[Location: Unknown, Midgard]
"Okay…" I breathed, chest heaving. "Maybe this Asura thing isn't total bullshit."
The Draugr didn't care. The rest of the horde surged forward like a tide of corpses, a hundred sets of dead eyes and bone-cracking joints grinding against the snow.
"Of course," I muttered. "First day in Midgard and I crash a zombie rave. No snacks, no music—just axe-wielding corpses who forgot leg day."
My fists tightened. The punch I'd thrown earlier still echoed in my bones. Not pain exactly—more like a reminder. My body remembered fighting even if my brain didn't.
The first Draugr reached me, howling like a furnace on its last breath. Its face was a melted mask of stone-flesh, teeth glowing faintly with inner fire.
I ducked the swing of its axe. My body moved before I thought. Hands up. Elbow in. Step forward. Drive my palm into its chest.
CRACK.
The thing staggered back, ribs splintering like brittle wood.
Muscle memory. Instinct. Some part of me already knew how to fight.
"Ohhh, muscle memory, you sexy beast," I panted. "You might actually save my ass."
But the horde didn't stop. Another Draugr leapt, jagged sword raised overhead.
I pivoted left, fist snapping into its jaw. Too much power. Its head flew off like a kicked soccer ball, rolling across the snow with a molten trail.
"Goal!" I shouted. Then winced. "Wow. Even in the apocalypse, I'm cringe."
They swarmed. The sound of weapons scraping, bones grinding, fire hissing in their throats—it was like drowning in noise. My blood pounded in my ears, hot and furious.
The Mantra of Wrath simmered under my skin. Not full ignition yet, but my veins glowed faintly—like cracks in stone leaking magma.
Every punch felt too much. Every kick shook the ground more than it should.
And the Draugr just kept coming.
The snow turned into slush beneath my boots, slick with black ichor. Draugr blood wasn't blood—it was molten, hissing when it touched the cold ground.
I grabbed one by the wrist as it lunged, twisting. My knee slammed into its arm. SNAP. Bone-joint, gone. Before it even screamed, I smashed my forehead into its skull.
CRUNCH.
It collapsed. I stumbled back, dizzy. "Ow! Okay, note to self: I am not The Rock. Headbutts hurt."
Another charged. I didn't think. My fist cocked back, swung wide—hook into the temple.
It folded like paper.
Muscle memory wasn't graceful. It was brutal. Efficient. A street-brawl style dressed up in demigod muscles.
But no matter how many I knocked down, more pushed through.
A Draugr leapt onto my back, claws raking my shoulder. I snarled, grabbing its arm and flipping it over. It hit the ground hard. I stomped its chest until it cracked.
Another swung low. I jumped back—barely. Axe blade sliced the hem of my pants.
"These are my only pair, you undead fashion terrorists!" I shouted, planting a kick into its sternum. The force sent it flying into two others. Domino effect. Three down.
But ten more filled the gap.
...
Something burned hotter in me. Every time I hit, the glow under my skin pulsed brighter. My heartbeat slammed like war drums.
Boom-boom. Boom-boom.
The Mantra of Wrath whispered in my veins.
Not words. Not language. Just… urge.
Hit harder.Don't stop.Break them.
For a split second, I saw myself in reflection—on an axe blade raised against me. My eyes glowed molten-gold, veins flaring like rivers of fire.
I blocked with my forearm. Axe shattered.
"Oh…" I breathed, grinning despite myself. "I'm starting to get it."
The Draugr didn't. They lunged, screamed, slashed. I met them head-on.
Palm strike—spine broke.Uppercut—jaw exploded.Roundhouse—three skulls cracked at once.
Each move was raw, sloppy, but fueled by strength I shouldn't have had.
I wasn't fighting pretty. I was fighting furious.
And Midgard noticed.
The air around me thickened, vibrating like an invisible war drum. Each punch cracked louder. Each kick landed heavier. My own body scared me a little, like I was driving a sports car with no brakes.
The Draugr didn't care—they couldn't. But their movements faltered, even if just for a heartbeat. Fear. These things weren't supposed to feel fear. Yet some ancient part of them recognized the glow creeping through my skin.
Fire. Wrath. Asura.
They swarmed anyway. One vaulted onto a fallen comrade's shoulders and launched itself at me, teeth gnashing like molten glass. I caught it midair—hands clamped around its throat.
Its claws raked at my arms, leaving shallow glowing lines. The pain just made my blood boil hotter. I squeezed.
Snap.
Its neck went limp, head dangling like a broken puppet. I tossed it into the horde.
"Next!" I roared.
My voice echoed, layered. Like two voices overlapping—the human me, and something older. Something monstrous.
The Draugr wavered again.
I lunged, grabbing the nearest one by the skull. My fingers dug into bone like it was wet clay. With a grunt, I crushed.
Skull fragments exploded, molten ichor splattering across my chest. It burned cold against the heat radiating from me.
