CHAPTER 39: "SHIVER" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"
- KING WILLIAM STUDIO
- Feb 23
- 26 min read
CHAPTER 39: "SHIVER" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"
The air around the arena still vibrated with the aftershock of the battle. Ash drifted from the plasma-scorched corpses of the shark-hybrid warriors, rising into the green sunlight like the breath of a dying storm. Citizens whispered among themselves, trembling from the revelation that their Jarl—the woman they trusted—had been something other than human long before her challenge.
Emily stood beside me, sword still dripping, chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. She didn’t show fear, but the weight of what she’d done clung to her like a second skin.
I climbed back onto the platform where Bestla’s body lay. Her head rested several feet away. Her helmet had rolled halfway across the arena. Her severed arm still twitched with dying nerve signals—probably the last remnants of hive impulses still dispersing.
I knelt and picked up the helmet. I lifted Bestla’s visor to reveal her head and pushed her lips upward with a thumb.
Rows of shark teeth shimmered in the light—dozens of serrated blades, layered across each other, far too many to be human. The gums were blackened, the bone ridges warped and thickened by hive grafting.
Emily, Alexandria, Khamzat, Samuel, Niko—all of them watched. I turned toward them and said, “It appears Bestla was already assimilated with the shark hive.”
A sharp gasp rippled through the crowd. Alexandria stepped forward, her eyes sharp with a mixture of anger and dread.
“Is it true that she killed Ikeem?” she asked.
Emily’s voice carried across the silent arena. “She sent warriors to kill him, yes.”
The citizens erupted in whispers—fearful, confused, desperate. Heads turned toward Emily, some with admiration, others with wariness, all with need. They had lost a leader. They were terrified. And now they looked at her.
I glanced toward the crowd. “What do they want, Emily?”
She didn’t hesitate. “They see me as Bestla’s successor.”
The murmurs around us grew louder, dozens of voices repeating her name as if invoking a new guardian spirit. Emily had killed the corrupted Jarl in fair combat—ritual combat. To them, this wasn’t just justice. It was an ascension.
Borghilda limped forward, her wrists raw from the bindings Bestla had used. Blood dried on her cheek, and her breathing was uneven, but her voice still carried authority.
“We must swear you under oath,” Borghilda said.
Emily shook her head immediately. “We don’t have time.”
Borghilda placed a hand on Emily’s shoulder, steady despite her injuries. “I know. Afterwards.”
Emily nodded once—firmly, decisively. Then she turned to the crowd, her posture tall and commanding in her armor.
“Let’s get this place barricaded,” she said.
In her words, the entire city seemed to come alive—warriors rushing to close gates, citizens fetching tools, scouts reporting movements from the hills, and the faint echo of hive-chitter whispering from the shadows of Aalborg’s towering spires.
A storm was coming. And Aalborg would not fall unprepared.
The city of Aalborg rumbled like a wounded beast awakening. Fires were being extinguished, barricades hammered into place, and frightened citizens scrambled to obey Emily’s command. The air tasted of metal, fear, and the lingering static of the recently slain hybrids.
Emily and I stepped down from the platform, our feet against the ancient stone. Alexandria, Niko, Khamzat, and Samuel were already gathering near the courtyard, exchanging orders with the local warriors. Their faces were tense—exhausted, yet ready for more.
We walked toward them, our armor humming softly with every step.
I spoke first. “You guys are going to stay here—help barricade Aalborg while we travel back to Cybrawl.”
Samuel recoiled as if struck. “What! Why?”
Before his protest could continue, Alexandria snapped, “Shut up!”
The word cut through the courtyard like a whip. Samuel backed down, frustrated but silent.
I continued, maintaining my tone. “We’re going to Cybrawl to gather warriors—and to look for new ways to spot our foes.”
Alexandria crossed her arms. “That sounds great, but I’m coming with you.”
I turned, about to ask why, but she spoke again before I could even draw breath. “I left my personal journal there.”
Her voice seemed calm, but something flickered beneath her expression—an urgency she didn’t show often. Suspicion nudged at the back of my mind. Her journal? Was that truly the reason? Or was Cybrawl connected to her in some deeper way?
There wasn’t time to question it. “Alright,” I said.
Beside me, the sleek silver form of Droid L-84 pivoted in our direction, clearly having overheard.
I pointed toward Samuel. “Alright, droid—make sure Samuel doesn’t run off anywhere.”
Samuel groaned, muttering under his breath, “great, now I’m stuck in shark infested lands.” But the droid was already positioning itself between him and the outer streets.
Emily, Alexandria, and I left the chaotic courtyard behind as the sounds of fortification echoed through Aalborg. Our boots crunched over gravel, then over wild grass, until we reached the edge of the conifer field where Emily’s childhood homestead rested—quiet, untouched, a sanctuary amidst political ruin.
