Here we are. Another installment in Sigurd's story. We meet the Slavic camp in this one! Sorry for the wait, I got a little busy with other things, but I'm back! Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters (except the OC's) Percy Jackson & The Olympians, Heroes Of Olympus, Or Trials Of Apollo. All of that belongs to Rick Riordan.
4. Chief Of The Hidden Cave
Sigurd took a deep breath before walking into the cave.
Baba Yaga had said the tallest mountain in the area, and that's exactly where Sigurd went. A straight shot up in the air and landing on a ledge. It was pretty simple.
It was however, not simple trying to find his way in. His world sight gave no indication of anything inside, but as usual, he put that off as magic blocking his sensing abilities. He spent about fifteen minutes walking around the circular ledge, until he finally found an entrance to a cave.
It was a wide scar on the side of the mountain, like an upside down V. Sigurd couldn't even see two feet past the first step, nothing but darkness, and silence.
He figured if there would be anything here, it would be in the creepy tunnel. He thought it very unusual for their to be a cave this deep at the very top of a mountain, so he took that as a sign that this was it.
Sigurd, once again, ignited his spirit around his hand in a green torch, and entered the cave. He was able to see instantly, and he only saw curved, smooth rock, like a cavern's texture. Like water had been falling down it for years on end. Was it the snow's melt trickling in? He guessed it could be natural, but that hardly seemed reasonable.
Sigurd walked for an immeasurable amount of time, somewhere between ten minutes and two hours. There were no turns, no inclines, just a long, long walk forward.
Then, Sigurd felt a rumble.
It shook the ground quickly, maybe two shakes, and that was it. A few pebbles peeled off and hit him on the shoulder.
Sigurd stopped and just stood there, waiting. Waiting for something to burst from the rock and attack him. If that was a creature, and that's a big if, it was something big and strong. Now, it's not out of the question that it was a natural rumble, but Sigurd really hoped it was on the more...supernatural end of things.
Then, as if Odin had answered his prayers, the side of the cave exploded. Dozens of rock shards shot out and bounced on the other side, making an incredible racket.
Sigurd removed his hand from shielding his face and when he did, he saw a giant head poking out of the newly made hole. Though it wasn't a demigod, it was something slimy and gray. It wasn't quite a snake; it was more on the lines of a basilisk. Instead of a flat, triangular shaped head, it had a more tall, spiky look to it, like a fantastical dragon.
The theory that it was just minding its own business went out the window when it turned its head to smack Sigurd. Okay, so it knew he was here, and it intended to bite him with that first strike.
Sigurd jumped back to avoid its head. Then had to sidestep to avoid its mouth opening and slamming shut where he stood two seconds ago.
Its neck stretched like a piece of loose fabric, and he was almost taken off guard by it. Though its head seemed to be trapped in the narrow space, it managed to turn all the way around and completely slither out of its predicament. Now it was coming at Sigurd full steam, hissing loudly.
Before Sigurd could even draw his cutlass or think about fighting back, another explosion shattered the ground below both he and the basilisk. Sigurd barely avoided the collision that came after. From the ground he walked on, another serpent rose up and met the basilisk with its mouth, catching it by the throat and clamping down with all its might.
The momentum forced the basilisk upward, and it's back, or whatever you want to call it, crashed into the roof of the cave. Sigurd felt the ground shake, and more rocks hit him from all directions. Watching the serpents writhe around, one swinging its head wildly to finish the other off, Sigurd worried the entire top of the mountain was about to collapse.
Finally, the other serpent had finished the monster off, and Sigurd knew this because it faded to dust, said dust laid down on the ground of the cave limply, while the other snake turned it's head towards Sigurd.
It looked different, this one did. It was more like an actual snake than a basilisk. It's head was flatter, shaped like a triangle, and it had a different tongue. Thinner and longer.
But then something happened that nearly made Sigurd rub his eyes, to assure himself he hadn't gone insane. The snake began to shrink, and morph into another being entirely.
Within a few seconds, the entire scene had changed. The monster was long gone, and now a man stood before him. From the dust, he stepped forward, and Sigurd could only just watch. This was definitely a demigod.
He didn't look at Sigurd first, instead he called to the basilisk's remains over his shoulder. In Russian, like a war cry.
"That's right, bitch! Stay away from my cave!"
This guy was the complete opposite of Diego. Where Diego was lean, long, and looked nothing like Sigurd's stereotypical image of a hardened warrior, this man did.
He was imposing, first of all. He wasn't quite tall, but he was big. Round in the gut, with wide shoulders, beefy arms, and rough, calloused hands. He wore a fur jacket, with fatigues and tall black military boots. When Sigurd saw his face, he imagined that he was the nightmare his enemies shivered at. It was harsh. Several scars lined his cheeks and mouth, some hidden by the medium length black beard he had. Sigurd couldn't see the top of his head, because it was covered by a ushanka.
As soon as he saw Sigurd, he nodded, and switched to English. "That big cyka bother you?"
A couple of things to unpack here. Sigurd thought. One, his accent was thick, but he was fairly fluent with English. Smart and dedicated enough to learn a second language, and maybe even a third or fourth, Sigurd noted. Second, he made no attempt to hide the fact that he just shapeshifted from his serpent form to his human form. He didn't use memory magic, try to convince Sigurd that what he saw wasn't real, or anything. Granted, he really couldn't. I mean, Sigurd literally saw the entire thing. But if he were in this man's shoes, he'd probably use the veil, or the mist, to his advantage. Say it was just a really, really big rat snake.
And Sigurd commented on this. "You assume I'm not mortal?"
The man shrugged, "Where's your climbing gear? Your crew? How about your ten layers of clothing? Nah, you aren't mortal. Not climbing this mountain."
The Son of Odin nodded, impressed at his quick perception. He wasn't just some brute. Sigurd could tell he'd been around and back the block quite a few times. The scars were proof that he'd seen many battles, and if Sigurd had to guess his age, he's maybe...twenty-six, or thirty. Somewhere in that range.
"Good eye." Sigurd said, "I'm not. I'm a demigod."
The man nodded, grunting as he dusted his shoulder off with a slap, "Ah, good on ya. Not from around here though."
Sigurd lifted his chin, "How do you know?"
"Accent's North Europe...probably Swedish if I had to guess, and the red hair's a giveaway. We don't have hair that red."
"You're...correct." Sigurd couldn't believe how perceptive he was, only seconds in of knowing him no less. "I reside in Sweden. I'm...Sigurd, Son of Odin from the Norse pantheon. Are you familiar with it, or any of the others?"
The man took his question without batting an eye, "A little. You hear things sometimes. Didn't have a reason to not believe in them. Not like I lost sleep over it or anything." He raised a bushy eyebrow, "So, what brings you all the way out here?"
Sigurd could hardly believe it. The man wasn't surprised at all, didn't ask any questions or validation that what Sigurd said was true, he just...accepted it.
"Forgive me, but you're not the least bit skeptical? Surprised even? I just confirmed the existence of other pantheons." Sigurd gestured with his hand for emphasis, "That means all of them coexist with one another. We're talking about more than a dozen cultures, with hundreds of gods."
The man shrugged, "And? I'm not making a big deal out of it. I'm a easygoing guy. Whatever happens, good or bad, I keep moving forward." He put a hand on his hip, and judging by the body language, Sigurd could tell it wasn't a front. He genuinely didn't care that much about the revelation.
"So you came all the way to Russia, climbed the tallest mountain in the Ural region, so there's gotta be a reason. Were you looking for me?"
"Depends." Sigurd said, "Are you a demigod of the Slavic pantheon?"
Sigurd already knew the answer, he just wanted to hear it from his mouth.
"Not a direct offspring, but I'm a descendant of Veles, our Underworld god. My grandfather was one of his sons."
A descendant, eh? That raised a slight alarm for Sigurd. This man seemed a capable warrior, but Sigurd didn't want capable warriors, he wanted nothing less than overwhelmingly powerful. He knew that in several pantheons, power decreases over generations. Being directly born from a deity's DNA is the best chance at power. The child of that demigod will never be more powerful. Though there are rare exceptions.
