Beauty

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Nothing much to read except descriptions.

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Lorna's playful spirit and unyielding heart made Queen Frigga see her as a daughter. Growing up without familial warmth, Lorna felt deeply attached to the gentle and kind queen.

Now, as Frigga gazed at Lorna, whose appearance and demeanor had been utterly transformed, her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and pain.

She was proud that the once-young girl had blossomed into such a stunning and remarkable woman. Yet she also felt heartache, knowing that Lorna had changed so dramatically in just five short years.

The queen could scarcely imagine what trials she had endured. Although Frigga knew that Lorna was the founder of the Caesar civilization, she could not truly comprehend the countless betrayals and life-threatening struggles Lorna must have faced to build a civilization with her bare hands.

With these thoughts in mind, Frigga's gaze turned toward Zane, tinged with a hint of reproach. Zane, sensing the queen's look, was utterly perplexed, not knowing what he had done wrong.

Meanwhile, Lorna, walking beside him and noticing Frigga's glance, smiled softly. Her smile was like the melting of a millennia-old glacier, momentarily making the entire world seem dim in comparison.

"A beauty from the north, unmatched and peerless,

One glance topples a city, another glance topples a nation."

As Zane and his group unknowingly reached the edge of the red carpet, Zane's foot stepped onto it first. The maidens standing on either side immediately lifted the flower petals from their baskets and scattered them into the sky. In that instant, countless petals descended like a fragrant rain.

Watching the scene unfold, Zane couldn't help but recall the time a year ago when Lorna and the others had welcomed him upon his return from seclusion. Turning his head toward Lorna, he found her already looking back at him.

They exchanged a smile, their eyes brimming with affection that seemed almost impossible to contain. Naturally, they reached for each other's hands.

Standing beneath the statues, the official Asgardian chronicler, responsible for documenting the event, was struck by the sight before him as if hit by a powerful force. Inspiration flooded his mind like a surging river, unstoppable and overwhelming. Without even thinking, he bent his head and began capturing the scene with his brush.

On his canvas, Zane and Lorna stood together, their gazes locked. Zane's imposing black armor and Lorna's magnificent crimson robe blended and reflected off each other.

In that moment, they seemed to become the center of the entire universe. The fireworks above their heads, the falling petals around them, even the figures of the king and queen in the distance—all appeared as mere background to these two.

What captivated most, however, were the eyes of Zane and Lorna on the canvas. Whether it was the chronicler's extraordinary skill or divine inspiration, the interplay between the fierce authority and tenderness in Zane's eyes, and the sharpness and deep love in Lorna's, was rendered to perfection.

It was impossible for anyone looking at the painting to focus on anything but the two of them, as though everything else in the scene faded into insignificance.

Within a few brief moments, the chronicler had used magic to complete this masterpiece. But the effort left him drained, and he collapsed weakly onto the ground, his gaze never leaving the painting.

Slowly, his eyes filled with tears as he delicately ran his fingers across the surface of the canvas, as though caressing a lover. He knew deep in his heart that he would never again create such a divine work of art.

The colors, the contrast of light and shadow—everything about the painting had reached the pinnacle of artistic technique. It was as if he had not painted it himself, but rather that the heavens could not bear to see this moment of beauty forgotten and had chosen him as a vessel to immortalize it.

"This painting is a creation of nature itself, stumbled upon by a skillful hand!"

While the chronicler was momentarily lost in thought, Zane had already led Lorna by the hand and arrived in front of Odin. The next moment, as the elderly chronicler slowly regained his senses, a sudden, overwhelming urge gripped him.

His aged hands carefully rolled up the masterpiece that he considered the pinnacle of his life's work and placed it in a protective scroll case. With a determined gleam in his eyes, he grabbed the case and, to everyone's astonishment, suddenly dashed onto the red carpet.

Moving with a vigor that defied his frail appearance, the old man charged toward Zane and Lorna, exuding an aura of determination that left the onlookers stunned.

Odin, who had been preparing to exchange pleasantries with Zane, was caught off guard by this unexpected interruption. His eyes widened in shock as an aura as powerful as a thunderstorm erupted from him.

"Seize him!" Odin bellowed in anger.

Immediately, the soldiers standing on either side of the path stepped forward, knocking the old chronicler to the ground with their spears. One of them pressed the tip of his spear to the old man's throat. Even as he fell, the chronicler clutched the scroll case tightly to his chest, protecting it as if it were his own child, unwilling to let any harm come to it.

Zane and Lorna turned their heads in curiosity, observing the sudden commotion. Odin, who had been closely watching Zane's reaction, breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Zane wasn't angry.

He understood all too well that this grand welcome ceremony was not just for Zane's arrival, but also to strengthen the alliance between him and Asgard. If this chronicler's actions had upset Zane and strained their relationship, Odin would have had nowhere to turn in his despair.

Nearing the end of his reign, Odin's primary concern was to pave a secure path for Thor and Asgard. He had planned for Zane to serve as Asgard's protector after he passed.

"Your Majesty, Your Majesty, I have something to say!" the chronicler cried out desperately, still clutching the scroll case in his arms.

Odin ignored him and instead turned to Zane with an apologetic expression. "My apologies, Lord Zane."

"It's nothing," Zane replied with a shake of his head. "I'm actually curious as to why he risked his life to rush over here."

He pointed toward the chronicler, who was still being restrained by the guards. Seeing that Zane wasn't offended, Odin regained his composure, though his gaze toward the chronicler was still filled with anger. But since Zane had spoken, he signaled for the guards to release the old man.

"What do you have to say?" Odin asked coldly, towering over the chronicler.

Now free from the guards' hold, the disheveled chronicler wiped the sweat from his brow. Holding the scroll case aloft with both hands, he slowly approached Zane and Lorna.

"Great Lord Zane, this is a gift from Asgard to you and your lady," the chronicler said reverently.

Zane cast a puzzled glance at Odin, as if asking, 'Was this some special surprise you prepared for me?' But Odin subtly shook his head, indicating that this wasn't something he had arranged.

Despite his curiosity, Zane took the scroll case from the chronicler. The moment Zane accepted it, the old man looked up at Zane and Lorna with eyes full of hope and expectation.

Zane calmly opened the scroll case and pulled out the rolled-up artwork inside. Before everyone present, he used his deathly divine power to unfurl the massive masterpiece in midair.

In an instant, those who beheld the artwork fell silent, awestruck by its beauty. Even Zane, for a brief moment, was lost in admiration.

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