Tireless Carousing! Battling Valhalla Alone!

Tireless Carousing! Facing Valhalla Alone!

At midnight, the bright moon was blood-red.

At some point during the night, a thin mist had risen. The moon glimmered with a trace of crimson through it, as though foretelling the ominous slaughter of war.

The tent was brightly lit. A squad of Celtic warriors stood guard outside the entrance, while several other groups patrolled through the night.

Bare-chested, Duncan sat cross-legged on a sheepskin mat. Under the flickering candlelight, the contours of his exposed muscles resembled a mythological statue from Ancient Greece. Before him, a young female slave in a plain dress knelt on the ground, her expression filled with reverence and adoration as she respectfully offered a jar of Mead to Duncan.

The slave raised the Mead above her head, her gaze furtively slipping toward Duncan's abs.

Duncan took it and tipped his head back for a deep drink. Some of the Mead spilled, flowing down along his rock-hard pectorals.

Hiss!

While Duncan held the Mead in one hand and drank deeply, Severus, assisted by two other female slaves behind him, tended to several wounds on his back. Severus used a small knife to scrape away the blood crusts and tear off the scraps of clothing stuck to them. He then treated the wounds again, applied herbs, and finally had the two slaves wrap clean bandages around Duncan.

Duncan's injuries were not severe. Most were merely superficial wounds.

After drinking nearly half a jar of Mead, he allowed Severus to finish rebandaging him without so much as changing expression. With his remarkable physique, these injuries would be mostly healed within a week at most.

After treating his wounds, Severus glanced at the female slaves before leaving, exchanging a look with Duncan.

He was asking whether Duncan wanted the slaves to remain and attend to him.

"Dismissed," Duncan said with a wave of his hand.

It wasn't as if he were that desperate. Anya had been bouncing on him standing up these past few days, so he was not hungry at all right now.

Severus had probably formed a fixed impression from their time at the Exile Stronghold.

After a fierce battle, Duncan did sometimes let off a little steam, but right now he needed to recover from his injuries and had no such thoughts whatsoever.

Duke of Tintagel had already been sent to Cornwall to recuperate.

At present, Duncan was the highest commander here. This battle was only the beginning. He had to seize the opportunity while the Anglo-Saxons had suffered a crushing defeat and reclaim the occupied territories in one push. Ideally, he would take Hampshire outright, placing Southampton and the Isle of Wight under his control.

Dimensional Space.

Under God's Eye View, a new epic victory appeared in the projected image.

—"Battle of Exeter [Epic Campaign]: Horsa, leader of the Jutes, feigned defeat to lure the enemy in and defeated Duke of Tintagel in Dorset. His army then pressed forward and surrounded Exeter.

In its hour of crisis, the severely wounded Duke of Tintagel decisively requested your aid.

You led sixteen riders through the night and arrived at the battlefield at the critical moment. You decisively led your troops in a breakthrough, routed the Saxon Hunters, threw the enemy into chaos, and saved Exeter from the brink of collapse.

Horsa then led an army of five thousand to surround the town.

In the war that followed, you remained calm and composed, repelling wave after wave of Saxon assaults and gradually turning the situation around. Finally, after the Exile Warband arrived, you seized the opportunity and decisively attacked. Leading the General's Guard in a charge against the enemy formation, you repeatedly shattered the enemy forces and shot dead Horsa—the leader of the Jutes—causing the Saxon army to suffer a disastrous defeat and flee in rout.

Hengist and Horsa, the founding brothers who invaded Britain Island, have successively died at your hands. The power of the Jutes has gradually declined, and they can no longer command the Anglo-Saxons.

The Kingdom of Kent now exists in name only.

Your prestige will spread across all of Britain Island with this epic victory, reaching even distant Scandinavia!"

(Legendary Points +3: 2 Legendary Points among the Britons, 1 Legendary Point among the Germanic Barbarians.)

Still three Legendary Points.

The brothers Hengist and Horsa could be considered Duncan's starting point. Between them, they had contributed a full six Legendary Points to him. Behind those points lay the fact that the Jutes, one branch of the Germanic Barbarians, had begun to decline.