Perhaps this man was.
"Veles is a head god, alongside Perun, correct?"
He nodded, smirking, "Well, someone did his homework. Why would a son of Odin be so interested in Slavic culture? Just wanted to see the other side of the tracks?"
Sigurd shook his head, "No, it's a far more important matter. I was hoping to discuss it with the leader of...the camp, or whatever it's called here."
"Camp? What you mean?"
"Well, in other pantheons, there are camps. Places where young demigods go to live and train. Safe from monsters."
The man laughed humorlessly, "Well...we aren't so lucky, I guess. We don't have a camp, we have this cave."
"Ah. But you still said we. So there are more of you?"
"That there are. And if you're looking for the leader of them, that would be me. So you can start talking."
Sigurd nodded, and began to walk forward, "Let's walk. I always explain things better when I walk."
The Son of Veles gave no protest, and walked equally beside Sigurd.
He knew exactly where to start, what answers to give, what to say, all of it. He just hoped it would be convincing.
"Okay, first, what's your name?"
The man kept walking, but stuck out his hand. "Konstantin."
Unique. Sigurd thought. He met his hand with his and shook it a single, firm time. It was a rough, almost sandpaper-like hand.
"Nice to meet you, Konstantin. Like I said before, I am Sigurd, Sigurd Borgarsson, a son of Odin. I'm on a...quest of sorts to talk with and unite the other pantheons."
"Unite? What for?"
"A Universal threat."
Konstantin stopped and gave Sigurd the first skeptical look since they're time together. "Universal? What are you talking about?"
"Hear me out. Not long ago, I myself discovered the existence of the other pantheons, the Greek one specifically. One of their Primordials entered my area, trying to use some of our own for his personal gain. It took a while, but I managed to contact the Greek camp. We teamed up to fight the god, but he escaped."
"So now you're trying to build an army to stop him."
"That's right. We had the Greeks and Romans from the start, then added my Camp, and just recently I enlisted the help of the Mayans." Sigurd used the word enlisted, when in reality he had only piqued Diego's interest. The son of Itzamna never gave a confirmation, but he would "keep in touch."
Konstantin didn't have to know that.
"So you're going down a list? Mine's next? Then what?"
Sigurd bit his lip, "I'm not positive. I don't have a lot of time. Several months have already passed, and I know enough about this Primordial now to know that tomorrow could be the day of war. He's a sneaky, intelligent, dangerous being. A lot like Ymir of my own world...maybe even worse."
"But?"
Sigurd sighed, "But I would like to enlist the Hindu, if possible. They are very powerful, and even a handful of average warriors from that group would be incredibly helpful. The Shinto pantheon are also a priority."
Sigurd didn't mention Christians, because he wasn't sure if that would elicit a negative reaction from Konstantin. Considering many Slavic followers converted to Christianity.
"Sounds like a good list." Konstantin said. "So why do you need us?"
Sigurd decided to be honest. "I just need as many people as I can, as fast as possible."
Konstantin nodded, "Hmm, and if I were to not believe you. Anything you said about this Primordial, or that you got the Mayan's help...how would you prove it to me?"
He was smart. And thorough. Sigurd couldn't blame him.
"I can show you memories of the Primordial. As for the Mayans, if you want, I could get a voice letter from Diego, if I used a speaking charm on my raven Vardar."
Konstantin waved a hand, "Don't worry about the letter, I want to see those memories."
Sigurd nodded, happy to oblige. He should've expected this sooner or later. Diego had been very trusting, and everything was word of mouth. But Sigurd was more than prepared to offer something more visual.
"Look me in my good eye." He requested, and the Slavic demigod didn't hesitate. He locked eyes with Sigurd.
He instantly pulled memories from Matt, and transferred them to Konstantin's mind. Memories of Ouranos in the sky, talking to his followers, possessing his son, and even killing Matt's father, Hercules.
On top of several more he added in, even some of his own, where he noticed a presence in his area, an unknown presence. When he found some of his campers dead to lightning and placed the blame on Thor. They were vivid, Sigurd knew, because he was seeing them too.
It may have lasted ten seconds. The mental link broke and Konstantin snapped back to reality, his eyes wide and gasping for breath.
"Woah...what the hell was that?!"
"Memories of him. His name is Ouranos. Some of those were from my friend's mind. That man that got stabbed was his godly parent, Hercules."
Konstantin turned a bit pale, "I've heard that name before. He's a famous hero..."
"Yes. And he was killed, in front of his own son. Not 'killed' Konstantin, but killed permanently." He stepped forward, never breaking eye contact. He wanted to grab his shoulders, but he managed to refrain. "He possesses a weapon made of god-killing material. It strips them of their immortality."
"You're...serious..."
"Yes. That's the kind of thing we're dealing with. A monster without remorse, without any emotion for others. He wants the world to himself, and he plans to stop anyone in his way. Anyone, including the other pantheons. After he kills the Greeks, he'll eventually start picking us off, people like you and I."
Konstantin had caught his breath, but he didn't look too good. His mouth was open, and he was staring off into space.
"I know it's a lot to ask, but will you and your people help us, when the time comes? It may not be tomorrow, but it will happen. As long as Ouranos, the Primordial, is alive, it will happen."
Konstantin exhaled hard through his nose and shook his head, breaking out of his trance. "Boy, that's a lot of shit to take in. I can see why you'd do all this."
"It's the only chance we have. If he becomes powerful enough, the Greeks alone won't be able to stop him."
"What's in it for us? If we win this...war."
Sigurd furrowed his eyebrows. That's a rather...selfish statement to make. I mean, he could understand wanting compensation, but he didn't expect it to immediately be mentioned.
"Your life." He said, "You and your people get to live."
"Risking our lives? For a world that doesn't even want us? An existence that's brought nothing but pain? We're gonna need a little more than that, Mister Borgarsson."
"Don't you care about the innocent? What about the billions of lives that could be lost?"
Konstantin didn't move a muscle but his lips. "I'll do it for my people. But we've been struggling for generations, my friend. I don't think you understand. We don't have a fancy Camp, or gods that interact with us all the time. We're a dead pantheon. Hell, there's only fourteen of us!"
Sigurd cocked his head. He hadn't expected that low of a number.
"Fourteen?"
"That's right. And I've looked for more, believe me. We're a family, all of us, and we've been fighting for too damn long, for not a whole lot of good reason. So...give us a good reason."
Sigurd almost winced. Fourteen was less than he thought. Thirty was a low number for him. But he had to remember he was looking for quality, not quantity. He also wasn't exactly in a position to be picky. Beggars can't be choosers, so be happy with what you get.
He let it go, and responded to Konstantin. "What do you want? Money? Name your price." Sigurd wasn't very rich, but if need be, he could give fourteen people a substantial reward.
Konstantin shrugged, "Sure, that'd be nice, but it won't do much for us. What are we gonna buy? We'd have to contact mortals and all that. Nah, I just want better things for my people."
"That's broad. Be more specific."
He elaborated, "Say we help you. Well, once it's over, I want trade amongst our groups. If we have a problem, you help us. Try and work it out so the others are in on it too, including the Greeks."
Sigurd had no problem with his Camp being involved in that, but he couldn't speak for the others. He'd only briefly heard about Camp Jupiter, and seen glimpses in memories, so he definitely couldn't speak for them. He sure as hell couldn't speak for Diego, since they just met.
He couldn't speak for the Greeks either. He couldn't speak for any of them. This wasn't his decision.
"Allow me to consult with them first. As for my Camp, we can have trade, whatever you want. I agree to that."
Konstantin shook his head, "Nope. Has to be all of them. You can consult, but I'm not doing a thing until we agree on everything."
Sigurd tightened his lips, "Very well, I'll convince them once I see them." He regretted it as soon as he said it. He hated making promises that he didn't know for certain he could keep. As well as speaking for another person without them knowing about it.
