"Rise of the Viking King."

The sea breeze stirred the acrid smoke that lingered over the ruined village. Crows circled above, their distant cries mingling with the crackling embers that smoldered beneath the charred remains of homes. Dikun Silver stood at the heart of the devastation, the weight of the silver serpent he had carved into the broken shield still fresh on his mind.

His companions moved with grim determination. Marcus kicked aside a shattered spear, the bitter expression on his face revealing the rage that festered beneath his stoic demeanor. Hakon inspected the remnants of the village's defenses — crude barricades and hastily erected palisades, all reduced to splinters. Sarich knelt beside a fallen villager, his fingers tracing the darkened blood that stained the ground.

"They fought," Sarich said softly, his voice heavy. "But the Reavers were too many."

Dikun clenched his jaw, his gaze sweeping over the desolation. He had known the Reavers would not remain idle, but to witness the aftermath of their cruelty ignited a fire within him.

"We will not let this stand," Dikun said, his voice resolute. "The clans will see this destruction. They will understand what awaits them if they do nothing."

Hakon's eyes burned with agreement. "A message of fear only grows if left unanswered. The Reavers will think themselves untouchable."

"Then we remind them otherwise," Dikun replied, his gaze unyielding. "We follow their trail."

---

The Hunt Begins

Eirik the Black, his keen eyes trained on the horizon, studied the distant waters. The old sailor had seen the ways of the Reavers before, their tendency to strike swiftly and vanish just as quickly. But even they could not mask their path entirely.

"They sail north," Eirik grunted, pointing to the faint traces of disturbed currents. "Likely toward their next prey. We'll find them, but we must be swift."

The longships cut through the waves once more, the rhythmic stroke of oars propelling them forward. Dikun stood at the prow, the spray of the sea biting at his face. Each mile carried them closer to their quarry, the tension among the warriors thickening with every passing hour.

Marcus stepped to his side, the hardened resolve etched into his features. "And when we find them?"

Dikun's response was unwavering. "We strike. But not without thought. We'll test their strength and learn their movements. Then, we bring the clans the proof they demand."

Marcus nodded, his grip tightening on his spear. The time for words would soon end.

---

A Shadow Upon the Sea

By the second day, the sea delivered its answer.

The lookout's cry pierced the air. "Ships! On the horizon!"

Dikun's gaze followed the call. Dark silhouettes emerged from the mist, their jagged sails adorned with crimson symbols. The Reavers.

"Three ships," Eirik growled, narrowing his eyes. "Smaller than the force that struck the village, but no less deadly."

Dikun's mind raced. They were outnumbered, but the Reavers did not know they were being hunted. The element of surprise was theirs to wield.

"We close the distance," Dikun commanded. "We strike swiftly, without mercy. Let them know the serpent's bite."

The warriors roared in affirmation. The oars plunged into the water with renewed force, the longships slicing through the waves like twin arrows loosed from a bow. The Reavers' ships grew nearer, their crew unaware of the vengeance that approached.

---

The Clash

The impact came with a thunderous crash. Dikun's longship rammed into the side of the nearest Reaver vessel, the wooden hull splintering beneath the force. Warriors leapt from the deck, blades gleaming as they clashed with their foes.

Marcus led the charge, his spear finding its mark as he drove through the chaotic melee. Hakon's axe cleaved through the air, each swing leaving blood and broken bodies in its wake. Sarich fought with practiced precision, his sword flashing in the dim light.

But it was Dikun who struck the hardest. His presence was like a storm upon the deck, his sword cutting down all who stood in his path. The Reavers, caught unprepared, faltered beneath the ferocity of the assault.

"No mercy!" Dikun roared. "For Hrafnsfjord!"

The battle raged, the sea stained red. One by one, the Reavers fell, their ships crippled and their spirits broken. The last of their warriors cast down their weapons, the fear in their eyes evident.

Dikun did not spare them a second glance.

---

A Message Delivered

As the remaining Reaver ships burned, Dikun stood at the water's edge. The captured Reaver captain knelt before him, his face bruised and bloodied.

"Your kind think yourselves untouchable," Dikun said coldly. "But this was only the beginning."

He tossed the broken shield bearing the silver serpent at the captain's feet.

"Tell your kin. Hrafnsfjord stands. And the next time you come, we will be waiting."

The captain's trembling nod was the only response.

With their victory secured and the proof of the Reavers' strength in hand, Dikun and his warriors turned their ships south. The time had come to gather the clans. And this time, there would be no doubt.

The storm had begun. And Dikun Silver would lead it.

To Be Continued...