Our Drakkar dropship waited like a steel beast resting in the grass, its matte-black hull absorbing the dim light. The ramp was still closed, and the ship remained undisturbed—at least from a distance.
Emily slowed her stride. “Willy, look! He flew away.”
I followed her gaze to the garden fence. The spot where the Orka Dragon usually perched—scratched soil, broken twigs—was empty.
Of course.
I exhaled through my nose. “No offense, but I’m not surprised. You can’t ever truly tame an animal that large.”
Emily folded her arms with a sigh, though a small smile tugged at her mouth. She knew I was right. A creature with wings spanning half a courtyard wasn’t meant to be kept like a house pet.
The ramp of the Drakkar dropship descended with a hydraulic hiss, stirring the field with its downwash. The interior lights flickered to life, revealing the tactical consoles and polished metal floors within.
We stepped aboard.
Once the ramp sealed shut behind us, I turned to Emily. “Do we have most of Ikeem’s equipment?”
Emily settled into the secondary pilot seat, her armor folding into place with soft clicks. “Yes, we do.”
“Good,” I said. “We’re going to need that.”
Alexandria strapped in behind us. She didn’t speak. She barely blinked. Her face was not the face of a warrior preparing for battle—it was the face of someone keeping secrets.
The cockpit hummed as I took the primary controls. The engines rumbled beneath us, warm and steady, and then—
The Drakkar lifted, rising above the conifer trees, leaving Emily’s home—and the chaos of Aalborg—behind.
The skies above the continent were streaked with storm clouds and faint auroras. No one spoke during the ascent. The hum of the engines filled the void, a low metallic growl that accompanied our silence.
Finally, the darkness of space parted to reveal a world of impossible symmetry. Cybrawl.
The artificial planet gleamed with cold perfection—artificial rivers, forests, merged with megastructures shaped like nested rings, energy conduits glowing neon blue & purple across its vast surfaces. Lightning arced between orbital towers. The sky shimmered with electromagnetic fog during this hour.
We descended toward one of its primary landing ports—the only structures on Cybrawl designed for organic life forms.
As the ship touched down, shock absorbers hissed against the sterile white landing pad. The ground beneath us shone like glass, reflecting our vessel and the sky in a flawless mirror.
The moment the ramp opened, we rushed out—boots hitting the polished cybrid surface with a sound like striking stone in a cathedral.
The artificial planet greeted us with the hum of machinery, the cold breath of synthetic winds, and the sense that—somewhere deep beneath its artificial skin—answers waited.
The landing port’s sterile brilliance faded behind us as we followed the polished walkway toward the monorail hub. The rail lines cut through the metallic avenues of Cybrawl like veins of neon light, pulsing with energy as if the entire planet were a single living mind made of metal.
Alexandria led the way. Her boots tapped sharply against the titanium floors, echoing in the vast dome surrounding the platform. Emily walked beside me, her armor softly emitting a faint violet glow. I absorbed the sight of the artificial world around us—its towering spires, hovering platforms, and biomechanical trees engineered to breathe artificial air into the city.
We boarded the monorail.
The doors slid shut behind us with a hiss, and the vehicle glided forward without a sound. Its windows wrapped around us in a wide arc, giving a full view of Cybrawl’s capital as the train shot along its magnetic rails.
Below, I could see the seamless blend of nature and machinery—metal roots entwined with actual soil, waterfalls pouring into real rivers, the sky above painted with holographic clouds to simulate a living world. The place breathed, even without lungs.
Emily stared out over the landscape, her face softened by a mix of awe and confusion. I placed a hand on the rail beside me and said quietly: “I can’t get over the fact that the Rus helped build all of this?”
Alexandria didn’t even look away from the window. “It wasn’t our doing. It was the scientists and engineers who made this happen.”
I tilted my head. “And they all came from your timeline?”
“Actually, no,” she replied. “Most were born here—including Ikeem.”
“That’s good to know.”
Yet even as I said it, disappointment wound tighter in my chest. The Rus—Nasga—people had been spoken of like titans, godlike wanderers who shaped civilizations. But the truth was more grounded. Mortals made this world. Vikingnar hands and minds forged its foundations.
If the Rus hadn’t shaped Cybrawl or Vikingnar, what purpose did they truly serve here?
Before the thought could settle, Alexandria turned toward me with a sudden seriousness.
“What did you see when you were connected to the talking tree?”
Her voice was careful, too careful, as if my answer might confirm something she feared.
I inhaled slowly. “The Arckon Sphere is located on a lost world with a fallen statue holding a torch. While Valrra is being held hostage by odd pale figures drawing her blood… I don’t know what my vision means yet.”
The monorail hummed onward, its speed increasing as it carried us deeper toward the Factorum—the industrial-capital region of Cybrawl where factories, laboratories, and command centers converged in a massive pyramid-shaped superstructure.
