It turned out Ga hadn’t collapsed out of despair at all.

  Ga’s hand slid through the grass and pulled—a fan-shaped shield came up with it, caked in mud and bits of torn weed. Old. Scarred. Ugly.

  Still, wide enough. Wide enough for Ga to curl behind it like a turtle and take the strike.

  The Baerum man’s blow slammed into the shield with monstrous force. Ga was driven off balance and knocked hard to the ground. For a split, dizzy moment, Ga saw the earth itself lift along a thin seam. just a hairline crack, and inside it, a pair of uncanny eyes stared up, grinning like they recognized Ga.

  The seam closed. The eyes vanished.

  The Baerum man steadied himself, scowling.

  “Tch. Lucky. You actually found a shield.” He spat to the side. “But it’s still junk. I’ll split it open with my next cut!”

  He roared and drew his blade back from the right, winding up for a savage horizontal slash.

  Ga’s body was small—too small. Ga hauled the shield up toward the incoming line of steel, curled tight behind it—

  BANG!!!

  Shield and body together were launched into a rolling tumble. Ga and shield spun across dirt and leaves, over and over, until everyone expected Ga to black out.

  But Ga bit down, forced the breath back into the lungs, pushed upright. And raised the shield again. Then Ga stepped back into the center of the duel with stubborn, steady feet.

  Oslo’s children thundered with cheers at Ga’s refusal to break.

  Baerum’s men laughed with open mouths, mocking the skinny little Roman and the way Ga was being thrown around like debris.

  Ga set the shield. Braced.

  The Baerum man surged forward again, grinning—this time a brutal upward sweep meant to lift Ga off the ground.

  BANG!!!

  Ga and shield were sent backward—airborne. Ga crashed down hard right in front of the Oslo children, landing flat on the back.

  Lagertha lunged in and hauled Ga up, tears spilling.

  “Ga-Ga, stop! Don’t do this—run! Viking gods won’t hold it against you!”

  Badji nodded frantically. “Yeah, Ga-Ga—if you run, we’ll go berserker and stand in front of them. They won’t catch you!”

  Tallev slapped Ga’s shoulder, trying to sound brave. “For a sissy, you’ve made me proud. Leave the rest to us!”

  But Sten snapped a shield back into Ga’s grip and fastened it properly, jaw set.

  “You’re all telling him to run?” Sten hissed. “Do you want to shame Oslo? Or get punished by the gods? Let him fight like a Viking warrior—brave to the end.”

  Ga’s mouth lifted into a thin, knowing smile.

  Ga nodded once at Sten. “You get me.”

  So Ga stood again—shield up—

  and under Oslo’s screaming cheers, marched back toward the duel.

  By then, the commotion had drawn more eyes.

  Viggo and Synvar arrived with two or three dozen Oslo Viking youths, following the noise.

  Nearby Baerum hunters heard it too, and their own reinforcements flooded in—two or three dozen more.

  “What the hell? Why is the white rabbit dueling?”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “With that broken shield? How’s he supposed to win?”

  “He doesn’t even have a sword—he’s dead.”

  Viggo and the youths stared, shocked that the one dueling was Ga.

  Baerum’s reinforcement line stared too—equally surprised that Oslo had sent a thin pale boy carrying only a battered shield.

  The Baerum man felt the crowd thickening around them and clicked his tongue at Ga.

  “Kid. You’ve lasted longer than I expected. But if I don’t kill you soon, everyone will think I’m just playing with you.” He tilted his head, almost polite. “How about this...let me take your head with one clean cut. You won’t even feel it. Deal?”

  Ga shook the head once.

  “No,” Ga said. “Dying to a weak one—no.”

  “Weak? Me?” The Baerum man threw his head back and laughed. Then he pointed at Ga, eyes bright with malice. “Roman boy! You’ve got guts. I like it. I’ll send you to Valhalla at full strength. Throw me the war-spirits!”

  A skin bag sailed from behind him.

  He caught it and drank deep.

  Sten exhaled, then drew his sword with grim certainty. “It’s ending. Get ready.”

  Badji gripped an axe until knuckles whitened. “Father… Mother… please receive my brave friend Ga-Ga.”

  Tallev’s voice dropped, fists tightening. “My wild little white rabbit…”

  “No… no…” Lagertha covered her mouth, squeezing eyes shut so hard she shook.

  Ga leaned on the shield, head bowed, whispering:

  “My mommy… watch over me…”

  The Baerum man rolled his eyes back and bellowed.

