[Yata's PoV]
The sound of clashing wood echoed through the air, blending with the laughter and cheers of the warriors gathered in the open field—the very place where Utgard's warriors trained.
I stood in the middle of the arena, gripping a wooden sword that felt light but sturdy enough for serious practice.
Opposite me, my opponent was a young, burly warrior with bull-like horns on his head. He had introduced himself as Arnbjörn Stenhorn. Judging from his surname, he was likely from Sternhorn, a village on the outskirts of Utgard.
In ancient Scandinavia, it was common for people to take their last name from the village where they were born. It was both a source of pride and a mark of one's homeland. It also made it easier to form kinship ties when meeting someone from the same village while traveling.
We stood five meters apart, locking eyes in sharp focus, watching each other closely for any small movements that might reveal an opening.
Arnbjörn took the first step, cautiously circling me. His eyes were sharp, full of concentration, while a small smirk tugged at his lips—a sign that he was enjoying our sparring match.
I stepped to the left, feigning an opening in my stance. Arnbjörn took the bait, swinging his wooden sword in a swift diagonal strike.
I parried his attack, the clash of wood ringing loudly. My body twisted smoothly as I countered with a precise thrust to his waist.
"Got you!"
He grunted, his expression turning serious. The muscles in his arms tensed as he tightened his grip on his sword. In the next moment, he launched a flurry of attacks, faster and stronger than before.
But his strikes were too predictable. He focused too much on my waist and head, neglecting my lower body. That made it easy for me to block and dodge without exerting much effort.
When he swung his sword horizontally, I ducked under it just in time. Then, with a swift motion, I swept my blade low, striking his legs and sending him tumbling to the ground.
"Your stance is too weak, Arnbjörn," I said, extending a hand to help him up. "Balance is everything in swordsmanship."
He let out a small laugh and took my hand. "Thank you for the advice, Sir Yatagarasu."
Before I could respond, a familiar voice called out from the distance.
"Yata~!"
I turned to see Fenrir standing at the edge of the arena, waving with her usual bright smile. Her violet hair shimmered under the sunlight, and her golden eyes sparkled with the enthusiasm she always carried.
I slid my wooden sword into place and walked over to her, smiling. "What's going on? You seem awfully cheerful," I said, tilting my head.
Fenrir shrugged, her grin widening. "Nothing," she replied lightly. "It's probably just your imagination."
I narrowed my eyes. She was definitely hiding something, but there was no point in pressing her—she wouldn't answer anyway.
Our conversation from last night had been quite heavy, and she had looked shaken. But this morning, she seemed much brighter than usual. It looked like she had managed to sort out her feelings on her own.
Just as I was about to say something, a gentle voice suddenly greeted us from the side.
"Yata! Fenrir! Perfect timing—I was looking for both of you."
We turned simultaneously to see Linnie approaching with light steps. She smiled, her round cheeks slightly flushed as usual.
"What are you doing here?"
"Training," I replied briefly, glancing at the other warriors who had already resumed their activities.
"I was just passing by," Fenrir added.
Linnie nodded before offering a small smile. "Come with me. There's something I want to show you."
Fenrir raised an eyebrow in curiosity, while I simply sighed and followed her lead. When Linnie wanted something, it usually meant it was important or urgent—making it hard to refuse, even if she spoke in the softest, gentlest voice.
*****
We walked through the grand corridors of Utgard's palace. Just when I thought I had explored every corner of this place, it turned out there was still a hidden passage behind one of the stone statues decorating the halls.
A secret corridor, likely known only to the royal family or those who had earned the full trust of the king—Loki himself.
At the end of the corridor, we reached a massive door made of black steel, adorned with ancient magical carvings that emitted a faint mystical aura.
Loki was already there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes were closed, yet a knowing smile, full of mystery, played on his lips.
"I've been waiting for you," Loki said, opening his eyes.
With a snap of his fingers, the grand doors creaked open, revealing a radiant glow from within.
