Short Story: The Divine Councilor Of The Norse Pantheon

For whom did the bell toll? For whom did the crowd roar and cheer like a pack of depraved beasts, specks of phlegm and saliva pilfering from their maws and raining upon the fine-grained sands as if a gift from the heavens? For whom did the skies part, the clouds giving way to the ominous pressure of the sun as it bore down upon the combatants of that midday spectacle? For whom did the crows gather, their expectation of death accompanying the load of violence and the adrenaline that coursed through one’s veins? For whom?

Seo-Jun Bak stood erect, spine stiffened with anticipation, as the answer to every question and riddle one could pose upon that day.

The corded muscles of his physique stood exposed for all to see, as he had adorned himself in naught but loose cotton shorts so as to not hinder his movements. There was a slight layer of perspiration upon his flesh, causing his frame to glisten under the sun as he had already stretched and warmed his being for what was to come. The solitary bead of sweat that trickled down his temple

The divine councilor of the Norse pantheon, Bjorn, being in attendance upon that day, but the presence of such a reputable being paled in comparison to the notion of doing combat with Spencer Wilde. Of all the random and rancid offspring that the cannibal had encountered during his tenure in this forgotten realm, Spencer Wilde was certainly above the rest as far as deserving of his respect. And truthfully, intermingled with that respect was a touch of fear. Unlike the fear that was spared toward the Amazonians when he had first encountered them. Unlike the fear of what the council would seek to do with him as they slowly came to understand the full extent of his heinous acts while here. It was even unlike the fear he felt overtake him when he discovered his siblings had wound up in this land and were in need of