Chapter 4

Since Lan had been in such a hurry the day before, he probably hadn’t noticed me frozen in the forest at all. I was still hesitating over whether I should tell him about such an embarrassing incident—perhaps to prove that fate had somehow connected us—when Frey spoke first.

“Lan, see? I told you. Miss Yina really is as beautiful as the rumors say.”

Lan glanced at me again and gave a faint smile. “I’m more interested in the Evil God gloves Miss Yina made.”

“Ah—right, the gloves.” I turned, picked them up, and held them out to him, but halfway through I pulled my hand back. “Weren’t these commissioned by Lord Frey?”

“I ordered them on his behalf,” Frey said, patting Lan on the shoulder.

“I see…”

I handed the gloves to Lan, but suddenly felt myself shrink with uncertainty. I had always been confident in my work, even though glove-making wasn’t my strongest specialty. But the moment I realized these gloves were meant for Lan, an inexplicable discomfort crept over me. He was surrounded by so many powerful divine craftsmen—would he think my work wasn’t good enough? Just yesterday I had even thought the client had too much money to spend and that the materials were wasted. The memory alone made me want to dig a hole and bury myself.

“Why does Miss Yina look so gloomy?”

Startled, I looked up to find Frey’s face suddenly very, very close. I jumped back in fright. He continued, “Could it be that I’m so boring I’m about to make you cry?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then it must be because he’s too boring.” Frey nudged Lan with his elbow. “He looks far too… sensual. An offense to a beauty’s eyes.”

Sensual…?

Not just me—everyone in the room widened their eyes. I was so shocked that I didn’t know how to respond. Lan, meanwhile, showed absolutely no reaction, calmly inspecting the gloves over and over again.

Flora, however, was far braver. Frowning her golden brows, she said bluntly—

“Lord Frey must be joking, right? Lord Lan looks so elegant—how can you describe someone like that?”

For once, I completely agreed with Flora. Lan’s manners were refined and courteous, and he seemed like a gentle person no matter how you looked at him. There was no way that word suited him.

“You’re a woman—you don’t understand how to judge a man,” Frey said with a faint smile. “He has an innocent face and a sinful body. Besides, that’s a compliment. Calling a man handsome, alluring, or sexy means he attracts women… Miss, what’s wrong with you?”

I refused to look at Flora any longer, who now resembled an overheated tomato about to steam. What truly amazed me was how Lan could remain so calm after hearing such comments about himself. He simply smiled lightly and said, “I’m very satisfied. I’ll be sure to come to you again next time.”

“Lan, don’t you think Miss Yina is quite special? I’ve never seen hair of this color among the Vanir gods before—wait, Miss Yina, are you a pure-blooded deity?”

“Yes.” I nodded, though I had no desire to pursue that topic any further.

“Then that really is unusual. The color resembles that of the Aesir, but Miss Yina’s features aren’t harsh at all—they’re very soft. Truly beautiful.”

“…Thank you.”

Lan glanced at me, then patted Frey on the shoulder. “Pay her. We should go.”

Frey shot him a bored look, handed me the payment, and then gave me a warm, almost fatherly smile. “Miss Yina, I hope fate lets us meet again.”

Seeing Lan about to leave, I couldn’t help speaking up. “Lord Lan, may I ask an impertinent question?”

He turned back toward me. “Go ahead.”

“Logically speaking, if more time were spent refining a glove this costly, the final result might be even better. Why were you in such a hurry to collect it?”

“Because tomorrow I’m going to Asgard to retrieve something. If I’m not fully prepared, it could be dangerous.”

“Couldn’t you retrieve it later? I still feel this is rather wasteful…”

Halfway through speaking, I realized my professional obsession with perfection had taken over again—I really shouldn’t lecture a client like this. Just as I was about to correct myself, his words finally registered.

“Wait—what? You’re going to Asgard?”

