Chapter 142: The Moment of Plundering the Pure Snow Mountain
Deep within the valley, an immense Evil Dragon coiled in a cramped, lightless space, trembling as if the air itself were a guillotine.
Fear, alarm, unease.
The creature that once made heroes into legends now looked like a cornered rodent that had finally met the predator written into its blood.
Fafnir's golden eyes flickered without rhythm. His senses, honed to an absurd sharpness, scraped at the world above like claws against stone.
The clash between gods had ended.
That overwhelming pressure, the kind that reduced even a so called ultimate dragon species to dust in spirit, had begun to fade.
Thor had left.
The King of the Wild Hunt remained.
Then another presence arrived. Loki, the God of Sophistry. And with him, the scent and weight of a celestial steed.
A gift, bestowed upon Rowe.
A dragon's senses are cruelly honest. Fafnir could perceive the outline of events even without seeing them directly. Neither the Wild Hunt nor Loki bothered to hide their trails, so the information poured into him as clearly as breath.
Rowe had come looking for him to obtain a suitable mount.
And now Rowe already had one.
So, he should be safe.
That thought had barely formed when the dragon's scales rippled, layer after layer, like fur standing on end in terror.
A primal shiver ran through the black mass of his body.
Roar.
A deep bellow rolled out as Fafnir jerked his head upward, eyes locking on the sky.
A pillar of light fell straight down.
Roar. Roar. Roar.
Pain exploded across his scales as the beam cut through the valley's darkness. His body convulsed. His breath, the lava heat of a dragon, collapsed in layers beneath the cold authority of that storm forged radiance.
Fafnir could no longer endure.
Wings spread.
Violent currents detonated at the valley floor and the Evil Dragon shot upward in a frantic ascent.
At this moment, he wanted only one thing.
Escape.
He could not understand why Rowe still wanted to kill him after already gaining a mount. He could not understand what Rowe intended.
To eliminate a menace for humanity?
Absurd.
The truth of the Evil Dragon Fafnir, stamped with the title ultimate dragon species, was not a species at all. It was a curse of dragonification.
Every Evil Dragon had once been a dragon slaying warrior.
Every Fafnir had once been human, or at least a demigod.
When the previous Evil Dragon died, the curse would fall upon another suitable person. The dragon slayer would eventually become the dragon.
A cycle.
Chains of fate.
A mechanism as inevitable as Ragnarok, prophesied by Odin himself.
So killing him was meaningless.
And yet none of that mattered.
Fafnir did not want to die here.
He wanted to live.
Evil Dragons are creatures of desire, greedy for treasure, and even more greedy for time. For the length of life itself.
So he charged upward, reckless, vertical, desperate enough to look like courage.
The mountain shook again.
Rowe, having subdued the eight legged, twelve winged celestial horse, held the Storm Spear high. Pale light streamed from its tip, trailing like a wound across the sky.
Skaði's vision cleared. She opened her eyes and stared, bewildered.
What is he doing?
By now, she understood Rowe's power well enough to know that if he wanted to capture Fafnir or erase him, he did not need theatrics.
This did not look like hunting.
It looked like play.
Like a cat batting at a mouse, letting it run just far enough to believe it might live.
Skaði's gaze turned strange.
One could only say that a Demon King truly was a Demon King.
Rowe, of course, did not care about the subtle shifts in the goddess's mind. He could infer emotions from expression and posture, but he rarely bothered to pry. Secrets were cheap. Results were not.
And yes, Skaði's guess was correct.
Rowe was deliberately driving Fafnir away.
The Storm Spear sliced through the blue sky, leaving a brilliant trace. With every rotation, the Evil Dragon screamed again, mournful and raw.
Under the open heavens, countless eyes were drawn upward by the cries.
As a notorious monster, its appearance was undeniably terrifying.
Dark scales.
A ferocious head.
A maw lined with fangs like knives.
And the breath of molten heat that had once turned battlefields into funeral pyres.
In the past, countless warriors could not defeat it. Countless heroes could not pierce that shell.
But what the world saw now was not awe.
It was collapse.
Even so, the howling made mortals tremble. Fear rose by instinct. Feet wanted to run.
After all, it was still a god level monster.
A whinny tore through the wind.
Rowe squeezed his legs lightly and the celestial horse beneath him stepped forward twice, steady as a storm given form.
