Either way, I had a mountain to climb.
And apparently, half the damn continent came to watch me do it.
Thousands lined the back edge of the capital—families, warriors, priests, merchants, children perched on shoulders. Some had never seen a rite like this before. Others still remembered when my father took his first step toward legend. Most just wanted to see if I'd fall and break my neck in the first ten feet.
Trumpets blared. My boots thudded down the stone road leading out of the city as my family walked just ahead—my mother wiping tears, Rurik waving at random strangers like he was the one being celebrated, and my father… well, stoic as ever. He didn't say a word, just kept walking, arms crossed behind his back like he was watching a soldier heading off to war. I guess, in a way, I was.
The Blood Mountain loomed ahead—towering, snow-capped, jagged like the broken teeth of some ancient god. At its peak, hidden in stormclouds and sacred frost, stood the gates to Asgard. Or so the legends said. Supposedly, Heimdall himself guarded it.
Somehow, I doubted he'd offer me a warm welcome.
As we reached the final stone marker at the base of the mountain, I turned to the crowd one last time. My heart pounded. My breath misted. And then—because it felt right—I raised a single fist toward the heavens.
The roar from the people was deafening.
I turned back and began to climb.
The shouts faded behind me, swallowed by wind and distance. The city shrank quickly, its spires and smoke trails becoming no more than a silhouette against the vast horizon. Step by step, the world of men vanished behind me, replaced by silence, frost, and sky. I could already feel the weight of it—the mountain watching, judging, waiting to see if I'd keep going.
The cheering faded quickly. The cold, not so much.
Snow crunched beneath my boots, the wind biting like tiny daggers against my cheeks. I muttered curses into my scarf. "Why'd I have to be born in bloody September…"
The beginning was easy enough—inclines and ledges carved over generations by those who came before me. But this wasn't some celebratory hike. My first job was to find food, set up camp, and try not to get devoured by monsters that made war beasts look like lapdogs.
"Let's see what this mountain's got," I muttered, letting out a breath as I channeled Æther into my limbs. My body surged—light, hot, sharp. Like the blood in my veins had turned to fire. I dashed forward, faster now, more focused, senses stretching outward.
I passed icy ridges and broken trees, keeping low, listening.
The mountain was alive.
Snow rabbits. Perfect.
I crouched, slipping two throwing knives from my belt, steadying my aim. My breath stilled.
Then—
Tremor.
My gut clenched.
Without thinking, I leapt backward. A second later, the ground erupted beneath where I'd stood.
A massive head tore through the snow—a serpent-like monstrosity with glacier-blue scales that shimmered like glass and four jagged limbs ending in claws longer than swords. Spikes of ice jutted from its back like a crown. Its roar split the sky.
"…Of course," I deadpanned. "A gods-damned Fjellwyrm. On the first day."
The beast reared back and exhaled. I dove to the side just in time as a stream of pure frost screamed past me, freezing the very air. The trees behind me turned to statues of white glass.
"I'm barely big enough to be a snack, you frozen lizard bastard!" I shouted, drawing my sword. My heart pounded, my breath ragged, but my stance was solid.
No running. No retreat.
Æther pulsed through me again, heating my blood against the cold. I launched forward. The wyrm swiped—too slow. I ducked low, letting the ice beneath me help as I slid straight under its belly, sword raised. I thrust upward, aiming for its gut.
My blade cut, but not deep. Not nearly enough.
I shot out from beneath it just in time for the wyrm to whip its massive body sideways. The impact never came—I leapt again, way too high. My stomach turned mid-air as I caught the beast's eye.
It grinned.
That's never a good sign.
The wyrm inhaled sharply.
"Oh—come on—" I twisted mid-air, swinging my sword sideways as hard as I could. The force pushed me barely out of the frost beam's path, but it still grazed me.
Burning cold lit up my side.
I hit the ground hard and rolled, vision blurring. My coat sizzled. Skin cracked beneath it.
"Shit—shit—" I hissed, pulling myself up, the wound screaming with every breath.
I tossed my sword aside. It wasn't going to do a damn thing. Not to something this big.
"Alright," I muttered, dragging the new daggers free. "Let's see what you can do."
The wyrm lunged.
I didn't flinch. I ran straight at it.
It expected hesitation. Pain. Fear.
Instead, it got a dagger straight to the eye.
The beast shrieked in pain, thrashing violently.
While it writhed, I vanished to its blind side, slamming the blades upward across its exposed throat. Something snapped—a sound like metal biting into stone.
The daggers shone, flashing with a strange, celestial light.
Then—shhhk!
They extended, lengthening like they were alive, cleaving clean through the wyrm's neck.
Blood sprayed. Ice cracked. And the great beast's head tumbled to the snow with a dull thud.
I stood there, panting, eyes wide. "What the hell…"
The blades returned to normal, humming softly in my hands.
I stared at them for a moment. Then grinned.
"Looks like I'm having lizard for dinner."
⸻
Night came fast. I set up camp near a small rock outcropping, carving up the Fjellwyrm's meat with no small amount of effort. The fire crackled, warming my half-frozen bones as the first bite of monster meat hit my tongue.
Surprisingly chewy.
I dug into my pack for the first-aid kit. Five potions. Bandages. My left side was still numb and blistered. I peeled away the coat and hissed.
"That's… not pretty."
I poured one potion over the wound. The sting hit like lightning.
"AH—Yup. Still alive."
I leaned back against the rock, letting the fire and potion do their work. My limbs felt heavy. Tired. But satisfied. My stomach full, my kill still steaming in the snow, and my first night survived.
If that was the welcoming party… this month was going to be hell.
I closed my eyes.
Tomorrow, I'd climb higher.