Another came at my flank. Axe raised. I sidestepped, grabbed the handle mid-swing, and yanked it free. The Draugr snarled.
I shoved the blade straight back into its chest. Buried to the hilt.
"That's yours. Keep it," I spat, kicking the corpse away.
More came. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. I lost count. A sea of corpses crashing against one stubborn shore—me.
I fought with fists, feet, elbows, knees, whatever I could throw. The snow around me turned black, steaming from the heat of battle. My body should've been slowing. Muscles should've screamed, lungs should've burned.
But instead—I felt stronger.
Every drop of ichor spilled, every corpse shattered—it all stoked the furnace inside me. The Mantra of Wrath wasn't just simmering anymore. It was boiling.
The glow beneath my skin grew brighter. My veins were rivers of molten fire. My heartbeat thundered louder.
BOOM-BOOM. BOOM-BOOM.
And the Draugr noticed. Their formation faltered.
Good.
I cracked my knuckles, grinning like a lunatic. "Round two, zombies."
I charged.
The first Draugr's face met my fist. Skull caved in, body flung like a ragdoll. Before it even hit the ground, I spun—elbow into another's temple. Shattered.
A third lunged with claws. I caught its wrist, snapped it backward until bone pierced skin, then used the limb like a club to smash another's head clean off.
"Improvised weapon unlocked!" I barked, laughing hysterically.
The fury carried me. Moves I didn't know I knew flowed out of me. Grapples. Breaks. A spinning heel-kick that crushed three skulls in a single arc.
This wasn't training. This wasn't sparring. This was slaughter.
And gods help me—I was enjoying it.
"Come on! More!" I shouted, slamming my foot down. The ground cracked under the force, snow erupting like a powder keg.
The ground answered me.
A tremor ran beneath my feet, heavy, deliberate—as if the earth itself struggled under some colossal weight. Dust showered from the jagged rocks around me, and then I heard it: a grinding scrape, steel against stone, echoing like the toll of a funeral bell.
My grin widened.
From the haze stepped a monster. Bigger than the rest. Broader. Its flesh was a grotesque blend of stone and corpse, thick plates cracked with glowing veins of fire that pulsed with each breath. A beard, long and wild, clung to its jaw, framing a face that was more skull than man. And those eyes… molten embers, staring into me as though it had been waiting—waiting for me.
In its hand, it dragged an axe the size of a tree trunk. The blade was chipped and ancient, yet I could feel its weight from here, every scrape along the stone floor carving scars into the earth. Each step it took was a declaration of war, each breath a growl deep enough to rattle my ribs.
The air grew heavier, thicker, pressing down on me. My blood boiled hotter.
Finally.
This wasn't the sluggish fodder I'd been tearing apart. This one had presence. It had weight. It had the promise of violence I craved.
The beast lifted its axe high, its roar erupting like an avalanche crashing down a mountain. The force of it made the ground quake, my ears ring, my heart race.
And I laughed.
"That's it… That's what I wanted!"
And let me tell you—it was not only one, but dozens of similar types.
The small fry Draugr had been warm-ups. These new ones? They were minibosses. Each stood taller than me, broader than three men stacked side by side, their molten cores glowing brighter, their armor less like rusted junk and more like ancient Nordic war-gear reforged in volcanic fire. Their movements weren't clumsy or hesitant. No—these things remembered how to fight.
The air itself seemed to bend around them as they emerged from the ruins, frost hissing against their heat. Snowflakes melted mid-air, sizzling to steam.
"Oh, great. It's the premium edition," I muttered, fists tightening.
One lumbered forward, dragging its colossal axe like it was nothing but a stick. The sound grated across stone, a jagged SCREEE that rattled in my teeth.
The others followed. Swords like slabs of iron. Shields the size of doors. Spears long enough to skewer mammoths.
They weren't just Draugr. These were Draugr Chieftains.
And there were dozens of them.
"Alright…" I whispered, breathing heavy, molten veins pulsing like magma rivers across my forearms. "Boss rush mode unlocked. No problem. No problem at all."
I grinned, but my chest pounded with more than adrenaline. The furnace inside me—this Mantra of Wrath—was boiling over.
The first Chieftain roared and charged. Snow exploded under its weight.
It swung. An axe the size of a horse cart carved through the air toward me.
Instinct screamed: move.
I dropped low, snow spraying, the blade whistling over my head. The shockwave alone blasted me back, sent me tumbling across the icy ground. I rolled, boots digging into frost, and came up standing.
"Okay…" I panted. "Dodging that? Yeah, I deserve a medal."
The Chieftain didn't pause. It ripped the axe from the ground and charged again, its molten eyes locked on me.
This time, I didn't dodge.
I met it.
My fist—glowing molten gold—slammed into its blade mid-swing. The impact cracked like thunder. Sparks erupted. Steel screamed.
And the impossible happened.
The axe shattered.
A weapon that had survived centuries of war and death splintered like glass beneath my fist.
The Chieftain froze, staring at the ruined stump of its weapon. I didn't give it a chance to process.
