Chapter 110 The Feast And Party (Season 1 Final)
The great doors of the Hall of Valor stood wide open, golden light spilling across the stone floor. The heroes of old roared in celebration after Alduin's death, their voices shaking the rafters. Tankards slammed against long wooden tables, mead spilling freely as if time itself no longer mattered in this timeless realm. Laughter boomed from every corner, echoing against the carved walls.
At the heart of it all stood Astrid and Alex—the undeniable stars of the night. Warriors clapped them on the back, praising their courage, recounting the final battle in exaggerated detail. Their names were spoken with admiration, sometimes shouted across the hall like titles of legend.
Alex adjusted the collar of his armor, slightly overwhelmed but amused by the attention. His gaze wandered through the crowd—until he spotted something familiar.
At one of the long tables, Astrid sat across from Emma, their elbows planted firmly on the wood. Their hands were clasped tightly together, muscles already tensed.
Alex blinked. "…Of course."
He approached with a crooked smile, folding his arms casually over his chest.
"Hey," he said lightly, tilting his head. "Looks like you two finally get along."
Astrid shot him a side glance without turning her head fully, her jaw tight and eyes sharp. Her fingers tightened around Emma's hand.
"Get along?" she repeated flatly. "I don't know that word."
Across from her, Emma let out a short, mocking snort. A strand of hair fell across her face, and she blew it away impatiently.
"Yeah. Same here," Emma said, cracking her neck slightly. "Never heard of it."
Alex's smile widened as he leaned one hip against the table. "Yup. Definitely getting along."
Astrid exhaled sharply through her nose, her shoulders rising and falling. "We just want to prove who's stronger."
Emma's lips curved into a confident grin. "Exactly. Clean match." She adjusted her grip deliberately, fingers digging in. "No weapons. No magic. No one's getting hurt."
A burly Nord warrior stepped forward to act as referee. He raised his massive hand between them.
"On my mark!" he boomed.
The surrounding warriors gathered closer, some standing on benches to get a better view. Cheers erupted. Bets were whispered. Tankards were raised.
"Three… two… one—START!"
Their arms tensed instantly.
Wood creaked under the pressure. Muscles along Astrid's forearm flexed visibly, veins rising beneath her skin. Her brows furrowed, teeth clenched as she pushed forward with steady force.
Emma leaned in, her boots scraping against the floor for better leverage. Her arm trembled slightly, but her smirk remained stubbornly in place.
For a long moment, neither gained ground.
Their clasped hands hovered perfectly vertical—balanced.
Sweat began to bead along Astrid's temple. Emma's jaw tightened. The table groaned again under the strain.
Alex watched with raised brows, impressed despite himself. "Huh…"
Their strength was nearly identical. Every small shift was immediately countered. Their arms shook harder, knuckles whitening.
Alex scratched the back of his head, glancing toward the refreshment tables. "Okay… I'll grab some milk for me," he muttered casually.
He gave them one last amused look before turning away, weaving through the celebrating warriors as the crowd's cheers grew louder behind him.
Astrid's teeth were clenched so tightly her jaw ached. Her forearm trembled, muscles straining as she pushed back against Emma's unyielding strength. Sweat slid down her temple, but her eyes burned with stubborn determination.
Across from her, Emma's breathing had grown heavier. Her shoulders flexed under the pressure, and her fingers tightened almost painfully around Astrid's hand. The table between them creaked again, wood groaning as if it might split in half.
Neither of them would give an inch.
A vein pulsed at Astrid's neck. Emma's smirk had faded, replaced by focused intensity. Their locked hands shook violently in the center—perfectly balanced.
Then suddenly, Emma's eyes flickered sideways.
A sly glint appeared in them.
She let out a small, almost careless hum, as if she had just noticed something amusing.
"Ah…" she said lightly, her tone deliberately casual despite the strain in her arm. "Looks like Alex is going over to some sexy girl again."
She didn't even turn her head fully—just enough to make it seem real.
Astrid's eyes instinctively darted toward the direction Emma had implied.
It was only a fraction of a second.
But it was enough.
Her grip loosened ever so slightly.
Her focus cracked.
Emma's lips curled.
Now.
With a sudden burst of strength, she leaned forward and slammed Astrid's hand down onto the table with a loud BANG! that echoed across the hall.
The crowd erupted instantly.
Emma shot up from her seat, raising both arms in victory, chest heaving. "HAHAHA!" she shouted, laughing boldly. "Who's the strongest Nord woman here, huh?!"
She planted one boot onto the bench, striking a triumphant pose as cheers and whistles exploded around her.
Astrid slowly lifted her head.
Her eyes were wide—not in shock, but in fury.
"You…" Her voice trembled—not from weakness, but from rage.
