Sigh.
Unfortunately, my usual horny luck didn't hold up.
Turns out, ice wolves are not anatomically compatible with me.
Or anything, for that matter.
They were not a 'living' being in the first place.
No reproductive system.
Just a core of frozen magic animating a shell of ice and necrotic flesh.
In simple terms, those ice wolves were similar to golems. No sex, no dicks, just cold, hard ice.
Sigh.
Disappointing, I know.
But I didn't let that stop me. I had a new plan.
A plan so depraved that even Herma didn't have a single thing to say.
I used my blood magic to liquefy the alpha wolf's ice shell, leaving only the core of frozen magic and the necrotic flesh.
Then, I used my shapeshifting ability to create a... let's say 'special' kind of dick. One that could interface with the core and extract the genetic information.
It was a weird, almost painful process, but it worked.
For only a second, before the alpha wolf exploded into a thousand pieces of ice and frozen flesh.
Ding!
[You have slain Frostfang Wolf (Alpha) (Level 90)]
"FUCK YOU, HERMA!" I roared, covered in gore and disappointment.
Why did I shout at Herma?
Because the bloody notification was twice the size of a normal one and had plenty of bright lights, which was a clear sign that Herma was laughing at my failure.
[It was your idea to try and 'interface' with a golem,] Herma replied, her mental voice dripping with mock sympathy.
"Shut up!" I snapped, "Just shut up! And let's go and hunt for more."
[As you wish, my horny failure of a mistress,] Herma said, and I could almost hear the smirk in her mental voice.
"ARGH!" I roared in frustration and decided to spend my time hunting for more monsters to take out my frustration.
And so began my new routine in Niflheim.
For the next few hours, I hunted down every monster I could find.
Sadly, I didn't encounter many of them, just a few more ice wolves.
They were just as boring as the last pack, and I dispatched them with the same effortless efficiency.
I did, however, spot a new, interesting creature.
A massive, serpentine beast made of pure ice, with a row of sharp, glowing crystals along its back. It slithered across the frozen wasteland, its body leaving a trail of frost in its wake.
I called it an 'Ice Serpent'.
I didn't engage it. Not yet.
Mainly because it kept diving beneath the ice and disappearing, and also because I was starting to feel a little headache.
By the sixth hour, right between my eyebrows, I started to feel a dull throb.
By the eighth, it was a constant, buzzing pressure, like a fly trapped in my skull.
'Herma, why does my head feel like it's about to explode?' I asked as I sat on a rock, holding my head in my hands.
[The fog,] Herma replied simply.
'What about it?' I asked, my patience wearing thin.
[It's starting to work. The memory-eating effect. Your mind is fighting back, hence the headache.]
'Then why didn't I feel it before?' I asked.
[Maybe you were too busy 'interfacing' with ice wolves to notice,] Herma replied with a hint of sarcasm.
"..."
I sighed in frustration.
She was right.
'Herma, why does my head feel like it's about to explode?' I asked as I sat on a rock, holding my head in my hands.
[...]
'Herma?' I asked again, noticing the silence.
[Morgana, you just asked me the same question twice.] Herma's mental voice was now laced with a hint of concern.
"!!!" My heart skipped a beat, and with no hesitation, I opened the map and used the waypoint to teleport back to my cabin.
The world disappeared.
One second I was sitting on that frozen rock, holding my aching head.
The next...
I was standing inside my cabin.
I immediately dropped to one knee, both hands clamped against my skull. The pressure behind my eyes felt like someone was trying to drill a second set of pupils into my brain with a rusty ice pick.
"Fuck… fuckfuckfuck…" I gasped, the words coming out ragged.
[Breathe,] Herma said, voice calm for once. [You're safe. The cabin is warded. The fog can't reach you here.]
I sucked in a ragged breath. Then another. The headache didn't vanish, but the worst of the buzzing retreated a few inches, like a tide pulling back from the shore.
I stayed on the floor for a full minute, forehead pressed to the cold wood, waiting for the world to stop tilting.
Only when the pressure dropped from "about to explode" to "really shitty hangover" did I push myself up and stagger to the mirror.
My reflection looked the same. Same silver hair. Same crimson eyes. Same permanent half-smirk that said I was one bad decision away from either an orgasm or a war crime. But I looked closer.
My left eye. The pupil was… different. Not shape, not size. But the depth of the crimson was wrong. Faded.
Like a cheap reproduction of the real thing.
It didn't last long, as my eye returned to normal.
But I saw it.
