Hero of Midgard 3: A LitRPG Adventure, page 1
HERO OF MIDGARD 3
G. A. JENSEN
ALSO BY G. A. JENSEN
Hero of Rome Series (Roman LitRPG)
Hero of Rome: Box Set (Books 1-6)
Caesar Royale: A Hero of Rome Novella
Hero of Midgard Series (Viking LitRPG)
Hero of Midgard: Book 1
Hero of Midgard: Book 2
Hero of Midgard: Book 3
Ragnar Raids Valhalla: A Hero of Midgard Novella
The Shepherd Saga (Epic Fantasy)
Birth of Destiny
Tales of the Old World
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank my beautiful, beloved wife, Megan Jensen, who has continued to support me in everything I do. The countless hours I have spent writing were only possible because of her encouragement. Thank you, truly, for everything. And thank you for bringing our children into the world and taking such good care of them. My heart has never been fuller. I love you.
I would also like to thank Jon Shreve, who gave me tremendously helpful feedback.
And as always, I want to thank my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who has saved my soul and blessed me far more than I ever deserve.
Copyright © 2026 by G. A. Jensen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
G. A. Jensen has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
— NJÁLS SAGA
CONTENTS
I. Sweden
1. A Cry for Help
2. Templar Threat
3. Goodbye Visby
4. Kraken Calamari
5. Svíþjóð
6. Temple of Uppsala
7. Great Heathen Horde
8. Night Mare
II. Rome
9. The Eternal, Industrial City
10. Industrialis Aetas
11. Old Friends
12. No Scope Sniper
13. An Arrow’s Perspective
14. I Volunteer as Gladiator
15. Colosseum Tower Climbing
16. Robo Monsters
17. Heavy Metal
18. Daycare of Doom
19. Orpheus and Eurydice
20. A-Maze Me
21. Safe Zone
22. You Need a Bath
23. Bring Your Kid to Workday, Forever
24. Those Aren’t Sewage Tunnels
25. Underwater Arena
26. Fish Out of Water
27. The Key to Life
28. What the Helheim
29. Aqueduct Run
30. So Uncivilized
31. Icarus
32. To the Melt!
33. Performance Enhancers
34. Saturine Puppet Show
35. Blessed Chef
36. Historical Conquest Mode
37. Capture the Globe!
III. Home
38. The Great Roman Bake Off
39. Roman Blood Eagle
40. Free For All
41. Valhalla, I’m Coming
42. Viking Daddy
Epilogue
Afterword
Birth of Destiny: Sneak Peek
1. Prologue
2. Chapter 1: A Shepherd’s Destiny
More From G. A. Jensen
About the Author
PART I
SWEDEN
1
A CRY FOR HELP
Ascream pierced the night. Karl awoke in a start, his heart thundering in his chest. He immediately looked out through the glass window of his bedroom that overlooked Visby.
Before him was a quiet town blanketed in snow. The longhouses glowed with warmth as the town slept. Karl craned his neck to see where the scream had come from.
But there was no movement, save for the flurries of snow drifting by.
Moonlight Meter: 70/110
Karl, chest still panting, looked down at his girlfriend—no, wife—Kara as she lay snuggled in the furs of their bed. He smiled as he looked at her. He was still getting used to calling her his wife and knowing she had his child growing inside her.
And he was only sixteen.
Karl looked back to the window, trying to calm himself enough to fall back asleep. He already had a hard time sleeping with Ragnar’s son, Hvitserk, having arrived earlier that day with bad news.
King Arthur’s men had destroyed Ragnar’s fleet for the Great Heathen Army. At least that’s what Ragnar claimed, as none of the other Jarls—save for Ragnar’s other sons—believed him. The whole expedition was falling apart faster than it had begun.
Ragnar insisted it would leave them vulnerable for King Arthur to invade the Vikings this time, turning history around. Karl didn’t know how to respond, only that he would sleep on—
Another scream erupted in the night.
Karl’s thoughts vanished as he honed in on the sound. His werewolf senses let him pinpoint its location with accuracy. It was coming from beyond the impressive walls that now encircled the town.
He glanced at Kara again to see if she had stirred, but she slept soundly. Their Pack Link confirmed it—she was dreaming of running with him in the forest. As much as Karl wanted to lie back down and ignore the scream, he couldn’t. It sounded like a child.
And after all, he was the Jarl of Visby. If there was a child out in the woods, surrounded by monsters—which was more than likely—it fell to him to deal with it.
But oddly, the System didn’t prompt him with a quest to investigate. Usually, it did.
