Several days had passed since Ísskadi, the ice spear, had come into my possession. I was still trying to grasp its power, studying how the cold energy radiating from it could be synchronized with my fighting style.
Today, I decided to train in the usual spot Linnie used—a small clearing on the western side of Utgard's palace, surrounded by towering pine trees. This place was unique because, despite the freezing winter that enveloped all of Utgard, it remained warm as if it were spring.
Fenrir stood across from me, her gleaming eyes fixed on me like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike. She wasn't carrying a weapon, of course. The wolf girl always preferred relying on her claws and strength.
"Ready, Yata?" she asked with a wide, challenging grin.
I gripped Ísskadi tightly and nodded. "Let's begin."
Without warning, Fenrir shot toward me with a speed that blurred my vision. My reflexes kicked in—I raised my spear to block her incoming claws. The clash of metal against claws echoed in the air.
I spun my body, swinging my spear, then channeled mana into Ísskadi, creating ice walls around me.
But those walls did little against Fenrir. Each time I conjured a ring of ice, she effortlessly shattered it with her punches or kicks.
"You should know that won't work against me!"
"Of course. There's no way mere ice could stop you."
I then summoned floating ice spears in the air. With a single swing of Ísskadi, they shot toward Fenrir.
With her exceptional reflexes, flexibility, and sheer strength, Fenrir dodged each spear with ease. Occasionally, she shattered them barehanded, just to show off.
Fighting Fenrir in close combat was a death sentence. That's why I took a step back, keeping some distance while continuing my long-range attacks.
"I won't let you!"
She caught one of my spears with her bare hands and prepared to hurl it at me.
Realizing the danger, I detonated the spear midair, causing chunks of ice to expand and encase her arm.
Noticing the problem, Fenrir immediately struck her own arm, shattering the growing ice before it could fully bind her. The shards scattered across the ground.
Then, she lowered her stance, her body leaning forward. In the next instant, she propelled herself toward me, claws stretched forward as if ready to pierce my chest.
Unfortunately for her, dodging and counterattacking were my specialties. I easily sidestepped her strike and, as she passed right in front of me, drove the heel of my spear into her side.
"Argh!"
Fenrir cried out, sent flying backward until she crashed into one of the training barriers, reducing it to mere rubble.
"Ugh, that was annoying! That hurt, you know!" she shouted, rubbing her waist. "You better prepare yourself! Next time, I'll turn you into roasted raven, ugly bird!"
I knew she was only joking, but for some reason, my feathers—figuratively speaking—stood on end. "Please don't joke like that."
"Are you scared?" Fenrir teased with a mischievous grin.
I rubbed the back of my neck and averted my gaze. "...A little."
"Hah, coward."
Without warning, Fenrir suddenly lunged at me with incredible speed. I flinched at her abrupt movement—my eyes barely kept up with her. Before I could even process what was happening, she was already behind me, sweeping my legs out from under me.
I fell, losing my balance, but quickly rolled across the ground, trying to counterattack with the tip of my spear.
She leapt back nimbly, dodging. "You'll have to be faster than that, little raven," she teased.
I huffed, pushing myself back to my feet. "This isn't over yet."
The sparring session continued for several more minutes. While I managed to keep up with some of Fenrir's movements, the difference in our abilities was too vast. Before long, I found myself pinned to the ground once more, her sharp claws hovering mere inches from my throat.
"Defeated again," she chuckled, retracting her claws.
I let out a deep sigh, brushing the dust off my clothes. "You don't have to keep reminding me of that."
A round of applause suddenly came from the edge of the training ground. We turned our heads to see Linnie standing there, her face bright with excitement, her usual wide smile in place.
"You two were amazing!" she cheered, clapping. "That was really entertaining to watch."
I sat on the edge of the arena, stretching my stiff limbs. Fenrir followed, leaning against one of the stone barriers. Linnie walked over and settled between us, gracefully adjusting her dress.
This place was truly comfortable. The grass was soft like a carpet, and the air remained pleasantly warm despite the snow covering all of Utgard. The pale winter sun hanging in the sky added to the peaceful atmosphere.
Curiosity suddenly nudged at me. I turned to Linnie. "Linnie, why is this place so warm in the middle of winter?"
I knew the entire palace was slightly warmer due to enchantments placed by past rulers, but this area was far warmer than the rest.
Linnie smiled faintly, gazing down at the grass beneath her feet. "It's because of a special spell," she explained. "My father created it. This place is a gift from him. He said I could train here anytime without worrying about the cold."
I nodded slowly. "That's incredible. This place feels like an oasis in a snow-covered desert."
"Yeah," Linnie murmured softly. "I often come here to escape the stiff atmosphere of the palace."
Fenrir, sitting beside me and idly playing with a blade of grass, remained silent, simply listening.
After a moment of quiet, Linnie turned to us, looking slightly hesitant. "By the way, there's something I wanted to tell you."
I raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
"My father is hosting a party tomorrow night," she said, lightly scratching her chubby cheek with her slender fingers. There was a slight nervousness in her eyes. "I want you both to come."
