Chapter-99

Madam Rubi, beckoned her child closer, a gleam of ancient wisdom in her eyes as she disclosed the secret of the mystical artifact cradled gently within her withered hands. The name she whispered, "Serpent of the North," resonated with an air of both reverence and dread, for it was a name that had echoed through the annals of history, a name that spoke of power beyond imagination.

With a voice that carried the weight of generations, Madam Rubi unraveled the spear's extraordinary capabilities. The Serpent of the North possessed the remarkable ability to extend itself to astonishing lengths, reaching well over 100 meters with a serpentine grace that defied the laws of physics. This remarkable feature bestowed upon its wielder a godlike advantage, allowing them to strike down adversaries from afar with unparalleled precision and force.

Yet, the weapon's formidable attributes did not end there, as Madam Rubi's voice dipped lower, revealing a darker truth. The Serpent of the North was not merely a physical marvel; it was also a harbinger of doom. It bore the insidious power to deliver a potent and lethal poison upon contact with its victim. A single scratch from this venomous blade could prove fatal, rendering it not just a weapon, but a tool of malevolent destruction.

With an air of solemnity, in hushed tones, she revealed a troubling truth: the artifact in question had remained unresponsive for countless years. It had become a dormant vessel, its once-vibrant soul now possibly extinguished, consigned to the annals of oblivion. The gravity of this revelation hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the chamber of ancient weapons.

Contemplative, she spoke of the possibility of removal from their revered weapon vaults. The decision weighed heavily on her, for to part with a relic that had long been a symbol of their heritage was no small matter. Yet, the inevitability of this choice loomed, as the once-potent artifact seemed destined to fade into obscurity, its purpose and power a fading memory in the annals of time.

As Sin's fingers brushed against the cold, metallic surface of the spear, a sense of ancient power coursed through him. The Serpent of the North, its name spoken in whispers through generations, lay dormant but undeniably potent. It was a relic of untold significance, and Sin couldn't help but feel drawn to it.

He turned to his mother, Madam Rubi and made his request. He asked her to permit him to take the spear with him, not as a replacement for his cherished Gungnir but as a crucial backup weapon. He knew that there were moments when the use of his primary weapon might not be possible or wise, and having the Serpent of the North as a contingency could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

Madam Rubi, her eyes reflecting both maternal pride and a deep understanding of the responsibilities placed upon her child's shoulders, smiled softly. She granted his request without hesitation, for the Serpent of the North had remained dormant for years, its ancient soul silent within. To them, it had become little more than a relic, a memory of times long past. If Sin saw purpose in it, a way to safeguard their legacy that has no use now anyway, she saw no reason to withhold it.

With a sense of purpose, Sin reached out and took hold of the green metallic spear, the Serpent of the North, from its resting place. As his fingers closed around the shaft, he could feel the unique texture of the metal, a pure green that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly luminescence. Its surface bore the marks of countless battles, scars and scratches etched into the same verdant hue that adorned its body.

The spear was an enigmatic fusion of form and function, a testament to both craftsmanship and power. Its color, an uncommon choice for weaponry, hinted at its unique origins and properties. Sin recognized that wielding this weapon was not just a matter of skill but of understanding its intrinsic nature.

Sin summoned his pocket of spatial magic, a hidden dimension accessible only to him. With a thought, he teleported both the Serpent of the North and his cherished Gungnir into this protected space. It was a gesture born of practicality; he knew that carrying both weapons simultaneously in the mortal realm might raise questions or concerns.

Subsequently, he exited the weapon vault, accompanied by his mother. He then said his farewells to her, as she was about to visit to the royal mansion with Athena.

After a long and eventful day, Sin returned to his room, the weariness of his adventures weighing on him. As he entered, he noticed Fatema, the ever-attentive presence by his side for the last few days, standing near the door. Their familiar interaction commenced as he politely inquired if she could prepare some coffee for him.

However, her response was unexpected. She asked, "What is coffee?" Her genuine curiosity caught Sin off guard, prompting him to ponder the absence of this familiar beverage in this world. Coffee, a staple in his previous life, seemed conspicuously absent here. Tea, on the other hand, was a prevalent and beloved drink.

Today marked the day Sin discovered this difference. Being more of a tea enthusiast himself, he hadn't actively sought out coffee in this new realm. But now, the idea of a warm cup of coffee appealed to him, perhaps as a comforting reminder of his past life.

Sin expressed his desire for tea to Fatema. She nodded warmly, assuring him that she would arrange for it. She then left his room and made her way toward the kitchen.

As Sin stepped into his room, a sense of tranquility washed over him. The day's events had been filled with both mystery and revelation, and now, in the comforting confines of his personal sanctuary, he sought a moment of respite. He lowered himself onto his bed, the weight of responsibility momentarily lifted.

With a gentle touch, Sin retrieved the Serpent of the North spear, cradling it in his hands. The weapon, once a dormant relic, had gained a new significance in his life. It had whispered its name to him, and in a way, he had heeded its call, recognizing that it held a purpose that transcended mere ornamentation.

In a quiet tone, Sin addressed the spear. He acknowledged that he had done what it seemed to desire, though at first, he had almost overlooked its presence in his room. The spear, however, had a will of its own, drawing his attention as if guided by some unseen force.