Weird, Karl thought as he rose from his bed, feeling strangely rested even though he had only slept a couple of hours. The bonus from his Pack Link with Kara was maxed out, granting him +30% accelerated Health and Stamina regeneration after resting together.
He quickly put on his Hrimnir’s Crown, which cast a cold, misty blue glow over his muscular forearms. Then he threw on his dark tunic over his abs and strapped his Moltenveil armor set on top, its red glowing lines stitched between the Dwarven darksteel plates that composed it.
Once dressed, Karl snatched his Hököga Bow hanging on the wall; although he could transform into a werewolf, if there was a kid nearby, it was probably best to avoid turning into a monster if he could. There was, after all, a wolf god living inside him, which wouldn’t discriminate against killing the innocent.
And for good measure, Karl also grabbed his new knife.
The Shard of Máni hanging on the wall was smaller than his Fang of Fenrir was, but it glowed just as the item description said it would. It shimmered as if it were a sliver of the moon.
Which it was.
Item: Shard of Máni (Legendary)
Description: Forged from a splinter of the moon god’s fallen radiance, this dagger gleams with a cold, pale light that never flickers. Its blade—thin as moonrise and sharp enough to part shadows—hums with quiet lunar resonance. When tilted, faint runes drift across its surface like phases of the moon, shifting from crescent to full. The hilt is wrapped in midnight-blue leather, cool to the touch, and a faint silver mist trails behind the blade with every motion, as though cutting through dreams themselves.
Damage: 45
Durability: 250/250
Weight: 1.1 kg
Special Effect: When you wound an enemy, silver light pours from the cut—your next strike against that target deals triple damage if used within 4 seconds.
Worth: 12,500 Gold
As much as Karl opposed violence, he was oddly excited to see the special effects of the Shard of Máni. Triple damage could be highly effective.
Fully armed, Karl raced to the large glass windows overlooking the town, pausing for a moment to look back at Kara, who was still sound asleep. He considered waking her so he could have someone to fight alongside.
But she looked peaceful in her rest, and she was carrying his child. It was probably best to keep her—and their child—safe.
Besides, Karl had taken down the wolf god Fenrir, along with his former bully Viktor. Whatever was lurking out in the forest couldn’t be too bad, right?
Karl shook his head. Maybe that was just his new Title buff making him think foolishly, where he could no longer feel fear. He still worried, but the crippling fear that had plagued him his whole life was gone, as if it had been ripped out.
For that, he was thankful.
Karl creaked open the window, letting a gust of arctic wind hit his face.
He took an arrow from his Mánaskjóða Úlfarbrúðar quiver, which held forty arrows. Karl drew one of them, which immediately became an ice arrow
He appeared where his arrow had landed and retrieved it, putting it back into his quiver.
Another cry rang out across the walls. Karl could see his archers on the reinforced palisade looking concerned as they scrambled to defend whatever was happening. Seeing them worried only confirmed that he wasn’t hearing things.
He raced forward using his divine speed, tearing through the muddy, snowy streets that hugged the warm and vibrant terraces stretching beside him.
He dashed for less than twenty seconds before his Elf Leap recharged, and he used the ability to launch himself onto the wall.
One of the archers—Ragnarsson, Karl believed—spoke up. “My Jarl!”
“Where did it come from?” Karl asked, his eyes peeled as he scanned the dark trees hovering over the town.
Ragnarsson pointed toward an angle that veered into the darkest part of the forest.
“Thank you,” Karl said, without waiting for any questions from the guards.
He probably should have asked them to join him, but knowing how twisted this world could be, this could also be a trap meant to draw him and his men away from the walls. It was best to keep them posted there in case something or someone tried to invade the town while he was gone.
As Karl sprinted through the ankle-deep snow—which only made him faster thanks to his blessings of the archery god—something mechanical burst from the snow and landed on his shoulder. Karl instinctively raised his Shard of Máni to swipe at the robotic squirrel.
“Going for another midnight snack?” Ratatoskr said, his red eyes glowing from his mechanical face. And then, looking down at Karl’s blade—which he sheathed when he realized it was just the Trickster—Ratatoskr whistled. “Ooh, that looks shiny!”
Karl ignored him and raced through the woods, the shadows engulfing him. “Did you see anything?” Karl asked, keeping one hand on his bow and the other ready to draw an arrow.
“I don’t know. What’s in it for me?” the Trickster asked, his metal tail creaking as he wagged it.
“Are you serious?” Karl said as he effortlessly leaped over a log and ran without fear of slipping on the ice.
