30

Graf Swifttooth

"I will take the runes." Forseti didn't hesitate, though he suppressed his internal excitement.

One hundred runes!

This was no small sum. He had struggled to save up seventy runes selling hair restorers before.

In terms of gold reference, one hundred runes translated to soft sister coins from his past life—wealth equivalent to hundreds of millions. Despite spending considerable time in this world, Forseti couldn't shake off thoughts of currency conversion.

Perhaps he could negotiate for a higher value, but that might seem greedy.

Heimdall, Asgard's future gatekeeper, was not someone Forseti wanted to leave with a negative impression.

"Take it, your reward." Heimdall personally presented the hundred runes to Forseti.

As a military reward, the runes came in an exquisite wooden box, crafted with meticulous detail.

"Thank the, All-Father," Forseti accepted the wooden box graciously.

It felt akin to receiving an imperial decree; though bestowed by Heimdall, gratitude was owed solely to Asgard's god-king.

Heimdall offered words of encouragement, albeit succinctly. Clearly not one for verbose speeches.

Gus's stare left a deeper impression on Forseti. There was an inexplicable animosity, as though Forseti had wronged him out of a hundred million runes.

Forseti recalled Gus as the other individual who slayed Lord Skrins. Perhaps he resented being paired with Forseti?

Unable to comprehend such reasoning, Forseti resolved to avoid Gus as much as possible henceforth.

Leaving the council hall lifted Forseti's spirits. Back in his quarters, he eagerly opened the wooden box, ready to revel in the thrill of counting money. One hundred rune coins translated into soft sister coins equated to wealth worth hundreds of millions.

But upon opening the box, Forseti was taken aback.

Alongside the money lay an Asgardian bronze medal, engraved with Asgard's image, All-Father Cul's name, and words of commendation.

Cul Borson.

Lingering on the name, Forseti fell into contemplation.

Cul elder brother to Odin and eldest son of the previous god-king Bor, logically succeeded the throne as Asgard's new king.

In reality, Cul—known as the God of Fear—was far less revered in Asgard compared to his brother Odin, known as the God of Sky. Odin's ascent to power over Cul seemed inevitable.

Setting aside the medal, Forseti took out the hundred runes, weighing them in his hand.

"Whoa."

Their weight and jingling sound offered indescribable satisfaction...

After savoring the moment, Forseti immediately turned to the Book of Experience.

**Book of Experience: Graf Swifttooth (Rare)**

**Experience Level: Level 3**

Yesterday marked Forseti's first time actively engaging in battle and killing. A high-intensity and gruesome fight should have left him devoid of any desire to fight for days.

Yet, at this moment, a powerful force surged within Forseti, dispelling his negative emotions and reigniting his fighting spirit.

That force was the power of money.

Rubbing his hands together, clutching Villigan's Fist, Forseti entered the realm of experience.

The scene shifted; he found himself on a hill surrounded by trees, the distant greenery reminiscent of Elwynn Forest from World of Warcraft.

"Ah ah ah... Fresh meat!" A gnoll wielding an axe charged from nearby, voice brimming with bloodlust.

True to his name, Graf Swifttooth's extraordinarily sharp teeth appeared deadlier than the battle axe in his grasp.

Forseti tightened his grip on Villigan's Fist, roaring back.

"Charge!"

In an instant, they clashed, hammer and axe meeting.

Villigan's Fist glowed, flames erupting to engulf Graf Swifttooth's hand instantly.

"Ow!"

Graf Swifttooth recoiled, gnashing his teeth, eyes fixed on Forseti as if preparing to devour him.

They engaged again, Graf Swifttooth more cautious, wary of Villigan's Fist's flame power.

Yet this vigilance hampered his movements, giving Forseti an opening for a fierce offensive. The warhammer danced, flames swirling, forcing Graf Swifttooth onto the defensive.

However, gnolls were no pushovers, especially Graf Swifttooth—a rare breed far fiercer than kobolds. Forseti had the upper hand, yet victory remained elusive.

Their duel reached a stalemate, prolonged and intense.

Just as Forseti prepared for a Holy Light Strike, Graf Swifttooth lunged unexpectedly, jaws wide, sharp teeth gleaming.

Initially, Forseti braced for a bite, but Graf Swifttooth roared instead.

"Ow—"

The sound reverberated painfully, catching Forseti off guard. A dull ache pierced his ears, nearly deafening him.

"Hahaha!" Graf Swifttooth seized the opportunity, leaping and swinging his battle axe toward Forseti's head.

"Charge!"

Forseti raised Villigan's Fist to block, stumbling back under the impact.

Suddenly, Graf Swifttooth lunged forward, his sharp teeth sinking into Forseti's arm.

Startled, Forseti withdrew, but Graf Swifttooth's axe struck his shoulder.

Though protected by Asgardian bronze armor, the blow caused intense pain. A weaker individual would have lost their arm.

"Fresh meat!"

Exploiting Forseti's vulnerability, Graf Swifttooth attacked relentlessly. Forseti struggled, blood splattering as he defended against the relentless assault.

Moments before exiting the experience, Forseti confirmed Graf Swifttooth's teeth were indeed deadlier than his axe.

Abruptly, the scene dissolved, and Forseti returned to his cabin, panting heavily, strategizing his next move against the rare gnoll.

"Thud thud."

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

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