Chapter 5

Upon entering the tower, we found ourselves inside a stone chamber. Stretching before us was a long staircase, its steps formed from floating slabs of stone. At the top stood a stone pedestal, upon which rested an unknown treasure. A crimson beam of light shot straight upward from it, reaching toward the ceiling.

I followed Lan up the staircase until we arrived beside the pedestal.

It turned out to be an open book. The pages, spread wide, resembled a red mirror—transparent, smooth, and radiating a crimson glow. I could even see my own reflection clearly upon them. Yet the pages were covered with strange symbols, and the light they emitted shimmered like a lantern projection, scattering countless flecks of light that slowly revolved throughout the chamber. When Lan leaned closer to look, the faint red aura illuminated his face, the glowing symbols drifting across his cheeks.

Looking more carefully, I realized the patterns on the pages were none other than a simplified map of the Nine Worlds:

Five layers containing nine realms. At the highest level lay the divine realm, Asgard; beneath it, the world of the elves. The middle layer held five worlds: the northern land of ice, the southern land of fire, the eastern realm of giants, the western underworld, and between them the Ginnungagap above and Vanaheim below. The lower layer was the world of humans, and at the very bottom lay the realm of dwarves.

Of course, no names were written in the book—each world was represented only by a golden point of light.

If my guess was correct, this was the one-of-a-kind travel grimoire known throughout the world as The Nine Realms Book of the Fire God. But why would Lan possess such a book? It was unbelievable.

Suddenly, I recalled my conversation with Shia the night before. I had asked her whether someone as powerful as Lan could possibly be one of the Twelve Prime Gods.

Shia was so angry that her mouth nearly twisted out of shape. She said it was impossible. When I asked why, she explained that, up to now, every Prime God had been an utterly ordinary person before awakening their power. Unless Lan was Odin or Loki. But even before their powers awakened, their personalities would never change.

Bragi, the Aesir god of poetry, had once prophesied that the reborn Odin would be a fully mature and steady adult man, while Loki would be red-haired, flamboyant and unruly, a god whose temperament lay somewhere between youth and adulthood.

“So,” she had asked me, “which one do you think Lan resembles?”

Now, watching Lan as strands of soft hair fell loosely across his forehead while he studied the map with complete concentration, I realized that even without Shia’s explanation, I already knew the answer. Loki was wild and unrestrained; Odin was calm and composed.

Lan was neither.

For some reason, deep down, I found myself hoping he was not a Prime God at all.

Lan braced both hands against the sides of the pedestal, studying the map inside the book with intense focus. He murmured, almost to himself, “When crafting a wand, you usually obtain the wood for the shaft first, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I replied absentmindedly.

He nodded. His long fingers traced across the map; wherever they moved, a red halo gathered around his fingertips. At last, his finger stopped over the elven realm—Alfheim—and he tapped it lightly.

The pages flipped rapidly.

Soon the red glow faded, replaced by a radiant emerald light. The magic book now displayed an enormous tree growing from a spring. Winged elves fluttered gracefully above the water, their crystalline bodies shining so brightly that, at a glance, they resembled drifting fireflies. The tree itself was the largest I had ever seen—large enough to build an entire city upon it.

No—looking closer, there really was a castle atop the tree.

Around its roots floated countless small islands and boats, each carrying clusters of tiny buildings.

The city’s layout… wasn’t it just like Vanaheim? A central castle surrounded by scattered districts on smaller islands. The only difference was that Vanaheim floated in the sky rather than growing upon a tree.

“Let’s go.”

Lan grasped my hand with one hand while holding the magic book in the other and spoke a short incantation. The light from the book intensified, surrounding us until our vision dissolved completely.

When I opened my eyes again, I was astonished to find that we were already standing at the very location shown in the book.

“What just happened?” I knew the book contained a detailed world map and could display locations dynamically—but I had no idea it could teleport people instantly.

“It’s much faster this way,” Lan said simply.

He led me swiftly above the giant tree and pointed toward the canopy. A bolt of lightning struck, severing a branch. Then he gestured again; streams of clear water rose into the air, wrapped around the branch, and carried it gently into his hand.

“Got it—the branch of the World Tree.” He smiled at me, then hovered in midair, reopening the magic book to study the next destination.

I looked down at the elven realm below, feeling an overwhelming sense of unreality. I had read countless beautiful poems praising the scenery of Alfheim, yet I had never witnessed it with my own eyes. The graceful elves flew one by one across the water’s surface, which shimmered with rippling light. It was as if a glowing snowfall had descended beneath the World Tree—flakes drifting gently while dancing leisurely before a vast mirrored lake.

“Do you like it here?” Lan’s voice sounded beside my ear, soft and gentle.

My heart tightened. I shook my head firmly. “It’s beautiful, but we need to hurry. Otherwise the branch will die.”

“It won’t die within half a month. If you like this place…”

“It’s fine. Let’s go to the next location.”

“All right. Then next time, if we have the chance, we’ll come again together.” Lan tapped another place on the page of the book.

