Record Of Ragnarok Main Character Novels & Stories

Her words were cut off when someone suddenly barged into the hall. "Kieran Anubis." A voice boomed out. All heads turned to see who it was, and the look on Kieran's face changed slightly as he watched the visitor walk down the pathway towards the throne. It was Ragnar Thorne, one of the rulers of the realm. Ragnar was a feral, pure blooded demon who was known for his cruelty and arrogance. He ruled the east side realm, and rumour had it that he bedded different women even after finding his mate.

My home burned behind us, but my spirit refused to break. Three figures stood out among the crew, their presence commanding the very air around them. Jarl Ragnar Bloodaxe, the leader, was a giant of a man with braided blond hair, a beard woven with silver rings, and eyes the color of storm-tossed seas. His muscular frame, covered in furs and leather, bore the scars of countless battles. Beside him stood his brother, Thorsten the Stormcaller, leaner but no less imposing, with wild red hair and tattoos of ravens covering his arms—marks of his connection to the gods. And then there was young Bjorn Ironfist, the jarl’s closest shield-brother, with sharp features, dark hair, and a body honed like

Only beasts can do this to their owns. Eren's hand is trembling as those dark memories are flashing in his head. He quickly rubs his eyes and speaks again. "They thought that after all those beatings, I've finally understood and changed into one of them. They changed my name to Erden Roar, just like the surname of their fake one. So their last issue was my face. They didn't want anyone to recognize me and would not risk that I could go back to my life with you." I sniff, swallowing down this sensation climbing up my throat. They are definitely inhuman.

"My ancestor, the first black wolf we know of, was named Fenris. It's an alternative name to Fenrir, a premier character in the story of Ragnarok." I wrinkled my nose. "Isn't that the end of the world?" "Something like it." I leaned in closer, eager to hear more. "Tell me about it." David opened the book to the marked page and began to recount the story of Ragnarok. "I'm not terribly interested in the end," David explained. "Fenrir is the son of Loki and a monstrous wolf. His quick growth, large size, and massive power were a concern to the gods as they couldn't bind him."

Telagus roared, losing the calm composure he had previously, quickly closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath a second later in an attempt to prevent anger from overtaking his thoughts. “Very well, slow and painful it is then,” Fafnir growled happily, inhaling deeply before opening his mouth to allow green flames to pour out, swallowing Telagus. “No!” Rector yelled, reaching his hand out when he saw Fafnir engulf his wife’s body in dragon fire, he knew it would destroy Telagus, but also his wife as well. Once Fafnir stopped his cone of flames, a large cloud of black smoke floated away, revealing charred blackened sand and dirt, with Telagus still standing before them, smiling.

Brodi huffed out a breath, shocked at his own ineptitude in getting a simple point across. He glanced back up at her and saw a glimmer of humor in her green eyes. She was laughing at him. At him! He sat up a little straighter not sure how to react. The Alpha in him wanted to be insulted and act accordingly, but making his mate happy, even at his own expense, gave him a warm feeling in his middle. He wasn't used to all these conflicting emotions. He cleared his throat before starting to speak again. "Yes, well…" "You know your name is old Norse, yes?" Kelda interrupted. "Fenrir. A son of the god, Loki. It's a very powerful name. A very powerful wolf."

This was where I met him—Ragnar, the rogue I’d fed coins and secrets to for years, my shadow, my blade in the dark. I pushed through the creaking door, my eyes adjusting to the dim light, my heart racing as Ragnar stepped forward, his hulking frame scarred, his yellow eyes gleaming with hunger. Not Darius, the warrior I’d pitched to Marcus, but Ragnar, a rogue so vile even the BloodMoon pack shunned him. He was my secret weapon, loyal only to my gold, my promises. “Veron,” he growled, his voice rough, his claws flexing. “What’s the job?”

They never remember we took more precious things than money from them, their blood. That's how our spices survive all these centuries hidden, and safe. About Ragnar...What he really is, is still a mystery to us even after a century-old friendship. He is a priest, a good one. And he is something more, something he never talked about. I knew he craved something, he is hungry for years...but for what, we don't know. Or should I say, too scared to know... But one thing is clear, none of us are good for Freya. We are too dangerous for her. I'm ashamed of myself, for even thinking about hurting that little girl. The second I smelt blood, my mind was clouded by it.

I couldn’t tell if he was reading my outermost thoughts, my emotions, or trying to appeal to my sense of responsibility, but I recited nursery rhymes over and over to create a barrier in my mind. “Cathwulf,” he said with a tight smile. “You’re not like the other residents of the Punishment Pits. Why would you ally with a supernatural criminal destined to destroy the world?” “You’re bluffing,” I said. Hades brought his glass to his lips and took a long sip of his drink. “Queen Hel once testified that Fenrisúlfr and his father brought about Ragnarök. Don’t corrupt your soul out of a futile sense of wolf loyalty.”

A candle near her bed guttered and died without warning. Then her eyes dimmed again. Green. Human. But the storm still lingered. And Freya didn't even know what happened just now and the maid also didn't notice it. The door burst open. Ragnar. His boots were caked in mud. His cloak was torn. His chest heaved with the effort of running. His eyes locked on hers, and all the fury in them cracked, replaced by something fierce and raw. “You’re alive,” he breathed. He was beside her in a moment, down on one knee, fingers brushing the hair from her sweat-damp temple.