’My name is Kriemhild, just Kriemhild, daughter of the villager head hunter, IV Dancrat; my mother Deidra was also a hunter; however, she died during the great invasion of Hestos.’
’I am a hunter, not as good as my father, but nonetheless well regarded by many. We kill Silver Bear and Athus Dears to feed the village on the nearby hunting grounds. We raise crops and harvest them two to three times a year. We also breed cats, rabbit cows, and Lapis sheep, which is our village’s most famous meat variety. Tender and juicy, I really enjoy it raw, since the taste of their warm blood streaming down my throat is an experience I can’t describe.’
’To be honest, I’ve always been this odd for as long as I can remember. Perhaps it’s due to the village practices and rituals that we follow. For starters, in exchange for this serene life, all Brunlakian residents on this island, including Mysfelf, practice the act of exchanging blood with the Valhallians, whom we regard as godlike figures. Our history began around 10–12,000 years ago.’
’That was during the Epoch of Gold; our history isn’t that long, and the Brunlakians were viewed as nomads from a fallen nation that was destroyed by the ancient dragon Eclipsian, moving from island to island until somewhere in the distant past.’
’Our predecessor, Kishon the Blind, had a fateful encounter with a mysterious individual who claimed to be a hero. Many people knew him as Sigurd the Great. That man is a legend in our community because he helped our people locate a place to call home; as a result, we were no longer categorized as nomads.’
’Sigurd, according to Brunlakian folklore, was one of the Valhallinas, and in this world, the Valhallians are one of the most powerful ruling bodies in all of the vast kingdoms within the Eprecian. They are considered to be heroes who follow the precepts of the Supreme Goddess Michellante, the Fertile Mother.’
’This land I call home, the Eprecian realm, is a hazardous place to be. It is a harsh environment for those who are vulnerable. Fortunately, Sigurd the Great developed an intimate relationship with one of the Pristine. You might question what a Pristine is. To summarize, a Pristine is a powerful entity worthy of devotion as a godlike figure in the eyes of mortals like myself. They come in different shapes and sizes, with their own distinct territories. They are on par with or above the ancients and the Valhallians.’
’In our case and mine as well, we Brunlakians revere the Seer Queen, also known as the Lady of the Red Mist, and the All-Seeing Judge, Labrynn. The Pristine of Brunlakia, who dwells somewhere on this island, where exactly no one knows; this location is not very large; if anything, 100% of Brunlakia has been examined, and despite this, none of us were welcomed into the Goddess mist, save for her Estos, a divine messenger of sorts.’
’There are eight communities on Brunlakia, four major and four minor, dispersed over the island’s northern, southern, western, and eastern sections. All of these islands are headed by Hilas, the Supreme Chief. The Supreme Chief, as the monarch-like figure of the entire island, is stationed at the island’s center.’
’I am a member of a minor community in the northern region; we mostly deal with hunting and farming, whereas larger communities deal with more important tasks appropriate for their size, such as building houses for an increasing population, training military forces to deal with invaders from other islands, and so on.’
’Then and again, all attempts to invade Brunlakia have failed; no member of this village can be truly killed; we are practically immortal here, though we do not age normally, as a typical Brunlakian can easily live up to 300–500 years; it is just that physical wounds do not remain the moment our blood is spilled. Essentially, Labrynn protection guarantees instantaneous recovery for the duration of our stay on the island. And, thanks to a unique blessing, we are practically unbeatable in the event of a struggle for our motherland.’
’As such, we offer prayers and homage to the Pristine of this land, as well as Lord Sigurd the Great. Just like I am doing right now, every morning I pray before Lord Sigurd’s statue, giving thanks to his wonderful name.’
This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.
Kriemhild stated all of this to herself; she was one of the most religious of Brunlakia’s younger generations. The household she grew up in revered Sigurd the Great as a notable figure and source of worship. According to stories, Sigurd was a skilled hunter among the Valhallians.
"Hahaha, how romantic a great leader, a famous hero, and a respected hunter sang in the old legends. Agh, a man like that is my dream; unfortunately, for a simple gal like me, this may as well be a fairy tale."
"I can relate; a man like that is every girl’s wet dream: handsome, strong, fearless, and ruthless... Oh, just thinking about it makes me feel tingly."
The voice of an unfamiliar woman caught Kriemhild’s attention as she began to rise from her knees, her praying hands unfolding in front of the statue of Sigurd.
