Einar wanted to say something to Hrefna but it was clear that the woman knew what she was doing, so arguing with her would have been pointless.

“I’ll be back later then.” He said as he turned and left, finding the two shopkeepers busy back in the front room of the shop.

The young giant left in the place, already knowing where he’d go next. Thanks to the directions he got from the local guards, he soon found the proving ground that was surrounded by a cheering crowd. Einar walked closer, only to see that someone was already fighting there. It was a familiar face, one of the young God-marked from the same ship he sailed here.

He didn’t know his name, as the young man barely talked with anyone. His death glares and stubborn silence made sure that nobody disturbed him during their time on the ship. Now, the young giant could finally see him doing more than just glaring daggers at others. He was now stabbing daggers into what he recognised as the netherworld wretches he too, had fought against before.

The seax-wielding youth was bleeding quite heavily with dozens of claw marks showing on his body. After two or so minutes, he couldn’t hold on any longer and had to retreat outside the ritual circle. The crowd applauded him for his effort, but the youth was angry at his failure. A man dressed in strange, bone ornament dotted robes walked out from the crowd, raising his voice.

“A valiant effort, but it seems it was not meant to be. Is there anyone else who wishes to take on the challenge of the gods? Perhaps one of you, young ones?” He asked while looking at the group of God-marked that arrived with Einar.

They looked hesitant to step into the arena, Ingrid trying to push Haftor to volunteer, but her brother wasn’t willing.

“I’ll give it a try,” Einar said as he walked closer. “Although I just arrived and do not know the rules of this challenge yet.”

“Good,” the man nodded as he waved the youth closer. “I’m glad to see that there’s at least one more new God-marked that’s brave enough not to run from a fight. The rules are simple. Place your drinking horn on the altar and make your offering, then fight against the wretches sent to measure your worth. You can stay in the arena for five turns at best. After each fight, you can decide to either take your earnings and leave or to fight on in hopes of gaining more. However, if you back out during the fight, you’ll lose whatever the gods bestowed upon you along with your offering.”

“Sounds simple enough.” The young giant hummed as he looked at the stone altar at the other end of the large fighting circle that was surrounded by rune-carved boulders.

“This is a challenge of might and not the mind,” the man remarked. “It’s meant to be direct and bloody. Now go, if you wish to challenge it.”

After a moment of thinking, the stranger couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Do you have a ceremonial horn yet? If not, you can buy one over there.”

“No need,” Einar shook his head. “I already earned a horn in a previous challenge.”

“I see.” The man let out a content sigh as the youth walked over to the altar.

Einar moved with slow steps, the crowd outside the proving ground staring at him while yelling different encouraging words or saying that he wouldn’t even last for one round. He shut out the distracting voices, only thinking of the fights ahead. He didn’t know which of the five turns the previous youth was in, but he managed to count four enemies. Four wretches at the same time was indeed a challenge.

Fighting aside, there was also the question of what he was going to offer to the gods. He didn’t have much left after using up most of the things he got from the sunken ship to strengthen his equipment, but he still had an Abralt steel ingot. As he reached the rune-carved stone slab that served as the altar, he placed the drinking horn on it along with the ingot. Einar didn’t know if he had to pray or ask for the challenge, but his answer soon arrived when the ingot floated up into the air a few inches above the altar and crumbled into modes of light that flew toward the stones which served as the arena’s boundary.

A glowing veil of light rippled out from the stones, forming a wall around the proving ground. The young giant could feel the ground beneath him tremble as a familiar sight occurred. A shield-sized patch of black smoke seeped out from the ground not far ahead of him, clawed hands reaching out from it as a netherworld wretch climbed out of the smoke. Einar walked forward while unsheathing his sword, taking a swing at the creature before it could even stand up. He split it in half in a single swing, earning a wave of amazed and shocked squeals from the crowd.

He then stomped on the still-moving wretch’s head, crushing it in an instant. With that, the first round was over as the corpse of the wretch turned into ash in a flash of fire, the flames forming into a chestnut-sized ball that shot toward the drinking horn. As the pale red flame stopped above the horn, he could feel it pull at his mind, beckoning him to take his prize. ‘No.’ He thought to himself, gripping his weapon tightly as he readied himself for the next round. As if to answer his thoughts, two new smoke patches appeared on the ground and two new wretches climbed out from them.

Einar rushed over to cleave the first one in half, barely killing it before the second one jumped at him. He took a step back while swinging his blade upward, cutting into the creature’s guts and chest. It didn’t care much about the injury as it only staggered for a moment before continuing its attack. The youth swung his blade horizontally, the wretch jumping right into the attack. ‘These things aren’t too smart.’ He thought to himself as he finished off the monster.

With the fight over, the corpses burned to ash, their flames fusing into a tiny ball of amber-hued fire that joined its red companion above the drinking horn. Einar managed to rest up for a few seconds before the proving ground decided that he was not going to give up and summoned the arbiters of his next challenge. Four of them this time. He was ready for their appearance now and immediately rushed out after creatures began to crawl their way out of wherever they came from, killing two of them before they managed to get up from the ground.

The crowd kept cheering as he faced the other two, the human-shaped horrors rushing at him at the same time. Einar took a swing at the right one before bashing into the one on the left with his shoulder. The wretch fell on its back while the one that got cut only staggered a bit. He managed to finish off his downed enemy. but at the cost of the other one raking its inch-long claws across his armour. The young giant stomped the monster in the guts, sending it backwards before beheading the wretch, stomping on the head as it was rolling away.