Ripples spread through the Dimensional Space.

For an instant.

Duncan seemed to see an echo from the River of History. In the course of future history, the Jutes gradually declined and no longer had the strength to expand. They were soon completely absorbed by the Anglo-Saxons, eventually becoming an inconspicuous little group before slowly disappearing altogether.

As usual.

Duncan first strengthened his soul. There was still no obvious change, except that his Mana Bar had increased slightly. But mana in the Medieval Era was pitifully scarce; even after the increase, he still could not fire a second Wind Arrow. Still, soul strengthening could never be neglected. Duncan could tangibly feel his soul growing stronger bit by bit. It simply lacked explosive growth, and he did not know how many Legendary Points he would need to invest before his soul could advance further.

—"Legendary Points: 2/6."

Duncan checked the enhancement page for elevation and found Gil's name there, along with those of several other fallen General's Personal Guards.

"Elevate Heroic Spirit?"

"Estimated cost: 2 Legendary Points to elevate the target into a Lower Heroic Spirit!" (If the target's legend fades, the Lower Heroic Spirit will also vanish with time.)

No!

Duncan canceled it immediately.

He would compensate the fallen Gil in worldly matters, but elevating him into a Heroic Spirit was impossible. He had only been testing it. Legendary Points were far too difficult to obtain, and Lower Heroic Spirits might also fade away over time. Among the people he knew, only a very few were worth doing this for.

At the very least, the threshold had to be someone like Severus. After all, he was an old comrade who had followed Duncan since the very beginning.

Duncan had gained enormously from this battle!

—"Master of Weapons: You have attained unparalleled mastery over spear-type weapons. Any casual strike is swift as lightning, and your combat proficiency is greatly enhanced when wielding all spear-type weapons."

His fourth master-level combat proficiency likely came from the elite Chieftain Guard and Saxon Noble Riders.

"So I've really become proficient in all eighteen martial arts," Duncan said with a smile.

In today's bloody battle, Duncan had killed nearly a hundred enemies, including those he had later hacked to death with the Cross Axe.

Lance Charge Master: As your mastery of spear-type weapons improves, the damage you inflict when launching a lance charge has gained a power no ordinary human could withstand. Your astonishing skill is enough to easily claim the championship in a knights' tournament.

This seemed to have improved alongside his Master of Weapons skill with spear-type weapons.

Navigator (Special Ability): Some people are simply born navigators. They are naturally suited for adventures at sea and more likely to survive storms and shipwrecks. Enhances intuitive perception while sailing, making it harder to lose one's bearings.

Underwater Breathing (Special Ability): It is said that in Scandinavia, some people are born blessed by the sea, or perhaps possess a trace of Siren blood. They can breathe underwater for a short time. The stronger their physical constitution, the longer they can endure, even diving into the depths of the ocean. They are not easily drowned, and these people became the earliest pirates.

Two special abilities.

Yet they had not dropped from those formidable enemies, but had been taken from individual elite Saxon Pirates.

Duncan had not said that killing powerful enemies would definitely allow him to seize their abilities. He had said that if an enemy possessed a special ability he lacked, he would be more likely to take it through killing. Duncan had clearly killed many elite Saxon Pirates today. Who knew which one had possessed a trace of Siren blood? In any case, none of them had displayed anything special during the battle. Perhaps Duncan had casually shot that one dead.

They would probably only prove truly troublesome enemies at sea!

Virgin Taker Enfes had gathered nearly the finest batch of Saxon Pirates on Britain Island under his command. They had suffered grievous casualties in today's battle, and for a long time to come, the strength of the Saxon Pirates would plummet.

The last special ability had come from the Decapitator.

Blood of the Giant (Special Ability): In Scandinavia, some humans possess a trace of giant blood. They often possess astonishing strength far beyond that of ordinary people and are regarded as descendants of heroes from the Mythological Era. This ability can greatly enhance one's strength and, with the passage of time, gradually break through the limits of mortal power. Once the mortal threshold is surpassed, it grants astonishing brute force close to that of the legendary Half-Giants.