The moment I saw the familiar scene appear, I couldn’t help but sigh—I never imagined that after so many years, I would return to this place.

Brown light enveloped us and faded away. When it disappeared, we had arrived in the dwarven world—Vateheim.

Since we were in Vateheim, our target had to be the Mani Diamond. I had found little information about the diamond itself, but I had read extensively about Mani, the Moon God. He was the son of a giant, and his sister was the Sun Goddess. She radiated golden light and ruled the daytime, while he shone with silver brilliance at night. Originally, the two of them ran across the heavens in turns, bringing day and night to the world. But because Mani was extraordinarily beautiful—vain and playful—Odin stripped him of his duty, along with his sister.

Afterward, Mani traveled the world, tricking nearly everyone he met, yet he alone could not outwit the cunning dwarves. This wounded his pride, and he swore to torment the dwarven realm for a thousand years before leaving. It was said that Mani would sing enchanting moonlit songs wherever crowds gathered. Anyone who heard his voice would fall into an illusion, mistaking something before their eyes for their beloved. During that time, Mani could do whatever he pleased. Only three kinds of people could resist his charm: those whose lovers were beside them, those who had no beloved at all, and the deaf.

Lan and I arrived at the entrance of a small village in Vateheim. The settlement stood within a barren mining valley filled with dust and exposed rock. Crowds of dwarves packed the village gate. They wore brightly colored clothes, their long noses painted red, yellow, and blue. Each dwarf held an empty beer can as long as their forearm—it seemed they were celebrating their monthly beer festival.

“Is Mani’s diamond on him?” I asked Lan.

“Yes. The diamond is actually formed from his tears. Mani rarely cries—perhaps once in several thousand years—and he only carries a single diamond with him. The one he wears must contain immense magical power.”

“Are you sure he’ll come here today?”

“I can’t say for certain,” Lan replied. “But this village hosts the wildest beer festival around. Mani probably wouldn’t miss it.”

At that moment, many dwarves turned toward us in unison, their faces filled with disdain as they whispered among themselves. Dwarves had always favored the Aesir gods. Their reason was simple: they believed the Vanir were too hypocritical and far too fond of light. They hated light just as much as we hated darkness. So being met with hostility was something I had long expected.

What I did not expect, however, was to hear someone say, “Vanir men are the most useless. Pale skin, such light-colored hair—no masculinity at all. What’s a real man? Xiu’en, of course. The number of Vanir he’s killed is probably greater than all the dwarves combined.”

I nearly suffocated trying to hold back my reaction. Xiu’en was already over two hundred and seventy years old, and they were calling him masculine? Fine, his beard wasn’t white yet, but he clearly looked middle-aged… It seemed dwarven standards of beauty were truly different from ours.

Another dwarf added, “And that Aesir woman is shameless, getting involved with a man from a Vanir tribe. What are they doing here? Someone should tell them to get lost.”

Hearing that, I immediately glanced back at Lan. He showed no reaction at all. He simply walked over to a female dwarf and bought two cans of beer. Only then did I remember—the dwarves had been speaking their own language. Lan probably didn’t understand it. I let out a quiet sigh of relief.

But before I could finish exhaling, cries of alarm erupted from the crowd. The two dwarves who had spoken suddenly had their backsides set on fire.

I whipped around to look at Lan. Raising his beer can, he said calmly to them, “If masculinity is measured by the number of enemies one has slain, then thank you for the compliment. Also, this lady is a member of the Vanir.”

He handed me one of the beer cans, gestured toward the inside of the village with his chin, and stepped over the low doorway into the settlement.

I hadn’t expected Lan to have such a cold side. Rumor had it that there was always tension between him and Xiu’en—apparently, that wasn’t an exaggeration.

Gradually, night fell.

A bonfire festival began in the village. Organ music filled the air as groups of dwarves linked hands, raising their cups and dancing in lively circles. The atmosphere was incredibly festive.

Lan and I drank two beers together. Resting his chin on his hand, he smiled at me. “To be honest, Vateheim’s beer and ores are the best in all Nine Worlds.”

“I just didn’t expect Lord Lan to speak the dwarven language.”

“The dwarven tongue is probably the simplest among the five races.”

“You mean you know others too?”

“Human languages are too numerous—I only know a little. The others I’ve learned fairly well. I’m best at the giants’ language.”

“Giant speech?” My face fell. “The pronunciation and grammar are completely different from ours. I studied it for ages and still couldn’t learn it. I think it’s the hardest one. Lord Lan, please share your secret…”

“If you want to learn, I’ll teach you slowly later. Tonight, let’s wait for Mani to appear.” After a moment’s thought, he added, “Just call me Lan.”

I froze for a moment. “Uh… that wouldn’t be very appropriate, would it?” Was it really proper to call my idol directly by his name?

