NEVER... UNDERESTIMATE... MY FAMILY!" Ragnar dragged Grindelwald and jumped into the veil of death. Killing himself and the dark mad wizards too.
In 2020, Grindelwald planned to bring an end to the planet by spreading a virus, and when all are distracted, manipulate the muggles to launch all nukes.
But Ragnar stopped the mad wizard and gave time to his bother to deal with the nukes. What followed was his meeting with the old god in the Hall of Judgement.
He stood, in his childhood body, in front of the long white-haired and bearded man, who smoked a cigar and had glasses on his eyes. The style didn't feel godly, but the aura sure was. "So, I will not remember you, but I will remember my previous life, right? I really don't want to forget my dear mum, dad, brothers, sisters and friends,"
"Yes, child. You shall forget ever meeting me, but have a vague feeling of having an unknown purpose in life. Once you fulfil the purpose naturally, you will remember everything. Of course, you retain all your powers and I am giving you a few blessings.
With these, you should be able to bring about a change to the world you are going to. Are you ready?" God asked him.
Ragnar nodded. There was nothing else to do anyway, he just hoped that his family and his brother were safe. "Send me then. But wait, I want my emergency pouch, the sword and wand with me, gramps."
"Oh, that's a new name. Nobody has called me that before. All right, here you go." God waved his hand, sending Ragnar to the new world, on another world adventure.
Once alone, he called his little Bijuu-vengers, they wanted to show him their new gig, it was a play about Romeo and Juliet. (Don't worry, you won't get this reference unless you have read Grandpa Universe in Multiverse.)
...
A mysterious world, full of death and misery. All vices one could imagine, they were here. If one were to play cards right and gain some power, they could do whatever they want to.
A world so backward that things considered unacceptable on Earth were just ordinary life.
But, what happens when a magical man from the worlds of wizards, master of all potion, runes and somewhat weak in charms appear? A man who may be from a world of modernity but is crazy enough to put Vikings to shame. A man who believes in brutally dealing with his enemies rather than being political. A man who takes crap from none, be it a peasant or a king.
The blood of a Viking wizard king he did carry in his veins. He is the last of his
bloodline. He is Ragnar Grant Ulrik Oroborus. ...
On an ominous night when the land called Westeros was shrouded in turmoil. A mere lord dared to usurp a mad king of a long historical dynasty.
As armies fought on the land where three rivers joined, and when the tall red castle was being besieged, a bright star fell from the sky. So bright it blinded the eyes of all across the continent.
Thunder roared in the sky, rain poured down heavily. Such sudden change in weather was unheard of. For years to come, it would make the keepers of knowledge, so-called Maesters busy, scratching their heads to know what caused it.
That night, the shooting star did not fall in Westeros, it fell in the land even worse, called Essos.
It fell with a loud boom in a desert, for miles to come, animals got scared, for the apex predator was here. Dozens of brave men got on their steads to go and find precious minerals fallen from the sky.
In the end, it was greed that moved them, one way or another, money was their intent.
They did not find precious metal, but a rather tall and muscular warrior man, unconscious, his body ridden with dark tattoos in a language unknown. Yet, there
were no scares or blood splattered on the ground.
It was a mystery, but the one to find him cared not. Getting away was the priority, as he knew many more were headed here like him. He put the unconscious blonde man on his horse and galloped out of the desert lands to the Slaver's Bay. The land where men, women and children were sold for gold and sometimes for as little as a favour.
The man entered the largest of the cities, Meereen. The city had wide walls and all sorts of defensive mechanisms all around. It was a city of wealthy slavers, for each free man there were 4 slaves. There were giant pyramids where the nobility lived in luxury. Then there were narrow streets, twisting like a snake for poverty.
The man as he entered the city, put on neat clothes, this was his home city, he was no nobility, but he still made enough money by sending his warriors into fighting pits.
First thing he did, he went to the Fighting pit to get his new slave branded, a collar was put around the neck and then he threw the him into the cells so he may wake up later to serve him well.
...
Ragnar had no idea what had happened to his body, his mind was reliving his previous life, again and again, engraining every single moment deeply so he may never forget it.
~Brother... I will return... someday.~
"AH!" He jolted up, awake all of a sudden. His mind was in a mess, unable to make
heads or tails out of the situation. *Clank* As he tried to move, he felt something heavy, something touching, pulling his neck.
"Chain?" A frown appeared on his face. Urgently, he stood up. Rather than moving further, he looked out, there was a small window with bars. Mostly he saw other buildings, all too cramped, but at a distance, there were multiple pyramids, and this made him wonder, "I'm in Egypt?"
"So you have woken up?" appeared a man, slightly brown-skinned and bald-headed, fairly tall, about 6 foot, with a big bulging belly that made him look short. He walked in and stood outside the cell, "Good, you fight next. We shall see if I should keep another dog,"
Ragnar's mind was still not at peace, he had no idea why he was here, he had died the last he remembered and then... something happened? "Who are you?"
"I am Irros Dynyrion, the one who found you, the one who owns. You eat when I tell you to eat, you fight when I tell you to fight and you die when I tell you to die. You will be fighting the Giant, don't die too early." The man named Irros left without getting any response from Ragnar.
Ragnar sat back down and held his head in arms, "Ugh... I don't feel so good in my head... and I'm hungry."
...
"YEAAAAA!"
