Adrian stood at the fore of the table, glaring at Karl, who looked as though he had eaten something disgusting and had to keep it down. He looked over to Bormak, and even without looking up, Svinna's memories of their shared father told Adrian all he needed to know. The old Jarl was furious about being defied. But a holmgang challenge is no laughing matter, and not something even he the Jarl, could interfere with easily.

Adrian's gaze remained locked on Karl, who shifted uncomfortably under the intensity of the stare. Karl, a man known for his arrogance and ruthlessness, had never expected such audacity from Svinna, whom he had seen as a meek pawn in his quest for power. Now, he stood exposed, facing a holmgang challenge that threatened to shatter the facade he had so carefully built.

The grand hall bore witness to the standoff between the challengers. Its colossal wooden beams, adorned with centuries-old carvings, seemed to lean in, as if eager to observe the outcome of this unprecedented confrontation. The torches lining the walls flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced across the stone floor. It was as if the very elements conspired to amplify the tension that hung in the air.

Adrian could feel the weight of Svinna's memories, the burden of her painful past, and her enduring resilience. She had endured years of torment and cruelty, her father's disappointment a constant specter looming over her. Now, she had seized control of her own fate, invoking the ancient right of holmgang, a challenge no one could deny.

Glancing toward Bormak, Adrian sensed the tempestuous storm brewing within the old Jarl. Bormak's fury was palpable, a force of nature that threatened to consume everything in its path. Adrian knew that the Jarl was accustomed to wielding power without opposition, and the audacity of his daughter's challenge had struck a nerve that ran deep.

The Jarl's silence spoke volumes, a seething rage that words could not convey. His hands, adorned with rings that glittered like ice, clenched and unclenched involuntarily. The hall's occupants, his loyal subjects and uneasy guests, watched in apprehension, fully aware that this was a moment that could redefine the fate of their community.

Bormak's laughter, twisted and mocking, finally broke the silence that had hung in the hall like a shroud. He leaned back in his imposing seat, regarding his daughter with a twisted grin.

"Ah, Svinna," Bormak began, his voice dripping with disdain, "you've truly outdone yourself this time. A holmgang challenge, against your own betrothed no less? You've always had a talent for making a spectacle of yourself."

Karl the Snake, the man who had been the source of Svinna's torment and dread, stepped forward with a triumphant glint in his eye. "You see, dear daughter. Karl already has gained five levels in his class, and can be considered an elite." Adrian's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Svinna's memories of the nature of this new world have shown that the region has been at peace for some time, the regional powers locked in a sort of cold war that prevents individuals from gaining even an eleventh level. Bormak himself has nine, and that's considered a monstrous accomplishment.

"Even so, I will not be caged any longer," Adrian replied, fury evident in his eyes. Bormak stared at his daughter for a good, long moment, something approaching minute respect in his gaze before he snorted in derision. No, his daughter was a coward. He knew it. She could never be anything like him.

Bormak's laughter grew louder, echoing through the hall. "Very well, then," he finally said, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. He turned to Adrian, who had stood resolute through the mockery. "Svinna, my dear," Bormak continued, his tone dripping with condescension, "you shall have your holmgang, but only because it will serve to further humiliate you."

Adrian, now privy to Karl's formidable advantage, nodded in acknowledgment. With a sense of resignation and determination, he turned and left the grand hall. He had much to prepare for, for the Eve was fast approaching.

Don't think that Adrian is being reckless, he knows exactly what he is doing. Svinna's memories have revealed that the culture is Viking-like. While the gods they worship may be different, the culture, religious rituals and practices, and creeds are almost exactly the same. Even the language. And, right as Adrian saw Karl, he saw it.

Now, this is a class! The Conqueror is just straight busted, but Svinna's memories show that the stronger a class is the harder it is to level up. Still, for the life that Adrian asked of the God of Fortune, this is right up his alley. It would be worth it to grind.

Interrupting his thoughts, the door to his chamber creaked open, and Svinna's mother, Freydis, entered with an air of quiet determination. She carried with her a set of finely crafted armor, the chainmail glinting in the soft light of the room. In her other hand, she held a formidable great axe, its blade polished to a mirror-like sheen.

Freydis approached Adrian, a solemn expression on her face. "My dear Svinna," she said softly, "I knew this day would come, though I had hoped it never would. It is a path fraught with danger, but you are strong, just as your mother once was."

Adrian nodded, his eyes meeting Freydis's with gratitude for her unwavering support, overcome with Svinna's memories. "Thank you, Mother. Your strength has always been an inspiration to me."

Freydis smiled, a bittersweet expression that conveyed the weight of the situation. "You have inherited my spirit, my dear. And now, it is time to face this challenge with all the courage and determination you possess."

As Freydis helped Adrian don the armor, they engaged in a quiet exchange of words, a blend of encouragement and shared memories.

Freydis tightened a strap and said, "You were always so stubborn, my child. But that stubbornness has brought you this far, and it will see you through this trial."

Adrian chuckled softly, despite the gravity of the situation. "Stubbornness runs in the family, doesn't it, Mother?"

Freydis nodded with a fond smile. "Indeed, it does. And now, take this axe, a weapon that has been passed down through generations of strong women in our family. It is a symbol of our resilience and determination."

Adrian accepted the weapon, feeling its heft and balance in his hands. "I will wield it with honor, Mother." He said watching the woman go from his chamber once more.

As the hours passed, Adrian found himself in a rare moment of solitude, awaiting the evening when the holmgang would commence. In the quiet confines of his chamber, he had ample time to contemplate the profound changes that had befallen him. Svinna's life, once a distant and foreign existence, had now become his own.

He examined the curves of his new body, the softness of his features, and the unfamiliar weight of long hair that cascaded down his back. It was a stark contrast to the life he had known as Adrian Masqe, a life he now found weak and repulsive in retrospect. The memories of his former self, plagued by hardship and submission, filled him with a sense of disgust.

Similarly, Svinna's former self, the timid girl who had endured years of cruelty and neglect, held no appeal to him. He found her repulsive as well, a reflection of a life marked by weakness and fear.

It was in this moment of reflection that Adrian made a resolute decision. He chose to abandon his former identity, cast aside the weak and repulsive aspects of himself, and embrace the strength that lay within Svinna. Never again would he be seen as weak, never again would he falter. He was determined to emerge from this holmgang as the victor, a symbol of resilience and unyielding determination.

As the evening drew near and the anticipation in the air thickened, Adrian, now fully immersed in the persona of Svinna, stepped out of the chamber and made her way to the arena. The crowd closed in around her, a sea of expectant faces that watched with bated breath. Svinna's heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of fear and resolve coursing through her veins.

With every step she took toward the arena, the weight of her decision pressed upon her, a burden she carried willingly. The duel would determine not only her fate but also the fate of those she held dear. As Svinna entered the arena, her eyes locked on Karl the Snake, her betrothed and opponent.

All she need do is kill him.