Because I Am Surtr

Because I Am Surtr by Jiu Yin

Introduction:

Hello everyone, I am Surtr, a professional tool for hire with five... or perhaps many more years of experience. My service scope includes, but is not limited to, linking the fire, ending worlds, saving wayward maidens, playing cards with Slaanesh, slacking off, shipbuilding, driving, whaling on gacha, and repairing human history.

If you have a need, feel free to post a notice at any tavern frequented by bounty hunters in Terra (the slightly weaker version of Terra).

Of course, I personally recommend contacting me through a dream. My shop is short-staffed, and I am quite busy in Terra myself, leaving me no time to act as a client manager.

What? You want me to prove my professional capability? Come, Laevateinn. Perform a Ragnarök for this gentleman! Tell him why I dare to take on such a job!

No reason. Simply because I am Surtr!

Section 1: First, Kidnap Frostnova

The sky was a gloomy color, with dark clouds rolling and lightning and muffled thunder flowing deep within the layers. High pressure and scorching winds blew everywhere, and as far as the eye could see, there stood a magnificent, yet strangely alien, abandoned city.

A catastrophe was coming—

The red-haired Sarkaz stood independently atop a building, watching the wind and dust rising on the distant horizon. The fierce wind howled, and her dancing hair tips were like golden snakes writhing in a frenzy.

"I... am Surtr."

She reached her hand toward the sky. Her slender, long, and fair fingers had clean, lustrous nails, which reflected a beautiful face in the twilight glow—a cold expression, indifferent eyes, brows filled with impatience and the arrogance inherent to a transmigrator, and finally, the black horns extending from behind her ears like swords and halberds.

It had been five years since she came to this world and became her.

Five years—five years more magnificent than playing Legend of Blue Moon. She spent part of that time adapting to this world, part of it experiencing this world, and then, part of it trying to interfere with this world.

The past and her previous life were irrelevant. In any case, she had been a failure with no family, bedridden for a long time, unable to even struggle off her sickbed when a fire broke out—just a useless piece of trash, the dregs of society, creating no value and held in no one's heart. So, dying alone in the flames was not an undignified outcome.

However, death did not cling to her.

She died in the flames.

And she was reborn from the flames.

When she opened her eyes again, she had become a gacha character from a mobile game she often played in her previous life. A wanderer whose origin was the Fire Giant King of Norse Mythology who brought about the end of the world. A swordswoman wielding a Flame Sword. A Sarkaz who possessed multiple memories, multiple experiences, multiple pieces of knowledge, and multiple lives in her mind, looking like a transmigrator even in the original game.

"I am Surtr."

The second emphasis was accompanied by the heating and boiling of her blood. A sense of power filled her entire body, turning into a hot current flowing through her limbs and bones. She opened her mouth slightly, and a puff of warm air escaped her lips. And then—

—The air turned to sulfur.

She still remembered the day she transmigrated. The lonely maiden opened her eyes between volcanoes and lava, with only the dark red Flame Sword at her side—she herself could not confirm whether the transmigrator had replaced Surtr, or if Surtr had absorbed the transmigrator's memories. She only knew that this body had never resisted her, and this sword named Laevateinn had never refused her.

Thus, she was able to grow, to slaughter, and to fight.

And then, at this point in time, she arrived here.

Her gaze shifted upward, looking toward another part of this ruined city. She clearly observed a black square the size of a fingernail at the edge of the horizon. Smoke and dust rose above it, and air currents rippled beneath it—it was a mobile city. And that city was called Chernobog.

After twists and turns and wandering for so long, everything had ultimately returned to this place of destiny. To the very origin of this story.

And now, she stood atop the ruined city on the path of Chernobog. Looking down at the gathering point of the storm, she knew that the Ursus army had withdrawn twelve hours ago. And the smoke and dust coming from another direction belonged to a detachment of the Reunion Movement, the early-game villains of the game.

A catastrophe was coming.

And now, she was going to continue what she had left unfinished, something she had been trying to do for these past five years but had never achieved enough progress in.

"I am Surtr."

The third emphasis. This was a habit her transmigrator side had developed over the years. Whenever she intended to take action, she habitually referred to herself by name three times. It was like a ritual; as long as it was completed, it could provide her with enough determination and strength—even if she already possessed enough determination and strength.

Thus, the visitors from afar arrived at the edge of the town.

—The time had come.

She dropped from the top of the building, holding her greatsword, her red hair fluttering.

Like a soaring phoenix of fire.

Famished. And—

—Hungry for the locked-on prey.

"We will camp in these ruins tonight."

Reunion Movement, its literal meaning being—a movement to organize and integrate the power of the Infected to seize their own rights. The vast majority of its members were victims of Originium Infection. And these Infected, who were naturally cynical, would display different facets depending on the leadership style of their commanders once they gained power.

Facet... the word "facet" might not be entirely accurate.

Because the Infected usually needed to hide their identities, and because not all Infected could be at the Reunion Movement's main base at all times, the vast majority of members in the Reunion Movement wore masks. Only a few, those who needed to show their faces to declare their identities, would remove their masks to show their faces to their peers.

Such personnel usually held the duties of high-ranking officers in the Reunion Movement.

And the officer here was called 'Frostnova' by her compatriots, the 'Princess of the Yeti'. She led a unit of Infected known as the 'Yetis', who were famous throughout Ursus, or rather, notorious in the eyes of the rulers.

And they had arrived at this location at this point in time.

"We arrived too early, Big Sister." The number of Yetis was not large; they usually wore white cloaks and carried better and more standardized weapons than the average Reunion troops. Most of them were surrounded by a chill, which meant that most of them had mastered Originium Arts related to cold.

"I know." Frostnova pressed her long ears—there seemed to be a strange smell in the air, and this smell made her feel a bit uncomfortable, a bit strange.

She shook her head gently, her white hair tips brushing against her cheeks.

"Go and prepare. The main force will arrive soon, and this operation is of vital importance to us Infected."

"Understood, Big Sister." The Yetis obeyed her. Several sturdy Icebreakers swung their ice blades, clearing an open patch of ground in a few swift motions. The casters gathered cold currents to shape the perimeter of the camp, shielding it against the swarms of infected creatures that might launch an attack during the night. Meanwhile, the regular combatants went to haul heavy supplies, pitch tents, and construct resting points for the night.

Their movements were swift and methodical.

"Big Sister." The Yeti member who had spoken to her earlier approached her with some hesitation. He seemed to glance around subconsciously, but immediately remembered that there was absolutely no need for it. "You said..." he asked, sounding uncertain, "is this operation really necessary for us Infected? The brothers aren't questioning you, but taking a mobile city by force is just too..."

He struggled with how to phrase it.

"...too much of a grand spectacle," he said, using a term unique to Yan.

"This is the leader's decision." Frostnova brushed back her hair, that strange feeling in her heart growing ever more intense. "Besides, we Infected must have a fixed piece of land. We must have roots before we can sprout, grow, and thrive."

"But seedlings attract storms." The Yeti shook his head. Even though he wore a mask, Frostnova could see the confusion and helplessness hidden behind that pale facade. "The Reunion Movement's recent style of conduct... it's too radical. I don't understand strategy or the grand scheme of things. But I can feel that there are more and more... bad people in our ranks."