The pyramid soon rose into view—towering, gleaming, impossible in scale. Viking architecture fused with cybernetic design: runed pillars made of carbon-steel, banners displaying wolf sigils, and defensive rings rotating slowly around its peak.
When the monorail stopped at the entry platform, we stepped out beneath the immense shadow of the structure. The air smelled faintly of coolant and ionized metal. Workers—humans, androids, and hybrid technicians—moved through the plaza carrying crates of components and data cores.
We approached the primary access gate, ascending a ramp lined with illuminated runes. As we passed beneath the archway, Alexandria slowed her pace.
“Can I go and get my journal while you prepare the tech?”
Her tone was casual, but her eyes avoided mine. Emily folded her arms but nodded.
“Fine.”
Alexandria disappeared through an adjoining corridor, as she moved deeper into the pyramid. Her footsteps faded quickly.
Emily and I pushed open the laboratory doors.
The moment we entered, the sterile white lights flickered to life overhead, chasing the shadows away. The room was enormous—filled with holoscreens, data pillars, analysis chambers, and mechanical rigs used for biological scanning and cross-referencing. Ikeem’s personal work had left the place cluttered with cables and open files, everything half-organized in a genius’s chaotic way.
I walked toward the central console, the holoscreens activating as my biometrics registered.
Emily approached another station, running her hands across the polished metal surface as if remembering something important.
I began setting up Ikeem’s scanning equipment—the same machinery he used to gather data on the Talking Tree and the shark-hive’s genetic resonances. The screens vibrated with life, projecting layers of information like pages from a living book.
As I adjusted one of the emitter nodes, I spoke without looking up. “Can you believe Ikeem was from this timeline?”
Emily stepped closer, watching the screens flicker with pale-blue light. “I can. Vikingnar has the best and brightest.”
“I mean…” I turned, brow furrowed, “why are the Rus here?”
Emily paused, thinking. “I believe Serenity said they came here to send their prisoners.”
I blew out a breath, exasperated. “Can you tell me something I don’t know? Please, luv.”
Emily’s lips twitched into a smirk. “She also stated they came to start wars here, but the amount of negative energy from those wars made the Wraith dimension unstable. Likely the cause of Maladrie’s birth.”
I froze.
Slowly, I turned to her—completely puzzled, completely shocked. “I wasn’t aware of that?”
The holoscreens continued to hum and glow, casting electric shadows across our faces as the realization sank in.
Far beneath Cybrawl’s shining surface—past the immaculate laboratories, humming data corridors, and polished steel arteries of the pyramid—Alexandria descended alone.
Her footsteps echoed dimly as she spiraled downward through narrower stairwells, each level darker and more ancient than the last. The upper floors of the pyramid were immaculate, engineered with Vikingnar precision. But down here, the architecture shifted—rougher, older, almost forgotten.
The air cooled, tinged with the sterile metallic bite of old machines that had not been serviced in decades.
Alexandria paused at a heavy door stamped with faded Rus markings. A warning symbol flickered weakly on its holo-panel, its projection unstable, as though the machine’s memory was fading.
She pressed her hand to the console. The door shuddered, clicked, then hissed open. Inside was a room unlike anything in the Vikingnar-built sectors.
A single portal device stood against the far wall—massive, circular, and unnervingly primitive in aesthetic. Its outer shell was made of rough metal plating, scratched and dented, and its interface resembled something out of the late 20th century Earth: blocky buttons, faded labels, a CRT-style monitor built into the frame. Yet dozens of thick cables snaked from its base into the walls, linking this ancient technology to modern systems.
The contrast was jarring. Old bones, new nerves.
Alexandria approached the updated control console—sleek, modern, Vikingnar-built. Its holo-keys pulsed beneath her fingertips as she began typing in her access codes. The console hummed, syncing with the archaic machine.
A tremor ran through the portal frame. The center began to fill—not with light, but with a swirling gray liquid, like molten metal stirred by an unseen force. It rippled with a sickly glow, thick and unnatural.
She stared for a moment. Then stepped through.
The sensation of crossing the threshold was like walking through cold syrup. The air on the other side was heavy—oppressive even—and Alexandria gasped involuntarily as she stumbled onto solid ground.
The pocket dimension expanded before her in a massive cavernous stretch.
A militarized hangar… but not like any Vikingnar facility.
Metallic catwalks extended across the chamber. Ships of bizarre hybrid design floated in stasis fields. Battle exosuits hung from towering racks. Weaponry—strange, angular, humming with dangerous energy—lined the walls in organized rows.
These were Rus technologies, the real ones. Not the diluted, sanitized variants the Vikingnar were allowed to see. This was the arsenal her people hid from outsiders.
A half-humanoid droid—sleek silver plating, one glowing red optic, and mechanical wings folded behind its back—drifted toward her.