  Heat steamed off him. Muscle swelled. His frame thickened, bulk turning monstrous. Rage flooded every movement. Hot white breath poured from his mouth.

  Each step landed like a hammer. A bear in human skin.

  Ga raised the shield and waited.

  The berserker roared—and leapt.

  The whole body came down like a brown bear pouncing. Everyone knew what would happen: the sword would smash through the broken shield, and Ga would die in one strike.

  BANG!!!!!!

  The man hit the ground and swung with everything—his own strength stacked on the fall’s momentum. The blow was so violent it seemed to push wind outward.

  And then—

  The impossible happened.

  The sword snapped.

  It snapped because it hit Ga’s shield.

  Ga did not fly.

  Ga’s arms locked around the shield. Feet dug into the ground. The body shuddered and slid backward, boots carving a long line through mud—until Ga dropped into a half-kneel, stopped clean, back still straight.Knees scraped raw.

  But Ga held. A weak body building a shield-wall by sheer refusal.

  The entire clearing froze.

  Even the berserker stared down at the broken sword, kneeling there, stunned.

  And before the shock could finish spreading—Ga stepped back, pulled the shield to one side like drawing a bow—and sprinted.

  Viggo saw the posture and shook his head, laughing like he couldn’t believe it.

  “Heh… no way, you little white rabbit.”

  BANG!!!

  Ga drove the shield straight into the Baerum man’s face. Blood and teeth sprayed. The berserker’s rage collapsed—his body sagged back toward ordinary weakness.

  And in that terrible moment, the man looked up and saw Ga again—Her eyes now bloodshot red with focus. Pulling the shield back again, charging again.

  All ease vanished. Only fear remained.

  He lifted his hands too late.

  BANG!!!

  The shield struck his face again.

  In front of everyone, the Baerum man fell flat on his back, face soaked in blood, and went still.

  Silence.

  Then, Tallev threw his sword down at Ga’s feet and screamed, “Quick! Stab his heart! Or cut his throat! Kill him!”

  “Kill. Kill. Kill…”

  Oslo’s orphans began chanting low together. Some faces were solemn. Some wore cracked, hungry smiles.

  The rhythm—those voices—This wasn’t a messy duel anymore. It was an altar.

  Even Baerum’s grown men turned pale.

  “Is this what children are supposed to look like?”

  “Oslo… the gods’ chosen. Male, female, young, old—it doesn’t matter. This is terrifying.”

  Ga dropped the shield. Ga picked up the sword.

  Baerum’s line shuddered, remembering stories—foolish outsiders who wandered into these children’s territory and never got their heads back. Cold bodies left in the wild, fed to beasts, mocked by whatever gods watched.

  Darkness crept closer.

  Then a voice—unnaturally calm.

  It was Ga.

  “Does he have children?”

  Baerum blinked, confused. In the chanting they weren’t even sure what they’d heard.

  “What?”

  Ga lifted the voice—not loud, but clear, like a knife flashed in air. And as if pulled by that clarity, Oslo’s chanting began to fade.

  “I said—” Ga pointed the sword toward the man on the ground. “Does he have children?”

  Baerum heard that one. The answer came, baffled but honest.

  “Yes… he does. Two. One about your age. The other just born.”

  Ga went quiet.

  Green eyes—clean, eerie, steady—swept across Baerum’s line.

  “Go back,” Ga said. “Take care of your children.”

  Ga shifted the grip, cradling the sword against the chest like it was no longer a weapon, then turned to leave.

  Both sides stood stunned.

  Then Ga paused.

  “Oh—right.”

  Ga spun back, inhaled deep—and screamed with everything in the lungs:

  “Fuck you!!!”

  The shout cracked through the clearing so hard that Baerum’s men physically flinched. Like guilty children slapped by sound.

  Even Oslo’s kids jolted. Then they looked at each other—and broke into mischievous, breathless grins.

  Ga walked back into Oslo’s line, returned the sword to Tallev, and the strength finally drained out of the body. Ga folded—only to be caught at once by Tallev, Sten, Badji, and Lagertha together.

  Ga forced a small smile and whispered, hoarse but certain:

  “Done.”

  That single word—victory’s smallest sentence—finally broke the dam.

  Oslo’s children and youths erupted into true cheering, louder than every shout before it.

  They lifted Ga high. This time not as rough play, not as cruel tossing.

  but with steady hands, sincere weight, and a strange kind of reverence.

  And carried Ga home in a triumphant march.