As soon as I had finished reading the runes on the stone slab, the system sent me a prompt, not even waiting for me to open it, just immediately popping into view.
— Do you wish to access Sigurd’s Trial? Y/N_ —
“Whoa!” I said as I knelt over one knee, trying to calm myself down. So much information in just a couple of sentences.
This was the actual burial mound of ‘the’ Sigurd of Legends, from the Ring of Nibelungen and shit, honestly, I was not sure if that was how it was spelled, or if that was even a thing he was in, but yeah, the guy was major famous, as in mythologically famous, like a celebrity even.
I am sure everyone knows the story in which he bathes in dragon blood, and becomes invulnerable, except for a patch on his back that was covered by some leaves when he did it, causing his death later on by one of his mates. I was kind of unsure about the details, but that was the gist of it. I thought.
Just the fact that I was now in the presence of his burial mound, or at least, right at the place where he had been killed was huge… if I was a hat-wearing, whip-lashing archeology teacher on a quest for crazy loot. Which I wasn’t, except for the loot part, I would welcome all kinds of loot.
And the following prompt had a way of promising just that.
— Do you wish to access Sigurd’s Trial? Y/N_ —
A system-given trial. Would this be something like a dungeon? With trash mobs, puzzles, tomb raiding, and a dragon in the end? Giving away tons of loot, and experience points, while retelling the old tale of Sigurd? I didn’t know about the dragon, but the part in which he had to bed the beautiful Queen Brynhildr was something I would be up for.
I looked back at Bear, who stood up and growled, bobbing his head, urging me to hurry up and go on.
“Yes,” I said and was transported away from the mound in the spring.
I was now in what seemed to be the atrium of a mausoleum, which was dimly lit, the only light filtering in from high windows near the ceiling. The walls are lined with marble pillars, their surface etched with intricate carvings. In the center of the room, a single plaque stands on a pedestal, its surface covered in ancient runes.
The walls are rough and cold, made of large slabs of grey stone, the air musty and damp, the scent of old stone and dirt filling my nostrils. In contrast, the doorway is invitingly open, drawing me in. As I enter the corridor, I see beautiful paintings covering the previously bare walls, telling the story of Sigurd Dragonslayer. The colors, were vibrant, and the details exquisite, transporting me to a different time and place.
As I gazed at the tapestries, vibrant depictions of ancient legends adorned the walls. One caught my eye - a fierce battle between Sigurd and the dragon Fafnir. Memories flooded back as I recalled the stories my grandfather used to tell me about our ancestor's legendary victories. However, my heart sank as I saw the scene shift to Sigurd's defeat against Thidrek, his betrayal by Brynhildr, and his eventual death at the hands of Hagen in a treacherous ambush. As a Hagen myself, though with a different origin, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Would I have to face a similar fate if I ever crossed paths with Sigurd? The thought made me shudder.
I walked along the corridor, and I saw how it opened again in the distance, a dim light coming after a bend in the corridor, and no, I knew Sigurd was not exactly my ancestor, but anyone with Scandinavian blood fancied themselves descendants from the legends, or at least we did in my family, we loved to think that those myths were the tales of our forebearers.
Heart pounding in my chest, I cautiously entered a circular room to confront my opponent. My eyes searched for any advantage as I focused on him, willing the system to reveal his name and level. When it finally appeared before me, my blood ran cold. I was not fighting against Sigurd's legacy, but rather for it, as the man standing before me was none other than Hagen von Tronje - Grade-F, Level 5, known as Sigurd's Bane. The weight of this realization only fueled my determination to emerge victorious from this trial.
A ragged linen shirt in answer to his half-plate armor, barefooted against iron greaves, fist versus axe. The only saving grace was that Hagen von Tronje, Hagen for short, was also level 5, perhaps the system would always make this trial the same level as the challenger? I also noticed it was Race level that was taken into consideration, instead of class.
Hagen stood in the middle of the room, axe in hand, patiently, studying me, waiting.
He was taller than me by a fair bit, maybe 6’4” to my 6’0”, I started jumping in place, warming up, letting my arms flow freely with each little jump, he wasn’t as muscular as I was, you could notice some belly fat below his chainmail. He still looked like the massive Viking of legend he was. He had no helmet, which was a welcomed blessing.
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I could go about this a couple of different ways. I could go up to him slowly, trying to control the space around us, moving in circles just outside the reach of his axe, while waiting for him to tire out, producing slower swings, which then I could exploit to deliver quick jabs to his head, enraging him, making him throw wider and stronger swings, adding up on his exhaustion, taking our fight into what we called ‘the latter rounds’ in boxing. The problem with this approach was, that Hagen being level 5, and a human, must have the same or relatively the same amount of stamina that I had, and I could not waste dozens of hours just circling my way around the guy just for some jabs in trade. This was the fancy ‘out boxer’ approach, a surefire way to win, based on a confrontation of pure skill.