“Yes. An alchemist Frey hired earlier accidentally destroyed a solution she had spent half a year preparing. The only substitute exists in Asgard. That item appears only once a year, and the diviner informed me yesterday that it will appear the morning after tomorrow. So we had no choice but to trouble you all with overtime work.”

“To go to Asgard… that’s not just potentially dangerous—it’s extremely dangerous. Isn’t there another way?”

I hesitated, then added despite myself, “If anything were to happen to you, Lord Lan… our entire tribe would be in even greater danger.”

“I’m only sneaking in to retrieve it,” Lan said calmly. “Even if something unexpected happens, I can guarantee a hundred-percent escape. The only uncertainty is whether I’ll be able to obtain the item.”

“What kind of alchemist is that, making Lord Lan go all the way to Asgard because of her mistake?!” Flora burst out angrily.

“She was someone Frey hired. I’ve already dismissed her.”

“I really didn’t expect her to be that incompetent,” Frey immediately defended himself.

At that moment, a very bad premonition rose in my chest. I swallowed nervously. “This alchemist… what’s her name?”

“Well… since this operation is highly confidential, it wouldn’t be appropriate to disclose that.” Frey smiled apologetically. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Yina.”

“It’s fine. I was only asking casually.”

After seeing Lan and Frey off, then sending away my half-dead employees and the unusually energetic, rosy-cheeked temporary worker, I returned home carrying a heavy cloud of suspicion.

After seeing Lan and Frey off, then sending away my half-dead employees and the unusually energetic, rosy-cheeked temporary worker, I returned home carrying a heavy cloud of suspicion.

Surprisingly, Shia was already back so early. No date, no flirting from the balcony with men holding bouquets below. She was simply curled up on the bed, looking as if she had aged ten years overnight.

I slowly edged closer and patted her shoulder. “I’m back.”

“Because of that jerk Lan, I lost a job opportunity I probably won’t get again for the next thirty years.” Her anger had clearly burned itself out; she looked at me with a pale face. “I could have become a top-tier alchemist… had a chance to work in the royal palace… How many more thirty years do I even have in my life…?”

Her lips trembled, and she suddenly wrapped her arms around my neck and burst into tears.

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2

Afterward, she cried to me for a full hour, yet never once mentioned the real reason for her dismissal. I knew Shia valued her own life too much to risk it over something trivial like perfume. So whatever had been inside that bottle was almost certainly the substance Lan had asked her to prepare.

If I felt no guilt at all about how things had turned out, then I truly would have been a terrible person.

Still, amid her emotional rambling—her guard lowered whenever she became agitated—I managed to piece together fragments of information. I had already suspected that anything treated so seriously by those battlefield vanguard figures must relate to the rivalry with the Aesir and perhaps even involve the Twelve High Gods, so that part did not surprise me.

What did surprise me… was their plan.

And to understand it, one must begin with the origin of the world itself.

In the beginning, the world consisted only of two realms—one of cold and one of heat—separated by the vast and bottomless Ginnungagap. Where ice and fire met above the abyss, their friction and fusion gave birth to the first giant.

This giant later perished in the war against the gods. After his death, his flesh became the earth, his blood the oceans, his bones the mountains, and his hair the forests… His eyebrows formed a world called Midgard, dividing fire from ice—the realm now known as the human world.

As the giant’s corpse decayed, maggots began to grow within it. Those that emerged on the side touched by light evolved into the Light Elves—what we now simply call elves. Those born in shadow became the Dark Elves, known today as dwarves.

The descendants of the defeated giants, carrying hatred toward the gods, crossed the sea of blood and settled in the eastern lands, forever preparing for revenge.

After the giants departed, the number of gods steadily increased, and leaders gradually emerged—the earliest Twelve High Gods. Under the guidance of Odin, King of the Gods, the Twelve replaced the giants as rulers of the world.

In time, however, the Twelve divided into two factions, splitting the divine race into two tribes: the Aesir, ruled by Odin, and the Vanir, governed by the Sea God.

