Author's Note: I feel like I should have made this two chapters, but eh.
{The Grand Basilica of Silxuntex, the Slane Theocracy…}
Sunlight, filtered through stained-glass, illuminated the elegant marble floors of the Grand Basilica, the architectural pinnacle of the Slane Theocracy. Murals, vast and bright, made in honor of the Six Great Gods, guardians of mankind and the founders of the Theocracy, adorned the stone walls.
Raymond Lauransan, the Cardinal of the God of Earth, knelt before the central altar, immersed in prayer. It was his habit to hold solitary vigil in the Basilica when he was free of his duties in both the temporal and spiritual realms. Meditation like this cleared his mind and reinforced his faith in the Gods. A steeple bell rang, audible through the high stone walls. Vespers were underway in one of the nearby cathedrals.
The flutter of wings and the croaking of ravens both tore the Cardinal away from his meditation. He raised his head, formerly bowed in reverence to the six-sided altar, and looked around him for the source of the sound.
A short ways away, leaning against a pillar, was the old man, bald and one-eyed. Cardinal Lauransan's eyes widened in recognition. It was the stranger from the reception at the Rerire manor.
"What a beautiful place this is," breathed the starnger, drinking in the vibrant colors and artful shapes from which the Basilica was made.
"You!" Cardinal Lauransan hissed quietly, as he sprang to his feet. He was unarmed, but even a retired member of the Black Scripture was something to be feared in combat. "What are you-"
"There is nothing to fear, Your Eminence. This man is a friend." That voice...
"Sigevert." He was not far. Lauransan's focus had been on the old man, and he had missed Sigevert standing nearby.
"Sigevert, a moment if you please," whispered the Cardinal. The Captain of the Black Scripture approached him. When close enough, Lauransan grabbed Sigevert by the shoulders. "What are you doing? What's the meaning of this?" he whispered angrily.
"If you will give us time, Havi and I can explain."
"Havi? You mean the old man?"
"Yes, Your Eminence. You likely will not believe either me or him, but he wants to help us. Help us fight the Sorcerer King, and other dangers to humanity. And I think he might be able to help."
Lauransan's brow furrowed more. "This already sounds too good to be true."
"I know, but can we at least hear him out? He knows a great deal about us, much more than anyone ever could. He is more than he seems, of that I am certain. He even knows who guards the Treasury."
Cardinal Lauransan's eyes widened into saucers. "He knows about… How can he… How?! Her very existence is one of our most guarded secrets, known only to the highest levels of government." Cardinal Lauransan inhaled, and sighed. "Son. You have served the Theocracy for your entire life, truthfully and dutifully. I know that your loyalty is beyond question. And I trust that you always have the greater good of humanity in mind. For your sake alone, I will ask His Holiness to convene an emergency meeting today and speak with Havi. If he proves false, then we must dispose of him, especially if he knows all that you say he does. Such information would jeopardize our national security and public order if leaked. That is all I can do for you, now."
"I am grateful, Your Eminence. That will be more than enough. Please, hold me responsible if anything goes wrong."
"I will."
{The Sanctum Sanctorum, Silxuntex, the next day…}
Click.
She did not wake up on time, instead oversleeping by three minutes. But that was enough to-
"You. Get over here. Now."
Click-click.
Her head hurt. A strong hand was tugging her by the hair. Her every muscle ached from past exertion, and even then, she knew better than to resist. But even this pain was more than she could withstand. Wetness streamed from her eyes.
"What's this? Are you… crying? What's wrong with you? I've trained for days on end without sleep and without shedding a single tear, but I pull your hair a little and you're crying like the day you were born! You really are a little freak, aren't you?"
Click-click-click.
She shook her head slowly in response. The question was rhetorical, and she was well-acquainted with the consequences of answering rhetorical questions vocally.
"Pull yourself together. What are you not getting about this? It's not tenth-tier spellcasting we're dealing with here. I lay out simple rules for you to follow for as long as you live in my home. You will get up when I tell you to, you will sleep when I tell you to, you will eat when I tell you to, you will wear what I tell you to. You will do everything you are told, whether by me or whoever I tell you to obey. Do you understand?"
She nodded again in reply, eyes downcast. The pain from her hair stopped. The hideously strong hand roughly turned her face to the side, taking her by the ear. They were pointed, but not to the same degree as full-blooded elf.
"Why are you such a defective? Are you even listening to me? Give me an answer now. Do. You. Understand?"
"Y-yes."
" 'Yes' who? Me, or the floor?"
"Y-yes… mama." She did not speak as much as she did whisper.
Gripping her by the side of the neck, the owner of that callous hand shoved her roughly to the floor. Getting pushed around like that didn't hurt as much anymore. It hurt more to disobey Mama. She slowly tried to stand, as Mama stared down at her, coldly.
"You have fifteen minutes to prepare for today's training. Bring a mace. Until then, get out of my sight."
