73

Svartálfheim

After all the commotion, night finally descended.

Forseti carefully surveyed his surroundings, confirming the absence of the four-horned goat, then swam out from the crevice of the island and returned home.

Before retiring for the night, he habitually opened the sacred deed and exchanged devotion for some fateful gifts.

Received: [Thanksgiving], [Experience Tome: Dire Wolf], [Devotion 0.19], [King's Blessing (Fragment)].

King's Blessing!

[King's Blessing: Grants the target the King's Blessing for ten minutes. During this period, the target's strength and defense are enhanced, and Holy Light spells are significantly empowered...]

Forseti was taken aback by this result. Despite accumulating numerous spells over the years, including dozens of Hammer of Justice fragments, the King's Blessing had always eluded him with an alarmingly low success rate.

The King's Blessing was extraordinarily potent, enhancing combat capabilities across the board without any adverse effects—a truly life-saving spell.

The night passed in silence.

The following morning, Forseti cleaned up the experience tome as usual and entered the Dire Wolf's experience space.

The Dire Wolf—a massive white wolf with razor-sharp claws exuding a ferocious, bloodthirsty aura—stood amidst twilight in a forest setting.

"Ow—" The Dire Wolf howled and charged.

Forseti's expression remained stoic as he swung his hammer to meet the beast.

The Dire Wolf, a mere third-level monster, lacked complex skills and was essentially a powerful beast. Dealing with it was manageable for Forseti.

After a brief struggle, Forseti delivered a final blow with Holy Light, causing the Dire Wolf's body to disintegrate instantly, leaving behind a page.

Forseti picked it up and examined it.

Received: [Devotion 15.28], [Experience Tome: Wolf King Lubos].

[Wolf King Lubos (Rare)]

[Experience Level: Level 4]

A rare level 4 monster.

Forseti was genuinely impressed by this find. Lubos, a renowned hunter's companion, was distinguished by shadow attacks and formidable armor.

In Asgard's evaluation system, the gap between grades was significant. While dealing with third-level monsters like the Dire Wolf posed no major challenge for Forseti, defeating any fourth-level creature required repeated attempts over a prolonged period.

As for the boss Hogg, Forseti had yet to conquer him, prompting speculation that Hogg wasn't merely defending his territory alone.

Deciding not to pursue further challenges that day, Forseti exited the experience space and busied himself at the herbal shop.

Though the number of obese and bald Asgardians had decreased, the Azeroth Herbal Shop's business, driven by the popularity of diet pills and hair tonics, still attracted a steady stream of customers.

Forseti had contemplated hiring assistants, but finding suitable candidates proved challenging. Most Asgardians preferred working for their own families, especially in specialized fields like herbal medicine that required extensive training.

Moreover, profits from regular medicines were minimal—merely a byproduct of Forseti's pharmaceutical practice. He didn't expect significant financial gain from them.

After a busy morning, Forseti headed to the Brave Hunter Tavern.

Tialfi had returned today, and Forseti ran into him upon arrival.

Forseti clapped Tialfi on the shoulder. "What kept you busy yesterday?"

"Family matters," Tialfi replied succinctly.

Forseti grinned. "You won't believe it—I encountered a four-horned goat in the forest right after you left yesterday."

Tialfi's eyes widened in disbelief. "Did you catch it?"

Forseti shook his head. "No... That's what troubles me. I encountered it alone, but capturing it proved beyond my abilities."

Tialfi breathed a sigh of relief.

Forseti continued, "However, I won't be participating in the Hunting Festival."

"Why not?"

"I've seen the caliber of hunters who participate—they're exceptional. Many have even captured the four-horned goat alone. I doubt I could compete."

The Asgard Hunting Festival, held every hundred years, attracted only the most elite warriors among Asgardians, including those capable of slaying dragons single-handedly.

With several years remaining until the next festival, Forseti doubted he'd encounter another four-horned goat, let alone capture it. The competition was fierce, prompting him to relinquish his aspirations.

Forseti thought- with the discovery of the tetrahedron, my travels to four realms will keep me busier than ever. I won't have the time

Tialfi nodded understandingly. "Will you still join us at the tavern?"

"Of course—I'm here for lunch," Forseti replied.

Having foregone cooking, he managed his meals morning and evening, reserving tavern visits for hearty lunches of wine and meat.

While chatting with Tialfi, Forseti finished his meal and departed as Tialfi ventured into the forest.

Following a concealed path along the forest's edge, Forseti reached the Sea of Marmora and swam into the crevice of the small island he had discovered the day before.

Today, he visited Svartálfheim.

The familiar tetrahedron hovered before him, its gentle flickering emitting a soft, mysterious glow.

Forseti located the side corresponding to Svartálfheim—the realm with nothingness on the other end, besides the moon—and entered.

Darkness enveloped him.

Forseti's initial impression upon entering Vanaheim was darkness.

Svartálfheim, home to the Dark Elves, orbited its own dying sun.

Countless eons ago, their sun had nearly extinguished, rendering Svartálfheim perpetually dark world devoid of visible light.

Forseti illuminated his surroundings with Holy Light.

According to Asgardian history, the Dark Elves had been vanquished by Asgard, leading Svartálfheim to become a desolate wasteland.

Though a small faction led by Malekith persisted in hiding across the cosmos, awaiting an opportune celestial alignment, Svartálfheim remained a barren expanse.

Unlike the secretive exits of other realms, the exit of Svartálfheim was an ordinary cave that led out smoothly after a short walk.

The light from Forseti's hand illuminated the desolate landscape.

True to its reputation, Svartálfheim was devoid of life and light—a vast, moon-like wasteland bereft even of the sun and Earth's distant blue glow.