As ages passed, the giants’ counterattacks, Loki’s betrayal, the fall of the High Gods, and the world remade by Odin before his death reshaped existence itself. Yet even in this reborn world, the six ancient races remain unchanged: gods, giants, elves, dwarves, humans, and beasts. The Nine Worlds they inhabit also endure exactly as before.

Asgard, once the supreme divine realm, still belongs to the Aesir. The only difference is that the God of Light, Baldr, and the Sun God, Frey, were unexpectedly reborn within the Vanir tribe. Deprived of their protection, Asgard—highest point of the world—has become a kingdom shrouded in perpetual darkness, and the Aesir gods themselves have undergone complete mutation.

Everyone knows that the tribe possessing more High Gods will hold the advantage. The resurrection of Odin and Loki will determine survival itself. Yet according to Shia’s account, what should awaken are eleven—or perhaps ten—High Gods, not twelve. One among the Twelve had both body and soul utterly shattered, erased entirely from existence. More importantly, no one knows whether Odin will truly be reborn.

The Aesir already possess five High Gods. That means if even one more awakens in Asgard, then unless Odin returns, we will have already lost.

What Lan and the others intend to do is locate all High Gods scattered within the Vanir tribe—and use the highest form of alchemy to replicate the one god who has completely vanished.

I asked: if even a person can be replicated, why not simply recreate Odin and secure absolute victory?

Shia said something very strange—only that one could be replicated.

But when I asked which god it was, and how the replication worked, she immediately fell silent.

For reasons I could not explain, the idea of copying a god filled me with an unsettling dread. That night, I had a terrifying nightmare. In it, I was locked inside a dark room. When I turned on the light, the entire room was filled with countless copies of myself.

The next morning, Shia had already left early. Carrying both guilt and the lingering chill of the nightmare, I went to the workshop. A gloomy heaviness hung over me from dawn, and I squatted at the entrance, unwilling to move.

Watching people pass along the street, pairs of boots of every style crossed before my eyes—until my gaze finally settled on a pair of sapphire-blue short boots.

The craftsmanship… the inlay… the lines of the design…

Without realizing it, I found myself staring at those boots.

And then—the boots started walking toward me.

My gaze traveled upward along them. I leaned back instinctively and nearly knocked into the door behind me.

“What is it, Miss Ina? Have you started guarding the entrance yourself?”

“How… how is it that Lord Lan is here?”

“I have another commission. Will you take it?”

I was just about to say, There’s something I need to tell you, but the words caught in my throat instead.

“I’ll do it for free.”

“For free?” Lan gave me an exceptionally gentle smile. “This time it’s a wand. Are you sure you want to make it free?”

I had never imagined Lan would entrust me with something so important. But words once spoken could not be taken back. At this rate, I might as well start considering selling Ina’s Workshop.

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3

Seeing that I remained silent for a long while, Lan placed the commission document directly into my hands.

“I don’t know why you would think that way. I’m leaving for Asgard tomorrow. Gather all the materials listed above that you can obtain. Some will certainly be impossible to find—leave those for me to handle when I return.”

“No matter what, I’ll only charge the material cost.”

“Why? Did Frey already tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“That I intend to appoint you as a battlefield divine smith.”

“…What?” I froze, unable to process his words.

A battlefield divine smith, as the name implied, was a divine craftsman who accompanied armies into war. They were divided into three types:

The first remained behind the lines, assisting high priests and supporting the frontline by maintaining and supplying weapons.

The second directly participated in combat, deploying large quantities of crafted weapons onto the battlefield.

The third worked alongside alchemists, supporting archmages as they swept across the battlefield.

Of the three, the first was the safest, the second the most profitable, and the third the most powerful.

The second sounded glamorous, but once you started directly attacking enemies, you were no longer truly a craftsman. Without special connections or dual roles, the ultimate achievement for most battlefield divine smiths was the third type—the very pinnacle I had always dreamed of becoming.

