Ragnar stared me down, his scarred face red with fury, his white braids trembling as he clenched his fists. "You really mean this, you little shit?" he growled, his voice thick with disbelief. "Damn right I do," I shot back, stepping closer, my cock still out from pissing on Líf. "You’re too old for this game, Father. I’m challenging you to a duel to the death—for your woman and your cn." The hall went silent, every breath held. Ragnar’s honor was fucked now—pissing on his wife was a sp he couldn’t ignore. He couldn’t back down, even if it meant killing his own son. His eyes narrowed, and he spat on the floor. "So be it," he snarled, his voice heavy with regret and rage.

  We stepped outside into the cold night air, the crowd spilling out behind us, their shouts echoing as they formed a rough circle around the muddy ground. Torches flickered, casting jagged shadows over the dirt as men and women jostled for a view, their faces hungry for violence. Líf, still soaked with my piss, her dress clinging to her massive tits and ass, walked over to Ragnar with a grim look. She handed him his giant sword—a gleaming beast of a bde, a gift from the Prince of Gotnd, its edge sharp enough to split bone with a flick. Emily shuffled up to me, her old hands trembling as she passed me my massive axe, its head notched from years of killing. As she turned to step back, I grabbed her fat ass hard, squeezing it through her rags. "When I win, you and Líf are gonna celebrate with me proper," I growled, smirking as I let go. Her eyes widened, and I swear I saw a wet spot bloom on her skirt—she was fucking soaked at the thought.

  I snatched up my shield, a battered sb of wood and iron, and Ragnar hefted his own, a round Viking shield studded with steel. A burly man stepped into the circle’s center, raising his arms and bellowing, "Begin!" The crowd roared, and we charged.

  Ragnar swung first, his sword sshing down like a thunderbolt. I barely got my shield up, the bde biting deep into the wood with a deafening crack, splinters exploding into the air. I shoved back, grunting as I swung my axe at his side, aiming to gut him fast. He twisted, his shield taking the blow, the impact jarring my arm as metal screeched against metal. We circled, mud sucking at our boots, the crowd’s cheers a dull roar in my ears. He lunged again, feinting high then sshing low, aiming for my legs. I jumped back, the bde grazing my thigh, hot blood trickling down my skin as I cursed under my breath.

  I charged, roaring, and hacked at his shield with my axe, the wood splintering under the force. He staggered, but swung back, his sword slicing across my chest, cutting a shallow gash that burned like fire. Blood soaked my tunic, but I didn’t stop—smmed my shield into his face, smashing his nose with a wet crunch. He reeled, blood pouring down his chin, and I swung again, my axe biting into his left arm just below the shoulder. The bde sank deep, cracking bone, and he bellowed in pain as blood sprayed, his arm hanging limp, useless, the sword nearly slipping from his grip. Ragnar wasn’t done. With a feral snarl, he switched the sword to his right hand and charged, sshing wildly. I ducked a blow aimed at my neck, the wind of it whistling past my ear, and rammed my shield into his chest, knocking him back. Mud spshed as he stumbled, and I swung low, my axe hacking into his right leg. The bde tore through muscle and snapped bone, blood gushing as he dropped to one knee, his roar shaking the night. The crowd gasped, some cheering, others cursing, but I kept going—raised my axe and brought it down on his sword arm. It cleaved through flesh and tendon, severing his forearm clean off, the hand and bde thudding into the mud with a wet spt. Blood fountained from the stump, painting my face red as he screamed, his painted face twisted in agony.

  He was down, crippled, but still alive, cwing at the dirt with his one good hand. I could’ve ended it clean, but I wasn’t pying fair—not tonight. As he reached for the sword with his bloody stump, I kicked it away, then stomped his good leg, shattering his knee with a sickening crack. He colpsed fully, gasping, his chest heaving as blood pooled beneath him. The crowd was wild now, some shouting my name, others howling for Ragnar. I dropped my shield, stepped over him, and grabbed a fistful of mud, smearing it into his face to blind him—a cheap fucking trick. He thrashed, disoriented, and I swung my axe one st time, aiming for his neck. The bde bit deep, but I twisted it, cheating the angle so it tore through his throat instead of a clean cut, blood erupting like a geyser as his head lolled back, half-attached. He gurgled, choking on his own blood, then went still, dead in the mud.

  I stood over him, axe dripping, chest heaving, and raised my arms. "This is my era now!" I roared, my voice raw and triumphant. The crowd exploded, some cheering, others stunned, but all bowing to the new reality—I was the fucking leader of the Bck Sea Cn. Then it hit me—tears streaking down my face, hot and wet, mixing with the blood and mud. I didn’t get it—why the fuck was I crying? My chest tightened, a weird ache I couldn’t pce, but I shook it off, wiping my eyes with a bloody hand as I turned away from his corpse, Ragnar’s lifeless eyes staring at nothing. The cheers and gasps from the crowd still hung in the air, Ragnar’s bloody corpse cooling in the mud at my feet, when a deep, guttural roar ripped through the bright daylight. It wasn’t human—louder, wilder, like some massive fucking beast tearing the sky apart. Every head snapped up, eyes wide, staring into the clear blue heavens. My own gaze locked on a shape in the distance—small at first, like a bird against the sun, but growing fast. Too fast. It wasn’t a bird. Bck as pitch, with a long, whipping tail and wings that stretched wider than our longships, it barreled toward us, a shadow cutting through the blinding light. Ketill’s voice cracked through the stunned silence, "Dragon!" and the whole damn vilge lost its shit. People screamed, scattering like rats, tripping over each other as they bolted for cover under the harsh sun. Women grabbed kids, men shoved past, and the air filled with the stink of panic and piss. I didn’t wait—dropped my axe, still dripping with Ragnar’s blood, and hauled ass toward our house, the only thing built solid with stone and timber. The dragon was closing in, its wings beating the air with a thunderous whoosh, its roar shaking my fucking bones. I gnced back as I ran—fmes erupted from its jaws, a roaring torrent of fire that smmed into the wooden huts like a god’s wrath. Roofs exploded into orange bzes, the crackle of burning wood and shrieks of the trapped cutting through the chaos. Smoke choked the air, thick and bck against the daylight, as the beast swooped lower, its scales glinting in the sun, its eyes glowing like molten gold.

  I smmed into the house, kicking the heavy door shut behind me, my chest heaving as I braced against the stone wall. Outside, the world was hell—fmes licking up into the blue sky, the dragon’s bellows mixing with the crunch of colpsing homes and the wet screams of the dying. I could feel the heat through the walls, the stink of charred flesh creeping in as that monstrous fucker turned my victory into a goddamn inferno.