Its voice buzzed with artificial politeness as it scanned her. “Welcome back to the Hot Pocket. Which access point did you come from?”
Alexandria tried to inhale, but her lungs strained. The air was thick, almost gritty, as if particles of energy drifted invisibly through it. She coughed, trying to adjust.
The droid leaned closer, its optic widening. “Are you alright? Did you come from home?”
She waved it off, finally catching her breath. “I’m fine… and I came from Cybrawl. Home is still ways away.”
“Thank you for your cooperation.” With a mechanical bow, the droid shot upward and vanished into the rafters.
Alexandria continued forward, passing rows of personnel—Rus Viking warriors—some sharpening weapons, others inspecting vehicles, others checking armor. Their uniforms bore insignias she hadn’t seen since leaving her original timeline.
Her steps slowed. Two figures stood near a set of stacked plasma crates—Kyle and Krystal.
Both alive. Both whole. Both talking casually as if they had never died in battle. I thought they were slain by demons… A cold knot tightened in Alexandria’s stomach. She approached them cautiously.
Kyle looked up immediately, ever perceptive. “Did we find the location of Crimseed?”
Alexandria swallowed her shock and stayed composed. “No. We’re still stuck, for now. Were you able to re-establish communications with our timeline?”
Kyle shook his head. “No.”
She pressed further. “Did you receive any helpful info before the communications center got fried?”
Kyle sighed, his tone grim. “The commander ordered us to prepare an invasion into Vikingnar soon.”
Alexandria stiffened. “Are you sure we’re ready? We have no contact with our timeline yet.”
Kyle arched his brow. “Well, what do you have?”
Alexandria lowered her voice. “William was able to find Valrra’s location. She’s being held captive by the Vampires.”
Kyle’s jaw tightened. Then he spoke decisively. “To be sure, you should send your right-hand man, Samuel, to the world of Vondrakka. He can scout the area.”
Alexandria scrunched her nose, unable to hold back her disgust. “But he’s an idiot.”
Kyle shrugged. “He’s a useful one at that… Dismissed.”
She rolled her eyes, turning sharply away.
Her boots clicked against the steel floor as she made her way back toward the swirling gray portal. Her footsteps echoed across the chamber—echoes that followed her like ghosts, whispering doubts she tried to suppress.
As she stood before the portal, preparing to return to Cybrawl, her breath trembled.
She wasn’t sure anymore.
Not sure if her mission was righteous. Not sure if her allegiance was justified. Not sure if William should ever know what she had just seen. Not sure if she knew what she was doing at all.
The gray liquid rippled. With a final hesitant step, Alexandria walked through—uncertain if she was walking toward salvation…or betrayal.
The laboratory’s air was unnaturally still—too still, as though the machines themselves were listening. Every vent hummed softly. Every holo-panel we had activated flickered with sterile blue-white light. The smell of ionized metal, coolant vapors, and sterile chemical compounds lingered beneath the recycled atmosphere.
Emily and I worked in tight silence at first.
The tension wasn’t spoken aloud—Alexandria’s absence had stretched too long, and the more minutes that passed, the heavier the unease became. Our hands moved automatically over the tools, sensors, and scanners, but our minds were elsewhere.
A dull mechanical thrum pulsed through the laboratory walls, caused by the central reactor deep beneath the pyramid. The sound underscored everything, like a heartbeat.
Emily broke the silence first.
Her tone was soft, but edged. “So what do you think the Rus’ motives are?” she asked, not looking up from the telemetry module she was recalibrating. “They gave us gifts, caused a mess… and now what?”
I didn’t answer immediately.
The question had been gnawing at me for days.
Finally, I exhaled. “I have no idea, but we must continue working…” My eyes scanned a diagnostic report. “I also believe I found something interesting.”
I powered on a suspended holo-screen. The image blossomed outward in shimmering teal—a rotating biological model of a Shark Person, layered with heat signatures and bodily functions. Their anatomy was strange: dense muscle fibers, uniquely elastic cartilage, organs shielded by deposits of metallic enzymes.
I pointed at a fluctuating bar of temperature data. “The Shark People are regionally endothermic. Meaning their body temperature constantly fluctuates.”
Emily stepped closer, studying the data.
“We can code and upload software into our visors,” I continued, “which lets us detect Shark People infiltrators.”
Emily nodded slowly. “That sounds good, but… there’s a Shiver Fleet fast approaching my homeworld.”
She reached over to another console and pulled up the planetary radar overlay. A formation of crimson dots swept across the hologram at alarming speed.
Her voice tightened. “They’re approaching a coastal region on Verdant.” She zoomed in. “The City of Stavanger.”
My stomach tightened. “How many civilians are there?”
Her face fell. “There’s too many to evacuate.”
The weight of it hung thick in the air. Then an idea sparked in the back of my mind—dangerous, yes, but better than letting Stavanger fall without a fight.
