Daniel sat on the edge of the small bed in the cramped room, carefully inspecting the bandages that had been wrapped around his torso. The wounds from the last battle had healed much faster than he expected, but the scars remained—a permanent reminder of the war he was trying to escape, the war that had pursued him even to this distant corner of the world.
He let out a slow breath, testing the movement of his muscles. Though the pain had diminished, the tension in his body was undeniable. It wasn't just the physical toll that weighed on him; it was the constant pressure of the legacy he carried. The legacy of being the son of the leaders of the Dark Vikings, the infamous warlords who had terrorized these lands for generations. It was a name that brought fear and hatred to anyone who heard it, and Daniel had spent his life trying to distance himself from it.
