Chapter 3

I bent down to pick up the scattered blueprints and my shoulder bag from the ground. My hands were trembling so badly that I dropped everything several times before managing to hold onto them.

Although the Ginnungagap Rift separated us from the cold and dark world of the Aesir tribe, our elders had always taught us the same lesson since childhood: if we ever encountered an Aesir, we must run with every ounce of strength we had. Otherwise, death was the only outcome.

Before, I had never truly taken those warnings seriously. My understanding of the Aesir tribe had always come from books. Their cities were completely different from our homeland—towering structures rising beneath endless night, countless lights flickering like the eyes of wolves, and pale-skinned Aesir people whose expressions were as cold as ice.

To me, all of it felt distant and abstract. I always thought they existed on the far side of the world, while we lived in a remote little village. How could our paths ever cross? And even if they did, the people in our village were kind and harmless, incapable of fighting back. Surely no one could be so cruel as to harm those who had no power to resist.

I had always believed myself to be a true pacifist. I believed war required two sides willing to fight—that if one side refused, conflict could not continue. I knew I never wanted to become an enemy of the Aesir tribe.

Until my sister died.

While my brother, my younger sister, my mother, and I were drowning in grief, my father—who had once served in the army—revealed something far more terrifying in his eyes: fear. Perhaps only he understood then how dreadful it was for even a single combat-capable Aesir to appear in our village.

One week later, a large force of Aesir arrived. They slaughtered every tribe member living around the village… and then surrounded the entire settlement.

I bent down to pick up the scattered blueprints and my satchel from the ground. My hands trembled so violently that I dropped everything several times before finally managing to gather them.

Although the Ginnungagap Rift separated us from the cold and shadowed world of the Aesir tribe, ever since childhood our elders had repeated the same warning: if we ever encountered an Aesir, we must run with every ounce of strength we had. Otherwise, death was certain.

Before all this, I had never taken those words seriously. My understanding of the Aesir had always come from books. Their cities were nothing like our homeland—towering structures rising beneath endless night, countless lights flickering like the eyes of wolves in the dark, and pale-skinned Aesir whose expressions were as cold as ice.

To me, it had all felt distant and abstract. I often thought they lived on the far side of the world while we remained in a remote village. How could our paths ever cross? And even if they did, the people of our village were kind and harmless, utterly incapable of violence. Surely no one could be cruel enough to harm those who had no power to resist.

I had always believed myself a true pacifist. I believed war could never exist if even one side refused

it—that conflict required two hands to clap. I knew I had no desire to become an enemy of the Aesir.

Until my sister died.

While my brother, my mother, and I were drowning in grief, my father—once a soldier—revealed something else in his eyes: fear. Perhaps only he understood how terrifying it was that a battle-capable Aesir warrior had appeared in our village. Even one was enough to spell disaster.

A week later, large numbers of Aesir arrived. They slaughtered every tribe member living around the village and surrounded us completely.

They did not dare invade the village itself only because above every Vanir settlement floated a protective sphere of light that annihilated all intruders—the “Blessing of Odin,” the final gift Odin had left to our people before his departure.

I once asked my father why they treated us this way. We had never harmed them; we had never even spoken to them.

“Because we are Vanir,” he answered.

“But conflicts like this should belong to leaders,” I argued. “We are just innocent civilians. Why should we be hurt?”

My father gave a bitter smile.

“Every Vanir has the potential to become a warrior on the battlefield,” he said. “So the Aesir kill every one they find to ensure their prosperity forever. That is reality. History and legend allow no changes. What we should worry about now isn’t why they want to hurt us—but how to avoid dying at their hands.”

We waited inside the village in restless fear for half a month.

When the Aesir forces finally disappeared, everyone began packing to leave. Because my father was a retired soldier, the villagers chose him to lead the evacuation.

My brother, already an adult, walked at the front with him. My mother carried my little sister and held my hand as we followed the crowd.

What happened afterward…

was exactly like the scene I had just witnessed.

It lasted only an instant.

In that single moment, I saw a mass of fire descend from the sky like a raging beast. My father and brother died where they stood. My mother shoved me toward the center of the village with all her strength, but as she ran toward me, she and my sister were swallowed by the flames.