"Herma. Status," I commanded. "Scan my brain, my soul, everything."
[Scanning…] A pause, longer than usual. [Minimal degradation detected. Neural pathways related to short-term memory consolidation show a 0.8% deviation.]
"Speak, dickhead, not in your language," I snapped, my patience wearing thin.
[You forgot asking me the same question twice,] Herma clarified, her digital tone as dry as the frozen wastes outside. [You lost approximately 10 seconds of recent memory. The fog began affecting you at the six-hour mark. By the eighth hour, the degradation had become noticeable enough to cause physical symptoms.]
"Ten seconds," I repeated, touching my temple. The pain was a dull throb now, but the knowledge was worse than the ache. "That's it? Two hours for ten fucking seconds?"
[That's all it took to create a noticeable paradox in your short-term recall. Given more exposure, the decay will accelerate. The fog doesn't just erase memories; it erodes the very ability to form new ones. Soon, you won't remember why you're in Niflheim. Then you won't remember you're Morgana. Eventually, you'll be just another whisper in the white.]
I stared at my reflection again, the smirk finally gone.
Ten seconds.
It was nothing. Less than nothing. But it was the first step on a road that ended in oblivion. A road I had walked once before, a lifetime ago when I was a mortal.
"I don't like this at all," I said to myself.
Fortunately, the cabin was safe. Deep inside the cave, which itself was inside a large mountain. Plus, the wards I bought from the demon section were top-notch. They were designed to protect against magical attacks and mental intrusions, which was exactly what I needed.
But for long-term protection? I needed something else.
Something more permanent.
"I'll ask Kat to look for something in the Nexus," I muttered to myself, opening the Nexus chat and leaving a message explaining my situation.
While waiting for a reply, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass.
For the next few hours, I sat by the fireplace, sipping wine and staring into the flames.
Herma kept a close eye on me, running diagnostic scans every few minutes, during which she discovered that the Fog's effect was slowly but surely being reversed.
The wine helped. Or maybe it was just the warmth of the fire.
[Morgana,] Herma suddenly spoke up.
'What?' I replied, not taking my eyes off the flames.
[I've been analyzing everything you did today and also the nature of this realm and the Fog.]
I didn't say anything, waiting for her to continue.
[I noticed something that may interest you.]
Immediately after her words, an interface appeared in front of me.
It was an image of me during the hunt.
The image was normal, just me standing in the ice after I killed an ice wolf.
"And?" I asked, not seeing anything unusual.
[Be patient,] Herma said, and then the image suddenly lost its color, turning into a bluish hue.
Now the strange part.
The Fog was now visible as a thin, glowing mist that was swirling around me.
But what was really interesting was that on my body, mostly on my left arm.
A dark, crimson aura was emanating from my arm. It was pushing the fog away, creating a small, empty space around it.
"What is that?" I asked, my eyes wide with surprise.
[That, my dear mistress, is the Miasma,] Herma replied, a hint of pride in her mental voice.
"Miasma? You mean..."
[Yes. The Miasma from the Unspoken Realm. It seems that a small amount of it has remained within your system. A remnant of your little stunt with Odin. The Miasma is a fundamental force of corruption and entropy. The Fog is a fundamental force of erasure. They are, for lack of a better word, opposed to each other. The Miasma is actively resisting the Fog's effect on your mind.]
I stared at the image, my mind racing.
I used my left arm as a medium to summon the Miasma in the fight with Odin. It made sense that some of it would linger.
"Hmm." I rubbed my chin, a slow grin forming on my face. "So you're telling me that I have a built-in anti-fog condom?"
[That is a... crude but accurate analogy,] Herma replied.
"Hehehe~..." I chuckled, a wicked idea forming in my mind. "What if I... amplify it? Carve the runes on my entire body and summon more Miasma from the Unspoken Realm?"
[That's... a possibility,] Herma conceded. [But it's also extremely risky. The Miasma is not a toy. It's a force of pure corruption, and did you forget that you're now a divine being, not a mortal?]
Ahh... She was right.
Divinity is the one thing that is hated by everything in the Unspoken Realm. Even a small amount of divinity is enough to drive the lesser beings insane.
And to call more Miasma into my divine body?
That's like drinking poison and hoping for a cure.
The only reason I was fine now was that the amount was very small, like a single drop in an ocean, and I used runes known only to the High Queen of the Unspoken Realm to keep it stable.
A mortal body could handle it, but a divine one? Not so much.
"Damn," I cursed, my grin fading. "So my anti-fog condom has a tiny hole in it."