I straightened. “We should continue to fortify Aalborg and draw the Shark People toward our position.”
Emily blinked, surprised.
“Perhaps lure them into the southern crater, not far from Aalborg.”
She stepped closer, relief mixing with desperate hope—and hugged me tightly, arms pressed around my ribs, forehead resting briefly against my chest.
Softly, she asked, “Lure them with what?”
I brushed a hand gently along her back and murmured: “Sound, of course…”
My mind raced faster now, threads connecting, visions forming. “I also realized the Arckon Sphere is on Earth.” My voice dropped low, almost a whisper. “That fallen statue with the torch—it’s the Statue of Liberty…”
Emily froze.
“We can never let Alexandria or her Rus Vikings know of its location.”
The importance of this revelation settled heavily between us. The Arckon Sphere—power beyond measurement—hidden on a dying Earth beneath humanity’s most iconic monument.
Emily’s voice returned, quiet and trembling. “What are we going to do with the Rus?”
I didn’t sugarcoat it. “We use them, for now. Make these idiots useful.”
Before she could answer, the laboratory doors hissed open—sharp, cold, mechanical.
Alexandria stepped inside, journal tucked under one arm, completely unaware of the conversation she had just walked in on. Her expression was composed, almost cheerful, as if she had simply been grabbing supplies… not slipping through portals into a secret Rus military dimension.
I forced my tone to remain level. “I see you got your journal…”
Emily instantly masked her expression, returning to her console. “Let’s gather warriors and get to work. We’ve got what we need.”
Alexandria nodded and started flipping through her notes. But Emily and I shared a glance—one filled with unspoken dread. The laboratory suddenly felt much smaller. And much colder.
The skies over Verdant darkened beneath the approach of our fleet.
Dozens—then hundreds—of shadows streaked across the clouds as our Viking Drakkar warships and dropships descended in disciplined formation. Their hulls glimmered with runic plasma lights, engines roaring like ancient beasts revived for war. Trails of ionized vapor painted the upper atmosphere in streaks of cobalt and white.
The sight was grim, powerful, and undeniably beautiful.
Below us, the planet’s sweeping emerald jungles bent in the wind of our arrival, branches thrashing as the thunder of engines scattered flocks of crystalline avians into the shimmering sky. A storm of dust and pollen rose from the forests as the first dropships touched down.
Aalborg’s pristine airfield stretched out like a silver-blue plateau carved into the wild. Hundreds of our ships slammed onto the open landing strips with mechanical precision, their landing gear embedding deep into the reinforced ground. The surrounding jungle trembled as the last wave arrived.
Our own Drakkar dropship settled onto the field with a low hydraulic hiss.
The moment the ramp lowered, the heat, scent, and weight of the jungle rushed in—moist soil, towering ferns, pulsing alien flora glowing along the treeline, and the distant rumble of the fortified capital.
Alexandria, Emily, and I walked out together, boots clanging on the metallic ramp.
At our backs marched: Lines of Viking warriors clad in hybrid armor—Wraith-steel plating, graphene underlayers, wolf-etched helms. Several wary Rus warriors, heavier builds, their armor bulkier, their eyes scanning everything with suspicion. And towering silently behind them all, Beelzebub, his xeno skeleton layered in biomechanical armor, the hum of purple reactors embedded deep in his torso vibrating the ground beneath his feet.
Together, we formed a war procession. And the jungle parted. We moved swiftly toward Aalborg, knowing time was slipping like sand through fractured glass.
The capital appeared through the final curtain of trees—reborn, renewed, fortified. Massive sheets of alloy plating formed a circular defensive wall around the city’s perimeter, fused seamlessly with the natural rock. Towering pylons glowed with magnetic energy at the top of the structure, giving life to a shimmering yellow energy shield that rippled overhead like a living aurora.
Droid L-84 and his fellow demondroids stood atop the gates—obsidian metal bodies gleaming in the artificial light, eyes glowing like embers.
They had worked fast. They had worked brilliantly.
Despite the chaos of our earlier departure, the rushed planning, and the pressure of a Shiver Fleet approaching Emily’s homeworld, the fortress stood as if it had been here for years. Structured. Hardened. Ready.
I wasn’t surprised. My warriors only ever needed direction.
As our forces reached the gate, I looked up at the lead demondroid. “Nice work, droid. Can you let us in?”
Droid L-84’s head rotated smoothly, the red optic flashing once as he computed the request. He raised one arm, signaling to the wall crews.
A low thrumming pulse rolled across the perimeter.
The yellow energy shield deactivated, dissolving into rising particles of light that drifted upward like golden embers. Metal gates separated, retracting into the walls, and cool Airelian wind spilled out from within the city.
We marched through the opening, the ground shaking beneath our collective footsteps.
