After a century of godly power’s erosion, Freyr’s soul was finally engulfed. Then, the elements showed him a vision, to serve as some comfort to his weary soul. In the vision created by the elements, Freyr had a different life...
As the paramount warrior of Vanir, Freyr always fought for the well-being of his tribesmen. But after the Northern Alliance was formed, the elders of Vanirs’ engrossment with politics irritated Freyr, and this was particularly true of their use of warriors as bargaining chips. Later, when the Alliance requested Vanir’s support for Völsunga in defense against Demons, Freyja, who knew her brother’s inner thoughts clearly, suggested to the tribal chief that he only send Freyr and herself; that way, the tribe could maintain their strength while keeping their manners at the same time.
The duo arrived at Völsunga along with their military supplies. This country fighting at the front line was a scene of utter desolation, but morale remained high, with no sign that they were trapped in a bitter battle. While he was there, Freyr joined the defense forces where he met a warrior stationed at the frontlines. They fought side by side on the battlefield, and Freyr finally understood the reason behind the warriors’ high morale after collaborating several times...
Freyr swung his big sword, leaving masses of skeletroops as pieces of bone. Then, a gust of wind slammed in from both flanks, gathering into a wall of wind that formed a passageway between the Demon army’s ranks. ‘Go!’ The voice of Freyja echoed in the wind. In a flash, a shadow ran past Freyr and went into the passageway. Freyr hurried to catch up with him. They two charged towards the back of the army, aiming straight for the Demon general.
‘Jerk! This is for my brother only! I didn’t allow you to...’
Freyja’s voice disappeared together with the wall of wind, leaving the two warriors once again encircled by numerous demonic soldiers. There was still some distance between them and the demonic general. Back to back, Freyr and the warrior wielded their swords to resist the attack of the soldiers, making their way forward in the sea of soldiers.
“Sigurd, my turn!”
“OK!” The warrior Sigurd wielded his sword, giving out dancing flames. The tongues of fire weaved alongside Freyr, protecting him, as he charged towards the Demon general, heavy sword held high. Invigorated by his willpower, his Sword of Victory emitted bright blue light. With a shout, Freyr brandished his sword, conjuring waves of water to engulf the enemies. Stepping over his enemies, Freyr slayed the demonic general with the surging billows from his sword. Seeing the death of the general, the gnomes and lizard mercenaries immediately fled, leaving themselves vulnerable a sudden attack from the warriors of the North. But Freyr and Sigurd were still at the centre of the Demon army, besieged by demonic beasts and skelesoldiers. Fatigued, Freyr switched from his giant sword to two smaller blades, preparing to defend himself. But Sigurd said loudly with a laugh, “don't worry, I will handle the minions!”
‘Why doesn’t this guy tire?’ Though exhausted himself, Freyr still ran by Sigurd’s side, fighting alongside him.
Freyr and the valiant Sigurd became good friends. Together, they guarded the front line of the North, but the situation of the war in the North remained at a stalemate. Aesir had once snuck to the back of the Demon army, trying to launch a two-pronged attack. However, his troops were routed by Nidhogg the Draogn of Poison. As a mere warrior, Freyr did not have the power to end the war, and all he could do was watch as the war ravaged the realm...
‘No matter what road I end up taking, if we want to end the war, we need something else other than defeating enemies... Almighty elements! Please take my power and lead our men to our expected destination for me!’