Another approach was to reduce his space, so he could not swing properly, greatly reducing his ability to inflict pain or a deadly axe swing to my head for that matter, this could be done by dashing up to him, going down his first swing of the axe, and using that momentum to stick to his chest like a suckling baby, but this relied heavily on my head bobbing and body swaying capabilities, this would have been my preferred approach, if not for a couple of reasons, the first one being his chainmail, as I would have loved to deplete his stamina by wailing hooks at his liver and gut, and the second one being his fucking Viking axe. You never had to factor axes into your boxing strategy truth be told.
In the end, I decided to go with the most logical, safe, and steady approach.
I lunged forward at full speed, throwing my head in the lowest stance I could keep while running, forcing him to either deliver a low swing or a high-to-low slash.
He went for a horizontal slash, expecting it, I dodged to my right and jumped forward, tackling the bastard with my shoulder, grabbing the back of his thighs and pulling upwards. I heard the clang of his axe as it flew away from us and we both fell to the ground, now don’t get me wrong I am not an MMA fighter, I am not trained in how to keep a dude on the ground while pounding him with my elbows, but I had seen so many PPVs by this point, thanks to Raulin and his love for the sport, that I could at least keep hold of Hagen enough to deliver a few well placed ‘one-twos’ to his stupid face.
Enough to draw blood, punching with all I had; as soon as I felt that I was about to lose my advantage by reason of Hagen’s use of main force, I used his motion to propel myself forward, falling on my feet, running in a mad dash towards the axe that was lying on the floor.
Getting hold of the axe was one thing, but turning around and looking back at the hulking beast of a man that was Hagen, still struggling to stand up, I realized what a fool I was. He was a Viking of legend, with emphasis on the ‘legend’ part, he was a guy who lived over a thousand years ago, he was a ruthless killer, yes, but a thousand years of medical achievements, health advancements in diet, upbringing and most importantly, physical training science, made me the real beast. I was the apex representation of mankind in this trial.
Further enhanced by the system’s attributes, I knew this was a matter of time before I got him against the proverbial ropes. Feeling the axe in my hands, I noticed the shoddy craftsmanship, it was just a lump of iron, with an edged head and some leather for grip. His chainmail was not regular in make, with some of the little rings smaller than others, I could even see some already broken.
As long as I kept the axe away from him, and not allowed him to grab me in a bear hug, I had this in my bag. In a moment of clarity and possibly a stroke of genius, I threw the axe toward the corridor, itself piercing the wall with a loud thud, rendering it out of play for now. I would grab it on my way back.
Hagen looked at the entrance of the corridor, where the axe was now stuck in a wall, outside the circular arena-like room we were in, then back at me, said something in old Norse, what I guessed was old Norse, that sounded like he was cussing at me, and slowly stepped toward me, ready for a fist fight.
I assumed my peek-a-boo stance, he was larger than me, so I was not confident in outboxing the guy without receiving some shiners, and if I was going to get clobbered a bit, I was sure as hell not trading that for some jabs, I would go for hooks and uppers instead, delivering back in kind. Hagen kept walking towards me, I dashed forward. My boxing trainer would have been proud.
I kept swaying back and forth, left and right, as my opponent kept throwing wild punches, that I would counter with a well-placed right straight or a left hook, it was not much over a minute or two since he had started recoiling at my liver punches, opening himself to more punishment, even lowering his head for a couple of right uppercuts in the process, I thought I had him after one of those, but the bulky bastard was nothing if not resilient and stubborn.
Seeing as he was pretty much done, I checked on my resource pool.
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HP: 592/660
Stamina: 420/600
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I had received a couple of hey makers, true, but I was pretty much unscathed, and my stamina had dropped by my actions, delivering punch after punch, hook after hook, so I decided to go for it. I would use my skill for the first time.
Intuitively I just thought about it in my head, ‘Dempsey Roll’.
My body reacted on its own, my stance changing slightly, my body swaying, my head bobbing, I could see Hagen’s punches failing to hit their mark, as I gained momentum, I could feel my muscles strengthening as the skill’s effect turned on. Next thing I knew, Hagen’s body was going in and out of my field of view, as my body swayed with such deliberate motions that my head ended up facing away from him, but I always got feedback from my fists, I was hitting him so hard that I could feel, and hear, his armor breaking, the bones snapping, his cries filling the room, again, left to right, again, right to left, again, again, until I got no feedback anymore.
My body stopping of its own accord, I could see what was previously a proud warrior of old, now a broken mess of flesh and exposed bones, one of his eyes was dangling out of its orbital, the other one completely shot down by massive swelling, his previously round head now looked like a cubist painting, his arms showed protruding bones snapped in half, from when he tried to block me. I had mauled him beyond recognition.
*DING*
— You have received a new system message. Display Y/N?_ —