From that day on, my black hair and violet eyes became objects of hatred among the surviving villagers. They said I resembled the mutated god-blooded of the Aesir. They called me a spy. They said my family had died because of me.

The small village once filled with dreams and laughter turned, under smoke and catastrophic magic, into an eternal gray wasteland.

A sin I would never wash away in my lifetime.

After they sacrificed their lives so that I alone might survive, I swore an oath: even if I could never become a Grand Magus, I would at least become someone who could stand on the battlefield and watch the Aesir fall one by one.

I left my homeland and searched desperately for a path that would allow me to survive.

That was when I realized the dwarven world of Vartheim might accept me. Though the dwarves rejected god-blooded outsiders, I was only twenty-one that year, barely one meter forty in height, with jet-black hair. Aside from my face and skin tone, everything else about me matched them perfectly.

Although twenty-one was considered adulthood among dwarves, the gods matured far more slowly. At twenty-one, I was little more than a child, ignorant of many things.

After arriving in Vartheim, I suffered countless losses and endured blows that once made me believe I would never stand up again.

There was one time when tuition payment was approaching, and my savings were nowhere near enough. I took half a month off from school to work in the mines, choosing only the longest shifts that did not provide meals. The physical strength and endurance of the god-blooded were inferior to dwarves to begin with. By that day, hunger had left me dizzy and half-blind. My body had long since gone numb; only sheer will kept me swinging my hammer against the massive stones.

Past two in the morning, a fist-sized sapphire diamond the mine owner had just unearthed suddenly went missing. I heard him shouting behind me, questioning everyone, but I was too exhausted to respond.

Then something heavy struck the back of my head.

A massive chunk of ore.

The world spun once—and I lost consciousness on the spot.

When I woke again, I had already been thrown outside the mine. Not only was I unpaid, even the little money I had carried with me had been taken. Clutching my bleeding head, I went back to confront the owner. He claimed he had already given me my wages and that it was my own fault for failing to keep them safe.

“Besides,” he said, “a little girl like you doesn’t have much ability anyway. Don’t come back here.”

That was how dwarves were—rough, crude, almost savage. Yet they were also unparalleled craftsmen, possessed of formidable intellect. They forged countless treasures and sold them to both the competing Aesir and Vanir gods. Because they preferred darkness, many of them chose to live among the Aesir even when they left their own world.

In the Vanir lands, I had never met people like this. I had never been treated this way.

Gritting my teeth, I left the mine. When I realized I could not even afford medical treatment, I finally broke down and cried.

Perhaps I was simply too young then, too fragile. Such a small setback consumed me for a long time. I withdrew from everyone, unwilling to speak, unwilling to do anything—at times even thinking it might be easier to die.

Over the years, I dreamed strange dreams on countless nights.

Most often, I dreamed of the Aesir invasion—their cold eyes, sharply defined features, and the emotionless incantations spoken without a trace of feeling. Then came the agony, as if countless arrows pierced my heart, jolting me awake in cold sweat.

Sometimes my sister appeared in my dreams. In her familiar firm and unwavering voice, she would say, Nana, stand up. No matter how difficult things become, remember that I will always be by your side, protecting you.

And on very rare occasions, I dreamed of a smile.

It was a strange dream. I could never see his face clearly. I did not know his age, nor even the color of his eyes. Yet I knew he was looking at me—with a gaze so gentle, so familiar, it nearly brought me to tears.

Even though I had never loved anyone, even though it felt purely instinctive, I knew that look was one of deep love.

Sadly, he never spoke a single word to me.

Not even in dreams.

Even so, whenever I saw that gaze and that smile, it felt as though nothing in the world could truly frighten me anymore. It sounded ridiculous, but that dream—repeating endlessly, with neither beginning nor end—had sustained my spirit all the way until now.

Of course, no matter how beautiful a dream might be, it instantly became insignificant once confronted with Shia’s very real roaring.

From nearly coming to blows the first time we met to becoming inseparable best friends—and even roommates now—the whole thing still felt unbelievable to me.