The dragon wailed.
The dragon roared.
The dragon, driven by a beam of condensed storm light, crashed upward toward the verdant canopy of the World Tree.
And where was that?
Skaði's breath caught.
"The entrance to Asgard's Divine Realm?"
She saw it clearly. The direction Rowe was forcing Fafnir toward was the passage that led into Asgard.
What is he trying to do?
Declare war on the gods, openly and now?
Skaði could not understand.
War itself was not unimaginable. Rowe had fought Thor to a draw and commanded the image of countless storm giants. Strength was not the issue.
The timing was.
It was too fast.
Too unprepared.
Asgard had more than Thor.
Asgard had Odin.
And then Skaði abruptly realized what her thoughts had turned into.
Why am I calculating his chances of victory?
She shook her head hard, trying to crush that line of thinking before it rooted itself.
But the wind had already risen. Panic, thin and sharp, slid along her spine.
Fafnir had already smashed into the passage to Asgard.
A monster invading the Divine Realm could not go unanswered.
Because of Rowe's battle with Thor, the gods who had scattered now gathered again in the Platinum Palace. If their earlier stance had been vigilance, now it contained something uglier.
Fear.
Rowe could contend with Thor.
That meant Rowe could kill any god here, with the exception of Thor and Odin.
Odin had ordered them not to provoke that being for the time being. Yet giants and gods were sworn enemies, and under the terrible imbalance of strength, they could not remain still.
So their minds moved.
They did not dare to confront Rowe directly like Thor.
Naturally, their knives turned toward the weaker target.
Skaði.
"Have you noticed?" a god said inside the splendid palace. "Thor had a chance to defeat the giant's master. If it were not for Skaði's intervention…"
"Yes," another echoed. "I noticed it too. She really has betrayed us."
"I thought there was still room for maneuver."
"We gods doted on her so much, and she still dares betray us."
"Just as Thor said. Such a traitor must be punished."
In truth, it was simpler and far more shameful than righteousness.
Skaði knew too much.
In a corner, Loki had already returned from Midgard. He watched with a smile that grew wider and wider, the kind of grin that did not belong to a friend.
The God of Sophistry saw through the gods' guilt instantly.
Skaði had once been the most beloved goddess of Asgard, in the way Ishtar was adored and feared in Mesopotamia. The gods loved her, doted on her, and pursued her with desperation because she was the pure Snow Mountain, untainted and unreachable.
Skaði disdained the male gods who sought her.
Some could not even meet her.
Yet in their attempts to please her, they had written countless letters. And in those letters, they revealed countless secrets.
If those secrets were placed into the hands of a hostile force strong enough, it would be fatal to the gods standing here.
Now they had seen Rowe's power and felt fear.
So their first reaction was to erase the leak.
They targeted Skaði.
"I propose," a god said, voice turning cold, "that Skaði's concept within the Divine Realm be shattered."
Asgard is the Divine Realm, the Heavenly Realm where the gods' authorities converge. The fundamental concepts of the gods reside here.
If a concept is shattered, the god perishes.
Even if it is only the shattering of personality, for a god that is death in the only way that matters. Replacement means the old self is gone. The new god is not the same individual.
They wanted Skaði to die.
They wanted her secrets to vanish with her.
Even if this angered Rowe, they believed they could endure as long as they remained within Asgard, combining the brilliance of many gods under Odin's protection.
If Rowe could shatter the Divine Realm itself, then nothing they did would matter anyway.
Either way, death waited.
So they chose the possibility of survival.
The gods began to act.
Fire, earth, light.
Numerous divine authorities gathered within the Platinum Palace, manifesting as radiant symbols and pressure.
Loki watched with cool eyes and did not participate.
But he was pleased.
The gods were moving.
For Loki, any change was good.
From the gathered brilliance, a pure white snow mountain emerged, pristine and flawless, like the most perfect ice crystal formed by nature.
The manifestation of the Snow Mountain concept.
Skaði's essence.
She was forced out.
And then she would be shattered.
But at that very moment, a mighty roar erupted.
The gods froze.
A black Evil Dragon burst into the Platinum Palace.
Its abyssal mouth opened wide and swallowed the pure white snow mountain in a single bite.
Then it smashed through a window and vanished without a trace.