But Konstantin had forced it. Sigurd was beginning to wonder if he could fully trust the Slavic demigod. He understood wanting better for your people, but...
Then again, he's putting some trust in Sigurd. Even though he barely knows him.
Konstantin held out his hand to seal it, "We have a deal?"
Sigurd shook it, adding an extra firm squeeze to the mix.
Konstantin felt it, winced, and smirked. "Don't blame me, man. Just looking out for my boys. We've been through hell and back trying to survive out here."
Sigurd nodded, "I understand. But now that we've shook, we have a deal. Which means if you double cross me, and it costs us, I will end you. You don't want me as an enemy."
Konstantin laughed, from his belly, deep and bubbly, like that was the most delightful thing he'd heard all day. "I won't, as long as you don't as well. I'm the same way, I'll hunt you down until I've got your head in my hands."
Sigurd nodded again and their hands parted. Deciding to be on better terms for the rest of the conversation, he said, "So, now that we're helping each other...where are the rest?"
Konstantin let out a mix of a groan and a sigh, "That's...gonna be a problem. Maybe you could help me with it."
"What do you mean? You said there were fourteen of you, right?"
"Oh there are, just not here. They've been held captive for about two months now, by that bastard Veles."
"Wait, your great grandfather?"
"That's right. He's an asshole. Wants to wipe us out, be the last remaining power of the pantheon, blah blah. You know how it is. So he took my boys captive to get to me. But I know them, they're tough. They'll last."
Sigurd wished he knew that before he shook his hand. But really, he knew there would be these sort of challenges involved. If he wasn't fighting the camp leader, he was helping him rescue his own men.
"What about Perun, isn't he the other major god? Does he have any children?"
Konstantin shrugged, which he seemed to do a lot. "Never heard from him. Hell, I've only met Veles a few times, and maybe some other gods once or twice. I'm telling you man, we're a dead pantheon. We just don't have that much activity around here. Back in the day when my grandfather was alive, it was a bit different."
"So your men, are they demigods, or descendants?"
"A few demigods, a few descendants."
They were walking now, and Sigurd must've had a look on his face, because Konstantin commented.
"Hey man, if you're worried about our power, don't be. We can fight."
"I trust that." He decided to change the subject, "So, where are they being held captive?"
By this time, they had reached where Sigurd started, at the end of the cave, the outside, snowy mountain range. Konstantin pointed towards the distance.
"It's a prison, designed by Veles. We're both going to go and bust them out."
Sigurd raised an eyebrow, "Just like that? No plan?"
"Don't really need one for this. Veles sees all. There won't be any chance of sneaking in, you playing inside man, none of that. With this guy, it's head on attack, or nothing."
"Why haven't you busted in yourself then?" Sigurd asked.
"Can't by myself. Veles is too strong for me alone. But with you helping me...might have a chance."
Sigurd was up for it. He didn't really like not having a plan, or knowing more about his enemy. But if there was really no other choice, then he'd go for it, and fight a Slavic god, need be.
"Very well. How will we get there?"
Konstantin grinned, and pointed to his back, "You're gonna ride me."
"Ride you?" Sigurd probably looked like he'd just ate a bucket of lemons.
Konstantin laughed at his surprise. "One of the many tricks. Shapeshifting. Hope you don't mind dragons!"
No, Sigurd didn't mind dragons. But it was hard to remember that he was actually riding on the back of Konstantin.
His shifting was exactly to the point, no difference or nuance whatsoever. He had transformed into a full-blown dragon, in its giant size, sharp, long teeth, scaly skin, spikes along its back, wings...he wouldn't be surprised if he breathed fire next.
Sigurd had gotten on the back of his neck and held on to one of the spikes with one hand, while Konstantin flew at a good speed. They'd been going for a few minutes now, no noise but the wind.
Then to Sigurd's surprise, the dragon spoke, in Konstantin's voice. Only this time, much deeper and louder.
"So I was thinking, in this form, I should be able to bust right through the front entrance. I've looked at the place a few times, and it's made of mortal stone. Nothing crazy."
"Okay. And after that? Do you know where your men are being held?"
"Never seen the inside. It's not that big though, so it shouldn't be too hard to find them."
Sigurd remained silent, already thinking of a plan inside his head.
The dragon almost turned around to look up at him, "I can tell you're more of a brainy type. You like to have a strategy set, don't you?"
"Usually, yes. I think it's best to have every move planned out, that way you aren't scrambling in the middle of battle. Every second counts, a wasted one could cost you your life."
"Eh, you're probably right. I just don't like to overthink."
"Well, how about this." Sigurd started, "You find your men, while I distract Veles. Before you disagree, think about it for a moment. Your men will want to see their leader, and they'll respond better to you."
Konstantin hummed, vibrating Sigurd on his back. "Sounds good. But Veles...he's strong, Mister Borgarsson. You think you can handle it?"
"I know next to nothing about him, but I do know that the same goes for him. He doesn't know my abilities, so if I'm distracting him, I'll have a better chance to stall than you."
"You're right on that. He and I have fought before, so he knows my tricks." Sigurd could already tell he was raising a scaly eyebrow, "You got some tricks of your own?"
Sigurd nodded, already feeling his left eye twitching. If he had to use it here...
No, no, he wouldn't. He hasn't really used it in a long time.
"Yeah, I got some tricks. I've been in the mythical part of the world for my entire life, fighting monsters, fighting gods even."
"Same here. How else would anyone else live?"
"Well, for us we begin when we're born. But some others live as mortals, not even knowing they're demigods until a pre-teen age. Many of the Greeks, for example, are like that."
"They got it easy, then."
"Trust me, they don't. Their monsters are more powerful and numerous than ours."
Konstantin didn't respond to that, "How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
"Would've pegged you for thirty at least. You're still young. Thirty-six myself."
Older than Sigurd thought.
"So you've fought gods before? How'd that go?"
"I have. Thor was the hardest. I had to use techniques...that I wouldn't normally use."
Konstantin grunted, "Well, you might have to use them here too." Just when he thought he was done, he asked another question, "How many men you got?"
"Well, we have women and children too. About eighty people total."
He felt the dragon almost shift out of flight at that, "Eighty? Damn, that's a lot."
"The Greeks have even more, a couple hundred at least."
Konstantin couldn't believe it. "Damn, they must be strong as hell. We don't have any women or children, not anymore."
"I'm sorry."
"No, don't worry about it. Used to it by now. If you gotta be alone, you gotta be alone. Fight for yourself. But I'm glad I'm not, it honestly feels better to fight for others too."
"I agree," Sigurd said. "Fighting for self-improvement is always admirable, but fighting for others is, in my opinion, more fulfilling. It makes the path ahead longer and fruitful. I feel completely different being married than before."
"You plan on having kids?"
"Of course." Sigurd was surprised at the speed he said that with, "I mean, at some point, yes."
"Got plenty of time." He thought he felt Konstantin's clawed hand twitch, like he wanted to point. "It's just up ahead, be ready."
Konstantin sped up a little. Buried in the landscape of snow, sat a gulag looking type of place. It was square, made of gray stone, and looked like it had stood for a hundred years. No barred windows, no doors from the looks of it...no escape.
No way in, unless you burst through.
"You weren't kidding." Sigurd said.
"I'm going straight in! Brace yourself!"
Konstantin's speed reached even higher, forcing Sigurd to hold on to one of his spikes even tighter. The wind rippled and whistled past him. They began to dip in the air and descend.
As soon as Konstantin bent his neck, his head smashed through the top of the prison, destroying the entirety of the roof. Stone slabs shattered and flew everywhere, both he and Sigurd melted into a warmer, thickly aired atmosphere. It smelled like a mix of despair and smoke. He didn't quite know how to describe the smell of despair, but it was abundant.
Konstantin found a platform to land on, and it was then that Sigurd took a quick scan of his surroundings.
It was a prison alright. It looked much more like a gulag than anything, with a tower like structure. The part that was exposed to the top of the surface was just the tip of the iceberg.