A knock mercifully dispelled the memory in her mind as she lay on her bed in the darkness. The memory had run its course anyway. The phantom pain of her hair being pulled and her being roughly shoved to the ground faded away. Someone from the real world was knocking on the outer chamber door. The clicking sound stopped. She held her Rubik's cube still in her hands, no longer furiously twisting the various moving sections of the cube as her mind festered. Sighing, she called out to the visitor.
"Enter."
She got up, donning a light robe to clothe herself. Next, she cast the spell [Light] on a small lamp, picked it up, and went into the adjoining room. A small, spartan living space, with just a couch, a chair, a small table, and other basic furniture necessary for a solitary life. Just through the doorway was a timid-looking woman, with generally loose and saggy attire. Most notably, she wore a wide-brimmed pointed hat far too large for her. The point of the hat was shaped like and moved about like an arm, its cloth fingers holding up the droopy brim enough to uncover her tired-looking face and disheveled blue hair. She bowed deeply as she spoke. "Lady Zesshi, I deeply apologize for disturbing your rest, but-"
"The Council sent you?"
"Y-yes, ma'am."
"Sit. Tell me what they want."
The woman prevaricated piteously at the command. "Oh, b-b-but, Lady Zesshi, th-th-the thought of sitting in your presence… it-it feels wrong… I'm hardly w-w-worthy to clean your shoes… I…"
Zesshi sighed internally as the visitor stammered and fought to spit out the words. For a woman who's entered the Realm of Heroes, the Eleventh Seat looks quite pathetic right now. What was her moniker again? 'Infinite Magic?' Perhaps I was too rough breaking her in, but I treated her no differently than everyone else who joined the Black Scripture, and it didn't really change those others that much. But Infinite Magic went completely servile around me. I almost feel bad for her…
"Tell me what the Council wants."
"His Holiness and the Supreme Council invite you to induct the tentative new Ninth Seat of the Black Scripture, at the usual training grounds." Infinite Magic handed Zesshi a scroll, stamped with the Pontiff's holy seal, as her free hand fiddled with her hair anxiously. Zesshi broke the waxen seal, skimming through the overly formal language of the message in a moment, before tossing the dispatch over her shoulder without a second thought.
"Alright."
"You accept, m-ma'am?"
I'll do what I'm told… "Yes. Wait here. I must dress myself. Sit."
Infinite Magic nodded timidly, and Zesshi passed back into her inner chamber, her lamp in hand, setting it on a nearby nightstand.
She immersed her hands in a basin of water prepared in the room for washing, quickly rinsing the weariness from her face, as well as any leftover tears she have cried before Infinite Magic's visit. Her reflection in the nearby mirror gave her pause for a moment. She scrutinized her heterochromatic eyes, the left iris colored bright silver, the right iris dark as night, and her shoulder-length locks of hair, divided sharply down the middle of her head, all hair on the left side colored raven black, and bright white on the right.
Zesshi looked to make sure her ears were covered, shifting her hair around to conceal them as much as possible. Part of me wishes I could clip these ears and be done with it. But stuff like that only gets done with the Elvish slaves from the war. I'm not an efl, I'm not a slave. I am Zesshi Zetsumei, 'Certain Death, the End of Life,' the Extra Seat of the Black Scripture of Surshana. I'm not a slave. I just live by doing what I'm told, when I'm told, by the people Mama told me to obey. It's for the best, I'm sure.
A few minutes later, Zesshi stepped out from the bedchamber, dressed in her preferred attire, a loose-fitting cream-colored tunic with black and silver accents, and a black skirt reaching the mid-thigh, and black leggings the rest of the way to a pair of low black boots.
Of course, she brought her main weapon, one she kept in sight at all times. A great scythe fashioned of metal as black as night, which Zesshi hoisted onto her shoulders for ease of transport. A weapon made by a God, and fit to be wielded by one.
There was no indentation on the couch in the outer room, which meant Infinite Magic had not sat down at all. Zesshi decided to say nothing of it. "Come."
"O-of course, ma'am, I'll just cast a teleportation spell here and we–"
"–Will walk. Save your mana. Tell me about this recruit."
"A-a-as it pleases you, ma'am."
The two of them went out of the room, into the dark but elegantly decorated corridors of the Sanctum Sanctorum. The Sanctum formed the core of a vast underground fortress, itself the heart of the city of Silxuntex, and it possessed many secret corridors out to various buildings and points within the city, including hidden training grounds utilized by the Black Scripture. Zesshi took the usual passage.
"Speak."
"A-ah, yes, ma'am. The recruit. He's called Havi. The Council found him interesting enough that they'll all be there this time to observe the, er, induction ceremony. He's a magic caster by appearance, although I can't say if he uses destruction magic like me or not. If I were to rank him within the Black Scripture, I'd place him on par with myself or Four Great Spirits. I deem it unlikely for him to be all that much stronger, where magic is concerned. And beyond the magic, he seems like he'd be more of a liability to our operations than an asset. He's old, frail and missing an eye."
"Hm. And will Ginger-sensei be there?"
"Lord Rufus comes and goes as he pleases."
"Ah."
