Thanks to the unity of the Viking warriors, the situation was finally brought under control. The screams of battle slowly faded, replaced by the crackling of burning wood, the calm return of the waves, and the heavy breaths of the soldiers who were still standing.
Two of the giant shark monsters had fallen.
One collapsed at Ragnar's hands—cleaved from shoulder to waist by a brutal slash empowered by Rune Chanting. The other fell after Jun drove his sword into the creature's chest, Demonic Qi shattering its heart from within before its body collapsed onto the already half-destroyed pier.
The last creature retreated into the sea, vanishing along with the dark blood that spread through the water.
"Fuuh…" Ragnar let out a long breath, lowering his sword as he glanced around. The townsfolk began to emerge from their hiding places. Some were putting out fires, others evacuating the wounded. The port city was damaged—yet still standing.
"For now… this place is safe," Ragnar said.
He turned toward Jun, observing him from head to toe. The sword in Jun's hand was still faintly pulsating, the remnants of dark energy slowly fading.
"By the way," Ragnar continued, his tone now lighter, "you fought incredibly well. Even I was stunned."
Jun gave a short nod, not used to receiving such praise.
"What's your name?"
"Jun."
Ragnar repeated it slowly, as if engraving it into his memory. "Jun…" Then a wide grin appeared. "In that case, your name shall be remembered as the Flower Sword Master!"
Jun's expression instantly changed.
"What—"
But it was too late.
"Hey!" Ragnar turned toward the warriors and townsfolk gathered nearby. "Raise your voices for Jun, the Flower Sword Master!"
Silence hung for a moment.
Then—
A thunderous cheer erupted.
"FLOWER SWORD MASTER!!"
"JUN!!"
"WARRIOR OF THE SEAS!!"
Some Vikings stomped their feet against the ground, others struck their shields or rough wooden tables. Laughter and shouts blended together, full of pride and triumph.
Jun stood stiffly in the middle of it all.
His face clearly showed surprise… which then shifted into a rare hint of embarrassment. He turned his gaze away, avoiding the dozens of eyes staring at him like he was a legendary hero.
It was simply the Viking way—granting a title as a badge of honor, something remembered longer than one's real name.
And it went on… for quite a while.
Around five full minutes.
Only after the cheers began to fade did Ragnar clap Jun's shoulder hard—almost knocking him off balance.
"Come," he said cheerfully. "Let's drink."
Ragnar led Jun to a large inn not far from the harbor. The building was two stories tall, sturdy, and below it was a lively tavern—the place where warriors gathered after battle.
The moment they entered, Ragnar immediately shouted, "Hey! Bring us some ale here!"
The barkeep nodded quickly, already used to that booming voice.
Jun sat down slowly, staring at the wooden mugs being brought out. "Haah… honestly, I don't like getting drunk after a war."
Ragnar turned with a baffled expression. "Eh? Why!?"
"It doesn't keep my mind clear."
Ragnar burst into loud laughter. "Hahaha! Relax! We just achieved a glorious victory!"
He leaned back toward the table, raising his voice so everyone could hear. "You know how many enemies we fought back there, right?"
Jun thought for a moment. "Hmm… around a thousand?"
"That's right!" Ragnar slammed his palm against the table. "And guess what! There were barely a hundred of us who could fight here!"
"YAAA!" shouted the people around them, raising their mugs.
"If that's not a great victory, then what is!?"
Cheers erupted again.
Jun stared at the mug of ale before him, then let out a small sigh. "Haah… fine. Just one mug."
"Hahaha!" Ragnar laughed in satisfaction, raising his mug high. "To victory!"
The wooden mugs clashed together. Laughter, cheers, and war songs filled the inn. The fire in the center of the hall cast the Vikings' shadows across the walls, creating a scene both warm and wild.
Jun drank.
One mug.
Then two.
And somehow, the number kept increasing.
The Vikings were shocked—then amused—watching the foreigner remain sitting upright even after many of them had begun to stagger. Jun didn't sing, didn't shout; he simply drank while listening to war stories, tales of gods, and the rough laughter of warriors.
Strangely… he was the last one still holding on.
Only after the twentieth mug did his vision finally start to spin. The world that had been stable suddenly tilted, and the voices around him became too far, too close, all at once.
And after that—
Darkness.
...
The next morning.
"Urgh…"
Jun awoke to a dull pain hammering his head like a mallet. His eyelids felt heavy, his mouth dry, and his mind blank for a moment.
"This is why…" he muttered softly while rubbing his temples, "…I hate getting drunk."
He tried to move, then unconsciously reached toward the bed beside him.
His hand touched something… warm.
And very soft.
"Ahn~"
That sound made Jun's entire body tense.
"Eh?"
His awareness returned completely in an instant. His heart pounded violently. With stiff—almost mechanical—movements, Jun slowly lifted the blanket.
Beside him lay a woman.
Her brown hair was spread across the pillow, her skin dotted with faint freckles, her breathing steady, her expression peaceful. Clearly a local—perhaps Viking, perhaps not a warrior—but real… too real.
Jun froze.
The color seemed to drain from the world, turning everything black and white.
"..."
His mind went blank.
Then one name surfaced, striking harder than any hangover.
Akeno.
Her face. Her smile. The way she looked at him with those violet eyes full of trust.
Jun swallowed.
"…I went too far," he whispered.
Not just drunk.
He had crossed a line he should never have crossed.
The woman beside him shifted slightly, mumbling in her sleep. Jun quickly pulled the blanket back over her, stood up carefully, and moved to the edge of the bed, covering his face with one hand.
Outside the window, Midgard's morning light shone over the harbor still in recovery—calm, as if indifferent to someone's inner turmoil.
Jun let out a long breath.
The cries of seabirds echoed from afar, gliding through the cold morning air, contrasting sharply with the chaos inside his chest.
"I just cheated on my first girlfriend…" he murmured.
The words simply fell, without witnesses, without judgment. And perhaps because of that, his chest felt even heavier. No excuses. No justification. Only a bitter truth he had to accept.
He glanced at the leftover food on the table, losing his appetite, then sighed once more before forcing himself to remain composed.
...
Ragnar woke up near noon.
As he descended to the tavern floor, the scent of roasted meat and warm bread greeted him. At one of the tables, Jun was already seated, calmly eating lunch as if nothing had happened.
Ragnar approached without hesitation, sitting across from him with his usual wide grin.
"Hey," he said casually. "You feeling better now?"
He smirked. "Honestly, last night you were pretty wild, you know?"
The air around them changed.
Not cold—but tense.
Ragnar sensed something unusual. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, his warrior instincts quietly warning him, like facing a starving beast barely restraining itself.
He looked at Jun.
That gaze… wasn't angry. Nor aggressive.
But sharp.
Far too calm.
"Did I say something wrong?" Ragnar asked, this time more carefully.
Jun stopped chewing. He exhaled softly, then lifted his eyes.
"Haah… no," he replied briefly.
The pressure vanished instantly, as if it had never been there. Ragnar blinked a few times, slightly relieved—yet confused.
Jun leaned back in his chair, fingers interlaced atop the table. "By the way," he said, his voice returning to its usual calm tone, "I want to ask something."
Ragnar raised a brow. "Hm?"
Jun looked straight at him. "About Stone Island."
Ragnar's expression changed.
//---//
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