Chương 95: Chapter 93 - Routines and Ladybugs

The Young Berserker still remained unmoving, "Yes, General Havoc," Sebastian replied formally. Chelsea looked at Peg.

"You know, I think I'm finding him to be the weird one in this group." Peg laughed.

"He's still young. Hasn't seen much yet." She looked back toward the younger man.

"You let the rage take over yet, kid?" Sebastian remained perfectly still. His eyes stayed fixed ahead. Peg nodded.

"I'll take that as a no." She looked back at Chelsea.

"What about you, Miss Valkyr? Have you let the rage take over?"

"Actually, mine isn't a rage. It's bloodlust?" Peg nodded. Chelsea thought about how to explain it.

"Mine doesn't really work like yours." Joe stopped searching the grass and looked up. Chelsea shifted on her knees slightly, looking down at the ladybug crawling on her hand.

"So... when you are fighting an enemy and get their blood on you it's this overwhelming rage, right?" Chelsea asked.

"Mine isn't." She hesitated.

"Well... for lack of a better comparison, it's almost... intimate." The three berserkers remained quiet.

"Not in the way you're probably thinking," Chelsea hurriedly clarified.

"I talked with Passion about it. She thinks it's because I'm a demon and eat humans." Chelsea's thoughts drifted despite herself.

"My mother made me kill a group of bandits with my bare hands." The memory came back with startling clarity. The first taste of warm blood. The feeling of broken bones. The feeling of strength flowing through every part of her body. She felt her breathing slow as the familiar sensation brushed against the edge of her thoughts.

"It was..." Chelsea swallowed.

"Euphoria unlike anything I've ever experienced." She shook her head and forced herself back to the present. Peg grimaced.

"Ah, damn." She leaned back in her chair, making the two front legs leave the ground again.

"One of those." Joe nodded.

"Rare." He returned his attention to the grass.

"Powerful bloodlust. Keep mind. Keep self. Don't wake after battle covered in gore."

"I've never heard of a Valkyr having that kind," Peg admitted.

"Maybe you'll last longer than the last few." There was a long pause. Finally Sebastian spoke.

"I have." Chelsea looked over.

"The rage," he clarified quietly.

"I've let it take me." His speech carried a refined accent. It reminded Chelsea of the nobles she'd met in Junstruce. Hearing it come from an enormous berserker dressed in furs was strange.

"I grew up in the capital of Acarr," he began.

"I worked in a public house. One evening, after finishing my shift, I passed an alley." His expression remained perfectly controlled.

"There was a woman being attacked." He paused.

"I knew her. She visited the tavern often. She was always kind to me, despite knowing I came from an Einherin family." His jaw tightened.

"I remember throwing a punch." He looked down at his hands.

"But nothing after. I woke up on my knees."

"The man?" Chelsea asked.

"A bloody paste." Sebastian flexed his fingers.

"My knuckles were split to the bone." Chelsea took a long breath and let it out slowly, giving a small nod at his story.

"At the time, I wasn't nearly high enough level to do something like that," Sebastian continued.

"Seeing what I had done..." He searched for the words.

"It made me feel..."

"Invincible," Joe answered quietly. Sebastian looked toward him.

"Powerful." Joe nodded once.

"Embodiment of rage." Sebastian slowly nodded.

"When I came back to myself, I was offered a class evolution." He gave a faint smile.

"Berserker seemed like the obvious choice."

"And here I am." The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Havoc!" Someone whisper-yelled her name. Chelsea turned. Passion stood near the edge of her formation, waving her over. Chelsea jogged across the field.

"How's it going?" Passion asked.

"And what's going on with your hand?" Chelsea looked at her upward facing palm.

"It's a ladybug." Passion blinked.

"A... ladybug."

"Joe says they're lucky." Passion's mouth was open in… some emotion. Maybe several at once. Finally she let out a.

"Ah."

"And my unit is wonderful." Chelsea smiled to herself.

"They feel like a support group for people with bloodlust, or… bloodrage." She looked back toward the three berserkers.

"It's nice." Her smile softened.

"Really nice." She hadn't expected to find people who understood something she'd barely come to understand herself.

"I can see it when they talk," she continued.

"They're different from everyone else I've met. They don't look at it with fear." Passion's expression relaxed.

"That's... actually great." She glanced toward the berserkers.

"So are you going to inspect them? Test their abilities? Learn everyone's skills and levels?" Chelsea followed her gaze. Joe was already back on his hands and knees searching for another ladybug. Peg had leaned her chair onto its back legs while calmly finishing the last of her ale. She over committed and fell backwards, causing Joe to look over and laugh wildly at her. Sebastian remained exactly where Chelsea had left him. Standing at perfect attention. Chelsea smiled.

"No."

"No?" She patted Passion gently on the arm.

"I don't need to." Then she turned and walked back toward her unit, the ladybug crawled onto the back of her hand and she adjusted it. Over the next two days, Chelsea settled into something resembling a routine. Mornings began with formation before giving way to training. To Chelsea's surprise, the Valkyr themselves weren't the instructors. Dedicated trainers handled the day-to-day lessons while the Valkyr oversaw the larger picture. It made sense.