“So you didn’t know,” Lan said. “Then why offer to do this for free?”

I took a deep breath and forced myself to speak everything at once.

“I want to ask Lord Lan to reinstate Shia. The solution you said she broke… I was actually the one who knocked it over. It had nothing to do with her.”

Lan fell silent for a moment.

“Aren’t you afraid,” he asked quietly, “that telling me this might cost you your chance to go to the battlefield?”

“If I hadn’t broken her work, that opportunity would have belonged to her.”

After a pause, Lan said, “In that case, study the commission first.”

He looked at me and smiled faintly, his eyes shining like violet crystal.

“If you truly want me to take her back… then put your heart into crafting this wand.”

“Alright!” I agreed with one hundred and twenty percent confidence.

But about five minutes after Lan left, I completely regretted being so confident.

The commission listed only five primary materials:

a branch from the World Tree,

a Mani Diamond,

a scale of Nidhogg,

lava from the Muspel Volcano,

and water from Mimir’s subterranean spring.

Of these, the only one I truly recognized was the water from Mimir’s spring. It originated in the realm of the giants and was considered a supreme material in both alchemy and craftsmanship. Its defining property, however, was that it evaporated the moment it came into contact with surface air.

None of these materials could be obtained without leaving Vanaheim. And now that the Aesir forces were spread across all Nine Worlds, I suspected I would die somewhere outside long before bringing any materials back.

The next morning, while eating breakfast with everyone in the workshop, I flipped through the newspaper lying on the table.

A headline about Lan immediately caught my eye:

Grand Archmage Lan’s sixtieth birthday banquet will be held in two months.

All gods and renowned figures had received invitations and would gather at Heinir Palace on the day of his birthday. It was expected to be the most magnificent celebration in Vanaheim in fifty years, far surpassing the victory banquet hosted by the Light God Balder three years earlier.

Two days later, Lan appeared again on Idun Street.

“Lord Lan, I can’t make this wand,” I said bluntly the moment I saw him, after finishing my research.

“It would be difficult for you alone,” he replied calmly. “Collecting these materials is not easy.”

Not easy? It was impossible. What Lan wanted me to craft was practically a legendary divine artifact.

“I can gather the materials,” he continued. “But some of them have limited stability. So you’ll need to come with me.”

“Go where?”

“Come with me.” Lan lifted his chin slightly and stepped into the air.

The entire workshop and I exchanged bewildered looks before instinctively following him outside.

By the time I reached the street, Lan was already seated atop the golden-winged dragon. He beckoned for me to climb up.

I hesitated for a long moment before slowly making my way onto its back. Though the dragon was enormous, its elegant build left surprisingly little space for riders; normally it was meant for a single person. Yet seated behind Lan, I realized there was still plenty of room. Thankfully this dragon wasn’t as small as Shia’s Dudu—whenever we rode together on hers, it felt like we were about to be crushed flat.

Lan patted the dragon’s back, and it shot skyward instantly.

I gasped and grabbed tightly onto the horned ridge along its spine.

Cool air brushed against my face. In the blink of an eye, the grand buildings of the royal capital shrank into dense clusters of golden blocks beneath our feet. Only the towering structures of Heinir Palace grew clearer as we approached the clouds.

The towns and villages of Vanaheim below had already dissolved into patches of color beneath a sea of drifting mist.

Inside the Heinir Imperial Palace stood a tall tower. At its peak, a dazzling crimson light shone year-round, wrapped in a faint blue magical barrier. Every night when Shia and I sat by the window chatting, whenever we saw that tower, we would call it the palace’s candlelight — the color was beautiful, and it was unbelievably bright.

Only when the wyvern landed on the outer edge of the tower’s summit did I realize that this was our destination.

Lan grasped my hand. “Don’t let go, or the magic will hurt you.”

I nodded. Then he pulled me through the magical barrier, and we leapt into the tower together.