Katrina
"Weaponry first," Freyja calls out, gesturing at the table that table that had just appeared in front of us. The weapons offered were of higher quality and larger variety than the ones the previous students had been given to choose from. "I don't know your skill level with weaponry, so I wanted you to choose a weapon of your picking." She smiled tauntingly.
Yeah, right. More like she wanted to choose her choice of weaponry. Something that she'd perfected. A skill set that is forbidden to be taught at Divine Academy because of how deadly it could be. The traditional fighting skill of a Valkyrie. The Norse helmet and spear that Tyr's army wears in battle lay off to the side, appearing dull and unappealing. But I could tell that it had been magicked to look that way to throw anyone, but the attended owner off.
"You can have the first choice," Freyja stated, a smug grin still showing.
"Thank you for your kindness," I replied, walking to the table and grabbing the helmet and spear without hesitation.
The spear was lighter than I assumed it would be, and the metal that had appeared to be rusted and covered with bits of shavings that looked like they would slice whoever held the spear was surprisingly smooth and meddled to my hand, offering me a firm grip.
"Interesting choice." Freyja gritted out; her teeth clenched, causing her smile to appear more wild than friendly. "Do you know the way of the Valkeryie?"
"Only what I've learned here at the academy." I replied, "But the one thing that stuck with me was the meaning behind the name Valkeryie. Chooser of the slain. And if given a choice, I'd rather not be slain today. So I decided today, like any day, I would be the kjosa instead of the valr."
The professor's maniacal laughter filled the air, echoing off the walls, and the gymnasium filled with wind, whipping throughout her hair, making her appear psychotic. "Interesting way to choose your weaponry, but you must've forgotten the only rule of this class. No lethal force."
"Rules are meant to keep us safe, but the wisest of warriors know not to rely on rules. Ever heard the expression "Rules are meant to be broken? There is some truth behind the old saying. If rules were never broken, then humankind wouldn't exist today, or at least not in the way we know it. And I grew up in the nondivine world, so I'll stick by certain beliefs."
Freyja circled the table twice while listening to my response before grabbing a double-edged Viking-style sword that appeared to be close to three feet in length. It was made purely of metal and looked heavy, similar to that of a broadsword carried by knights. The way she wielded the weapon, slashing it through the air in multiple rapid sequences, either proved her strength or that the weapon, similar to mine, had been charmed.
With the vanishment of the table, Freyja and I stood center of the arena, facing each other off, our eyes meeting. She appeared fierce and wild, her unadulterated hatred for me shimmering through her irises. Her discontentment was no longer held at bay. "When the bell chimes, we begin."
One. Two. Three. Fight.
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