The flames raged fiercely around the harbor.
The wooden houses standing closely together had turned into perfect fuel, causing the fire to spread in every direction without mercy. The sea wind carried burning embers, dropping them onto other rooftops, and within minutes the fire crawled like a starving living creature.
Roars and screams blended into one.
I ran out of the bar together with Ragnar and his men. The moment my view opened toward the harbor, the sight struck my awareness harder than any attack.
Chaos.
The townspeople were running aimlessly, some carrying children, some tripping and falling on the dock planks wet with seawater and blood. Small ships burned at their moorings, ropes snapped, sails half-charred, collapsing into the water with a hissing sound.
And among them—
The Deep Ones.
Those creatures moved wildly between the flames and smoke. Their scaly bodies reflected the red glow of the fire, making them look like living shadows from a deep-sea nightmare. Their tridents and claws lashed out indiscriminately, targeting anyone too slow to escape.
I saw an old man fall, stumbling over a collapsed section of the dock. Before he could get up, a shadow leapt out from behind the smoke.
I moved.
My body shot forward, my steps barely touching the ground. The punch I threw struck the Deep One from the side, breaking its motion and hurling it into the sea with a loud splash. The water boiled for a moment before falling silent again.
There was no time to think.
"Break their formation!" Ragnar shouted from behind, his voice overcoming the roar of the flames. His axe was already in his hand, his eyes burning with fury.
The Vikings moved quickly, forming a rough but effective line. They charged with battle cries, holding the Deep Ones back so they couldn't enter further into the settlement.
But the number of enemies was too great.
I could feel it—the tremor beneath my feet, the pulse from the sea that hadn't stopped. This attack was not a random act. It was planned. The Deep Ones were deliberately targeting the harbor, the weakest point.
"Focus on evacuation!" I shouted while lifting a small child who almost fell into the water. "Get the civilians away from the sea!"
Ragnar glanced at me briefly, then nodded. Without asking how I knew, he immediately barked out orders. His people moved, holding the front line while the townsfolk were evacuated toward the hills.
I stood amidst the fire and smoke, staring at the turbulent sea.
The whisper returned.
Clearer.
Closer.
The Deep Ones were not the end goal.
They were only the opening act.
After most of the civilians had been evacuated away from the harbor, I finally had room to pay attention to the battle itself. The fire was still raging, thick smoke covering the night sky, yet in the middle of all that chaos—Ragnar stood like the eye of the storm.
He fought in a way unlike anyone I had ever seen.
His sword swung wildly and brutally, every slash filled with killing intent, yet his movements were not careless. His footsteps were light, almost too agile for a body that large. Every attack from a Deep One aimed at him was parried, deflected, or countered with devastating force.
And those tattoos…
The Nordic symbols carved into his skin began to glow faintly, reflecting the firelight with a strange shimmer. The lines seemed alive, pulsing in rhythm with Ragnar's heartbeat. When his sword slashed, the air around it trembled, as if the strike carried something beyond mere steel.
I narrowed my eyes.
'System,' I called within my mind. 'What is Ragnar using?'
The mechanical voice answered without emotion.
[Answering. The technique is called Poetry Carving. A method of rune inscription through tattoos, used by warriors in the name of Odin as an attempt to create miracles.]
I exhaled softly.
'Miracles…' I repeated inwardly. 'So that's how they create magic… even without being sorcerers.'
It made sense.
I shifted my gaze back to Ragnar. He planted his sword into the charred dock planks, then spun his body with a rough yet precise motion. A Deep One tried to attack from behind—too late to realize its mistake. Ragnar's sword swing produced a surge of energy that was wild and feral, cleaving the creature in two. Its body split in the air, its dark blood evaporating the moment it touched the hot ground.
He moved without stopping.
Agile. Brutal. Efficient.