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The remains of his fallen enemies burned to ash once again, their fires uniting into a dark green ball of flame that flew toward the altar. ‘Three down, two more to go. Next, it should be... eight enemies.’ The seeker thought to himself while staring at the bluish-hued sword in his hand that was dripping black blood from its edge. His next challengers began to crawl out of the patches of smoke on the ground, Einar trying to end as many of them as possible while they were vulnerable. He managed to kill three of them this time, but that still left him with five to face.

Fighting against five enemies simultaneously, the young giant realised that swinging his large blade about was not going to go well, so he willed its blade to shrink down to a two and a half feet length while also pulling one of his short-handled axes from his world eater pouch. With a sword in one hand and an axe in the other, Einar began to fight like a madman, kicking and swinging at his enemies, earning plenty of claw marks on his armour and skin. The crowd watched his actions with a baffled expression, the youth earning both cheers and shocked squeals while fighting.

Soon the last wretch perished and their bodies turned to ash, another ball of red fire joining the others above the altar. ‘Last round.’ He thought with ragged breaths escaping him. ‘That means sixteen enemies.’ The idea of facing sixteen of those damn things sent shivers down his spine as he, for a brief moment, considered taking what he had earned and leaving. ‘If I can’t even defeat these things then I won’t survive on the Thorn Serpent either.’ Einar growled inwardly as his stubbornness flared up along with the cinder-like glow between his locks of red hair.

He let out a roar as he dashed toward the newly appearing wretches, swinging and stomping like a mad giant. Six of the netherworld horrors ended up dead before they could even stand, the remaining ten all rushing at him. From there, it quickly devolved into a bloodbath. Claws raked across Einar’s armour, striking sparks when they reached metal, spurting blood where they met skin. He was bleeding from dozens of small wounds as he bashed one of his enemies with his shoulder, hacking at another one with his axe a moment later before slashing at yet another one with his sword.

The seeker fought like a maddened beast, but there were too many of them. The best choice would have been to retreat behind the safety of the wall and… ‘No!’ He screamed inside his mind, a red haze of fury slowly clouding his vision. The worried crowd shuddered when the youth let out a mighty roar akin to a dragon, his dark crimson hair flaring up with bright flames. A wave of heat rushed out of his body as an unfamiliar bloodlust and strength filled him. He wanted to win. He had to win. He had to destroy them all!

The people outside the proving ground gasped as they watched Einar’s movements becoming faster and filled with a new weight, his weapons cutting deep into the netherworld wretches. One by one, the human-shaped horrors fell beneath his onslaught, the last one being crushed beneath his boot as he stomped on its chest, a wave of crushing fire incinerating it. One last roar left Einar’s throat as his mind began to clear, weariness taking over with the bloodlust leaving him.

The broken remains of his former enemies littered the ground all over the arena, each one bursting into flames that rose into the air, fusing into two chestnut-sized balls of fire. One burned with a deep blue hue, the other shining with the splendour of bright gold. The fire orbs floated toward the altar where they joined the other four above the drinking horn. They formed a circle, slowly spinning for a few seconds before dropping into the horn one by one. Einar slowly made his way toward the altar beneath the silent gaze of the crowd.

He reached out and grabbed the drinking horn that was now filled with a steaming liquid of myriad colours, a strange thought taking hold of him. The young giant looked up at the crowd, raising his horn in the air with a roar of triumph. The onlookers burst into a cheer of victory as they applauded and whistled, the youth drinking the divine brew from the horn. A burning sensation rushed through his body as his many wounds healed, leaving no scar behind. If not for the blood that was already drying on his armour, no one would have been able to tell that barely a minute ago he was still fighting for his life.

“Today we have witnessed a glorious battle,” the strangely dressed man walked into the centre of the arena while speaking in a loud enough voice to drown out the chair of the crowd. “The gods are pleased and their reward has been claimed. All that remains is to carve this warrior’s name onto the wall of champions. Tell us, lad. What is your name?”

“His name is Einar Arnessen.” a heavy voice boomed from the arena’s entrance where a group of warriors stood. “Son of Björn Arnessen the dragon hunter.”

“The son of the dragon hunter?” The man mumbled to himself. “It seems the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Come on, lad,” Einar heard the stranger from the arena’s entrance called out to him. “It’s time for us to go.”

“Do I know you?” The youth asked back confused as he walked closer, the tall man with greying hair letting out a deep sigh after hearing his question.

“You don’t but it’s not your fault. High King Carr was a petty man. His edict forbade anyone to reach out to your parents, so you could only hear about me from their tales at best.”

Listening to those words the young giant walked near the man, realizing that they were almost the same height. The aged warrior patted him on the shoulder with a wide grin.

“Let me have a look at you, lad!” the man said as he examined Einar for a few moments before hugging him, only letting go of him to turn toward the others behind them. “Tonight we celebrate. My grandson had finally come home!”

“You’re… grandfather Bodvar?”

“That’s right,” the greying-haired giant laughed as he led the youth away. “And this is your uncle, Stígr and your cousin Fólki.”

“I must say,” the young man his grandfather introduced said with a scoff. “When I heard it you came home as a God-marked, I was somewhat excited but after seeing you fight, it’s all gone.”

“Fólki!” His father grumbled.

“What? You’ve seen him fight, same as me. He barely managed to kill off those wretches. After all the tales you told me about Uncle Björn, I expected him to be a proper warrior but he barely knows how to swing a sword.”

“He wasn’t born a God-marked like you,” the old man remarked. “So he learned slower, just like any mortal warrior. And besides. Knowing my son, he likely spent more time training him using axes just like he does.”

“Whatever.” Fólki ended the argument as he left, joining some group not too far away from them.