So, these Saxons are the same as from my RWBY Fanfiction, however you won't need to read those fanfictions to understand this one.

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Fog clouded the lush green forest, with the final dew droplets dripping from leaves. This forest was a land of the wilderness, but this did not mean that only beasts lived there. Through a clearing rose a series of orange glows.

The torches lit the camp of the Saxons. There resided a strange group of giants. These men were massive, boasting almost a seven foot height on average. Their bodies, like their souls, were rugged, and hardy. Biologically immortal, these men could count the decades of battle for their tribe by the scars on their chests and arms.

There, in the most sacred of places, stood the strongest Saxon, the Konigundrr, who had unified them and their cousins under a single banner, who had forged an empire which spread across entire universes.

But the Konigundrr was not at peace. His towering figure was still, and tense. In little more than an hour, a battle would be upon them. The enemy was of no concern, but rather, a rumor of an ambitious noble plotting treason.

"You do not have to do this. I could find a Thegn, or perhaps a Gedriht to lead the assault." Spoke the short Saxon in Gedriht scale armor, his masked helmet obscuring his face.

The King shook his head, "I know my duty. I will carry it out, even if it costs me my life."

Lothar, the Young Saxon noble who had sent word of the pending invasion which they now face, entered the tent, "I am told the Konigundrr will be leading the shield wall?"

The King nodded, looking down at the Thegn, "I shall. I will crush our enemies and send them to the pits of hell, and allow their families to join them shortly after."

Lothar eyed the King, "Your body does you justice. I am honestly ashamed I have not yet met you, mighty Konigundrr. Your legends are surely too mild, Johan the fearless." Lothar extended his hand to shake the Mighty King's.

The Short Saxon Gedriht tensed up, clearly upset, but his King Calmed him, by shaking the hand.

They walked out, greeting the legend Heroics, who stood among their own horses, which had been raised for war. Gedriht, Gesithas, and Dueguth stood ready to fight, answering the call of the king to repel the invasion.

They marched through the forest, the Heroics leading the march, until they reached the grand hill outside the forest. The hill had orange tulips growing all up the east side. Daisies scattered the south end of the hill, from which they approached, and the west end was covered in grass.

The King held up his hand, signaling the armies to stop.

Lothar walked up to the Konigundrr as the Gedriht took a defensive stance, raising their shields. "Why are we stopping?"

The sound of trumpets answered him, as the Astari Lancers rode over the hill from the northside.

"Stand firm!" Shouted his Trusty short Gedriht, and their shields overlapped as the Heroics rode forth, and engaged the Lancers. The King found himself in awe as the melee cavalry surged forward, disorienting the Lancers into a melee fight, their axes and swords proving more effective in close quarters as the horses struggled to move around each other.

A second horn triggered the charge of infantry from the top of the hill.

Konigundrr had to keep the Ulfiednar blood in check. He need to keep a calm head for everything to work.

The Gesithas extended the shield wall as the Dueguth threw a volley of Javelins to halt the advance of the Astari axemen. Even with their heavy armor, the javelins crushed through, killing several, and disorienting the advance.

This was common play. These tribes had been sporadically fighting for centuries, but the Saxons had won out most of the time.

The King prepared his axe to engage the enemy. As the main force arrived, slamming into the shield wall, the Saxons plunged their seaxes forward, stabbing into the flesh and armor of the swords.

The Heroics broke off, having finished off the Lancers.

The Konigundrr swung his axe, splitting the skull of a Young Astari warrior, before kicking the corpse away, and swinging again at his next victim. His lust for blood grew with each strike, but The Konigundrr of the Saxons was wise and strong. He did not allow this primal urge to control him.

So He held his discipline, and stayed with the Shield wall as the Heroic's circled around.

The King's axe caught an Astari's twin edged sword, and He pulled the noble to the ground with ease, stomping on the weak man's skull.

The brutality was enough to break the Astari, who's force now numbered less a third, and they began to scatter. Now was the time.

"CRUSH THEM ALL, REMIND THEM TO NEVER RETURN!" The King shouted, and the Gesithas and Dueguth charged as the Heroics hearded the retreating and (foolishly) surrendering forces back to the warriors.

The Gedriht stayed close, but extended a net to-

The king suddenly fell back. What? What had happened raised himself up. His chest felt stiff.

The King looked down to see a crossbow bolt sticking out of the side of his chest. That wasn't good.

"THE KING IS DOWN!" A Cry Came as An Astari loomed over him. This was how he died, fulfilling his purpose. Who had fired the crossbow? It didn't matter as-

The Short Gedriht came up behind the Astari who was so proud of this bounty that had come in the chaos. The short warrior, who had been mocked for his size, and foolishly called weak, grabbed the Astari warrior, and threw him to the ground, stomping on the skull, crushing it through the helmet.

