"Ah, are you asking me? I should be the one asking you. Where did you come from?" one of the men, wearing a headband on his sleek, long, wavy hair, said as he raised his brows.
"But I was just falling a moment ago." Dean thought managing to mutter as he lifted his head.
"So I didn't die. I'm alive." He looked at his bare body and the rags he was wearing.
The men looked at Dean and then each other before nodding.
"You are coming with us," the man with the headband said as he grabbed Dean by the leg and threw him over his shoulder.
"Ah, wait! What is the meaning of this?" Dean protested.
Although Dean opened his mouth and began speaking, the words that came out weren't in English. Instead, they were in a completely unfamiliar language. However, since he was somehow fluent in it and able to communicate with the people in front of him, he continued speaking in this new language.
"Hey now, don't struggle too much," the man replied as he continued to walk forward, the others following behind him. For him, carrying Dean was no different from carrying a bag of grain; that was how light Dean felt to him.
"Wait, calm down. Let's talk this out," Dean said, trying to bargain.
"Save your breath for later. You can talk when you meet him," a woman following behind the man said. She had bright brown eyes, and her fierce gaze pierced through him as she walked past.
The next moment, Dean was brought to the white-haired man, who was still seated on the boat.
"Ouch!" Dean shouted as he was thrown to the floor. He was about to protest when he looked up and met a pair of pale blue eyes.
"Ingolf, we found a survivor," the man with the headband said, addressing the man with white hair.
Ingolf stared menacingly at Dean, his eyes peering deep into Dean's soul. "What is your name?" he asked, fixing his gaze on Dean.
"It's Dean," Dean stuttered.
"Dean, I see. Care to tell me what happened here?" Ingolf asked. A chill ran down Dean's spine, it was as though his pale blue eyes were compelling him to respond,
"I don't know," Dean answered truthfully.
As he looked up, Dean saw the expression on Ingolf's face as he awaited an answer.
After a short while that Dean didn't say anything he asked another question.
"Where are you from?" Ingolf inquired.
"Norway," Dean replied immediately.
"Norway," the other Vikings echoed, looking at each other and nodding.
"Last question: are you a slave?" he asked.
Dean furrowed his brow. "No."
"Then, are you a Viking?" he continued.
"No."
"Then what kind of person are you?" Ingolf asked, his expression remaining unchanged. However, the same couldn't be said for the other Vikings.
Dean thought for a moment before answering, "I'm the sort of person who takes risks."
"What kind of answer is that?" the lady said, ready to lash out. However, Ingolf waved his hand to stop her.
After staring at Dean for a few moments, Ingolf's gaze lifted from him as he stood up. Dean let out a huge sigh, feeling as though a thousand weights had been lifted off his chest.
But before he could fully relax, Ingolf spoke again. "Jarl, take him and tie him up. In the meantime, let's gather whatever we can find and regroup with the others," he said as they began to scavenge the area.
Meanwhile, Jarl, the man with the headband, took Dean and tied his arms with a long rope.
"You stay put and don't move anywhere," he said as he pushed Dean to the floor. After leaving, Dean was left alone in the large boat, watching the others scavenging for resources. Observing their physiques, the way they dressed, and their brutish nature while searching for supplies, one word came to mind: Vikings. Dean's eyes widened as he continued to watch.
Could it be that I was transmigrated back to the past? Dean thought. He was of Danish descent and although he had lived in the U.S.A. for most of his life, he clearly knew about Vikings and their history. From what he had seen, he could only assume that was what they were.
So I've been captured by Vikings, Dean sighed at himself. He thought about his family; although his father hated his actions, that didn't mean his father didn't love him. Dean knew deep down that his father cared for him, and he loved his father in return. He also missed his brother. It was his birthday, and he wished he had spent it with them rather than going skydiving with his friends.
It was clear that he couldn't go back to his old life. He might as well adapt to this one, but first, he had to escape this predicament. Looking at the rope tied around his arms, he noticed that although it was tightly knotted, it wasn't unbreakable. Sitting on the edge of the boat, he saw a chipped part of the wood that could serve as a sharp edge. He could use it to cut the rope, and although it might take some time, it could work. But looking at the b burly men with their axes in hand, he quickly dispelled that idea.
"What am I going to do?" he thought. Feeling downcast, he took a moment to reflect and realized that being transported to this world might not be all bad. After all, he was someone who pursued his dreams and sought novelty, even back in his childhood. He had many interests in different subjects, reading all kinds of books because the feeling of exploring various types of knowledge had always appealed to him.
Even when he explored sports, he didn't just stick to one; he tried everything. A new world meant new possibilities. Now that he was in this new world, what did that mean? Was it not a new journey—new customs, new people, and more things to explore. The prospect of exploring this world, especially with Vikings around, made his heart race with excitement.
As he smiled to himself, still daydreaming, he began to hear a slight bubbling sound near his ear. "What's that?" he wondered, looking in the direction of the noise. It sounded as if the water was boiling. He leaned over the boat deck and saw the water bubbling beneath him, as if it were boiling with countless bubbles.
*Boom!*
The water suddenly erupted, shooting high into the sky to reveal a colossal geyser fish, towering at an impressive 30 meters. Its massive body was a murky green, adorned with intricate black patterns that swirled across its head like dark flames. The geyser-like spout on its forehead resembled a miniature volcano, oozing cold steam while releasing bursts of hot vapor into the air. This hot steam swirled around its form, enveloping it in a dense cloud that shimmered in the sunlight.
Dean's hopeful gaze immediately sank as he stared in awe at the creature. "What on earth is that?"