Fenrir immediately perked up, her ears twitching with enthusiasm. A wide grin spread across her face. "A party? That sounds fun! There'll be lots of food, right?"
"Of course, Fenrir," Linnie answered, just as excited.
I tilted my head slightly, feeling a bit unsure. "A party? For what?"
Linnie shook her head. "My father didn't give me the details. Maybe it's to welcome an important guest... or maybe it's just a regular celebration. Everyone is invited to the palace, including any townsfolk who wish to attend."
I exchanged glances with Fenrir, who nodded eagerly. "Alright," I finally said. "We'll be there."
Linnie looked relieved at my response. "Thank you. I'm sure Father will be happy to see you both there."
Fenrir's grin widened, her eyes sparkling. "This is going to be fun! I can't wait to see what a royal banquet in Utgard is like."
I could only offer a small smile, though a strange feeling stirred inside me. Royal gatherings were rarely as simple as they seemed—especially in a place like Utgard.
"Honestly, this will be my first time attending a royal feast."
"Don't worry," Fenrir patted my shoulder with a wide grin. "I'll guide you through it. Uncle Tyr used to take me to banquets when I was still in Asgard."
"Oh yeah? And what did you do there?" I asked, curious. Truthfully, I hadn't expected Fenrir to have attended banquets in Asgard. I had assumed she was entirely shunned there. But thanks to the gods, Tyr had cared for her since she was a child.
Fenrir scratched the back of her head and let out a sheepish chuckle. "I only cared about the food, hehe."
My face went blank. I should've known better than to expect anything else from her.
Linnie suddenly cut in. "Don't worry, Yata. I'll send someone to help you prepare."
I nodded in relief. "Thanks, Linnie."
She simply smiled warmly in return.
We spent a little more time there, enjoying the warmth and tranquility before finally heading back to the palace—ready to face a night that might bring new surprises.
******
[PoV Emma]
The sound of chains hanging from the ceiling of this dungeon creaked softly every time I saw them move. The cold seeped deep into my bones, but that wasn't what bothered me the most.
I gazed at Anitra, who sat leaning against the wall of the cell in front of me. There were no visible wounds on her body. Even her clothing was surprisingly decent for a prisoner. A sign that our King, Loki, had kept his promise and treated her well.
Despite her bowed head, I could still see how pale she was. The dark circles under her eyes were even more pronounced under the dim torchlight. And yet, despite her exhaustion, there was something in her gaze—like a tiny ember that refused to die out.
"Why do you keep looking at me like that, Emma?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
I blinked, startled by how calm her voice was. "What do you mean?"
"You pity me."
I fell silent. She was right—I did pity her. Ever since the day she was captured, I hadn't been able to shake off this feeling that haunted me. Even though I knew nothing about her except that she was a spy from Asgard, I couldn't ignore the fact that she was my friend.
"You know, I don't deserve pity," Anitra continued with a crooked smile. "I'm just waiting."
"Waiting for what?" I asked quietly, stepping closer to the iron bars that separated us.
Anitra turned to me, her smile widening into something oddly unsettling. "For them to arrive."
I frowned, confused. "Them? Who are you talking about?"
She merely chuckled, as if enjoying my confusion. "Be patient, Emma. You just need to wait a little longer. Soon, everything will change."
I tilted my head, still not understanding what she meant.
Before I could ask more, a prison guard approached me.
"Miss, forgive me, but your visiting time is up."
"Ah, alright. I understand," I replied, turning back to Anitra with a forced smile. "I'm sorry, Anitra. Looks like time's up. We'll talk again later."
Anitra smirked slightly. "Very well. I appreciate the visit."
Without looking back, I left her behind. Only the echo of my footsteps remained in the dim, silent corridors of the dungeon.
*****
[PoV Thor]
The cold wind swept across my face as I soared above the clouds, accompanied by a flock of Valkyries circling me like a group of hunting falcons. The sky above us was dark, but far below, the homes of villagers glowed with the warm light of hearths and lanterns, appearing small from this height.
I tightened my grip on Mjölnir. Beside me was the one man who never failed to make my head throb with frustration—none other than Loki.
"I'm just saying," Loki started again, his voice dripping with his usual slyness, "this visit is a bit excessive, Thor. You really need to learn how to relax."
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore him. "Shut up, Loki."
"But really, you should consider alternative ways to handle things. Like whether to start eating a goat from the head or cut it from the thigh. Everyone has different preferences, after all."
"I don't care about your opinions. I want to focus on this mission," I growled, forcing myself to stay on track.
Loki chuckled—that infuriating laugh that always made me want to hurl him into the underworld. "You're always so serious. This is just a minor mission, not the end of the world."
"Shut up, Loki," I repeated, my voice harsher this time, almost a roar.
He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. No need to get so worked up."
I exhaled deeply, staring ahead. In the distance, Utgard's palace came into view, standing grandly amidst the endless snow. I knew we would arrive by tomorrow night, and I could only hope this mission would be over quickly—so I wouldn't have to endure Loki's endless chatter any longer.