“Hey, you’re the one who turned me into this monstrosity,” Ratatoskr said, pointing his metal claws at his body. “Do you know how weird it is peeing oil?”
“I’m sure you’ll get over it,” Karl said, suppressing his smirk.
Karl stopped as his Hrimnir’s Crown picked up an unfamiliar scent wafting through the forest. He paused and sniffed deeper, letting his werewolf senses go beyond what the enchanted helmet allowed.
There was no child scent—of that he was certain. It smelled more like incense mixed with foul body odor. His mouth began to water as he picked up on two heartbeats beating quietly just a stone’s throw away.
In a thick clump of trees, he crouched, seeing two sets of footprints leading in that direction. “The child’s scream was a ruse,” Karl whispered.
He moved through the shadows toward the target. His movement speed increased dramatically thanks to his Moltenveil armor, and his detection plummeted from all his enchantments. He’d be surprised if anyone heard him as he moved like a shadow of death in the frosty trees.
“I call dibs on eating them once you’re finished,” Ratatoskr whispered.
Karl hushed him. “You can still eat meat?” he asked as he drew an arrow, creeping toward the two beating hearts.
“It’s not the same, but yeah,” the Trickster said. “Makes for some interesting poops, though.”
Karl rolled his eyes, trying desperately hard not to imagine that.
He knelt behind a snow-dusted tree. He sniffed the air again, checking if the child’s scream could be explained by an unfortunate death and whether these two might be looking after the child, but there was no younger scent or blood. Only two very strange, foreign adult smells.
Karl took a deep breath, his heart beating with excitement. He had all of his runes on him, and he debated which one to use. It would probably be wise to use his Grave Silence Rune so he could move with invisibility, but before he could decide, something swooshed past him and smacked onto the tree in front of him. Instantly, a cross ignited in the middle of the bark, as if set ablaze by something magical. Karl’s eyes widened at the burning cross as he raised his bow.
What? he thought.
“Uh, I thought we were pagans,” the Trickster muttered.
Whatever the fiery cross was, it wasn’t meant for decoration, as its magical effects slammed into him a second later.
Debuff Added: Pagan powers deactivated while the True Cross of Christ burns.
“Deus Vult!”
A man shouted behind him before lunging with a greatsword at Karl. Karl shouted as he rolled out of the way, the blade sweeping through the tree and cleaving entirely through it.
Karl, on his knees, looked up to see a Knight Templar in gleaming steel armor with a white surcoat and a red cross shining on it. What was a knight doing here in Gotland?
“Harald, the chain!” the knight cried out as he yanked his sword from the wood. Karl could see it glowing with power, as if it were made of the sun.
Karl fired off a Glacial Arrow empowered by his Dual Shot ability, which should have been enough to completely freeze the Templar in ice. But all that came out were two regular arrows that smelled of rosemary, as if that would do anything. The arrows glanced off the knight’s metal leg armor.
“Look out, Karl!” the Trickster said. Hardly a second later, a metal chain glowing white whipped through the night sky and wrapped around Karl’s throat.
“Oh gods—” Karl tried to say as he was yanked to the snow, but only a gurgle came out. Whatever the chain was burned his neck as he dropped his bow, but that was the least of his concerns. The other Templar raised his greatsword to decapitate him.
Karl tried desperately to activate any of his powers, starting with Urðr’s Vision to freeze time for five seconds. But not even that worked. Nor did any of his runes. It seemed the cross of Christ was dismantling all of them.
Instinct saved him as he threw himself forward into the snow, the greatsword smashing into the spot he had been a second earlier. But Karl was still chained. In a panic, he lashed out with the Shard of Máni, gouging the Templar’s hind leg, causing silver light to bleed through. Karl lunged to follow up with a strike that would do three times the damage, but he was yanked back by the chain like a rag doll.
“I’ll hold the heathen still, Olaf!” the man holding Karl’s neck with the chain said. As Karl thrashed about in the snow, he could see that Harald looked similar to this Olaf Templar, wearing the same armor as he yanked the chain from behind the tree. “Finish him!”
Olaf grunted as he prepared to bring his sword down on Karl’s lower regions, but halted as Ratatoskr fired explosive acorns from his tail. They blasted into the man’s armor like mini-grenades, throwing him back into a tree behind him.
“Oh, I’ve really been wanting to try that,” the Trickster said, gleeful. Karl yanked at the chain burning through his neck, but found no success as Harald kept dragging him like a dog.
“Help,” Karl croaked, barely able to get the word out. He couldn’t even activate his werewolf ability, since that was considered pagan.