Inside, Aalborg had transformed. Once a simple coastal capital, now a fortress city—streets reinforced with barricades, energy conduits running through rooftops, heavy turrets mounted along the walls. Civilians were being directed by demondroids and soldiers into orderly groups, guided toward evacuation centers. Still marching, I stepped closer to Droid L-84.
Quietly, but firmly, I said, “We’re going to evacuate every citizen in Aalborg and send them to the coastal city of Stavanger.”
Droid L-84 paused—a rarity for him. His voice crackled faintly. “But that’s where the Shiver Fleet is heading?”
I didn’t break stride. “I’m aware, but we’re going to lure them away from the city with soundwaves.”
The demondroid processed this, lenses narrowing. Finally, he nodded—sharp, precise, loyal. He turned to begin relaying commands to his units. As he moved away, the metallic cadence of his steps echoed across the fortified streets. The greatest evacuation Verdant had ever seen was now beginning. Aalborg would be empty. Stavanger would brace for the storm. And the crater to the south…would become our trap.
The jungle canopy thinned until it vanished entirely, opening into a colossal wound in the earth—a crater so massive it stretched beyond the horizon like an ancient scar. Verdant wind whipped across its rim, carrying the scent of moss, metal, and distant rain. The soil here was darker, almost obsidian, and the strange tree that grew from the crater’s center, reached upward with twisted, spiraling black bark with red sap.
Our long procession halted at the edge.
Alexandria, Samuel, Niko, Khamzat, Serenity, Anisia, Cole, Hanna, Pete, Jimmy, Rick, Mathew, Elizabeth, Droid L-84, Beelzebub, Emily, and I stood overlooking the place where Ikeem had taken his final rest. Even with the looming arrival of the Shiver Fleet, the crater demanded a certain reverence—quiet, heavy, ancient.
The wind hummed like a low mourning song.
Khamzat looked around with a soldier’s suspicion, narrowing his eyes at the glowing trunks and their gentle, rhythmic movements. “What purpose do these trees serve?” he asked.
“That’s not why we’re here,” I said, stepping forward.
We descended the sloping path into the crater. The soil softened beneath our boots, as if the ground itself breathed. The air grew warmer, humid, and filled with a faint, pulsing resonance—almost like a heartbeat.
The talking tree stood at the center.
Its trunk was broad, its bark dark as the void. Embedded at its base, partially supported by its massive roots, was Ikeem’s body—still, serene, and preserved. His eyes were peacefully shut, as though he were merely resting after a long day of work. A sense of calm radiated outward from him, as if he had accepted everything long before the end.
Alexandria’s breath trembled. “I can’t believe you people never properly buried him?”
“We were in a hurry,” I answered quietly.
Her gaze sharpened. “So it's true that the Shark People killed him.”
“Of course they murdered him. Only a beast has no use for a scientist.”
The implication in her tone was clear—accusatory, sharp, aimed not just at the Shark People but at me. My jaw tensed, a retort building, but before I could speak, Beelzebub stepped between us.
His towering wasp-humanoid form cast a long shadow over the both of us. His wings flickered once, releasing a metallic hum.
“There’s a time and a place for this,” he said, voice thick with stern authority. “Not now. Her people are still of use.”
Alexandria’s cowardly held her tongue.
Beelzebub then turned toward the rest of the group. His voice carried across the crater with finality. “Alright, let’s get Ikeem out of here. He deserves a proper burial… but for now, we have work to do.”
At his command, several Viking warriors stepped forward. With solemn precision, they lifted Ikeem from the cradle of roots and placed him onto a gurney. The talking tree’s bioluminescent patterns dimmed slightly, as if bidding him farewell.
The warriors carried him back toward Aalborg—just minutes north from the crater—vanishing behind the ridge with their sacred burden.
Silence settled once more.
The rest of us turned our attention to the looming threat above the clouds—the Shiver Fleet, now only moments away. The crater would become our staging ground. Our battlefield. Our trap. We moved quickly.
In the center of the crater, Droid L-84 and several demondroids finished assembling the device—an angular construct of antennas, pulsars, and resonating crystal plates. Cables slithered like silver veins across the soil, connecting to amplifiers buried beneath the earth.
The soundwave device activated with a soft pulse. Not loud. Barely audible.
But it vibrated through the ground, through the air, through the marrow. A frequency tuned to the instincts of the Shark People—a lure crafted from their own neural pathways and hive-linked impulses. The perfect bait. The wind shifted. The ground pulsed. The sky darkened.
And in the distance, the first shadows of the Shiver Fleet broke through Verdant’s clouds.
Emily and I stood side by side at the center of the enormous crater battlefield, the scorched earth still radiating the heat of earlier bombardments. The ground was torn and jagged, carved by trenches, collapsed fortifications, and the lingering burn marks of alien plasma. Behind us, our Viking Warrior Army stood ready—thousands of armored shapes forming a living wall of steel and resolve. The familiar weight of my Viking Armor pressed comfortably into my shoulders and spine, its runic circuitry humming like a quiet heartbeat.