Inside was a vast chamber filled with weapons of all shapes and sizes.
My eyes were drawn to the sheer beauty of the room. Swords gleamed under enchanted lights, shields sparkled with intricate engravings, and bows with taut strings hung neatly on the walls. But amidst all of it, one weapon stood out the most.
In the corner of the room, a spear stood tall on a golden stand. Its deep blue color reminded me of the sky I always saw when soaring above. The tip radiated a cold light, making the room feel even cooler.
Loki stepped forward, lifting the spear effortlessly.
He carried it toward me, his gaze serious. "This is for you."
I stared at the spear, puzzled. "For what?"
"As a reward," Loki answered simply. "For capturing Anitra, the spy who infiltrated my palace."
I took the spear with both hands. The moment my fingers touched it, a cool sensation spread through my skin—not an icy chill, but a soothing coldness.
"Its name is Ísskadi," Loki continued. "A frost spear forged by the dwarves, crafted from the first frost of the world and bound with Yggdrasil's magic. Not much is known about this spear, but I believe it will suit you well."
I tightened my grip, feeling its energy resonate with me. "Thank you, Master," I said sincerely.
Loki nodded, though his expression remained serious. "Remember, this weapon is not just a gift. It's also a symbol of trust and responsibility from Utgard's royal family. Use it wisely."
Fenrir stepped closer, her eyes fixed on the spear in admiration. "That spear… it's beautiful," she murmured.
I gave her a small smile and nodded. "I'll take good care of it."
In the midst of the solemn moment, Fenrir suddenly squinted at Loki. "Hey, what about me? Where's my share?" she whined, her voice sharp and demanding.
That instantly made Loki and me burst into laughter, while Linnie, standing behind us, could only offer a stiff smile as she scratched her head.
"Hey, don't laugh! I'm just asking for what's fair!"
Our laughter continued, even as Fenrir huffed in protest. But eventually, Loki wiped the tears from his eyes and sighed.
"Honestly, I didn't think about your share at all," he admitted, smirking. "But fine. Pick whatever you like."
"Alright! You don't have to tell me twice."
Fenrir immediately started browsing the armory, inspecting each weapon with Linnie trailing beside her.
I left them to it and turned back to Loki with a question that had been nagging at me. "What about Anitra? What do you plan to do with her?"
Loki's expression shifted slightly. He let out a deep sigh before answering. "She's fine for now. But she'll remain imprisoned underground, heavily guarded, until I decide on a fitting punishment."
I nodded slowly, digesting his words. Whatever her fate would be, I hoped it was a just one.
"Will you return her to Asgard?"
Loki shrugged. "We'll see."
With that, Loki patted my shoulder before walking away, leaving us in the grand armory. It seemed he had no intention of discussing it further.
Yeah… Whatever the outcome, I would respect his decision.
I tightened my grip on Ísskadi, realizing that this was more than just a weapon—it was a responsibility I had to uphold.
"What will you do now?" Fenrir asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
I noticed she wasn't carrying anything. "What happened? You didn't pick anything?"
Fenrir scrunched up her face, pouting. "There wasn't a single weapon that suited me. In the end, I just gave up trying to choose one."
I sighed, having already expected this outcome. This girl was never comfortable fighting with weapons—it made sense that she wouldn't take anything from the armory. Loki must have realized the same thing, which was probably why he hadn't been the least bit concerned about letting this stubborn girl take whatever she wanted.
I turned to her with a small smile. "I want to train and test the power of this spear. Do you want to come, Fenrir?"
She nodded firmly. "Yes! Linnie and I will watch," she said, tugging Linnie's arm toward her. "Right, Linnie?"
"Eh? Y-yeah, sure," Linnie stammered, startled by Fenrir's sudden and rather forceful invitation. But in the end, she didn't resist.
I held back a chuckle at their contrasting personalities—Linnie, with her innocence, gentleness, and shyness, and Fenrir, with her bluntness and selfishness.
And with that, the three of us left the armory, our steps light and carefree.