If each Valkyr commanded an entire unit, they couldn't spend every waking hour teaching each other. Chelsea quickly discovered that Aunt Bea was absolutely terrible with a spear. To Bea's credit, it hadn't been her primary weapon for years, but the realization still made Chelsea smile every time one of the instructors corrected a mistake she'd inherited. One lesson ended with Chelsea snapping a practice spear in half.

The instructor stared at the broken weapon in disbelief because within moments, her enhancement compensated by creating another practice spear. Unlike the plain wooden one she'd broken, this replacement appeared almost crystalline. Elegant carvings wound around the shaft, and faint silver patterns shimmered beneath its surface. Every head in the training yard turned toward her. Chelsea smiled awkwardly.

"Spooky demon magic." She announced. Passion immediately nodded.

"That's exactly what it is." Chelsea appreciated that Passion never questioned her in front of other people. If there were questions, she always waited until they were alone. Passion's own training looked nothing like Chelsea's. The larger woman trained with instructors whose movements were almost impossible for Chelsea to follow. Every exchange happened so quickly that Chelsea often lost track of whose weapon had moved first.

Watching them made her appreciate just how much Passion had been holding back whenever they sparred in the last forty-eight hours. Over those first two days, Chelsea also began understanding the strange position she occupied within Valhalla. She wasn't simply some recruit. She was one of the Twelve. People stepped aside when she approached. Shopkeepers greeted her with immediate smiles. Guards saluted. Doors opened before she reached them. At first, Chelsea thought everyone was just super friendly.

But after speaking with Passion, she realized something else was happening. Most people living in Valhalla rarely interacted with the Valkyr directly. To them, the Twelve were living legends. They weren't entirely sure how someone was supposed to speak to one. Chelsea did everything she could to put people at ease. She smiled. She thanked everyone. She asked names whenever she could. She Chelsea'd it. The over-respect always remained, and Chelsea couldn't shake the feeling that at least part of it came from fear.

One discovery frustrated her more than she expected. There wasn't a single dress shop. Weapon shops filled nearly every district. Armorers stood beside leatherworkers. Smithies seemed to occupy every other corner. Dress shops? Nothing. Chelsea supposed it made sense in an Einhri society, but she still found herself disappointed. Surely these women wore dresses occasionally. She'd put Fiona into one back in Junstruce, and the towering barbarian had looked absolutely stunning.

There had to be others here who enjoyed dressing up. Fortunately, Valhalla did have jewelers. Chelsea wandered into one during an afternoon break and immediately fell in love with half the display cases. Hairpins, bracelets, necklaces, and rings. She found far more pieces than she probably needed. Convincing the owner to actually let her pay for them proved significantly harder. The poor man kept insisting they were gifts. Chelsea eventually won by paying more than the asking price.

She walked out fairly certain she'd overpaid. The jeweler walked back inside looking as though he'd somehow been cheated. Despite everything else, one thing continued to surprise Chelsea. Passion had respected every boundary Chelsea had set. She never touched Chelsea unexpectedly. She never cornered her. She never used her much greater strength to make Chelsea feel powerless. Even during sparring, Passion carefully limited herself to only the amount of strength necessary for the lesson. It was... strange.

Pleasantly strange. But strange. Every day, Passion found small ways to show Chelsea that she was firmly on her side. By the evening of Chelsea's first full day, she'd found herself trying to explain germs to one of the other Valkyr. Chelsea honestly couldn't remember whether it had been Law or Duty. Either way, the explanation wasn't going well.

"So you're telling me," the other woman said skeptically, "that tiny invisible creatures live on our hands?"

"Yes."

"And they make us sick."

"They can." Chelsea said, teetering her head in indecision.

"Not all of them do."

"So we should wash our hands because of things nobody can see." Chelsea nodded.

"That sounds ridiculous." Before Chelsea could think of another way to explain it, Passion spoke up.

"I believe her." The room turned toward the larger woman. Passion shrugged.

"She usually knows what she's talking about." Chelsea smiled. Explaining microscopic organisms to people who had never heard the word "microscope" was proving difficult. Having someone willing to believe her without demanding proof made it considerably easier. Evenings ended the same way almost every night. Passion would excuse herself for her nightly ritual with the servicers, while Chelsea headed downstairs to squeeze in one last training session with whichever instructor was still willing to put up with her.

By the time she finished, Passion would be done, allowing Chelsea to slip off to the baths before finally turning in for the night. On her third night in Valhalla, Chelsea finished washing and made her way back upstairs. The hallway was quiet. Most of the Valkyr had already retired to their rooms. Chelsea reached her door and rested her hand on the handle. Then she stopped. She looked toward the far end of the hallway. The final door stood by itself. She had never actually been told it belonged to Freya.

She had just assumed. She hadn't seen the goddess since the feast three nights earlier. Freya had disappeared before the slaps in the hallway and hadn't made another appearance. Chelsea frowned. She had been so busy settling into life in Valhalla that she hadn't once checked on her. A small wave of guilt settled over her. Freya had always seemed... Lonely. Chelsea took a slow breath, turned away from her own room, and walked down the hallway.

When she reached the final door, she hesitated only a moment before knocking. The door opened without a sound. Chelsea stepped inside. The moment she was clear of the doorway, it swung shut behind her with a heavy thud.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to come visit," Freya's voice sounded from all around.