The sky above began to darken. Not from clouds—but from something far more massive.
The Shiver Fleet had arrived.
A monstrous shadow swept across the crater floor, stretching like a great cosmic wound. Then others followed, overlapping, swallowing the sunlight until the battlefield dimmed under their sheer immensity. My chest tightened as the hive ship descended into view—slow, deliberate, predatory in its approach. It took shape like a nightmare pulled from the deepest, most ancient part of the ocean: a titanic frilled shark, except fused horribly with a segmented centipede. Its countless insectoid legs twitched and curled as it hovered in the upper stratosphere, suspended by swirling anti-grav distortion fields that rippled through the atmosphere.
The creature-ship’s cartilage frills glowed with diseased neon luminescence, pulsing with electromagnetic charge that made the hairs on my arms stand beneath my armor. Its gills flared as though inhaling the alien air of this world, and then its gargantuan maw opened. Rows upon rows of biomechanical teeth spiraled inward, forming a vortex of darkness.
The hive ship exhaled.
Tadpole-shaped pods rained downward, thousands per second, tearing trails of fire through the air. The impact of each pod shook the ground beneath my boots. The pods cracked open like giant eggs, spilling forth the Shark People—millions of them, flooding the crater floor with terrifying speed. Their numbers spread across the battlefield like a swarm, their collective motion making the ground vibrate.
The first wave rushed toward us, and every detail of them burned itself into my memory. Their bodies were dark gray with white underbellies, sleek and muscular like predatory machines built for speed. Some sprinted on two backward-bent legs, while others ran with four, using a second pair of clawed arms to pull themselves forward with disturbing, insect-like precision. Their heads were pure nightmare—rows of serrated teeth, black void-eyes, and twitching bioluminescent appendages sparking with electrical charge. Some bore retractable narwhal tusks at the tips of their snouts, clicking outward with lethal intent.
The moment the swarm lunged toward our front line, Emily and I surged forward with our forces.
The crater erupted into motion. Dust swirled around me, whipping against my armor as we crashed into the Shark People. The front line of Viking warriors slammed their shields forward, absorbing the initial shock of the charge. The impact vibrated through my bones. Behind them, rifle warriors fired nonstop, plasma beams streaking white-blue arcs over our heads and exploding into the oncoming mass. The overheating vents on their weapons wailed under the strain, glowing molten red, but they kept firing as long as they could hold the rifles in their hands.
I met the first wave head-on.
My strength is embedded in every movement I make. As I brought my weapon down, the circuitry along my arms and chestplate pulsed brightly, sending shockwaves through the ground. Each strike shattered bodies, sending Shark People skidding across the dirt in sprays of red ichor that hissed when it met the supercharged earth.
Emily fought near me. Her armored gauntlets carved glowing arcs through the air, each movement leaving streaks of electrified light. Claws scraped against her armor with ear-piercing screeches. She moved without hesitation, without fear, anchoring herself against the weight of the swarm.
The battlefield transformed into pure chaos. Electric glands on the Shark People fired bolts of crackling light that whipped across the crater. Narwhal tusks shot outward like spears, whistling past my helmet. Clawed limbs raked against Viking shields. Some Shark People launched themselves onto warriors’ backs, gnashing with unstoppable fury. Others burrowed into the earth, erupting beneath our feet like monstrous living mines.
Every second, the ground grew hotter from plasma residue and the constant friction of battle. My boots cracked the soil with each step I took, fissures glowing faintly where alien ichor mingled with plasma discharge.
Despite the intensity, we held the line. Bodies piled at our feet—both theirs and ours—turning the battlefield into a rising landscape of defeat and defiance. The Shark People never slowed. Their swarm simply replaced itself, climbing over their fallen, surging forward in endless tides.
Emily and I were holding our ground, our armor scorched and humming from constant impact, but I could feel the strain spreading through our Viking warriors. Their shield wall wavered in places, not from fear—for they feared no death—but from exhaustion. The tide of Shark People was relentless, and I knew that if we continued pressing forward, we would win only at the cost of losing the Vikingnar we had sworn to protect.
We had a kingdom to save.
I reached for my war horn and lifted it to my helm. The ancient sound that followed cut through the chaos like a blade through smoke. Its deep, resonant call echoed across the crater, vibrating through armor and bone alike. At once, our warriors began to fall back in disciplined formation, shields locking as they retreated toward the distant gates of Aalborg. Plasma rifles fired in measured bursts to cover the withdrawal, axes striking only when necessary. They moved with purpose, buying every second they could.
But they needed more time.