Best friends or not, there were many moments when I desperately wanted to capture her hysterical outbursts and throw the recordings at those lovestruck men who had clearly lost their sanity, just to see whether they could still sigh dreamily and declare, “Shia is the Champs-Élysées of Vanaheim.”

Like right now.

After rushing back to Vanaheim, I was filthy from head to toe. I didn’t even have time to change clothes or take a shower. I dug through Shia’s chaotic cabinets, found the specialized test tubes for fish-oil extraction, and prepared to hurry back to the shop.

The moment my front foot crossed the doorway, an invisible force locked me in place.

I turned around.

Sure enough, Shia was gripping my neck, her face dark with displeasure.

“I’m in a terrible mood today,” she said.

“I’ve got a big order on my hands. Complain to me later.” I pried her hand away.

“You’re not leaving. Listen first.” Her other hand landed firmly on my shoulder. The determination in her voice told me instantly that escape was impossible today.

So I stared straight at her as her beautiful face gradually twisted with fury.

“That Blue you admire so much,” she declared, “is an absolute jerk. The worst kind.”

“And?” I asked.

“I knew Freyr still held a grudge against me, which is why he smilingly assigned me to work under him. And I actually trusted that Aesir-raised—” She stopped herself, grinding her teeth. “Now I feel sick every time I see the word Blue.”

“And?”

“He’s a complete scumbag.”

“And?”

“Get lost!”

So I did.

To be fair, I only admired Blue’s strength; I’d never been particularly curious about his personal life or personality. But after hearing Shia talk like that, if I hadn’t been so busy, I probably would’ve asked more questions. Besides, I had originally planned to ask her to help process a pair of gloves—but if she found out the client was Freyr, she would probably strangle me on the spot.

By the time I arrived at Ina’s workshop, it was already past eleven at night.

The moment I stepped inside, Geffi set down the blueprints in his hands.

“Boss, someone came looking for you not long ago.”

“Who was it?”

“Blu—!”

The voice came from a corner of the room. Before the drawn-out call even finished, its owner—a remarkably beautiful blonde elf girl—flashed right in front of me.

“It’s Blu!”

“Fla, you’re actually still here this late? That’s rare.”

Honestly, most of what she said could be ignored. Fla was, in my opinion, the most questionable hire our workshop had ever made. She was exceptionally talented at equipment aesthetics—her designs were imaginative and inspired—but the number of times she went on strike or took leave for various excuses far exceeded the days she actually worked.

Since she never seemed to care when I deducted her pay, I had long since mentally reclassified her as temporary staff. Also, Blu’s fan club in the north district really ought to consider making her its president.

“Sister Ina, don’t you think it’s amazing that Blu came here?”

Right—she was also the only person who insisted on calling me Sister Ina, no matter how many times I corrected her.

“Materials collected? Bring me everything you’ve finished.” I unfolded the commission order and blueprints.

“Boss, Lord Blu really did come,” Geffi said.

“What? Why?” I shot my head up.

“We don’t know. He asked where you were. We told him you’d gone to Blacknar Village, so he left. Said he’d come again tomorrow.”

“I see…” I thought for a moment. “Never mind. Let’s finish the gloves first. Fili, trim the leather.”

“Sister Ina, aren’t you curious at all? I actually saw Blu! He’s so handsome—seriously, so handsome!” Fla clasped her hands to her chest in bliss.

At that exact moment, I watched Fili the dwarf accidentally ruin a piece of Haedren leather worth thirty-eight thousand Vida.

This overtime session turned out to be the longest—and most exhausting—we had ever endured. By noon the next day, after finally sending off the alchemist responsible for processing, all of us collapsed beside the forge and fell asleep instantly, waiting for the High Priest’s arrival.

Somewhere in my dreams, I faintly heard an argument outside the door. More precisely, a woman shouting and a man replying calmly. The woman’s voice was impossible to ignore; the entire shop was woken by her volume.

“You really think you’re that impressive, don’t you? Do you?!”

That was the first sentence I clearly caught. Half-awake, rubbing a head that felt ready to explode, I pushed open the window just in time to see a stunning woman—beautiful on Shia’s level but twisted with far greater fury—standing before the back of a tall man.

Nearby, a four-winged golden wyvern lay curled asleep in the riding-beast enclosure.

