The battlefield was a frenzy of clashing steel, thick with smoke and the stench of burning flesh. What began as skirmishes fueled by whispered betrayals had spiraled into a full-scale war between the jarldoms of Sigmund and Arnar. But as blood soaked the frozen soil, neither man knew they were already playing a part in Tanya Degurechaff's private theater of war.
Tanya stood on a snow-dusted ridge in the distance, her figure cloaked and eyes shielded beneath the glint of her officer's cap. Mayuri, not far beside her, was fussing with a curious instrument shaped like a squid's tentacle fused with a spyglass.
"They're right on time," Tanya muttered. "Sigmund marched sooner than expected. Arnar took the bait."
She adjusted her mana gauge, letting a slow breath steam from her lips. Far below, two armies converged in the valley, unaware that God—or something far worse—watched from above.
---
POV – Jarl Sigmund
"Push them back!" Sigmund roared, his voice like rolling thunder. Blood caked his beard, but his eyes gleamed with manic purpose.
He was winning. The ambush had caught Arnar's flank unprepared, and his warriors pressed hard with axes and shield walls. The bodies of Arnar's men fell like wheat beneath the scythe.
"I told you," Sigmund grunted to his thane, "Arnar's spine is made of snow. He crumbles when pressed."
Then, above the hill, a streak of gold split the sky.
A heartbeat later, the heavens detonated.
---
POV – Jarl Arnar
Arnar spat blood from his mouth and wiped his sword arm clean. He'd been forced into a retreat, rallying what few warriors hadn't fled. The taste of defeat was ash in his mouth.
Then came the sound.
A shriek—like the scream of a dying god. The sky turned gold, then red.
Fire fell like judgment itself.
---
Tanya soared through the smoke clouds like a wraith. Her hands glowed with magical intensity as she whispered the incantation for wide-area detonation. Runes burned around her.
"By my will," she muttered, "the goddess passes judgment."
The shell of her attack landed directly in Sigmund's rear lines. The fireball erupted, tearing through his men like paper. Screams tore the air as warriors combusted mid-charge.
Sigmund turned in time to see his command tent vanish in fire.
"No," he whispered.
Tanya didn't give him a second chance. She hovered low, eyes like twin daggers of ice. The moment his gaze met hers, she unleashed a second shot.
Jarl Sigmund, the proud breaker of clans, was reduced to cinders.
---
The shock rippled through both sides. Arnar's warriors—already routed—fell to their knees in disbelief. Sigmund's remaining forces scattered in blind panic, some screaming of gods, others of monsters.
From the ridgeline, Mayuri giggled. "A delightful control variable. Very explosive."
Tanya landed with the poise of a predator. Her boots crunched over burned bones.
"Send the rats," she said calmly. "Let Arnar's skalds witness what the gods spared them from."
Mayuri bowed with exaggerated flourish. "Shall I tune the message, my dear Valkyrie?"
Tanya smirked. "No. Let him draw his own conclusions. Terror works better when it comes from within."
As the sun dipped beneath a smoke-stained sky, the valley fell silent. Sigmund was dead. His men broken. Arnar, still reeling, would live to see another dawn—but only by Tanya's whim.
The war had ended not with victory, but with divine fire. And in that fire, the legend of the Iron Valkyrie burned brighter than ever.