For one, it stretched deep underground, a cylinder shape that kept its shape and width even as it got deeper. It seemed to have no end, as Sigurd saw only darkness when he peeked over and did his best to find a bottom floor.
There were several that he could see though. All along each ledge, about six feet apart from each other, was cells. Small cells with a bed and a toilet. Nothing more.
Nearly all of them were empty. Sigurd expected immediate action upon arrival, but it was completely silent.
Konstantin morphed back into his human self, shrinking in a single second, he stood next to Sigurd.
"Must be at the bottom..." He peeked over the ledge, and nodded. "Alright, come on!"
Sigurd watched as he backed up several steps, and then looked to him expectantly.
"We're jumping?"
"Yes! You got a better idea?"
Sigurd didn't, so he shrugged and leveled himself next to his new comrade.
"Go!" Konstantin shouted, and broke out into a sprint. Sigurd followed.
A few steps was all it took and both jumped far out, like diving into a swimming pool. Both tucked their limbs in to make themselves go faster. Less air resistance.
It worked. Sigurd and Konstantin dropped thousands of feet before they ever saw ground. Passing by hundreds of cells, the entire time Sigurd felt his stomach and his intestines touching his lungs. He didn't expect this amount of distance. There's only fourteen prisoners, for Odin's sake!
But Sigurd figured it was a strategic move. Make them harder to find, in case of a break in attempt.
But where was this Veles? Was he the only guard?
They would soon find out. Sigurd saw the ground floor coming fast, nothing but a circular platform with nothing on it, a bit like an arena.
He used his teleknesis to slow both himself and Konstantin down to a near stop in mid air. Landing on the floor was like jumping off a step, not hurting them at all.
"They'd better be here..." Konstantin whispered.
Sigurd looked around, turning himself in a three sixty. Surrounding him, in a mirrored circle, were fourteen cells, all of them holding a single prisoner. All of them looked like Konstantin, with beards, short, but beefy frames, and rough, harsh faces. They didn't have his clothes though. Veles had dressed them up in nothing but ratty, torn jumpsuits. Likely mocking them.
As soon as they heard Konstantin's voice, they stirred, and many faces appeared through the cell bars. They began to shout with joy. Deep, rumbling voices.
"Konstantin! Brother!"
"You're back!"
"Hell yeah!"
"Who's the red haired guy?"
After the flurry of voices, Sigurd felt the ground shake ever so slightly. It sounded like an ogre was approaching from the hallway. Only one problem; there was no hallway to approach from.
Konstantin hadn't heard or felt it. He raised his arms in the air and smiled, "My brothers! I knew you'd survive!"
Sigurd heard the noise again, this time closer, and from a specific direction. It wasn't beside them, it was...slightly above them.
He craned his head up a little and saw a large opening above the cells to their right. It looked like an oval shaped hallway, maybe twenty feet tall and ten feet wide, allowing for something to crawl or slither through.
Sigurd almost passed it off as being some kind of ventilation duct. Maybe for the smoke smell? No, that was ridiculous. Sigurd never met Veles before, but he knew there would be no room for mercy here. It would be an added bonus for Konstantin's men to inhale the horrible, disgustingly profuse stench day and night.
"Konstantin..." Sigurd warned. He tried his best to make it sound dire, like their life depended on the next few seconds, and then focusing their attention to that hole. It very well may.
But his ears were far away from Sigurd's voice, instead listening to the sound of his men cheering and hollering, overjoyed to see their leader.
"Konstantin!" Sigurd shouted now.
He turned and scowled, "What?!"
"Where is Veles?" He then yelled towards the men, "Where is your captor?! Any idea?!"
Before they could even blink at Sigurd, a rumble came, stronger than any of the previous ones. Then a series of rumbles came, shaking the entirety of the bottom prison floor, cracks formed on the walls around the duct, and a figure shot out of the darkness.
A large man, in its blur, struck Sigurd as almost a yeti like figure, stepped once out of the dark and jumped straight in the air, over Sigurd and Konstantin's head. He did a spinning somersault, and landed on the opposite side of where he came, landing down like a boulder being dropped from the top of the prison. The impact threw Sigurd off balance and down to his knees, giant cracks snaked across the floor, pebbles jumped up like fish out of water and the sound was no different than thunder.
Konstantin hadn't been thrown off his footing, and Sigurd felt embarrassed, so he quickly stood back up before it was noticed. If Konstantin didn't notice the disturbance before, he certainly does now. He locked on a deadly stare with the newcomer.
Sigurd matched his gaze and scanned the man. No, god. This had to be Veles, the slavic god of the underworld, fire, among other things. For starters, he was about ten feet tall, and unlike his great grandson, or really any of the slavic demigods, he stood a bit lankier and leaner, wearing thick, furry clothing, covering every inch of skin except his face and hair.
It was a rough face. It looked like if you touched it, or even rubbed your hand across it, it would cut your hand and leave you with blisters. It was scarred, wrinkled, covered in greasy, wiry, long black hair, that came down on his back, his shoulders, his face, everywhere you could imagine. His eyes were like a serpent's, in a literal sense of the word. They weren't circles, they were green slits.
"So you've come, Konstantin." His voice was like knives to rocks, slow talking and gruff as a sputtering engine. He cocked his head and darted his snake eyes at Sigurd. "And I see you've brought a red dog."
Sigurd glared at the god. He could feel the presence radiating from his form, and it was indeed abundant. He had vats upon vats of energy to call on, and he would put up a very intense fight.
"I wouldn't underestimate him, Veles. He's from a different world, with different tricks you aren't used to." Konstantin said, almost boastfully.
Sigurd wanted to groan, slap his forehead, or do something to let his frustration out. He wasn't exactly expecting Konstantin to give that information up at the drop of a hat. It completely eliminated their element of surprise.
But then Veles surprised Sigurd, "That eye of his...is very familiar. Are you a Norse spawn?"
"It doesn't matter what I am."
"I see. No matter, I'll destroy you both. Your men get to watch you die today, Konstantin."
Konstantin's face scrunched up with anger, and he started to yell at Veles, but Sigurd put a hand on his chest, briefly, and stepped in front of him.
"You're facing me at the moment, not him. Prepare yourself." Sigurd almost snarled, "I'm not afraid to kill a god. Whatsoever."
Veles laughed, "Ha! Kill me? Norse brats are hilarious! Show me what you can do!"
Sigurd knew he was about to charge, or do something to attack him. As soon as he finished his declaration, he pushed Konstantin away and yelled at him, "Free your men! Go along with the plan, like we said!"
He didn't even look to see if Konstantin heard or agreed to that, because Veles was already in action. The god stomped his boot on the ground and lowered his head to his stomach, like a dinosaur reaching out to bite its prey. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, immediately, fire burst into the air, a giant pillar that engulfed every part of the air around him, sucking all the breathing oxygen from his nostrils.
Sigurd strained the muscles in his forearm and stuck it out in front of him, as if he was holding a shield. Well, he didn't have a shield, but he had a spirit barrier. He willed a green disk to materialize in front of his body, blocking out all of the fire. It came and he felt the heat around him, but the brunt of it parted at the contact with the temporary shield.
Sigurd powered through and stepped forward several steps. It was far from easy, it felt like he was pushing a planet. It was far from just enhanced heat, it was force too, and it began to make Sigurd's calves ache.
Sigurd knew he had a split second to make a move and dive out of the way to find an attack opening. He could tell from the get-go that Veles was a more offensive fighting god. He pushed forward once and put a little more spirit into his shield, broadening it's size enough to cover the entirety of the blast. It gave Sigurd just enough time and room to jump and barrel roll to the side.
He came up quickly, began to charge, and drew his cutlass in one single fluid motion. Veles snapped his mouth shut the second Sigurd appeared in his peripheral, slitted eyes locking on once again. Quick reaction, quick reflexes. Sigurd was on edge. You're fighting another god, yet another god. You need to give it your all, because one move and you may die.