“Let me make this perfectly clear—you’re good at □, and that’s it!”

“Oh—”

Around me, everyone’s mouths dropped open like duck eggs, all eyes fixed on the doorway.

“That lady’s bold,” Geffi muttered.

I expected the man to lose his temper.

Instead, he let out a soft laugh.

“Thank you.”

The one who finally exploded was the beautiful woman.

“What are you so proud of?” she snapped. “What I meant is that your brain is stuffed with hay—your IQ is zero! When I think back on our time together, the only thing I can remember is sleeping with you! Do you actually find that something to be proud of?”

“Considering that most of the time we spent together was indeed in bed, Miss Xika,” the man replied calmly.

“Whoa—”

This time the number of spectators doubled. Half of Eden Street had gathered, watching the scene with undisguised enthusiasm.

“You… you’re unbelievable!” Xika’s face flushed bright red. Finally losing control, she raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face before turning and storming away.

Fili shook his head. “Honestly, I can’t tell if that lady did it on purpose. What man wouldn’t be happy hearing something like that?”

Geffi disagreed. “From a woman’s perspective, a man who’s only good in bed but has zero intelligence isn’t exactly attractive. She was definitely serious.”

Fili shrugged. “The real question is—does that guy look like someone with zero intelligence?”

The slap had clearly not been light. His head snapped sharply to the side. He rubbed his cheek afterward, yet his expression remained perfectly composed.

Seeing Fla clutching her chest dreamily—and then looking again at the man—I finally understood why everyone was reacting so dramatically.

For the past several years, that face had appeared almost daily in newspapers, magazines, and journals. Across the entire Vanir tribe… no, across all Nine Worlds, there was probably no one who hadn’t seen it before.

But this was the first time I had seen the three-dimensional, living version of him.

It felt strangely unreal.

“Blu!”

Across the street, Frey leapt down from the back of a golden-winged wyvern and waved toward us. Blu answered with a brief acknowledgment, standing with arms folded beside the right side of my shop entrance as he waited.

Honestly, Blu in person felt quite different from the image I had formed before. Perhaps it was because he had become famous so early—already headline material at forty-two or forty-three. If I remembered correctly, he was fifty-nine this year and still not fully mature.

His hair wasn’t as vividly colored as in the publications; instead, it was a pale gold that almost faded into silver. His eyes, however, were exactly as the legends described—an utterly unique violet-blue, unmatched anywhere in the world.

And his build… seemed taller than depicted in books, even half a head taller than Frey.

I had always believed a man’s appearance didn’t matter much. Objectively speaking, though, Blu was undeniably handsome. Few men possessed that kind of presence—where at first glance, every proportion of face and body seemed perfectly balanced, creating an almost overwhelming visual impact.

By then, Frey had reached him, chatting and laughing as the two of them walked toward the shop.

For some reason, my heart suddenly began to pound wildly. My hands trembled uncontrollably with nervousness. Only when they stepped inside did I hurriedly stand up, opening my mouth—yet unable to speak.

And then, as if by coincidence, Blu turned his head.

Our eyes met.

For a brief instant, surprise flickered across his face. His brows drew together slightly, hesitation following, before he asked,

“…Excuse me. Is your name Ina?”

“Yes. I’m Ina.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Blu.” He stepped forward and extended his hand.

“I’ve long heard of your reputation, Lord Blu.” I immediately shook his hand.

But after the handshake ended, both he and Frey kept staring at me. Just staring. The intensity made my skin crawl.

I needed to say something—anything—to break the awkward silence.

“Did you happen to pass through the Blackna Forest yesterday, Lord Blu?” I asked with a polite smile, pointing toward the four-winged golden wyvern outside the window. “I think I saw that dragon.”

“Yes.”

“And… did you kill two Aesir?”

“Which two are you referring to?”

“The ones in Blackna Forest.”

Blu fell into thought for a moment.

“…I suppose there were two,” he said at last. “I happened to pass by and dealt with them along the way.”

The moment he finished speaking, everyone in the workshop—except Frey—stood there with their mouths slightly open.

I was completely speechless.

Those two Aesir who had treated me like prey…

He had simply taken care of them while passing by.