Marvel With Zanpakutou

Chapter 823: The Man Without a Past

Norway, Tønsberg.

An unusual aurora was observed in a small, remote town nestled in the mountains.

While the aurora borealis is not uncommon in Norway, especially during winter, this display was so extraordinary that it drew the townspeople out of their homes, exclaiming that Valkyries were riding their winged horses across the sky under the gaze of the king of gods.

The stunning brilliance of the aurora is reflected in the vast starry sky. It appeared as if goddesses were dancing in the night sky, their majestic rainbow-colored skirts swirling, casting starlight and rainbow hues across the heavens.

Words couldn’t describe the beauty of this aurora. It was as though Odin’s eight-legged steed, Sleipnir, was galloping across the Milky Way, creating ripples and waves in its wake.

The Norwegians revered the aurora as a symbol of the Valkyries, and the grandeur of this aurora felt like a divine blessing had descended upon them.

The villagers gathered around a large bonfire.

They drank mead made from honey, sang praises to the great king of gods, and prayed to the aurora for good fortune in the coming year.

However, just then, the dazzling aurora in the night sky suddenly began to churn violently, like boiling water.

A blinding light shot through the sky, accompanied by a loud thunderclap. Dark, leaden clouds gathered, bringing a heavy, oppressive atmosphere. The wind howled, carrying with it a hint of moisture.

In the next moment, torrential rain began to pour down.

There had been no warning or sign of a storm—it simply came out of nowhere. The sky opened up, releasing a deluge of rain as thunder roared and lightning forked across it, illuminating the dark night. The fierce winds carried tons of water down from the sky, drenching everything below.

The sudden storm caught the villagers off guard, soaking them to the bone.

It was winter, and the cold wind and rain had a biting chill. The villagers scrambled to their homes, seeking refuge from the storm, muttering about the fickle mood of the gods.

Thunder crashed, and rain poured.

This weather pattern defied all natural laws, especially in Norway’s winter season.

The town’s eldest, most respected man looked out his window with concern. First, there had been an unprecedentedly grand aurora and a sudden storm and thunder. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

As he gazed anxiously at the stormy night, he suddenly saw a flash of black light streak across the sky.

No, it wasn’t precisely "black."

It was more like something that devoured the surrounding space as it zipped through the sky, concealed by the rain and darkness, before crashing into the ravine near the town.

"Eivor, I’m going out for a bit," the elder, Old John, said after a moment of thought. He put on a raincoat and grabbed an umbrella, turning to his granddaughter with a quick warning before heading out to investigate what had fallen from the sky.

His instincts told him that the strange phenomenon was connected to the storm and aurora.

"I’ll come with you, Grandpa!" A small figure darted from beside the fireplace, wide-eyed with worry. "It’s dangerous to go out alone with the rain coming down like this."

"Don’t worry about me, Eivor," Old John chuckled. "Your grandpa is as strong as a bear. A little rainstorm can’t scare off a Viking warrior. Stay here and keep warm. I’ll be back soon."

With that, Old John opened the door and stepped out.

Creaaak...

The biting wind and rain hit him full force, making him shiver as his body temperature plummeted.

After a moment to adjust, Old John gathered himself, held his umbrella, and headed into the storm, following his memory of where the object had fallen.

Anyone who has experienced rough weather in the mountains knows how treacherous it can be.

The paths were slick with mud and limited visibility, and the rocky trail required utmost caution. One wrong step could send someone tumbling into the mud.

Though advanced in years, Old John moved steadily, his surefootedness almost unnatural. Even on the uneven, slippery path, he moved with the grace of a bird of prey, carefully navigating obstacles with sharp precision.

After some time, he arrived at a mountain stream where he spotted the fallen object.

What he found there stunned him—a nearly naked man, half-submerged in the stream, unconscious.

Though unconscious, the man radiated an intense heat. The rain evaporated before it touched him, forming wisps of steam, and the stream boiled where it flowed around him. Just standing near him, Old John could feel the heat rising.

Thankfully, the heat subsided quickly, cooled by the rain and wind.

Under normal circumstances, any sensible person would have left right away.

After all, an unknown man falling from the sky and surviving unscathed indicated he was no ordinary person. Getting involved could spell trouble.

But Old John didn’t follow common sense.

He stood silently for a moment, gazing at the man, then took off his coat, wrapped it around the stranger, and hoisted him over his shoulder. Without hesitation, he headed back to the town.

Old John moved quickly, even carrying a man who weighed over a hundred pounds.

Before long, he returned to the town, carrying the man.

As he stepped inside, his granddaughter immediately approached, curiosity shining in her eyes as she saw the unconscious man. "Grandpa, who is this?"

"A... lost traveler," Old John replied, frowning slightly as he chose not to tell his granddaughter the whole truth. "Eivor, fetch some hot water and clean clothes. This poor fellow seems to have a fever."

Eivor nodded obediently and went to gather clean clothes.

Old John placed the man in his room, cleaned him with hot water, and dressed him in an oversized coat.

The night we were passed quietly, with rain and thunder outside.

By the following day, the storm had cleared, and the sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky. After a good night’s sleep, the man furrowed his brow and slowly opened his eyes.

Sitting nearby with a blanket over his shoulders, Old John noticed the man stirring and walked over. "You’re lucky. Most people wouldn’t wake up so quickly from a 40-degree fever. So... who are you?"

"I..."

The man sat up slowly, looking around with a confused expression. He seemed deeply troubled, his eyes filled with uncertainty and doubt. "I... don’t remember... Who am I? Where am I? Who are you?"

"..."

Old John sighed, massaging his temples. "Not this old story again. It’s just like what happened to me."

The room fell silent as neither spoke.

The man stared blankly at his hands as if struggling to recall his past, confusion etched deep in his brow.

"Well, in that case, you can stay here for now," Old John finally said after a long pause. "Until you remember who you are, you can stay here without paying anything. Just help out with chores when you can. How does that sound?"

"...Alright."

After a long silence, the man nodded. "Thank you for taking me in."

"No need to thank me," Old John waved his hand. "You reminded me of myself, so I thought I’d lend a hand."