I felt the risk before I embraced it—the immense drain that would follow—but I drew upon the magic woven into every fiber of my being. The energy surged upward from within me, searing and brilliant. I lifted my chainsword, Revenge, high into the darkened sky. The runes along its blade ignited in crimson fury.
A column of red lightning erupted from its tip, tearing upward into the heavens. The sky split with scarlet veins of energy, branching outward in a violent web. The Shark People froze mid-charge. Their frenzied momentum faltered as the storm above them pulsed with unnatural power. Their black eyes flickered. Their bioluminescent appendages sputtered. Confusion rippled through the swarm like a shockwave.
Those precious seconds were enough.
Our warriors reached the gates of Aalborg, disappearing behind reinforced steel and stone as the horn’s echo faded into silence.
When the last of our forces cleared the battlefield, the crater grew strangely still. Emily and I remained alone amid the scattered bodies and smoldering earth. The Shark People, though regaining their senses, were still disoriented—caught between instinct and fear.
I turned toward Emily. Through layers of reinforced steel and glowing visors, we met each other’s gaze. No words were needed. A single nod passed between us, and the next phase began.
I lowered my chainsword toward the horde and unleashed immense blasts of red lightning directly into their gaping maws. The energy roared outward in concentrated arcs, illuminating rows of serrated teeth before detonating within them in blinding crimson flashes. The force tore through the front ranks, scattering bodies across the crater floor.
At the same moment, the earth beneath the Shark People ruptured. Silver crystals burst upward in jagged formations, summoned by Emily’s will from deep below the battlefield. The crystalline spears impaled dozens at once, lifting their thrashing forms into the air before pinning them motionless. The reflective surfaces of the crystals shimmered with cold, alien beauty, stained by red ichor.
The remaining Shark People staggered under the combined assault. Lightning and crystal converged in a final, overwhelming surge.
The first wave of Shark People lay scattered across the crater floor, their forms broken and still, but I knew it was far from over. Smoke drifted through the humid air, curling around the shattered remains of the talking tree. Its black bark was splintered and strewn among the fallen monsters, its once-living presence reduced to charred fragments embedded in the soil.
I lifted my gaze to the sky.
The Shiver Hive Fleet was no longer hovering above the crater. Its massive frilled silhouette was moving—gliding northward through the upper atmosphere exactly as I had intended. The enormous hive ship’s segmented body rippled as it shifted direction, its countless legs folding inward as it accelerated.
I turned sharply toward Emily. “it's heading to the city, time to move!”
She nodded without hesitation, and together we sprinted out of the crater. The scorched earth gave way to dense temperate jungle. We tore through hanging vines and towering alien foliage, our armored boots crushing ferns and snapping fallen branches beneath us. Sunlight flickered through the canopy in fractured beams as the distant shadow of the hive ship passed overhead.
The gates of Aalborg rose before us—towering steel and reinforced stone, glowing faintly with defensive runes. As we approached, I heard a Viking warrior’s voice echo from the battlements.
“open the gates!”
The massive doors groaned apart just enough for us to surge inside. The city buzzed with tension. Warriors moved along the walls. Civilians were being ushered toward fortified shelters. The air carried the hum of power conduits preparing for strain.
Serenity rushed forward, her expression tight with concern. “what happened?”
“no time to explain.”
I turned immediately to Droid L-84, whose metallic frame reflected the blue glow of emergency systems activating across the city.
“We must raise the energy shield to form a dome around the city and fire our orbital laser at the Shiver Fleet!”
L-84 nodded sharply and began channeling power. Above us, emitters along the city’s perimeter flared to life. A brilliant blue energy shield expanded upward, forming a protective dome that shimmered like solid sky.
Along the central tower, Viking Warriors scrambled toward the massive orbital laser cannon. Its long barrel tilted skyward, capacitors glowing as they prepared the firing mechanism. The weapon thrummed with contained force.
But it was too late.
High above, the hive ship pulsed. A blast of green electromagnetic energy lanced downward, striking the orbital laser with devastating precision. The impact exploded in a burst of emerald light, knocking the warriors from the platform and short-circuiting the weapon. The cannon dimmed instantly, smoke rising from its fractured systems.
At least our shield held.
Hive drop pods rained toward the city, only to collide against the blue dome and disintegrate in bursts of scattered debris. The energy barrier shimmered violently but remained intact, sealing Aalborg from invasion.
We had defense. But we had no offense. The Shiver Fleet drifted further north, retreating beyond the range of our crippled laser. Its immense shadow stretched toward the horizon, toward another city unprotected by shields.
Cole stood atop the wall’s defense platform, watching the fleet’s direction with a growing alarm.
“where are they going?”
I followed the path of the retreating hive ship, my jaw tightening beneath my helmet. “to Stavanger of course... We must move quickly if we have any chance of saving the people of this world.”
CHAPTER 39: "SHIVER" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"