The greatest gain from this battle had not been Horsa. Horsa had merely provided some combat techniques. The ability that truly brought a qualitative change came from Decapitator Isolde. The Blood of the Giant on him was an enormous boost to Duncan!

"Looks like I still need to kill some special enemies."

Duncan picked up a metal goblet and casually squeezed it, deforming it in his hand. The Blood of the Giant had already begun taking effect, but it would still take time to fully reach its limit.

The Power of Gluttony and Blood of the Holy Grail within him had still not completely reached their limits. They were continuing to improve slowly.

"I wanted to become a dashing, handsome ranger like the Elf Prince, but every ability I've taken is fucking Berserker stuff!"

He had killed too many barbarians. Every ability he took was all about brute force overcoming everything.

Duncan did not actually like going Berserk at all. He rarely even activated Adrenaline Burst, because its side effects were severe. Besides, he felt that anger affected his rational judgment and his grasp of battle opportunities.

Reckless fools really died especially fast.

There had been five ability upgrades in total. The basic combat techniques had not changed much; all the slashes, chops, and thrusts had turned golden. One or two of the other combat forms had gained pale-golden borders, mainly the core foundational moves for blades, swords, and spears.

Duncan was now absurdly proficient with axes. The combat techniques he had taken from barbarians had forcibly turned him into an Axe Master.

Same old rule.

He took a brief look at the future deduced by the Law of Causality. There were not many changes, only a slight alteration to the final outcome.

His existence had become—King of Britain Duncan [Higher Heroic Spirit].

"Still can't kill the dragon."

"But with my current strength, can my Human Form slowly unify Britain too?"

"King of Britain Duncan."

"Not bad."

"But in the end, it still can't compare to Emperor of the Empire Augustus Duncan!"

Duncan would not become arrogantly complacent just because he had made something of himself on Britain Island. Britain Island was only a small place; the European Continent was the true main battlefield. Only when he was confident he could defeat the Three-Star Golden Witcher George would he truly stand at the pinnacle of mortal martial power.

Midnight.

Feeling somewhat weary, Duncan closed his eyes to rest. At this moment, he actually missed Anya a little. It was not that he was overly energetic—rather, Anya would take the reins herself. Even when he truly felt tired, she would tenderly lavish him with affection. Anya's red lips were as scorching as flames.

Aphrodite's cult was wonderful. It was indeed worthy of serving the Goddess of Love and Beauty.

A faint mist shrouded the land.

Who knew how much time passed? Between sleep and waking, Duncan suddenly became alert, his consciousness entering the perspective of Dimensional Space.

Valkyrie [Neutral]!

Three Valkyries appeared inside Duncan's tent. The Valkyrie in the Winged Golden Helmet, who led them, reached out and pulled Duncan up, while the other two Silver-Winged Valkyries supported him by the shoulders.

The next second, his consciousness left his body and flew into the sky with the Valkyries.

Soul Out of Body (Special State).

The projected image in Dimensional Space split into two. One showed where Duncan's physical body remained; the other showed where his soul was. The three Valkyries took him into the sky, where a chariot drawn by a six-legged warhorse appeared. Duncan's figure sat in the chariot, driven by the Valkyrie in the Winged Golden Helmet, while the other two Valkyries attended him on either side. They soon vanished from the real world.

"Holy shit?!"

"Is this Odin's ride? Valkyries driving the chariot?"

"Am I really that important now?!"

Within the projected image.

His soul was still dazed. As the mist gradually dispersed, a strange realm emerged before his eyes.

Asgard (Realm of the Aesir)!

This was not a very complete realm. At least, in Duncan's projected image, Asgard was incomplete. Many lands and structures had appeared but had not yet fully condensed into form. However, he did see the Bifrost, because the chariot was traveling across that enormous rainbow bridge.

Asgard was not very large, at least not as large as Duncan had imagined. It was only about the size of an ordinary human kingdom.