One by one, the Deep Ones fell in his hands. But their numbers were too great. Every creature that died was replaced by two more emerging from behind the smoke and fire. Even with Ragnar's skill and the Vikings' strength, the destruction kept spreading. Buildings collapsed. The docks began to crack. The flames were no longer controllable.
This could not be allowed to continue.
'I have to step in.'
"Maw…" I called softly.
"Maw~"
The bluish slime appeared above my head, its body trembling lightly as if responding to my call. It slid down to my hand, its form changing—flowing, solidifying, and lengthening—until it became a sword with a clear blade shimmering pale blue.
I gripped it.
My breath steadied.
Qi flowed through my body, calm and stable, different from the raw force filling the air around Ragnar. I stepped forward, entering the battlefield still engulfed in flames.
The Mount Hua sword technique.
My steps were light, almost gliding over the cracked dock planks. My first swing was simple—not flashy, not accompanied by exploding energy. But the blade moved with sharp precision, cutting off the head of a Deep One lunging from the side before it could even raise its trident.
The second swing followed.
And the third.
Every movement of mine was calm, flowing like mountain spring water. The Qi did not erupt—it sharpened the blade, quickened my steps, and maintained balance amidst the chaos.
Unlike Ragnar, who destroyed enemies with strength and ferocity, I cut them.
The Deep Ones that tried to surround me fell one after another, their bodies cleanly split, unable to even utter that strange murmur. The flames around me even dimmed for a moment, parted by the cool, steady flow of Qi.
Some Vikings glanced toward me, their eyes widening.
My fighting style was clearly foreign to them.
Every swing of my sword left a thin trace in the air—not a harsh blaze, but a delicate burst resembling plum blossoms scattering briefly before fading away. Along with it, a faint fragrance spread across the battlefield, contrasting with the smell of smoke, blood, and burning wood.
A scent that should not exist in the midst of slaughter.
Yet that was precisely the Mount Hua technique.
Beautiful… and deadly.
More and more Deep Ones moved toward me, drawn by the calm motion at the center of chaos. They attacked together, tridents and claws striking without clear pattern.
I welcomed them.
My steps turned, my blade flowing with the motion of my body. One slash cut through an arm. The next movement separated a head from its shoulders. There were no wasted swings. Every strike ended in a clean death.
Bodies covered in scales fell, split into pieces with cutting angles that were almost too clean. Even their blood did not have time to touch the ground before evaporating from the heat of the flames.
The number of enemies began to shrink.
That strange murmuring disappeared one by one, replaced by the sound of fire and the heavy breaths of the warriors. For a moment, the battlefield felt… under control.
Then the sea raged.
The water in front of the dock split apart with a magnificent explosion. A massive wave crashed against the harbor's edge, shattering wooden planks and throwing several bodies into the air.
I jumped back, driving my sword into the ground to hold my balance.
And from behind that burst of water—
Something emerged.
The creature towered high, its body humanoid but with the head and jaws of a giant shark. Its teeth were layered, gleaming sharp, while its dark gray skin was lined with glowing pink markings that pulsed like living veins.
Crude energy radiated from its body, making the air around it tremble.
The remaining Deep Ones immediately retreated, giving it space. Some even bowed their heads, their murmurs shifting into a tone of reverence.
I narrowed my eyes.
'I guess this is their boss.'
The creature roared loudly, its voice cutting through fire and smoke, shaking the already fragile dock boards. Every step it took made the ground vibrate, leaving behind trails of salty water mixed with blood.
Ragnar stood on the other side of the battlefield, his sword still dripping with blood. He stared at the creature with a feral grin.
"Finally," he said loudly. "The big one comes out."
I raised the Maw sword, Qi swirling steadily along its blade. The scent of plum blossoms grew stronger again, pushing away the foul stench of the deep sea.
//---//
If you need more, please visit my Patr3on via the link below:
https://www.patr*eon.com/cw/Mr_Wan
Remove the quotation marks and there are around 40+ chapters available.