You are at a disadvantage here. He has infinite stamina, he has a healing factor, and far more durability than you are used to.
The slavic god lifted his hands a little at his hips, and two spots next to his boots, opened up, from a makeshift abyss, and offered him two kindjals. Russian based swords with a slight curve and long hilt. They were meant to be two handed, but Veles wielded both with ease.
Sigurd moved to the side and feinted a stab at Veles's leg, but it had absolutely no effect on the god. He didn't even flinch or move, he just watched and snorted at Sigurd's attempt.
So Sigurd jumped above his head and gripped his cutlass with his other free hand, holding it strongly. He swung it down with all the power he could muster, the blades clashed, with Veles blocking his attack in an x-shape, arms straight out like he was blocking sun rays from his eyes.
Metal ground against metal, making a horrible noise. Nails scratching against a chalk board. Mixed in with it was a crazy disperse of wind and energy, pulsing all around them.
Sigurd found the struggle evenly matched for a few seconds, but then Veles let go of the pressure and Sigurd's falling momentum allowed the god to bring his knee in his chest. It knocked the wind out of the son of Odin and sent him flying back into the wall.
That was an incredible hit. Veles was physically strong, and Sigurd immediately told himself that if the hits got more than a handful, he would be in trouble. Defense is key.
As much as he knew it was counter intuitive to do so, he glanced to the side and checked on Konstantin's progress. The leader was currently shooting fire out of his palm against the cell doors, melting the metal with ease. He'd already released a few of his men, but they were beaten, malnourished, and tired. Sigurd couldn't blame them, they barely looked like they could stand, let alone fight.
Sigurd hadn't died yet. He figured he could last a while longer.
He peeled himself off the wall and advanced forward where Veles was waiting, standing still.
"Come now, don't hold back. I'm curious as to what a Norse demigod can really do."
Sigurd blinked a few times, his eyes as clear as they could be. He didn't want to miss a single beat. "Come at me." He held his cutlass by his side, pointed forwards to stab.
Veles clicked his tongue and closed the distance with a single stride, stabbing both swords forward, only inches apart. Sigurd quickly changed his stabbing stance to a swiping stance, and knocked the attacks upward. As soon as that happened, another attack came, with both swords again. This time, he swung them circular, each coming down to Sigurd's shoulders, almost like a windmill attack.
A great attempt. With only one sword, this attack was very hard to block, because it's two lethal strikes coming at you at the same time. You block one, the other hits you.
So then, you have to dodge.
Sigurd dashed under the space between his raised arm and his side and came out behind him, coating his spirit around his sword and slashing.
The strike rang true. It scraped across the entirety of Veles's back, cutting deep through his clothes and skin. Sigurd knew that was good.
But Veles barely reacted to it. Slowly, he turned around and glared at Sigurd, showing no signs of pain.
"Try again."
Sigurd knit his eyebrows but decided to go for it. If he was giving him a free shot, then he'd oblige.
He came forward and brought his sword downward, an equally tough strike making contact with Veles's skin, ripping right through the clothes and even drawing blood.
Veles said nothing, so Sigurd kept going. He swiped again and again, slashing, swiping, stabbing, each cut and take was as deep and good as Sigurd could've hoped for. He couldn't believe the god was being so brash and letting him do this.
After a multitude of strikes, Sigurd felt Veles's hand palm his skull and squeeze. It felt like his brain was being squished into messy juice, his entire bone structure threatening to pop. He lifted Sigurd just enough to make him lose his footing and then slammed him to the stone floor.
He moved his fingers just enough for Sigurd to groan in pain, and look up at the god.
His slew of bloody cuts were closing up fast, the healing factor taking effect. Veles smirked devilishly, green slit eyes flashing a glint of delight. "You will have to do better. I didn't even feel that."
Sigurd kept a hand on his sword and used his other to grab onto Veles's wrist, squeezing with all his might. It had absolutely no effect, and made the god squeeze even harder.
"AGH!" Sigurd shouted, an intense wave of pain coming over him, piercing, like being stabbed through the middle of his eyes. He had to act fast or he was getting crushed, literally.
So he instinctively added telekinesis to his grip. The invisible force he called upon added onto his already present strength, and it only added on a hundred-fold, adding tons and tons of pressure. Sigurd could add on as much as he needed to, the telekinetic force was like a river pouring itself into a cup. An abundant mass forcing itself on a small, condensed area.
That's one case of hundreds. Sigurd had learned all of them, but right now, this was the most important.
And it was good enough. It crushed the god's hand and Sigurd heard several bones crunch audibly, earning the first true sign of pain in the fight. In the form of a snarling grunt. Sigurd would take it.
Veles let go and backed away, hissing now. "Good trick." He wasted no time whatsoever, leaving opportunity for nothing at all. He shook his hand a couple of times and came forward, dropping his other sword to the ground as well, going for a punch.
Sigurd weaved sideways and pushed himself away with telekinesis, once again. He squeezed his hand and didn't bother with a gradual approach. He poured in a very strong amount of force all at once. Nearly anyone else, it would've crushed, but Veles's body merely caved in the slightest bit, and he winced.
"I've got the same, though, red dog."
Sigurd felt an invisible force spar with his own, and easily dispel it. It caught Sigurd off guard and made him stumble. He should've expected nothing less.
Like a blink, Veles's next attack was coming. Sigurd missed the first part of the transformation, but he caught sight of Veles's skin slowly turning gray, then sprouting long, black fur. Like the hairs on his arms had multiplied by ten million, it completely covered him. His body began to change, going from upright, tall, and two-legged, to long, short limbed, and four-legged. His head elongated to match a wolf's nose and mouth shape, his ears pointed out, almost subtly so. Like a sculptor pinched his ball of clay and made a thin, triangle shaped ear.
Veles had turned himself into a large wolf. Not comparable to Fenrir in size, that would be monstrous. But it was larger than the average one you could find in the mortal world. If that wasn't enough, he split himself into several copies. Sigurd counted seven of them, a full pack, all baring their fangs at him, foaming at the mouth. He quickly noticed that oddly, his eyes stayed the same.
They all snarled in unison, and gnashed their teeth together. He thought at first it was for no reason, but the teeth gnashing seemed to signal something. Sigurd squinted and noticed that something new was dripping down their faces. Not just spit, but a purple fluid.
Poison. There was a chance it wasn't, but Sigurd thought it would be safer to assume it was.
Sigurd squeezed his cutlass tight, trying to keep his good eye on all of them, which he found rather challenging. Like a bolt of lightning, they came at him. They didn't come one at a time either, they came all at once, banking on the philosophy of "he can take one of us out, but the other will get him."
And that's exactly what happened. They were very fast, widely faster than any animal should be able to move. Sigurd ducked and caught the first two in the chest with a strong slash of his blade. The ones at his sides, had different ideas though.
They all dove forward and sank their teeth into Sigurd's arms. He cried out in a short yelp of pain. They had gotten in deep, at least half of their fangs' length had pierced Sigurd's skin. It wasn't even so much as a cutting pain, but it was more of a clamping pain, which somehow felt worse.
Then the poison started to kick in. Sigurd felt his arms go numb quickly, and dropped his sword a second after.
Strategically speaking, it was smarter to wear armor on these types of missions, but Sigurd hardly ever had the need to, and he doubted most armors would've even been able to withstand the strength of the mutts' bites. No, it didn't matter, he had to get out of this.
He figured teleknesis had been spammed enough, and Veles was waiting for it. So he did something rather primitive, and unlike him. He desperately darted his head toward the ground and picked up his cutlass with his mouth.
Biting down on the handle, Sigurd ignored the taste of sweat and swung it around wildly, hoping to hit something, anything.
Luckily, it must've taken the god off guard, because it swiped right through three of them, hitting them right under their ears and cutting through their heads.
The last two jumped off his arm to avoid being hit and landed swiftly on their feet. Sigurd felt relief at the tension being gone, but then the pain came back just as quickly, switching its mode. This time it was cutting pain, instead of clamping pain, like before.