He then turned to his King. The King raised a Hand, "I have… Done my purpose."

The short Gedriht took it, "Lothar, that traitor. He shall pay. You have done your duty honorably. Rest now, and prepare me a seat."

The king nodded, before falling back, the world seeming to slow, as a hooded figure made it's way across the battlefield.

All around the corpses, blue figures began to rise as the hooded figure walked straight towards the Konigundrr. The figure had a wilted hand, and another one green and bone. Red pooled a trail as it walked across the field.

The King laughed, "I suppose this is a good way to go?"

The figure growled, annoyed, "You aren't the one I was hoping for. Alas, you are dead all the same. You will now go to await judgement."

By who? Was it God and Jesus? Or the old gods, Thor and Odin? Would they both judge. The Anticipation would be killing him…except…well.

The king felt himself get raised up, the only thing he could think to cling to was a name. Johan, I die as Johan.

Then, a flash of white. A voice.

"And behold, the Old universe will be destroyed, and a new one built in it's place." What was that Maniacal voice saying.

Suddenly, the white light jerked. The Konigundrr's soul suddenly shook. It took on fur… claws, and a physical form once more.

His vision became black. His eyes felt sluggish, and most of all, he was hungry. He?

Who was he? What was his name? Johan. That name hung deep in his head. Johan, that was his name. Why couldn't he move? His arms and legs weren't responding.

Johan felt something crawl along his nose? His hunger took over, and even with his exhaustion, his jaws tore open and snapped it up. Whatever it was, it had a sour flavor, and was incredibly juicy.

Johan's eyes opened, and his world was flooded with stimuli. He could smell so much, so many aromas. The world was…colorful, but he had a feeling he had seen better.

Johan rose, feeling his legs wobble, and looked down. There, on the ground wriggled half of a large green grub. The other half was… likely in his stomach. Johan's muscles felt weird. He remembered something.

Old trees, a sacred grove, and a warrior…. Himself.

Johan snapped up the rest of the grub. Johan felt the juicy, slimey coating slide down his gullet.

He was a Saxon. A man of strength and wilderness. His memory was getting better. He was strong, very strong. His muscles grew, yet again

Johan looked around. The more he ate, the more he remembered and the stronger he got, Right?

He saw the branches in the trees, bustling with leaves. He rose up and chomped on the branches. They snapped so easily, but tasted horribly bland and woody. Johan reluctantly swallowed the mixture of crushed leaves and wood, and waited.

After a few minutes, nothing changed. His muscles did not feel… they felt a little stronger, but not much. Eating was not the catalyst.

Johan punched the tree in a brief moment of lacking self control. He looked at his arm. It was brown, and furry, and had claws sticking out of the hands. He heard roaring water, and crept towards it, through the bushes.

A strange bunny creature hopped through the bush, and Johan surged forward and snapped it up. The fur hurt the flavor, but it felt good when it went down. His muscles once again grew.

He was a king…and he died. What was he now?

Johan crept through the bushes, and saw the river. Johan crawled towards it, as going on all fours felt natural. He peered off the beach to look at his reflection. Johan sighed. How fitting.

His face had been replaced by that of a wolverine's. His body had also done so, but with qualities that the beast did not possess, like bipedalism and opposable thumbs, aspects of human and Saxon bodies.

A large fish swam close to the surface of the water. Johan slammed his head in, and emerged, the fish in his jaws and he crunched away. He had become an animal, but perhaps that was for the best. When he was a Saxon, he had brought universes to their knees, and created an empire like no other, all while keeping ideals of the Tribe alive.

Now, he could live care free, simply enacting his primal urges. No grand scheme or battle plan necessary. Just living to suite his needs.

Johan finished off the fish, and lowered his head to the water for a drink. This was a decent enough life. As his tongue slapped against the water, a strange smell worked its way into his nose.

He smelled smoke. Smoke meant fire. Fire meant intelligence.

Johan trudged downstream and heard… laughing. There were two bear…things that walked on two legs. They had…swords? Made of wood? They spoke a strange tongue which he could not yet decipher.

Johan snorted in anger, while hiding his presence. These animals had intelligence, he had intelligence. How could he resign himself to simply living and existing, when there was a new empire to be forged?

Johan trudged towards the small bears, carefully creeping. A loud noise in the distance caused the boys and Johan to freeze, before the boys ran back, over a log-bridge.

Johan simply swam across the river, the wolverine's water retardant fur working it's magic.

He arrived on the beach, and was assaulted with a new array of smells. If the boys were heading south, and that sound sounded like an adult, there was a possibility of a village. Johan wasn't yet sure of his strength, and any underestimation could mean death.

Alternatively, there was a smell heading north, if the previous assumption was to be believed. It was worth a look, and probably far more rewarding and less dangerous than a village…for now.

Johan trudged north, sniffing the scent, following it to a hopeful prize.