Chapter 16: First Viking

Time stretched, and the forest thinned.

The trunks, once packed like the bars of a cage, slowly parted, opening a path to a gray, harsh sky. The cold advanced, biting deeper, but the twin suns seemed brighter than ever—cruel, almost mocking.

Blanche had been walking for hours, her boots weighed down by the snow. Each step demanded more effort, as if the ground itself were trying to hold her back, to slow her down. Snow clung to her soles, sometimes seeping in despite her efforts, biting at her feet with a damp, persistent cold. Her legs had begun to protest, heavy and numb, yet she kept going, mechanically, driven by a will stronger than her exhaustion.

In places, nature still bore the scars of human presence: an old collapsed fishing stand, a cabin leaning dangerously, a few rusted tools. Ghosts of a vanished world.

The wood of the structures, swollen with moisture and split by frost, looked ready to give way at the slightest pressure. The darkened planks creaked faintly under the weight of accumulated snow, whispering almost imperceptibly. The half-buried tools hinted at a past life—simple, repeated gestures now erased. Everything here told the story of something interrupted, frozen in the cold, abandoned without explanation.

Snow fell in large, silent flakes, with no wind to scatter them. It was the only comfort in this endless walk.

It drifted down slowly, almost lazily, covering everything in a uniform veil that seemed soothing at first glance. Each flake absorbed sound, muffling the world, creating around her a soft, hushed bubble where even her own footsteps felt distant. The silence was not empty—it was dense, enveloping, almost protective, as if the forest were holding its breath with her.

When the light grew dimmer, she understood that the day was coming to an end. The colors of the landscape gradually faded, contrasts dissolving into a pale, uncertain glow. Shadows stretched out, diffuse, before merging completely into the surrounding whiteness.

Night fell all at once, without warning, swallowing the entire forest.

It was not a gentle transition, but a sudden drop—as if someone had switched off the world. Darkness engulfed the trees, the shapes, the landmarks, leaving behind only vague, shifting silhouettes. The cold seemed to sharpen further, more present, creeping into every gap, into every breath.

And yet, she did not stop.

Even as her muscles screamed, even as fatigue blurred her perception, she kept moving, one step after another, without slowing.

Something inside her—her instinct, or perhaps her fear—kept pushing her forward.

A low, persistent tension, lodged deep in her chest, refused to let her give in. It wasn’t a clear thought or a conscious decision, but a visceral certainty: stopping would be a mistake. Maybe even a death sentence.

So she kept walking, through the night, through the cold, guided by that invisible force—unable to tell whether she was fleeing something… or moving toward it.

Then, the first lightning split the sky.

In an instant, the snow turned to icy rain, the air vibrated with electricity, and thunder roared between the trunks like the cry of a beast. The ground shook beneath her steps. The roar grew louder as she advanced. The ocean was near.

Finally, she emerged from the woods.

The sight stopped her cold. Before her, the world seemed frozen.

The water, black as ink, reflected the lightning like tears of light. The beach glistened, naked and cold, and the sky, swollen with furious clouds, pulsed with a tension almost alive. Not a breath of wind. Just this absurd calm, saturated with electricity.

A wave lapped at her feet, soaking her boots.

Even sheltered by the pines, she felt the salt, the heaviness of the air, and a strange unease. There was something… unnatural about this place. She didn’t know why.

Then, in the silver reflection of another flash, she saw him.

A body.

Floating on his back, tossed by the waves.

"Oh no… " she whispered.

She scanned the surroundings—nothing but the sea and the thunder’s crash. Without thinking further, she threw her blanket, her bag, and her weapons onto the shore and plunged into the icy water. The cold tore at her skin, stole her breath, but she swam as best she could toward him.

The man was immense. A giant.

Getting him to the shore was agony. His soaked, heavy body weighed a ton. Blanche had to try several times, dragging him across the sand with the rage of desperation.

Finally, when he was out of the water, she collapsed to her knees, gasping, her heart ready to burst.

She pushed her red hair from her forehead, wiped her eyes… just as he violently spat the water from his lungs—directly on her.

" Seriously?! " she barked, leaping back.

She wiped her face angrily, shivering. But indignation died instantly when the man straightened abruptly, quick as a predator. A lightning flash lit the scene, revealing the reflection of a blade.

The knife pressed against her throat.

She froze.

Her eyes met his—black, cold, impenetrable.

A harsh face framed by long, wet red hair, stern brows, a predator’s gaze. The scent of salt mingled with iron and blood.

He had already killed before, that much was obvious.

The knife cut her skin. She felt the warmth of her own blood mingle with the rain. Her mind emptied, completely.

She could have whispered a word, activated Carnage, and turned him to dust.

But she did not move.

He was a man.

Not a beast.

He studied her slowly, without blinking. His drenched clothes, her grayish dress, soiled boots. Then he straightened, forcing her to her feet with a single gesture, the blade still at her throat.

His gaze shifted to the sea, then to the tracks in the sand.

The deduction was instant. He understood she had pulled him from the water.

Silence weighed for a few seconds.

"I just saved your life, " she growled through clenched teeth.

She was cold, in pain, and completely out of patience.

"But if you want to kill me, go ahead. Honestly, it would be a relief. I’ve had enough of this damn dimension!"

He stared a moment longer… then slowly lowered the weapon. Without a word, he took a few steps back.

Blanche, drenched and shivering, clenched her fists. She was about to retrieve her bag when a bestial growl vibrated the ground.

The man froze.

She looked up… and her blood ran cold.