Sigurd was about to charge at them, when a pillar of fire burst from the right, and engulfed the two canines with its enormous orange might. Burning them to a crisp.
Sigurd's eyes found Konstantin, who had his hand outstretched, smoke rising from his fingertips. Behind him, stood thirteen other men, all of them looked horrible. Starved, tired, beaten down. Not in the condition for fighting at all, but they seemed determined to.
Sigurd began to regret his decision. He should've fought Veles alongside Konstantin, and then freed the prisoners, after defeating him. He was sort of hoping they'd be able to fight, but...they clearly weren't. They more than likely had the will to, but often times will overpowers the needs of the body.
"Konstantin." He greeted, wincing.
"Sorry it took so long!" Konstantin shouted. Sigurd wasn't sure why, it wasn't that loud down here. "Bastard put some magic on the locks!"
"He's strong." Sigurd said quickly, trying his best to fit as much words in as he could before the god came back. "Your men are in no condition to fight. Have them hide, you and I will fight him."
"They can fight!" He roared.
"Look at them!"
Konstantin knew it. He glanced back at them and they tried to put on brave faces, but it was no use. Their fatigue betrayed them.
"Well...what do we do? You're not having much luck!"
Sigurd winced again. The poison wasn't spreading slowly. He could already feel the hot, steaming moisture making its way to his inner organs. Where they would be the most lethal.
He quickly used his telekinetic abilities on himself, and pulled out all of the liquid through the holes they entered in. Sigurd had to hold in a scream as the poison gave him a scraping sensation, like burning metal being dragged across sensitive skin.
It flew out of the bite marks and fell on the ground, actually melting it and sinking through the solid stone.
Just then, Veles burst out of the smoke like a madman, screaming a war cry and coming at Sigurd with incredible speed.
Sigurd, distracted, never had a chance to bring his arms up, and took a powerful blow to the face. Veles's knuckles thumped the crook of his cheek and nose, sending the son of Odin twirling in a pretzel mess on the ground.
Veles jumped at Konstantin just as quick, and punched him too. The god's descendant crumpled to the floor and held his hand over his now bleeding nose. The god stomped his foot on the ground and all of the men flew back, screaming and flailing around. Until they hit the wall, and finally they were silenced.
He said nothing, but Sigurd could tell he was furious. He roared, a shockwave of energy burst all around him. From there, a series of flashes began, and Sigurd was half blinded to everything. He saw a blinding white light, a force of energy that flung him around like a ragdoll. He heard the sound of stone being torn apart, falling on top of each other bit by bit, as if the entire castle was coming down on everyone. He even...smelled fire. Not smoke, but fire. His senses were being attacked on all fronts.
Several pieces of rubble fell on his head. It was less painful more than it was disorienting, and he was forced to create an invisible barrier around his body, deflecting dozens of blows within seconds.
The piercing cold hit his skin like swift knives, and that was when he knew the castle-like prison had indeed collapsed, and they were surrounded by snow.
Sigurd swung his arm, knocking away the oncoming debris. Finally able to look up, he saw the ruined prison, and towering walls of rock all around him, as if they'd been tossed down into a snowy abyss. Veles had destroyed both the prison and the surrounding mountain it was built in. Now they stood among the new mountain made of the wreck, and the endless others.
He didn't find the god at first, so he chose to look for Konstantin and his men, to make sure none of them were hurt. They were in bad enough shape to begin with, even one of those boulder sized building pieces could be enough to kill in their state.
But thankfully, he didn't have to look too far. Konstantin had been relatively unmoved, and shifted into his dragon form to protect his men. He had one of his wings draped over every last one, none of them were harmed.
Then he focused on the falling snow before him, and saw Veles's shadow coming from it, his form getting bigger the closer he got.
Konstantin turned and noticed him. An exhale of anger escaped his snout, kicking up snow from the ground. He dove after Veles with a wide open mouth, rows of fangs out and ready to scoop up the god with one bite.
But Veles caught him from the top and bottom of his mouth, parting it open and stopping the momentum of Konstantin. Sigurd saw his chance and jumped to bash Veles with his shoulder, but the god was faster. He made the simplest of movements and twisted his hips, letting go of Konstantin as he did, and Sigurd crashed into him, almost comically.
Both he and Konstantin fell to the ground, Sigurd on his back, and Konstantin, still in dragon form, face first.
Veles laughed, "Pathetic! This is getting boring!" He lifted his finger to the sky, at it, a black ball began to take shape. It looked like spirit, Veles's spirit, being condensed and poured into one source. One attack.
Sigurd's theory was proven when it started to get bigger. Going from the size of a fist to the size of a car in seconds. Veles himself began floating off the ground, and levitating in the sky, to make room for the blast, Sigurd guessed.
Konstantin quickly shifted out of his dragon form, and thankfully kept his clothes intact. He crawled up next to Sigurd, but not before making sure his men were okay. They were, but they had been groaning and stirring on the ground, not one of them standing on their feet yet.
"We can't beat him, Mister Borgarsson." He shook his head, "You shouldn't have come."
Sigurd stared up at the god and his attack, now impossibly huge and still growing. He was strong, comparable to Thor even. Sigurd had no more time to mess around. He already knew he and Konstantin, as they were, couldn't beat Veles. They could contend with him, but they couldn't beat him.
Sigurd really needed their support. He would have to beat him to free them from any troubles. He had to earn their trust and respect.
But...he would have to use that. He hadn't really used it since Thor. Not to the capacity that he fully could.
He could try and go head on, keep attempting with his fists, or his sword, but that would be useless. They wouldn't get anywhere substantial like that.
He was going to have to do it. He had no choice.
Sigurd stood up, not taking his eyes off Veles for a second. "Not like this, we can't." He lifted his hand to his hair and pushed it out of the way. "But...I do have something that will surely end it. As draining as it is, and as rare as I use it...it may be our only hope."
Konstantin was incredulous, he couldn't believe it. "Whatever it takes! Use it!"
"Be ready to do what I say. This is going to require a bit of teamwork." He thought of another precaution, "Oh, another thing. When both he and I go still, don't interfere. He'll be trapped."
"Trapped where?"
"In his own mind."
Konstantin had no idea what to make of his words, and Sigurd didn't have time to explain them. He would have to trust Konstantin's trust in him. However feeble or strong it may be.
Veles laughed, his voice booming down to them. "Say goodbye!"
He launched the attack, and the giant black sphere of energy came at them, much like the meteor Sigurd had brought down not long ago. He almost thought of how silly that had been. Compared to what he was about to do, that meteor attack would quiver next to it.
Sigurd grabbed his eyepatch and pulled it off, tucking it tightly inside his tunic. The cold wind hit his once concealed eye, this time not like a knife, but rather pleasantly. His eye almost twitched in relief, like a beast being let out of it's cage.
Konstantin's eyes widened at the sight, and Sigurd couldn't blame him. He knew what he was seeing. A large green dot swirling and spinning inside of a black background. It was completely abnormal to any person's regular eye, but Sigurd's was special. It got cut out, not by his consent, but in battle, it was replaced by the eye of the world. An exact copy of the one his father, Odin had.
With it, he could use his most powerful techniques. He could rip holes in the air, and he could use his most lethal weapon...the endless prison. A technique he'd spent years perfecting, in which he could trap someone in an...alternate dimension, would be the best thing to dub it. He traps them in a different plane, that both exists in his mind, and the enemy's mind. He uses an incredible amount of spirit to pull this off though, and it can be very draining.
But the effect is deadly. In the endless prison, he can summon whatever he wants and do whatever he wants to the target. It's his own tiny universe. He controls everything that happens there.
"What the hell..." Konstantin said, "Your eye!"
Sigurd didn't respond. He focused hard on the attack, and then the area below it. With a strain of his body, and bending the spirit of the air, he ripped it open.
A massive hole was created in midair, tearing it and opening up a rift of darkness. A separate place, a bridge world that he could send the blast to.
