The northern wind carried the scent of metal, smoke, and something far more terrifying: a living legend. Heavy footsteps shook the harbor, and the clinking of weapons from the soldiers behind him filled the air.
Murphy, his massive body wrapped in a cloak made of animal hide, stood at the edge of the ship. Someone stood beside him—a figure with a greatsword strapped to their back, face hidden behind a gray cloth and a long cloak that danced in the sea breeze.
As they set foot on the city ground, silence blanketed everything. Doors slammed shut, windows were locked tight, and the market emptied in an instant—like a ghost town.
Suspicion and Fear
Far from the port, Carla was the first to hear the rumors.
"The Vikings… they're at the harbor! The legend… Murphy!"
Her face tensed as she turned to Hiro, who was still catching his breath. The wounds from their last battle hadn't fully healed.
"We have to go, Hiro. Right now."
I didn't ask why. There was something in Carla's voice that told me… we were being hunted again.
We ran toward the high hill at the edge of the city, hoping to get a clearer view from above.
The Pursuing Steps
Unbeknownst to us, someone from Murphy's group had spotted our escape. He said nothing, moving swiftly and silently, following our trail without a word.
He was the 11th Warrior of Murphy's 12 Viking guards. His face was unknown to all, and his intent was hidden—just like the sword still sheathed at his side.
The Inevitable Clash
At the hill's peak, Carla and I came to a halt. Before us lay a wide field, the grass swaying gently, yet the air felt like it was holding its breath.
From behind the bushes, a cloaked figure emerged. Without a word, he walked steadily toward us.
"I only want to talk," he said, his voice deep and calm.
I stepped in front of Carla, my body still weak but my mind ready to fight.
But before I could move, Carla stepped forward. She raised her handmade slingshot, her eyes shining with determination.
"I won't keep hiding behind Hiro. This is our journey."
Without warning, she fired.
The Viking warrior drew his sword. In a flash, he slashed the projectile mid-air with a single, fluid motion.
"Peace," he repeated, his voice unwavering.
Carla didn't believe him. She fired again. And again. From all directions.
Every single shot was sliced cleanly. His movements were like a cold wind dancing in a season of war.
The Legend Appears
Heavy footsteps approached from afar.
Murphy.
He emerged from behind his warrior, his body towering like a mountain. Each step shook the ground. His eyes showed no hatred, only depth and observation.
I could feel it… his aura was overwhelming, but not destructive. This wasn't the aura of an enemy—but something far more complex—perhaps even… familial?
I stepped back with Carla, preparing to unleash my power. The ground began to tremble as I readied a technique—whatever it was, I didn't even know yet.
But just as I was about to strike…
Murphy placed his hand on my head.
Gently. Warmly.
Carla and I froze.
Not from fear. But from confusion.
In the eyes of the giant man, there was no intent to kill. Only a gaze… that seemed to carry the weight of a longing held back for years.