On one fateful day in 1013, Thorkell had found his best opponent yet. You were lying on the edge of the London Bridge, your energy spent. There are many injuries ingrained in your figure from your battle with Thorkell. It would only take one final swing to kill you.

You close your eyes and wait, but it never comes.

A hearty laugh escapes the Viking's mouth. He wasn't going to kill someone who had given him the best fight of his life.

"You won't be ending up in Vahalla today, my friend!"