I drove my other fist straight into its chest.
CRACK.
Its stone-flesh caved inward. The molten glow in its eyes sputtered. Then—BOOM—it exploded outward in a shockwave of ichor and fire, its body scattering into fragments across the ruins.
I staggered back, chest heaving. My veins burned. My fists trembled—not from weakness, but from too much power.
The other Chieftains didn't hesitate. They roared, a chorus of hellfire, and charged as one.
Dozens of them.
I grinned. "Oh, hell yes."
The first spear came at me like a ballista bolt. My body moved on instinct—I twisted, grabbed the shaft, yanked.
The Draugr holding it stumbled forward. My fist met its skull. It crumbled like dry stone.
I spun, using the spear as a makeshift staff, sweeping low. The shaft cracked through the knees of three more, dropping them to the ground.
Before they could rise, I stomped.
The earth split. Snow exploded. Their skulls shattered under my heel.
Another came from behind—massive blade raised. I ducked under its swing, slammed the spear upward through its jaw. The molten light in its eyes went out instantly.
I ripped the weapon free, spinning it around, grinning like a lunatic.
"Alright, boys. Stick fighting it is."
But for every Chieftain I dropped, two more pushed in. Their strikes were coordinated. Shield walls closed. Spears stabbed in perfect rhythm. Axes swung in brutal arcs.
This wasn't a mob—it was a warband.
And I was one man.
No.
Not one man.
Asura.
I roared, fury spilling out of me like wildfire. My veins lit up brighter, glowing cracks spreading across my arms and chest. Steam hissed off my skin. My breath came out in molten plumes.
Every step I took cracked the ground.
Every punch sent shockwaves through the ruins.
I wasn't fighting them anymore. I was breaking them.
A Chieftain slammed its shield at me, trying to crush me against a wall of stone.
I caught it.
Fingers digging into its iron surface, I ripped the shield from its arm with a scream. Metal screeched, tore free, and I hurled it like a discus.
The shield spun, glowing red-hot from my grip, and decapitated three Draugr in a single arc.
"Captain America can eat his heart out!" I roared.
Another axe came down. I caught the handle, yanked the Draugr off balance, and slammed my forehead into its face. CRUNCH. Its skull caved, fire sputtering out like a candle.
Blood sprayed my chest, hissing against the molten glow beneath my skin. I barely felt it.
The Mantra was rising.
Too fast. Too hot.
Every second I fought, I felt less like me and more like… him.
Asura.
The battlefield was chaos. Draugr corpses littered the snow, steaming piles of shattered stone and ichor. The air stank of burnt flesh and molten rot.
But still they came.
Ten Chieftains at once surrounded me, shields raised, weapons ready.
A formation. A trap.
They rushed me in unison, an avalanche of stone and rage.
I didn't dodge. I didn't block.
I planted my feet.
Wrath surged. My veins glowed brighter, molten cracks racing up my neck, my jaw, my arms. My fists clenched until sparks shot between my knuckles.
I roared.
And swung both fists down.
The ground exploded.
A shockwave blasted outward, tearing the snow apart, shattering stone pillars, throwing Draugr into the air like ragdolls.
The ten Chieftains broke apart instantly, their armor splitting, their bodies erupting into fragments of fire and ash.
The ruins shook. The mountain itself groaned.
And when the dust cleared—I stood alone in the crater.
Dozens of Draugr reduced to rubble. The rest, still alive, hesitated.
They saw me glowing molten-gold, steam rising off my body, fury radiating like a furnace.
For the first time… they didn't charge.
They froze.
Even the dead knew fear.
I stood there, chest heaving, staring at my hands.
Golden cracks pulsed across my skin. My arms glowed like forges, light bleeding through me as though my very flesh couldn't contain it.
And in my reflection, in the pool of ichor at my feet, I saw it.
Not just me.
Him.
Asura.
That titan of wrath, staring back from my own face.
And I laughed.
"Oh… oh, this is insane."
The Draugr warband broke. They screeched, a sound that was less roar and more… panic. The smaller ones scattered back into the shadows of the ruins. The remaining Chieftains snarled, torn between duty and terror.
I didn't give them a choice.
I charged.
One punch—splintered.One kick—shattered.One roar—sent them flying like leaves in a storm.
The snow ran black. The ruins shook.
And when the last Draugr fell, its molten eyes dimming into nothing… silence returned.
Just me, standing in a field of corpses.
Blood steaming. Snow melted into a crater around me. The air thick with the stink of fire and rot.
My fists trembled. My chest heaved.
But my fury?
It didn't fade.
It still boiled, still demanded more.
"More…" I whispered, my own voice layered with something deeper. "Give me more."
The silence didn't answer.
Only the wind.
And then—distant. Low.
The sound of a horn.
Long. Deep. Echoing across the mountains.
Not Draugr. Something else. Something worse.
I froze, molten glow dimming slightly.
"Oh… shit."
***
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