Still, it truly was many, many times larger than Avalon in the Mist.

The Valkyries seemed to have gotten into an argument.

A beautiful yet valiant female phantom appeared in the projected image. She whispered into the ear of the Valkyrie wearing the Winged Golden Helmet, then quickly vanished.

The Valkyries began debating whether to send Duncan to Odin's Valhalla or Freya's Sessrumnir.

There were actually two halls for heroic spirits, but Odin's Valhalla was more famous.

According to Norse Mythology, Odin, who presided over war, would order the Valkyries to descend to mortal battlefields and choose half of the fallen warriors to bring here, while the other half would go to the goddess Freya's Sessrumnir. Those who did not die in battle would instead go to the underworld ruled by Hel.

In the end, Duncan was sent to a glittering golden palace.

—Valhalla!

Within the Dimensional Space.

The dizziness marker on Duncan's soul vanished. The Valkyrie in the Winged Golden Helmet led the way, while two Silver-Winged Valkyries attended him on either side as they escorted Duncan directly into the grand and magnificent palace courtyard.

As his soul gradually regained clarity, his Human Form also looked toward the Valhalla before him. From afar, it seemed to float in the air. Spear shafts hung from the palace rafters, shields covered the roof, chainmail was scattered across the benches, and gates lined both sides of the palace, seemingly so the heroic spirits could pour out at any time to fight.

An enormous boar, "Sæhrimnir," was being slaughtered. It was slaughtered every day, then revived each night.

The stag Eikthyrnir and the goat Heidrun stood in the valley of Valhalla. Heidrun's milk was incomparable Mead, and at that moment, many indistinct humanoid attendants were carrying barrel after barrel of Mead into Valhalla.

"Where is this?"

His Human Form was gradually waking up, and Duncan cooperatively voiced his question.

"Welcome to Valhalla."

"Honored guest!"

The leading Valkyrie in the golden helmet respectfully turned around and lowered her head, inviting Duncan onto the broad stone-paved avenue. Within the incomparably magnificent Valhalla, countless figures, half-real and half-illusory, rose to their feet, as though watching this "living person" who had entered their midst.

Inside Valhalla.

At a long table formed from countless spears and shields, Duncan looked around calmly before sitting down with an imposing air.

The Valkyrie in the Winged Golden Helmet poured Duncan wine!

The Silver-Winged Valkyries carved meat for Duncan!

Duncan's valiant, upright figure sat upon chainmail. He flashed the Valkyries a carefree smile, then drank deeply and ate great mouthfuls of meat, feasting and drinking to his heart's content. Like a warrior of ravenous Gluttony, he consumed enough Mead and roasted meat for dozens of men all by himself, leaving even the attending Valkyries beside him staring wide-eyed in astonishment.

—Hengist and Horsa (Lower Heroic Spirits)!

When Duncan happily set down the Mead in his hand, two half-real figures gradually emerged and sat across from him. The two brothers stopped their own wild eating and drinking, glaring furiously at Duncan as they seized the weapons and shields from the long table.

"Wonderful! Come fight!"

Duncan threw back his head and howled. Taking a shield and battle axe from the Valkyrie's hands, he let out a roar, strode proudly into Valhalla's great hall, and beckoned at the brothers Hengist and Horsa as their bodies solidified.

A thunderous uproar of cheers erupted!

Under the watchful eyes of countless half-illusory heroic spirits, the brothers Hengist and Horsa also entered Valhalla's great hall.

At some unknown moment.

Twelve seats of the chief gods emerged one after another in the glittering air above Valhalla. At the head sat Odin, condensed into a hazy giant phantom, calmly watching Duncan challenge the many heroic spirits in the hall.

It had to be said that the Norse Pantheon's invitation was indeed far grander than Avalon in the Mist!

Duncan knew Valhalla's rules.

He had already sampled the fine wine and delicacies offered in lavish feasts to the battle-dead. It was time for a bloody battle here!

Since he was already here.

How could he leave without making a name for himself in Valhalla?!