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Vikings Time Travel

WarLords : Ice Viking's

The cold stone hall was dimly lit with flickering torches. Shadows stretched long across the floor. At the far end of the room, the King sat high on his throne, surrounded by High Lords, Generals, and Counselors. Silence hung thick in the air as the Ice Viking entered. He stood in the center, arms at his side, eyes forward. “Viking,” the King called from his seat. Varnok didn’t move. “Yes,” he replied flatly. One of the High Lords stood up in anger. “In the presence of your King—you kneel!” The knights draws their Swords. Varnok stayed still. “You’re not my king,” he said calmly. The King raised a hand. The knights lowered their swords. “Let him be,” the King said, leaning forward. “Ice Viking… step forward.” Varnok walked slowly across the cold stone floor. “There is war between the Vikings and this kingdom,” the King said. Varnok kept walking. “It’s your kingdom,” he answered. “That has nothing to do with me.” The lords murmured in outrage. “You think they’ll stop there?” the King asked, raising a hand for silence. “You know what those animals are like. Vikings… they don’t stop until they’ve burned everything to ash.” “And yet I’ve protected the village just fine,” Varnok said. “Without your help. Like it’s always been.” “Without my help, there’d be no village to protect,” the King snapped. “There is a village,” Varnok said, meeting his eyes. “And not once have you offered it your help.” “King... please. What an excuse.” The king nodded toward the general standing beside him. Without hesitation, the general stepped forward and struck Varnok across the face. Then a second punch to the stomach. Finally, a heavy kick to the leg. Varnok dropped to one knee. “Good,” the King said, tipping his goblet and pouring wine over Varnok’s head. “Like the animal you are.” Murmurs filled the hall. > "What an animal." "Fits clearly—a dog." "All Vikings should just die." "Disgusting things." The King laughed with joy as he was Pleased by the words of the people. He leaned forward again, with his voice low. “Maybe we should start with your wife… and child.” The room fell into a deadly stillness. Varnok’s eyes snapped open—glowing bright, ice-blue. A shiver cut through the entire hall. The ground began to vibrate. Goblets trembled. Torches flickered lower. Then came his voice—cold, deep, inhuman. Like the cracking of ancient glaciers. “If a single breath so much as brushes their skin…” “I will bring down such ruin upon this kingdom that even the crows will starve for lack of flesh. I will freeze your rivers. Silence your bells. And watch your palace rot from the inside—As your screams echo in halls no one dares enter. Pray your tongue forgets their names… before I remember yours.” No one moved everywhere was silent. Even the air seemed too afraid to stir.
vickysfantasy · 7.3K Views

THE DIMENSIONAL TRAVELER

Alan Yokob dies as he lived—in a blaze of violence. A hitman with a reputation for ruthless efficiency, his final act is a fiery car crash. But death is not the end. When Alan opens his eyes, he finds himself in another world. Complely different from earth. “Welcome to Kirath,”. Once, this realm teetered on the edge of annihilation until mortals overthrew the Demon King’s tyrannical reign. But a thousand years of “peace” have left Kirath fractured—its magic withering, its lands plagued by cataclysms, its people rotting from complacency. The solution? Resurrect the demons. And they’ve chosen Alan, a man who traded in death, to wear the crown. To survive, Alan must wield the **Oblivion Pact**, a parasitic system that rewards carnage with unholy power. Kill to summon ★Soulrenders★—demonic warriors bound to his will. Conquer to rebuild. Rule to channel the chaotic energy that once made demons the world’s necessary evil. But Kirath’s fractured kingdoms see only a monster, not a savior. Holy knights hunt him as a blasphemy. Fallen heroes, drunk on their ancestors’ glory, vow to finish what their forebears started. As Alan battles to resurrect a demonic legacy he doesn’t believe in. The demons were not mere oppressors—they were shackles binding a far older terror. Now, with their power waning, that ancient hunger stirs. To save Kirath, Alan must become the Demon King the world fears… or watch it drown in the hubris of its own “victory.”
Blackcovra · 43.3K Views
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