Once again Erik stood atop his tower. And again, Scaldar performed his sacrifices.

It had snowed quite heavily during the night, but the stage had been carefully cleared and dried. Still, snow continued to fall in large flakes and a cold wind blew over the square.

Two huge braziers with roaring fires provided illumination in the gloom of a gray, overcast winter day. It also allowed those standing further from the stage to distinguish the silhouettes of the fighters through the obscuring snowfall.

‘Brrrr, it’s cold. Sooo cooold.’ – Erik suppressed the urge to chatter his teeth. He stood near naked on his platform, lightly stretching to prevent his muscles from cramping up.

The opponent this time, Rokar, was older and more experienced than Krir had been and was using a spear. Also, Erik learned that Krir and Rokar were cousins.

This didn’t mean Rokar wanted to enact revenge on Erik for killing Krir. In Norscan culture a Marauder’s death is not something to be mourned but rather, if the death was glorious, to be celebrated. For the soul of the deceased would be welcomed into the Feasting Halls of Khorne, the Slaaneshi Pleasure Rings or one of the other versions of afterlife.

But Krir was considered a promising talent and losing him this early would cause some setbacks and damage to his family. This did warrant the hostility Rokar regarded Erik with.

But Erik was rather calm when facing Rokar. After reaching the 200 Proficiency cap he had observed Sven training with the Jarl’s Bondsmen. Rokar was definitely more skilled and experienced than Krir had been, but was still nowhere near the level of a bondsman. And Erik estimated that the skills of a bondsman were roughly equivalent to a 250 Proficiency level. So Erik standing at 200 should still be cautious of Rokar, but he would be at a distinct advantage. Especially considering the fact the Trials would gradually ramp up in difficulty.

Still, the spear was a problem. It would provide Rokar a significant range advantage and the tip of a spear was far nimbler and faster than a sword, let alone a Greatsword, could hope to match.

‘Movies showing swords hewing through spearshafts are BS anyway. I mean, the German Landsknechts of the 15th onwards used Greatswords like mine to bat aside pikes and disrupt blocks of pikemen but still, cutting or breaking it would take a lot of luck and force.’

And as Erik’s mind went into overdrive to try and think of ways to win this fight, the drums started booming in the distance and it was time to take the leap.

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This time there was no sizing up the opponent as they circled around each other. Erik went straight into attack, swinging from top right to bottom left in an attempt to catch Rokar off-guard and finish the fight in one stroke.

All Rokar did was lift his spear and threaten Erik’s eyes to fumble that first strike. Instead of the one-hit-kill move he had envisioned, Erik had to rapidly increase the swing’s speed to swat aside the approaching spearhead.

*Cling!

Erik barely caught the back of the spear’s steel head, turning it sideways to the left. But before Erik could follow through and recover for a counter, Rokar swung the butt of his spear around.

The butt was also encased in iron to provide a counterweight to the heavy spearhead and now functioned similarly to a mace as it made contact with Erik’s right side below the ribs. The shock caused Erik to spit out all the air in his lungs.

Sensing the spearhead coming back around in a hewing motion, intent on cutting his exposed throat or crushing the extended knee, Erik dropped down and swiftly rolled backward. Not an easy move in the first place, but especially difficult while holding a huge sword in one hand.

Coming up in a low crouch, sword held forward, Erik narrowed his eyes.

‘That was close.’

‘A worthy opponent! His skull will make a fine drinking cup when I rip it off!’

Two thoughts blitzed through his head. Although Erik for the most part had learned to deal with the impulsive thoughts over time, they would still subtly influence his actions.

The impulses had screamed for him to sleep with his bedwarmers, so he did just that and slept beside them without getting overly intimate.

At other times they wanted Erik to perform his daily sacrifices in a bloody manner, so he continued his streak of decapitations.

That was when he was of clear mind but right now, with adrenaline pumping through his body and wholly focused on the battle, he could not repress it.

With the impulsive voices screaming for blood, Erik charged ahead. Repeating the same move from a different angle.

The spear came up again, he swatted it aside and immediately changed direction to block the metal butt coming in.

*Clink! - Clang!

Sword and spear collided twice in succession but Erik wasn’t done yet. Letting go of the handle with his right hand, he swung a backhand at Rokar’s face and with a small step forward connected with the latter’s jaw.

It was just a backhanded strike, little more than a hard slap, but it was a hit. And a hit to the face no less.

Rokar now sported a split lip while Erik would get a large bruise on his side later. Both had received a hit, but only Rokar’s was visible right now.

The psychological impact of this cannot be underestimated and for the first time Rokar went on the offensive first.

Now Erik truly showed what a 200 Proficiency stat entailed. As the steel spearhead rapidly and repeatedly struck at him in a relentless tempo, Erik had to parry, dodge and redirect in a deadly dance of swirling steel and flying sparks.

He made no impressive large swings but instead kept his sword up in front of him and only moved it enough to not allow Rokar’s fury to touch his skin.

This continued for only a short time, 2-3 minutes at most, but to the fighters and those watching them from below it seemed to last an eternity. And Erik could do nothing but defend and wait. Wait for an opportunity to turn the momentum around in his favour.

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Watching Erik being pressured hard by the swift jabs of Rokar’s spear, Sigrun was incredibly anxious and nervous. By now she had long shed any pretence in front of her family as she fervently prayed for her man’s victory.

And Helles who was standing beside her looked at her only daughter and shook her head. And moving her gaze back to the two figures fighting through the fire-lit snowy haze, she sighed.

‘Seems like I’ll need to caution her again, but I’m unsure of whether it will be effective or have the opposite effect…’ – She silently thought.

She had been lucky in her youth, the young Ingolf had already established a reputation when he stole her from her family and could provide her with status, food and finery. She even rose up to be a Jarl’s main wife and gave him three sons and a daughter.

Now, as she was approaching her forties, her attention moved towards her children’s future happiness. She had no business meddling in her husband’s or her sons’ affairs and could only try to reign in any haughty or self-important second wives, concubines and daughter-in-laws but for her only daughter she would do her best.

She would not actively choose ‘good’ husband candidates for her, but when Sigrun finally showed interest, she would make sure this potential son-in-law could provide for her daughter. Or smother the relationship before it developed.

Luckily, this Champion had shown both intelligence and capability, making her already half recognise Erik as her son-in-law. Still, the difficulties of the Trials hung over their heads like a Sword of Damocles. And right now, facing Rokar, Erik seemed to be struggling.

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As Erik continued to block the incoming strikes, he was slowly being pushed back. With less than five steps before the edge of the stage, he had to make a move soon.

Sadly, Rokar did not make any mistakes or leave openings. The barrage relentlessly continued.

Finally coming to a decision, Erik made his attempt at reversal.

Waiting for the spear to approach, Erik stepped forward and slightly to the side, grabbing the spear shaft with one hand as he raised his sword up high with the other.

Rokar then instinctively tried to pull back the spear, but Erik’s iron grip didn’t let go of the shaft as he let himself be pulled along.

Now Rokar fell into a predicament. Erik was too close for him to use the spear point and after pulling back on the spear, the butt was behind Rokar and impossible to bring around to counter with.

Erik then let go of the spear and placed both hands on the raised sword, before bringing it down with a roar.

*Squelch – Snap!

When everyone below realised what had happened, Erik’s Greatsword was buried halfway through Rokar’s torso, splitting him from shoulder to sternum in a grotesque and bloody image of savagery.

And with a sickening squelching sound, Erik freed his blade from the mangled corpse as he roared in victory.