And there she was, by far one of the, if not the most gorgeous, women she’d ever seen, with a clean and clear complexion and bright yet scary emerald green eyes; her glare was strong and fierce, yet it held a level of primal mischief in them. She had long, wavy, hazel-colored hair that was soft to the touch. But generally, this woman was incredibly voluptuous; her most redeeming feature was undoubtedly her plump ass and thick thighs, followed by her perfectly huge, subtle, and firm breasts, which were no less than an E-cup size.
Kriemhild knew she was a noble from the neighboring village based just on looks alone, no one this classy was present here; she had to be; no one except Brunlakians is permitted on this island outside of trading season. Then and again, this was Kriemhild’s first time seeing this woman.
She felt strange every now and again; her inner sense was urging her to run, but why? This woman resembled a high-end prostitute or an extremely stylish noble, rather than a warrior or hunter. So, why does she want to go away while still refusing to run away? Normally, this island contains a wyner nest, and she can easily kill 2 to 3 of them alone, as she was a Prata rank hunter, one step away from being an Alpha rank hunter like her father.
She was convinced that if push came to shove, she could easily apprehend, if not straigth up murder a woman like her. But her being here was uncomfortable, to say the least; you knew she was there like a painful sore on the skin, but scratching might aggravate the swelling.
The woman looked at Kriemhild with curious eyes. no! That wasn’t it; this was a familiar look Kriemhild knew too well; it was more like how a predator stares at its prey from afar.
Despite this, Kriemhild remained calm and responded respectfully.
"Agh Good day, Miss. Yes, I completely agree with you in that sense; Lord Sigurd the Great is a really dreamy man, and I want to meet him one day too heheh, It has always been a dream of mine, to be honest. Perhaps when I die and travel to Valhalla, I will be able to sip mead beside him too, like the Valkyries that worship him."
Kriemhild replied, and the strange woman, of course, just smiled and replied to her as such.
"Well, that I can agree with; he is a very charming, cruel, and overall very creative and intelligent man; if you leave it to that man, he can turn the most insignificant and worthless objects or powers into lethal weapons or skills that he would use frequently, heheh, he was the type that was never out of options. To this day, I wonder how he was able to kill the Hydra king with a mustard construct by immersing him in a sea of molten mustard hotter than the center of the sun."
"Hell, if this wasn’t the third time around, no one can convince me otherwise that you can make ultra-massive black holes, the size of countless universes, with Mustard or divert giant meteors back into space with it as well; I have even seen him manipulate with it once upon a time as well. Heheh... Oh, Merciless, you certainly astound me at times, and it means a lot coming from me as well."
The woman mumbled beneath her breath, leaving Kriemhild bewildered about what she was saying. On the other hand, she appears lost for a minute, her gaze fixed on the statue of Lord Sigurd, a hint of sadness behind them. It was a familiar emotion she could connect to; it reminded her of her mother and brother; it was the gaze of a person who had all but could do nothing with what they had to help another.
However, in Brunlakian customs, they considered not to grieve the dead but to envy them, for the deserving among those present will join Valhalla, as their spirits will be carried by the Aesirs, and they will be classified as heroes upon arrival, like Lord Sigurd the Great.
But on that note, however, Kriemhild began to put her hands in a praying condition, as she said to herself.
’I dont know who you are but I will pray for you too I guess.’
And with that, Kriemhild sent a fast prayer to heaven. On the other hand, she was ready to depart when something unexpected happened. She turned her head for a second. But was surprised to find that the enigmatic woman vanished almost as if she were a ghost, and the worst thing was that her senses did not detect her movement at all.
"What... were the did she go?! HA.... Eh?!"
But before she could ask any further questions, a piece of paper fell from the sky and landed just in front of her.
"What is this now?"
Kriemhild asked herself as she stooped down to pick it up, and when she did, she noticed a fanciful handwriting; whoever wrote it had wonderful penmanship, but there was one flaw. She didn’t understand the language being used, and to her, the letters, or maybe words, were significantly more difficult than Brunhilian.
But Kriemhild didn’t realize at the time that the language was goblin and that only goblins or those who took the time to learn the language, they could comprehend it.
But if she were able to read it, this was what it would have said.
"Hello, Merciless. Is it your favorite Wereone or Alien cosmic horror dragon? To be honest, I identify as anything and everything. But enough of that, all you need to know is, go west of the island and meet me at the old docks, you will know I’m close as you will enter a bloody fog; I have something for you there... bye-bye. P.S. You should get a pet cat.