But he wasn't finished. He looked up farther, to the spot next to Veles, and opened up another hole, connecting it to the one that would catch the blast. Once the two were bonded, an invisible pipe was formed, one end now led to the other.
The blast eased it's way into the hole and went through, never making contact with Sigurd or the ground. Instead, it entered the bridge world and came out of the second hole immediately. Now Veles's attack had been thrown back at him, the table had been turned.
The look on Veles's face was priceless. His eyes nearly fell out of his head and his jaw fell to his feet. It was nearly too late to bring his arms up, and he only managed to flinch before his own attack hit him head on. It exploded immediately, the distance between he and the ground protected the landscape a little from the blast. But it didn't protect much. Several mountains were destroying, a giant crater formed below Sigurd, and the demigod was barely able to keep his footing with his telekinesis.
It was a monumental combustion, and Veles even fell out of the air and onto the ground in a smoking heap. He was coughing and his hands were burned, even bleeding some.
It worked.
Sigurd didn't want to give him a chance to even get up. He looked over at Konstantin, who was in utter bewilderment at the display. "Konstantin!"
"Huh?"
"Start running!"
Konstantin quickly broke out of his trance and trusted Sigurd. He started running as fast as he could at the god, which turned out to be quite fast. Sigurd had to quickly rip another hole open to let Konstantin through. He went through with ease, like walking into a tunnel.
Sigurd ripped another hole open to the right of Veles, who was now on one knee, just starting to recover. Konstantin jumped through the new hole and punched his ancestor across the face, knocking him back to the ground.
"Go back to your dragon form!"
Konstantin did as he was told and shifted back. Sigurd instructed him to lift his head in the air and breathe fire. As he started, Sigurd had to move his eyes and spirit quick to pull it off. He formed a hole right in front of Konstantin's mouth, then four more inches from Veles's head. One at his front, one at his back, and one on either side of him.
The blazing fire hit Veles in the face on all sides and the god screamed in pain, reaching up to clamp his head and get it to stop, but it didn't. He was being blinded by the brightness, and whenever he moved, Sigurd would just move the rifts with him.
Finally, the god had enough and roared, creating another shockwave like earlier. It got rid of the fire and Sigurd dispelled the rifts.
Veles's hair had been burned off, and the god's face was black now, like he'd been rubbed with ash from a fresh fireplace.
"I...don't know...what this shit is, red dog. But I'm going to kill you. It's going to take more than-"
Sigurd had started chuckling. Sigurd hadn't laughed in forever, but now he was starting too. The sensation of poison from before was long gone, and he was only thinking about the power he wielded right now. He hadn't done this in so long, not since Thor, and he felt amazing. He had forgotten the amount of control it gave him. And he hadn't even used the endless prison yet.
The very thought of it was honestly...exciting him.
Veles's fists clenched, and he shouted, "What the hell are you laughing at?! Tell me!"
Sigurd smirked wickedly at Veles, and it was the first time the god noticed he'd removed his eyepatch. His eyes widened a little, and Sigurd could feel the fear from his position. The fear of the unknown. Veles had no idea what it meant. What was about to happen.
He was sure his face was unrecognizable. Sigurd's smiles were rare, and he couldn't remember his face looking like this, no doubt like he was a sadist, a psychotic individual. But he couldn't help it. It was like something had come over him. He had forgotten the power he actually held, and even utilized at one point.
Sigurd's voice was a growl, "I haven't used this technique in a long time." His nose twitched, and his eyes narrowed. "And the last time I did...I nearly killed a god."
The storm raged over Camp Asgard. White lightning struck several times every second, lighting up the gray sky. At any moment he could've sent one of his bolts to the Camp. He could've killed dozens, but he didn't. Sigurd didn't know why.
He stood at the gates, tensed up and prepared to face the god of thunder, the strongest one next to his father. Arya came to him, but he didn't look at her. If he did, he might lose his resolve.
"Sigurd, you can't go out there alone. It's suicide. Let me get Ivan, or the Huntresses, we'll come with you."
A booming, ear shattering shout rang through the air. "SON OF ODIN! COME OUT HERE NOW!"
It shook the entire mountain. His voice alone.
"I will face him. I need you to keep everyone inside and keep them safe. Promise me you will."
"Only if you promise to come back."
Sigurd faced her, "I promise."
She didn't believe him. But she nodded, and let him go.
Sigurd opened the gates with his will over the invisible force, stepped out, and closed it immediately.
The wind was blowing his red hair back and forth, along with an equally long beard. Sigurd forced himself to stay calm and composed, and not be intimidated by his power. And yes, he had a lot of power. He could feel it radiating casually off his skin. It was suppressed, and yet it bent the very air around them.
If he couldn't be intimidated by his power, he could by his frame. Thor was a near giant, seven feet tall, arms as big as Sigurd himself, a thick chestplate donned with fur, and of course...the iconic hammer at his waist. It was rather small, smaller than you'd think, but big enough to stand out in the god's hand if he held it.
Sigurd let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He took two more steps and stopped, staring Thor down. They locked eyes. He could feel the tension and the literal electricity bouncing off the invisible wire.
"What do you want, Thor?"
The god cleared his throat and spat out a wad of saliva. "I believe it's Lord, little one. I am here to speak, for just a moment."
Sigurd looked around at the sky, then at Thor's demeanor. He had his fists clenched, his body straight, and his chin out. "It seems you're not just here to speak. Don't try to deceive me. Had you wanted a peaceful exchange, you wouldn't have pulled your little storm display to show off. You want to fight."
He shook his head and laughed. Not of joy, it was without any of that. "I am above your kind. I'm above this pathetic 'stronghold.' One swing of my hammer ensures its immediate demise. But I did not do that, because I wanted to speak with its leader. You."
"Should you try anything of the sort...then we'll have an issue. You know I won't let that happen." Sigurd quickly followed up, "What do you wish to talk about?"
Thor started to comment on Sigurd's brave little statement, which he thought naively cute. But settled for a chuckle and an answer. "My sons. Bjorn and Boris."
Sigurd was unwavering. He still hadn't taken his eyes off Thor, or the stone expression he wore. "If it's about their banishment, you can save your words. They are never coming back. They're lucky I didn't kill them."
"They are reckless and extreme. I know that, and I know that they killed your friend. But they have come to me, begging and whining for me to step in. It is getting quite annoying."
Sigurd scoffed, "You came here because you're getting annoyed with your sons? Do you want me to be their father for you?"
Thor's face twitched in anger, "I never wanted them. They were mistakes. I tried to leave it behind and move on, hope the best for them...until I saw how they were being treated. The mortals taking advantage of them, enslaving them, it made me sick. I took pity on them, and told them the truth, that I am their father, and they wield unimaginable power." He broke the eye contact for the first time, and looked at the ground shamefully.
"I expected them to break free, to run and be away from that mess. But...they did not. They killed everyone. A few were well deserved, but not the whole lot."
Sigurd scowled and crossed his arms, "They were bears in a chicken coop, being pecked and prodded by the chickens. Day in and day out, for their entire childhood. What do you think's going to happen when a man comes along and tells them their bears? Hm? Of course they're going to slaughter the chickens! You knew what you were doing when you revealed yourself!"
"What would you have done?" Thor roared, "You received Odin's wits, tell me!"
"I would've stepped in myself and removed them. Not left it up to chance."
Thor grimaced, "Whatever! They will not come to me now. I have no time to raise children. You will take them back."
Sigurd shook his head, "Not a chance. They broke the most important rule. They can never return."
"Then kill them if you wish. I don't care. Fight it out and be done with it. There is honor in that."
"There is honor in that? There is no honor in an agreement with men who have none. Your sons never had it, especially when they murdered my friend and his lover when they weren't looking. I stand by my verdict, they will remain banished."
Thor was getting angrier by the second, "You do not want to test me boy, not today. Do as I say, or I'll smite you. I don't care if you're my brother, or the only demigod son of Odin."