"KILL IT!"
"RIP IT APART!"
"CUT THAT BASTARD!"
A grand arena full of people roared in rage as they watched a fight between ten lions and ten gladiators. It was a fighting pit where humanity is taken over by the crudest and most violent aspects of the mind.
The Lions were obviously much stronger than the gladiators. Hence, all of them were getting shredded to pieces at the moment, it was a feast for the lions.
Each round lasts 15 minutes, if you survive the fifteen minutes, you don't earn any money and live to see another fight. If you win, you make your master some money and you still get nothing but some food. And if you lose, well that only meant death.
Soon enough, in the 10th minute, the last of 10 men died, the lions fought for the
meat and happily divided the it among them. They got to eat every day, after all.
The manager of the arena started to announce, "THE DESERT LIONS HAVE WON! ONCE AGAIN! Now comes the main fight, the moment you all have been waiting for. The fight between the Giant of Qarth and a new warrior. A tall mighty man with a beard and hair resembling a majestic lion. Don't be moved by his handsome face, he has the body trained to kill. His life is a mystery, his future as well. But today, this arena shall decide his DESTINY!
"WELCOME THE WARRIOR! THE BLONDE SWORDSMAN and Giant of Qarth!"
The gates opened. First came a giant human, eight and a half feet tall, a broad man. From the looks of his face, he seemed mentally retarded. He had leather armour strapped on his shoulders and a big mace made of hardwood was in his hands.
He walked into the Arena and stood in the middle of it dumbly. There was not even an ounce of anger on the face, just dumbness and confusion.
On the other side of the Arena, however, nobody came out. People started to get frustrated and cursed. But they didn't see what went on inside the waiting room for the slaves.
...
"Get up, blondie, you need to fight. I spent good effort in bringing you here and paid money to put you on the slave list. You better make me money," Irros Dynyrion ordered Ragnar while opening the handcuffs.
But Ragnar was too hungry, to the point he didn't feel any energy in his body. He had by now understood that this was not the same world he was born in. Somehow, he was transmigrated here, to this unknown barbaric place. "Get me food,"
"Win me the fight and I will get you whatever you want, slave. Pick up a weapon and leave," Irros proceeded to swing his whip at Ragnar.
A big mistake. *SLASH* The whip made contact with Ragnar's skin, but it was his palms as he caught it head-on. Slowly, Ragnar stood up, his towering height of six feet five, his wide shoulders made him look much bigger than the slaver.
He caught Irros' neck in one hand and pressed it so hard that the man's eyes nearly popped out. "My name is Ragnar Grant Ulrik Oroborus, memorise that, you bufoon. The moment you call me a slave again, I will end your life, do you understand?"
"Ugh... I-I OWN YOU!"
PA!* In an instant, the whip was in Ragnar's hand and it hit the man, "You will own me? Peasant, you are talking to a prince. My wealth exceeds a billion of you combined. Now, be a good little boy and bring me robes."
PA!* He swung the whip once again. The man quickly ran away and brought back brown robes from his own bag. They were loose-fitting but fit him perfectly, but they were open from the front. They let his majestic detailed chest and abs appear clear for all to feast their eyes on.
"Ugh... I need a bath," Ragnar muttered, feeling his hair were smelling bad. He again asked the man, "Where is my leather pouch?"
"H-Here..." Irros gave it to him silently. He couldn't believe he was allowing a slave to
walk over him, but he truly felt scared at that very instant. He had just looked into Ragnar's blue eyes once and he never wanted to see them again. They were the eyes of men who feared nothing, not even death.
Ragnar quickly strapped the pouch to his pants and looked around. There were other slaves, sitting silently, in fear.
"I am leaving," *CLANK* He pulled the metal slave collar with bare hands, breaking them apart.
"N-NO... I PAID SO MUCH! This fight... if you lose, I will let you keep half of the Gold Honours," Irros Dynyrion proposed. [A/N: It's the currency of Meereen.]
As soon as Ragnar heard the word "Gold" he stopped. Looking back, he asked, "How much for winning?"
"I... winning? Don't be mindles... *SLASH*" he received one more whip.
"Tell me what I ask, nothing less, nothing more. I own you now, keep that in your puny peanut brain." He ordered him sternly, scaring him with just a look.
Irros shrank his neck and answered, "I was to be paid 200 Gold Honors for getting a man to lose to the Giant of Qarth. If you do win, you will win thousands, since everyone will be betting against you,"
"Interesting," Ragnar licked his lips wickedly. "How many Gold Honors do you have? I have gold coins too, but they are not the same currency. I want you to bet ten
thousand Gold Honors on me, here," He passed him a smaller pouch full of gold galleons, the wizarding currency from his last world.
"Are you going to fight the giant? Nobody has won against him, he was created by the wicked magic of the warlocks of Qarth."
Shrugging, Ragnar walked into the arena haughtily, but at the end his face turned deadly cold, "Magic? A mere giant? Haha, I can crush their skulls with one hand."
[A/N: From the start of the scene, you should have seen some mentions of Robert's Rebellion. That's the current year, 282 AD. I am going to write a few chapters(Probably 5) about him in Essos, then there will be time skip to 2 years before the main show's plot begins.
Ragnar will arrive in Westeros by then and will be living there. In the future, his deeds in Essos will slowly be unearthed by people from Westeros.