The entire sequence was so sudden that the gods did not truly react until the Evil Dragon was already gone.
Skaði's concept had been stolen.
"What was that?" Loki laughed aloud, voice bright and delighted.
"Fafnir? Hahahaha. Interesting. Too interesting."
"To think of using Fafnir to accomplish such a thing."
"That fellow is far more interesting than I thought."
What is Fafnir?
The infamous Evil Dragon, a god level monster.
But to some extent, his essence was similar to that of the gods. Both were manifestations of nature.
The difference lay in the mind.
The gods had clear personalities.
Fafnir was mostly instinct.
The line between god and demon often lies there.
Yet similar essence implies similar aura. If Rowe had entered Asgard himself, the Divine Realm would have repulsed him violently.
Fafnir would not.
The gods had not thought of it.
So they allowed him to come and go.
Allowed him to run free.
An alarm rang out across the edges of the realm.
"An Evil Dragon has invaded the Divine Realm."
"Valkyries, be on guard. Be on guard. Be on guard."
Clear, cold, almost mechanical voices echoed as the Valkyrie shieldmaidens moved. The personal guards of Odin formed ranks at the sky's boundary, their armor bright, their posture valiant.
They received orders and reacted instantly, gathering to intercept the incomprehensible intruder heading toward the Heavenly Realm.
But the rushing wind arrived first.
The massive Evil Dragon smashed through their half formed formation.
A thunderous roar, a sweep of tail and horn, and the Valkyries scattered like leaves.
Some were knocked aside by the dragon's tail.
Others were struck by its ferocious head and fell into Midgard, tumbling out of the Divine Realm.
The leader of the Valkyries, a silver haired female warrior named Brynhildr, opened her eyes in a daze.
Snow swirled.
The land around her was sparse, quiet, far too human.
Having left the Divine Realm, the connection in her mind was severed.
Unlike other Valkyries chosen from mortals, the shieldmaidens were dolls created by Odin. Their duty was obedience. Command was their world.
And now that world had gone silent.
Brynhildr stood still, unsure what to do.
Far away, Rowe finally moved.
The Evil Dragon descended from the sky, its wings fanning fierce wind, then landed and lowered its head like a chastised beast.
It opened its mouth obediently and spat out a shadow.
The corner of the Snow Mountain concept.
Skaði saw it and froze.
Driving Fafnir into Asgard had been for this.
Fafnir is a monster. Instinct outweighs self, but he understands meaning well enough.
If he did not want to die, this was his only option.
"Here."
Rowe tossed the light and shadow of the Snow Mountain to Skaði.
She raised her hands and caught it, astonishment shaking her face.
"You…"
Rowe met her eyes with a half smile.
"You did not think about what those gods would do to you, did you?"
"Your so called self is safest when you hold it in your own hands."
He leaned down from the horse, close enough that the goddess could feel the chill of his presence, and then he reached out and pinched her chin.
He lifted her face.
Astonishment. Confusion. Complexity. All of it laid bare.
"I told you. As long as you stand behind me, I will protect you."
Then his smile sharpened.
"But I also warn you, do not trust me."
He withdrew his hand and straightened.
"I am doing this to prevent a knife from coming from behind to stab me someday."
Skaði stared at the Snow Mountain in her hand.
Then at the tall figure turning toward the Evil Dragon.
What would the gods do to her?
She had already thought of it.
Shatter her concept. Replace her personality.
Kill her.
That earlier panic had come from exactly that place.
He protected her again.
Protection with ulterior motives.
She understood those motives.
And yet.
Why was he so gentle with her?
Skaði wavered.
Humanity inside a god's personality is stubborn. It grows in places you do not grant permission to.
It does not ask if it is convenient.
Fafnir crouched at Rowe's feet.
The massive dragon curled inward, shrinking, compressing, folding into itself until it became a black hound, dark and quiet, a beast sized for a leash rather than a legend.
"Let us go."
Rowe remained astride the storm steed gifted by Loki, then looked back at the Snow Mountain Goddess.
"For now, I cannot set you free."
<><><><><>
[Check Out My Patreon For +40 Advance Chapters On All My Fanfics!]
[[email protected]/FanficLord03]
[Join Our Discord Community For Updates & Events]
[https://discord.gg/MntqcdpRZ9]