Far to the East, where snow rarely touched the land and the skies often shimmered in hues of amber and gold, the Kingdom of Hanura stood in silent anticipation. The scouts sent by Emperor Shojun had ventured into the North, tasked with separating rumor from reality. A week had passed since their departure, and each day brought new revelations.
For the scouts, seasoned as they were, what they encountered in the frozen North tested not only their skills but their understanding of the world itself.
The scouts, a small team of five, had arrived at the edge of Viking lands under the cover of night. They blended seamlessly into the surroundings, their dark, fur-lined cloaks helping them remain inconspicuous. At first, their reports focused on the mundane, Viking daily life, their seemingly unshakable harmony, and their sharp transition from warriors to builders after the battle.
But as the days stretched on, the scouts began to see the subtle, undeniable influence of Gabriel.
On their second day, they saw him for the first time. He was taller than most Vikings, though not imposing by stature alone. His presence, however, was extraordinary. Gabriel moved with an elegance that defied his surroundings, his pure white wings catching the faint light of the sun like freshly fallen snow. His very being exuded a quiet authority as if the earth itself listened when he spoke.
From their hidden vantage point, the scouts observed Gabriel walking among the Vikings. His steps were slow and deliberate, pausing occasionally to converse with a warrior or nod in acknowledgment of a passing child. He smiled easily, but there was something in his demeanor—something unknowable and vast—that left even the hardened scouts breathless.
By the third day, Gabriel's abilities were no longer the stuff of rumor. The scouts bore witness to a moment that would leave an indelible mark on their minds.
A small group of Vikings arrived at the village carrying an injured man on a sled. His leg was mangled, the bones shattered and the flesh torn. The scouts, watching from a distance, expected wailing and despair. Instead, the Vikings carried the man with confidence, as if they already knew his fate would be reversed.
Gabriel stepped forward, his face calm but focused. He knelt beside the injured man, placing a hand just above the wound. A soft, golden light radiated from his palm, enveloping the injured limb. The scouts watched in stunned silence as the mangled leg began to heal. Bones shifted and aligned, torn muscles knitted together, and the man's face relaxed into a look of relief and wonder.
When the light faded, the man sat up, testing his once-crippled leg. He stood, then took a tentative step, and then another. The Vikings around him erupted in cheers, their voices echoing through the crisp air.
Kaizen, the scout tasked with documenting their journey, sketched furiously. His hand moved with practiced precision, capturing Gabriel's serene expression, the glow of the healing light, and the astonishment of the onlookers.
On the fifth day, the scouts ventured closer to the barbarian settlement, careful to remain hidden. The scene that unfolded before them was unlike anything they had ever imagined. A caravan of travelers had become stuck in a dense forest, their wagons and horses unable to navigate the overgrown paths. The scouts crouched in the underbrush, watching as Gabriel arrived.
Without hesitation, Gabriel raised his hand. The scouts saw the trees begin to shift, their roots pulling back into the earth. Branches bent away, forming a wide, clear path through the forest. The once-impenetrable trail became smooth and navigable within moments. The scouts exchanged wide-eyed glances, unable to comprehend the sheer ease with which Gabriel had reshaped the land.
As the travelers passed, some bowed their heads in gratitude, while others simply stared in awe. Gabriel offered them a warm smile before continuing on his way.
"He moves the land like water," Hiroto whispered, his voice tinged with both fear and reverence.
Kaizen's charcoal scratched against his parchment, capturing every detail—the way Gabriel's wings seemed to shimmer faintly in the sunlight, the way his gestures carried both precision and grace.
By the seventh day, the scouts had seen enough to understand that Gabriel's power was no exaggeration. Still, what they observed at the barbarian settlement solidified their belief.
The settlement was vast, housing the 25,000 barbarians who had surrendered after Ragnar's fall. Yet it was no chaotic encampment. What the scouts saw was a carefully constructed village, complete with houses, walls, and even a central hall that dwarfed many Viking structures.
The scouts watched from a nearby hill as Gabriel worked. With a wave of his hand, a clearing appeared where moments before there had been dense forest. Trees vanished into the air, their absence leaving behind smooth, fertile ground. With another gesture, houses began to materialize—sturdy structures built of wood and stone, their roofs sloping to protect against the harsh northern winds.
Walls rose next, encircling the settlement with protective barriers that seemed unbreakable. A grand hall followed, its carved pillars and intricate design speaking of craftsmanship beyond mortal hands.
The scouts could hardly breathe as they watched. It wasn't just the power that astounded them; it was the precision, the purpose. Gabriel was not merely building a village; he was creating a home, a sanctuary for those who had once been his enemies.
That night, the scouts sat around a small fire in their hidden camp. Their faces were lit by the flickering flames, their expressions a mixture of awe and unease.
Kaizen held up his latest sketch—a detailed depiction of Gabriel standing at the center of the barbarian settlement, his wings spread wide, his hands raised as if commanding the very fabric of the world. The other scouts stared at the drawing, their silence heavy with the weight of what they had seen.
"This isn't just power," Kaizen said quietly. "It's… something else. Something beyond us."
Hiroto frowned, his arms crossed. "If he can do this, what else is he capable of? Could he reshape entire cities? Nations?"
Their leader, Akio, spoke for the first time that evening. "We've seen enough. We know the rumors are true. This god exists, and his power is real. The Emperor must hear of this."
"But what will the Emperor do?" Hiroto asked. "This… Gabriel isn't just a threat. He could be a force of balance or chaos, depending on his will."
Akio's expression darkened. "That is for the Emperor to decide."
As the sun rose on their final day in the North, the scouts took one last look at the barbarian settlement. The villagers moved with a sense of ambition, and their lives transformed under Gabriel's guidance.
Kaizen sketched one final image—Gabriel standing atop a hill, his figure illuminated by the morning light. It was a moment of quiet strength, a reminder that they had witnessed something extraordinary.
As the scouts began their journey back to the East, their thoughts were heavy with questions. Gabriel was no longer a myth or rumor. He was real, and his existence would change the world in ways they could not yet comprehend.