She suddenly slammed her fist down onto the table so hard the tankards rattled. "YOU CHEATED!!!"
Without waiting for a response, Astrid lunged forward and drove her fist straight into Emma's cheek.
THUD.
Emma's head snapped to the side, but she barely staggered. She touched her cheek, then looked back at Astrid with a dangerous grin.
"Oh? So that's how it is?"
She swung back just as hard.
Their fists collided again. And again.
The table flipped over as they crashed into it, splintering wood beneath them. Benches were kicked aside. A tankard flew through the air, spilling mead over a nearby warrior's shoulder.
Instead of panic—
The crowd roared.
"THAT'S MORE LIKE IT!"
"SHOW HER, ASTRID!"
"DON'T HOLD BACK, EMMA!"
Warriors jumped onto tables to watch. Some began placing new bets. Others simply laughed, pounding their fists in excitement.
The two women grappled, hair pulled, fists flying, boots scraping against stone. Neither willing to surrender. Neither willing to lose.
The Hall of Valor trembled with cheers and chaos as the brawl escalated—less like a fight born of hatred, and more like the fierce, untamed spirit of true Nords unleashed.
A loud crash echoed through the Hall of Valor—wood splintering, warriors roaring, someone laughing far too loudly.
Alex paused mid-step.
He slowly turned his head toward the source of the chaos, one eyebrow lifting as he watched Astrid and Emma roll across the stone floor in a blur of fists and tangled limbs. A bench slid past them. Someone jumped out of the way, still cheering.
"…Do Nords just really love fighting, huh?" Alex muttered dryly.
He shifted the glass of milk in his hand, the white liquid sloshing slightly from the vibrations of stomping boots.
A broad-shouldered warrior standing beside him folded his arms, a grin spreading across his bearded face. He jerked his chin toward Astrid, who had just flipped Emma over her shoulder.
"Your friend's a Nord too, you know."
Alex blinked once.
He glanced at Astrid—who had just taken a punch and responded with an elbow strike—then back at the man.
"…Oh yeah."
He raised the glass calmly and took a slow, unbothered sip of milk while, just a few meters away, two legendary women were attempting to rearrange each other's faces.
Behind them, someone got accidentally shoved and immediately turned it into a new wrestling match. Another warrior climbed onto a table and started chanting. Tankards clanged together like battle drums.
Fists flew.
Boots scraped.
Laughter thundered louder than the impacts.
Yet strangely—
No blades were drawn.
No killing blows aimed.
Even when someone was knocked flat, they were hauled back up with a rough laugh and a clap on the shoulder before jumping back in.
Alex lowered his glass slightly, watching as Emma tackled Astrid into a pile of overturned benches—both of them laughing despite their bruises.
"…This isn't anger," he murmured quietly to himself.
It was instinct.
Raw. Loud. Competitive.
But not murderous.
It was like wolves play-fighting under the moon—teeth bared, claws out, yet bound by an unspoken line none of them would cross.
The hall shook with chaos, but beneath it all was something almost warm.
Joy.
Alex took another sip of milk, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint smile.
"…Yeah," he muttered. "Definitely Nords."
Just as Alex lifted the glass to take another slow sip—
Ding.
A faint chime echoed inside his mind.
In front of him, a translucent blue panel flickered into existence, glowing softly amidst the golden light of the Hall of Valor. The letters shimmered as if carved from starlight.
Alex froze mid-sip.
The milk nearly touched his lips, but he lowered the glass slightly, staring at the floating screen with an unimpressed expression.
"…Ah, system," he muttered under his breath, one eyebrow twitching. "A little late to congratulate me, aren't you?"
Around him, warriors were still shouting and laughing, completely unaware of the divine-looking interface hovering inches from his face.
The message brightened.
(Congratulations!!! You have defeated Alduin.
The system will upgrade after you fall asleep.
Make sure you remain in a safe place for three days.)
Alex read it once.
Then twice.
His lips pressed into a thin line.
"…After I fall asleep?" he repeated quietly, shifting his weight to one leg. He rubbed his temple with two fingers, thinking.
Three days.
His eyes drifted upward toward the vaulted ceiling of the Hall of Valor, where golden light shimmered endlessly.
"Hm…"
He exhaled slowly.
"I should probably tell Astrid that we won't be leaving Sovngarde just yet."
He tapped the side of the glass thoughtfully against his chin.
"And this place is safe from the Daedric Princes anyway…" he added, recalling everything he knew about this realm beyond mortal reach.
A loud cheer erupted behind him. Someone shouted Astrid's name. Emma's laughter rang out boldly in response.
Alex turned his head.
Astrid had Emma in a headlock now, both of them grinning despite their bruised cheeks. Warriors surrounded them, chanting and stomping their boots in rhythm. The entire hall felt alive—wild, unrestrained, victorious.
