was up the moment Ulf approached him, and despite him 'dropping' his guard, this was only so he would look vulnerable because it was no secret that his life was a target.

"W-What happened?" A random Viking asked, and Askild stood up gradually above Birger's headless body.

"Ulf Lothbrok just saved my life," Askild said, and everyone was shocked, including Ulf himself.

And it did not take long before they cheered his name; people were cheering Ulf's name.

He wanted to bask at this moment forever, and Askild looked at him right in the eyes, but something was threatening in those eyes. It almost looked like Askild was saying, "I know what you were about to do," without actually saying it.

Ulf felt his heart drop, but he soon felt the warm embrace of someone a lot smaller than him.

He looked down, and it was Bjorn. Bjorn was amazed by how his uncle had killed Birger in a single move; he felt like a hero.

"YOU ARE AWESOME, UNCLE ULF!" Bjorn exclaimed; the spotlight was on Ulf.

"You managed to kill Birger, not bad…." Erik said, complimenting Ulf.

Erik knew Birger was strong, but he had not measured Ulf's strength; it felt like Ulf was hiding something.

Erik looked at Tyr and noticed he was isolated; the grin that creased the face of The Berserker was blood-curdling, he loved what he was seeing, but all it took was a blink, and by the time he opened his eyes, he saw Hagen beside Tyr.

He was not interested in Ulf's celebrations; he was not interested in anything at that moment but Tyr. Tyr was the one he wanted to watch, the one he wanted to mold, and Tyr had the potential to be everything Erik had ever wanted.

"I want him. I want him for myself!" Erik muttered to himself like a possessed man.

-

Karl had been fighting with this strange man for a few minutes now, and one thing he could say was that he was most likely on the same level as a commander.

He was too strong, and Karl knew there was no way he could defeat him, even without his injured leg, as he was barely hanging on.

The man was clearly holding back as well because he needed him alive.

"Who the hell are you!?" Karl asked, but he got no answer to this question.

"I am no one. I am just a sword…." The man responded with an eerie-looking smile.

Karl was on high alert, but he missed the arrow that impaled his second thigh, making mobility an impossible task.

"You are a wounded dog right now; you can do nothing now. I do not mind continuing, but that will only worsen your condition. You cannot stop us from taking you; you can only delay," The man said.

"Damn it! I would rather die than let you people have your way!" Karl said, pointing his sword to his neck; Karl was threatening them with taking his life.

For whatever reason, they wanted him alive, and he would do anything to ensure they did not.

"You do not want to do that, Karl." The man said, but a voice originated from behind them.

"He is right; you do not want to do that, Karl…." Karl recognized this voice; it was Herfjötur, and boy, she looked fucking furious.

She saw Tiril lying on the floor with an arrow protruding from her head, but it did not draw the reaction this man had expected.

"Tiril, you fool! I told you to wait for me," Herfjötur said; she was sad that her right-hand woman was killed in such a manner, but she was happy that she got to see the person responsible for it.

She had a target for her wrath, and her killing intent was focused on one person alone; even Karl felt a chill run down his spine despite him not being the target.

"Lady Herfjötur, we meet sooner than expected, but this won't stop me; you cannot stop me." The man said arrogantly, but Herfjötur did not give shit about whatever was coming out of his mouth.

"Careful! He is not alone!" Karl warned, and judging from the arrows in his legs, it was clear that it was an archer, a weapon that the man before them did not possess so it was safe to say that it was not him.

"Do not worry, Karl, neither am I," Herfjötur said. This drew a raised brow from the man, but all he heard was a scream filled with pain where his archer was positioned.

Herfjötur knew Tiril was coming to this exact location and went despite Herfjötur's insistence that she should wait for her, but she has always been stubborn about such things.

That was why Herfjötur chose her as her right-hand woman, and in the far distance emerged Lagertha, dragging the passed-out individual with the bow and arrow before dropping him on the ground.

"The two famous shield maiden, I do not think even I could take you both alone…." The man said. He was far too calm for their liking; it felt like he was saying he could leave here at any given moment.

"Both?" Herfjötur asked, pausing momentarily to equip a gigantic spiked baton; this was her weapon of choice and the weight could crush one's skull with a single swing.

"I am the one that is going to grind your bones to dust," Herfjötur threatened, she had gone into battle mode, and Karl was astonished by the level of her killing intent.

At this moment, he realized how stupid he was comparing Ulrik to her, Herfjötur was a different kind of monster, and she was ready to bare her fangs.