"If it's a fight you want, it's a fight you'll have. But remember, this could've been avoided."
"Please. This will be over quickly."
Sigurd remembered every word. Every clash. It was not over quickly. It lasted the rest of that day, and hours into the next. It was incredibly long, exhausting, and the hardest thing Sigurd had ever taken on. Even more so than Ymir, because at least then he had his friends, his mentor, his army. Against Thor, he had only himself. For the safety of the Camp.
The force of Thor's hammer beating into him had been the worst thing he'd felt. It was bone crushing. Mind bending pain. He felt like he'd died with every blow.
He remembered stabbing Thor through the gut with his cutlass. The way he seemed completely unharmed, and the feeling of utter hopelessness that came over Sigurd. He wanted to run away then.
Thor smacked him across the face again with the end of his hammer, for the four hundredth time it seemed. Sigurd recoiled and shot across the cavern they now found themselves in.
He hit a wall of rocks and tumbled down in a fetal position, shaking with agony and groaning.
It had been hours since they began. It had to have been. The exchange had been quite casual at the start, with them feeling each other's movements, taking in the subtle tells, anything that might open up a weakness.
Sigurd was sure he had already revealed some of his own. Thor had not. He seemed to be invincible. It felt like fighting the entire ocean, no worse than that. It felt as if the entire planet had gained consciousness and was throwing everything it had at Sigurd. With each kick, with each punch, hammer strike...
Thor swung his hammer on his fingers, laughing, "Get up! We're not done until I say so!"
Sigurd winced, and then felt anger course through him. It must've been a small boost, because it gave him the swiftness to grab his sword from the ice and turn around, sticking it right out in front of him.
The entirety of it went through Thor's gut and out the other end, spraying blood from both the entry and exit point. It even trickled down the small exposed portion of the steel and dripped, painting red dots on the ice.
Sigurd couldn't believe he'd done it. It was the best blow he'd gotten in so far.
But despite that, Thor only grunted, and smiled down at him. "Not bad. But you should've aimed a bit higher."
He kicked Sigurd and knocked him away, out of his grip. Thor grabbed his cutlass and pulled it out of his stomach, not even making a sound. He still had limitless strength, and with a flick, his own sword came flying at his shoulder and pierced it.
"AGHH!" Sigurd shouted, pain erupted all over his arm.
He scared Veles. He scared Konstantin.
"You're a demon," Veles said, "You're not a demigod, you're a spawn of hell."
"Not from the hell you'll be going to."
That was the last thing he said before he locked Veles in. He made eye contact, and that was all it took, the one rule. He had to make eye contact, and it was all over.
The world around the two of them went pure black. The snow and the mountains disappeared, replaced with an endless void of darkness. Sigurd felt his senses heighten to the level of impossibility. The best way to explain it would be like a tree. He was rooted to this new world he'd created, and he had complete control over it. He could feel in his toes the stretch of its ground, in his arms, the air around them, in his head, all of it.
Veles was in front of him, about fifty feet away, looking around in confusion. "What have you done?"
Sigurd flicked his finger and two giant chains made of green light burst from the floor and wrapped around Veles's legs, pulling him down and pinning him on his knees.
"Wh-What are you doing?!" Veles yanked and tugged with all his strength, but it was no use. Sigurd felt it against his body, like a small animal resisting against his grip. It was there, but it was weak.
"This is the endless prison. You won't be able to do anything here."
Veles roared and yanked again. Sigurd let him break free this time just to show him what he could do. And to mess around with his control a little bit. He wanted to end it quick, but it had been a while since he'd done this, and he wanted to feel it again. With every second, it drains his spirit, so he couldn't play around too long.
Veles popped up and ran at him, his fist reared back. Sigurd just threw his hand in front of him, as if swatting a fly. Veles was immediately removed from his position.
As in he blinked away and reappeared right where he started.
Veles looked around confused, and then furiously at Sigurd. He dove at him this time, faster than light, and reappeared in front of him in an instant. This time, Sigurd snapped his fingers, and he disappeared, blinking back about a hundred feet away from where Veles was about to hit him.
"Stay still!" The god shouted.
"That's enough playing around." Sigurd said, and it was. He needed to end this now. For all he knew, Veles, though unlikely, may have a way out of this. Time is the enemy here, if Sigurd gives him enough, Veles may come up with a plan.
He willed twelve swords of green light to appear in the air, then for them to shoot themselves at Veles. He didn't even have time to notice them before they were already in his body. They stabbed through him quickly, all twelve. He stood no chance, and his last expression was that of shock.
Sigurd closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the normal world was back. The endless prison disappeared.
Veles had no swords in him here, but he had the twelve gashes on his body, and his face was that of shock. Without a word, he fell over limp, on his face, lifeless.
A few seconds passed, and the god's body began to fade in golden dust. With the wind, it faded away and floated off, mixing with the snow.
Sigurd had done it, it was over.
He could tell he was rusty. He was a bit tired and had to take several breaths to regain his posture. Used to, he could do it for hours and be completely fine. But that was when he trained it every day.
Konstantin was gawking at Sigurd, speechless. When he finally gained the ability to speak, he said, "...Why the hell did you not use that to start with?!"
Sigurd couldn't help but crack a small smile, "It's sort of a last resort. At least no one got hurt."
Konstantin looked at his men, "I'm going to make sure they're alright." He gestured upward, "I'll meet you up there when I'm ready, how about it?"
Sigurd nodded, "Okay."
Sigurd stood on the edge of the closest mountain and waited for Konstantin.
He gave it all he had. He'd trapped Thor in the endless prison, the technique he'd only actually used on three others. Only three others. Thor was the fourth.
And he'd never, ever given it this much power. He had stabbed green swords into Thor from all over, which Thor had taken in stride and came after him. His speed beat Sigurd's pseudo-teleportation, and his strength beat any energetic attacks he'd thrown.
But Sigurd's stamina here was virtually unmatched. He'd trained it for years and years. He could do this all day, in his domain. While Thor was completely out of his.
Eventually, he caught the god, and used his telekinesis to crush him, every bit of it he could muster.
It was a bloody mess, and he could've finished him. But he didn't. He stopped, and let it go.
Blinking once, he returned both of them to the regular world. Thor flopped over on his belly.
He still had the energy to reach for his hammer, his hand twitching barely, but still twitching.
Sigurd fell on his knees and also fell on his side. He would've hit his head had his elbow not stopped it. He was completely exhausted, drained of all feeling in his body, his mind, everything was fried.
They were equally...empty.
"It's over, Thor."
"It's...not...not until..."
"I've won."
Sigurd slept for three days straight. It took forever to get over that. The battle replayed in his head millions of times, what he could've done better, or things he noticed after the fact. Worries for letting Thor go. Would he come back?
But it was the last time he truly had to fight. Truly. For his life.
He thought.
But now he accepted that. Long accepted that the fight may never be over. He could never be rusty, lest he put his future in danger. The battle today taught him that. Veles was strong, and he needed to be prepared for more like him. No matter how old he got, he had to stay in shape.
The ground shifted behind him, and he felt wind hit his back. He looked behind him and saw Konstantin's dragon form, carrying his thirteen men.
The men jumped off his back and came rushing over, screaming their thanks to Sigurd, shaking his hand and even crushing him with hugs.
Konstantin came over and shushed them, "SIGURD!"
The men went quiet and parted for him. He walked right up to the son of Odin and smiled, sticking out his hand.
"That was some good fighting. Not bad for a Norse boy." He thrusted the hand a little, "We have a deal. My men and I will fight with you when you need us."
Sigurd returned the expression, "Thank you. I'm grateful." He gripped his hand tightly and shook it.
"No, we are. Veles has been a pain for years. We're a little freer now."
"You'll be even more so in the future. I promise, once this is all over, everything will be normal."
Konstantin let go of his hand, and then his gaze turned serious. "I'm sure. Now...before you go to the next Camp, tell me more about this...Ouranos."
(000)