Alex's stern expression softened.
The blue system panel still hovered before him, waiting.
He glanced at it once more… then waved his hand lazily through it. The panel dissolved into shimmering particles and vanished.
"…Maybe I'll wait until they're done," he murmured.
A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched Astrid shove Emma away and laugh breathlessly.
"I don't want to ruin her fun."
He took another quiet sip of milk, leaning back against one of the massive pillars as the feast roared on.
The Hall of Valor thundered with celebration—voices rising, tankards clashing, boots pounding against stone.
For the first time since facing Alduin, Alex allowed himself to simply stand there… and enjoy the peace hidden within the chaos.
Much later, after countless rounds of cheering, laughing, and "friendly" brawling, the fire in Astrid's movements finally began to dim.
Her steps were slower now. Her shoulders, once squared with pride and energy, sagged slightly. A faint bruise colored her cheek, and strands of hair clung to her damp forehead. She wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her wrist and scanned the hall, eyes searching through the sea of celebrating warriors.
"Alex…" she muttered under her breath.
She weaved through the crowd, gently pushing past broad shoulders and raised tankards until she finally spotted him leaning casually against one of the massive pillars, glass of milk still in hand, looking far too calm compared to everyone else.
Astrid walked toward him, her boots dragging just slightly.
"Hey, love…" she said softly as she reached him.
Her voice no longer carried that fiery edge—it was warm, a little breathless.
"I'm really tired."
Alex straightened immediately when he saw her. His eyes softened at the sight of her flushed cheeks and slightly unfocused gaze.
Without a word, he held out the glass of milk toward her.
"Here," he said gently. "At least this is good for you."
Astrid looked down at the glass suspiciously, one brow lifting.
"Milk?" she asked, her lips twitching.
She glanced back up at him, then back at the drink.
"Well… no harm in trying."
Before Alex could add anything, she tilted her head back and drank it in one smooth motion.
"Hey, don't dri—" Alex reached out slightly, but he was too late.
She lowered the empty glass with a satisfied sigh.
"…Never mind," he finished weakly.
Astrid wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then gave the glass a thoughtful look.
"Not bad," she admitted. Then her lips curved into a teasing smile. "Now I know why you like milk so much. Hahaha."
Alex's ears turned slightly red.
"H-Hey," he muttered, glancing around at the nearby warriors. "We're in public. Behave yourself."
Astrid only grinned wider, clearly enjoying his embarrassment.
Just then, a familiar voice cut in.
"Well, well."
Emma approached, one hand resting on her hip, a playful grin spreading across her face. A faint bruise decorated her cheek too, but she wore it proudly.
"Hey, lovebirds," she teased. "Not joining the party?"
Alex nearly choked on air. "N-No," he replied quickly, straightening up. "Watching you all is more than enough for me."
Emma raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. She then shifted her gaze to Astrid.
"Come on," she said, nudging Astrid lightly with her elbow. "Invite your partner properly. What kind of girlfriend are you?"
Alex froze.
Her words hit him unexpectedly.
Wait… shouldn't it be the man who asks?
He looked away awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, suddenly feeling called out.
Astrid, however, didn't hesitate.
She reached into her pouch and pulled out a small vial glowing faintly green.
Without warning, she uncorked it and drank the stamina potion in one swift gulp.
A faint shimmer of energy pulsed through her body. The exhaustion vanished from her posture instantly. Her shoulders straightened. Her eyes brightened. The fatigue melted away like it had never existed.
She rolled her neck once, flexed her fingers—
Then turned to Alex with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
Before he could react, she hooked her arm firmly around his.
"Come on, Alex," she said, her voice confident and playful again. "We're the stars tonight."
She tugged him toward the center of the Hall of Valor.
Alex stumbled half a step before regaining his balance, then let out a small laugh. He looked at her—really looked at her—the fierce warrior, the stubborn Nord, the woman who had fought dragons and arm-wrestled like her life depended on it.
A warm smile spread across his face.
"Alright," he said softly.
The crowd parted slightly as they stepped into the open space at the center of the hall. The music—loud drums and rhythmic clapping—seemed to grow clearer.
Astrid placed one hand on his shoulder, the other in his hand. Alex gently rested his hand at her waist.
They began to move—not perfectly, not elegantly—but naturally.
They laughed when they stepped on each other's boots. They spun once too fast and nearly lost balance. But neither cared.
Around them, warriors cheered, some whistling, some clapping in rhythm.
Yet for that brief moment—
The noise faded.
The chaos blurred.
It felt like there was only the two of them beneath the golden glow of Sovngarde.
And as they danced in the center of the Hall of Valor, smiling at one another as if nothing else in existence mattered, it truly felt like a moment carved from pure happiness.