Lan looked up at me, still smiling gently, and nodded. His lips moved again. I was about to ask him to repeat himself when I suddenly realized I couldn’t hear anything anymore—not even my own voice. Around us, the dwarves had all clutched their heads and crouched down on the ground.

At the same moment, a light, ethereal singing drifted into my ears. The singer’s voice was indistinct, impossible to tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman. It carried a distant echo, like the sound of ocean tides rolling across the horizon… I couldn’t help covering my head as well, curling up on the ground.

The singing grew more and more faint, more and more distant…

After a while, someone gently tapped my shoulder.

I squinted as I looked up—only to meet a pair of deep black eyes.

Everyone around me vanished in an instant.

The man before me was tall and powerfully built, yet he did not appear savage or rough in the slightest. He wore silver armor, holding a helmet in one hand and a spear taller than himself in the other. Beneath his short, dark hair was a sharply defined face. Though both eyes were black, the right one was paler than the left and lacked the same brightness, as if it had lost its light.

His deep-set eyes gave him a mature appearance, tinged with loneliness—or perhaps solitude.

He was not flawlessly beautiful like Lan. His appearance belonged wholly to a grown man, leaving no room for any comparison to feminine beauty. Yet only two words surfaced in my mind:

Handsome. Regal.

Yes—an innate aura of kingship radiated from him, impossible to ignore, almost intimidating to approach.

But none of that was what mattered most to me.

What I saw was a smile I had encountered countless times in my dreams—a smile full of tolerance, affection, and the sense of knowing everything.

He merely looked at me once, then turned as if to leave.

For reasons I could not understand, an overwhelming surge of sorrow and longing flooded my heart. It felt as though once he left, he would never return again. I immediately stood up, rushed after him, and wrapped my arms tightly around him from behind.

“Don’t leave me again—” Before I could finish, tears were already streaming down my face in heavy drops. “Please don’t go… I’m begging you…”

He turned around, staring at me in astonishment.

I held on with nearly all my strength, desperate to keep him from leaving. At last, he embraced me in return, gently stroking my back.

“Ina, don’t be sad. What you’re seeing is only an illusion.”

“What?” I looked up at him, completely bewildered.

He covered my eyes. After a long while, he finally let go.

Lan’s face—magnified—was suddenly right in front of me. I stared at him blankly, blinking, then glanced around. All the dwarves had already collapsed into tangled embraces, kissing and rubbing against one another. Quite a few men were calling another man “darling” while fondly groping each other’s chests.

Then I looked down.

I was clutching Lan tightly around the waist, tears still wet on my face. What embarrassed me most was that Lan seemed to find nothing improper about it. One arm held me gently while the other softly stroked my hair. Yet he wasn’t speaking to me.

“Many thanks to the Moon God.”

He was addressing a shadow hovering above the bonfire. The figure was extremely vague—had it not been solidified into a humanoid shape by a sphere of fire, most people would have mistaken it for smoke.

“You’ve already taken my treasure! What more do you want? Let me go!”

Lan murmured an incantation, his hand still not leaving me. My whole body stiffened as I subtly tried to pull away, hoping to escape this awkward situation unnoticed. But although Lan wasn’t holding me tightly, there was no way to free myself without him noticing…

The shadow dropped softly onto the ground and quickly transformed into a silver-white figure.

A silver-haired youth stood up. His features were handsome and refined, yet an alluring, almost wicked smile curled at the corner of his lips.

“I never expected you to change this much.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” Lan replied expressionlessly.

“You hypocrite. I wonder how long you can keep this up.”

Lan ignored him completely.

“I’m curious—why didn’t my song affect you at all? Logically speaking, you should be the one most afraid—”

At this point, Mani glanced at me and suddenly stepped back in shock. “By the gods… this… this is—”

“If you say one more word,” Lan said coldly, “there will no longer be a Moon God in this world.”

“See? Your true nature is showing.” Mani glared viciously at Lan, grinding his teeth. “I don’t know why you’re pretending to be like this now, but if you’re doing it for a woman, let me tell you—give it up. A fake romantic like you, with no self-control and a twisted mind—even if you pretend, you’ll be exposed sooner or later. Better not hide at all.”

Lan raised his hand, and flames burst into life within his palm.

“Farewell!”

Before the words had fully faded, Mani’s figure flickered and dissolved into the moonlight.

Only after a long while did Lan release me and ask softly, “Feeling better now?”

“Yes… I’m fine.” I found it strange—when I tried to recall the man from the illusion, I felt nothing at all anymore. Instead, what Mani had said lingered in my mind.

Why had he reacted so strongly when he saw me?

“And one more thing—”

“Lan.” Seeing him take out the magic book again, I couldn’t help calling his name.

“Yes?”

“In the illusion created by Mani… is the person you see always someone you truly like? …What if it’s someone you’ve never met before?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then… how were you not affected by Mani’s enchantment?”

Lan looked at me. After a moment of silence, he handed me a diamond the size of a fist, dazzling beyond belief.

“We should get going,” he said. “If the dwarves wake up soon, there’ll be trouble again.”