"As for Havi's disability, the Council has unanimously waived all entry requirements but the traditional rite of passage you provide, given the strange circumstances of his appearance and our severe shortage of fighting power. Lady Kaire, Myriad Barriers, and Divine Chain are all dead from the encounter with the monstrous vampire some while ago, and even Divine Chain was just a fresh replacement for the traitor Windstride. Thousand-Leagues Astrologer hasn't recovered from her catatonic state after viewing the massacre at Katze Plains. Not to mention, the Sunlight Scripture was completely and inexplicably destroyed, and the Holy Priestess of Earth was killed in her cathedral by the strange explosion around the time the Scripture went missing. The Council estimates that those losses won't be replenished for another ten or twelve-"
"... Rambling..."
"Ah! I am! Forgive me, ma'am, I was just, just-"
"Back to Havi. These strange circumstances…"
"Ah, that, yes. According to the Captain, Havi first appeared uninvited at a wedding reception for Cardinal Lauransan's brother, Gottmund. The old man silenced the hall in the midst of the festivities, and plunged a sword into a tree that decorated the banquet hall, challenging all present to remove it, and departed. The sword was so enchanted that only one person was able to remove it: the Captain. I was not there, so I was unable to evaluate the enchantment myself and gain more information."
"So that is what the Research Institute delivered to the Treasury earlier…"
"Indeed… But that's not all, ma'am. On the return trip from the reception to deliver the sword to the Research Institute, the Captain encountered Havi again, this time disguised as a carriage driver, and they conversed along the way. Havi outright claimed to be a god, and asked for the Captain's help with 'protecting the worlds…' and he mentioned you as well."
Zesshi stopped for a moment, caught off guard. "Me? But…"
"It's shocking to me as well, ma'am. Like Lord Rufus, your very existence is a state secret. Only the Council, their immediate subordinates, and the Black Scripture itself knows about your existence, so the Council is wondering if there's a mole somewhere leaking information. If someone like this Havi can find out, it's possible the undead king could access state secrets as well. The Clearwater Scripture is investigating the matter as we speak."
"Hm."
"Regardless, that old blasphemer's going to learn a good lesson from you today, Lady Zesshi. He's got some nerve calling himself a god like that. He doesn't understand the power of even a Godkin like you, let alone the Great Gods themselves."
"Stop flattering me."
"But… I'm not. We both know you could break anyone in two, even someone as strong as me with magic, without so much as a bruise. Havi's just an arrogant fool with a god complex. Hopefully, you can snap him out of it."
"You said he is old. Perhaps his mind is gone."
"Oh… yes. How could something so obvious escape me? Of course he's senile… Forgive-"
"Enough. We have arrived."
"O-of course, Lady Zesshi."
The two of them passed through a doorway to a large amphitheatre. Its roof opened a view to the grey sky above, although Zesshi knew it was only a magic projection of the outside world. Stairs from that passage door led down to the central fighting ground, and went through the seats prepared for the spectators. Those spectators included the Pontiff, the Cardinals, the Grand Marshall, the Research Director, and the fellow members of the Black Scripture on duty. Those present stood up in Zesshi's presence, a sign of reverence for her divine blood, her unmatched strength, and her century-long watch over humanity. All except one.
Zesshi stopped next to an old man, who remained seated, intently reading a modestly-sized tome in his wizened hands. The others present cast nervous glances to each other, as the silence in the room grew deafening. One of the Council members tried signalling to the old man to notice his surroundings, but to no avail. Zesshi herself was much less indignant than she was bemused by the decrepit old fossil before her. She was in his blindspot, she realized, as the man wore an eyepatch over his right eye.
Utterly oblivious. Infinite Magic was right about him being a liability. Am I the victim of some sort of elaborate prank? I'll have to have a word with the perpetrator after we send this geriatric on his way. There's no way the Scripture would take on someone as decrepit as this.
She forcefully cleared her throat, giving the old man a start. He shut his book promptly, and turned to look at Zesshi with one clear blue eye, a slight sparkle in the iris. He must have been rather handsome in his youthful days, Zesshi thought. Havi stood up with a gentle smile. His soft, wispy voice quavered slightly as he spoke. "Ah! You must be my sparring partner! Well, hello, young lady!" He extended a hand to shake hers.
"Havi, yes?" This bumbler calls himself a god? He really is senile. Curious, though… his pattern of speech reminds me of Aunt Nazaire… So polite and warm…
"Indeed! Um…" he looked at his hand, still extended to her, and not taken. Zesshi looked at his hand, and then made eye contact again.
"After our match, Havi. I only shake hands with colleagues."
"Oh! Alright. Are you ready to begin, then, young lady?"
"Yes. Call me Zesshi."
"Ah! Good to meet you, then, Zesshi."
The collective breath of those present froze. Zesshi's own bemusement with Havi grew stronger. No honorific at all, just straight to calling me by my first name, as if we've known each other forever. I'll let it pass. He's just hopelessly senile.
The two of them passed down the remaining steps into the arena proper, although Havi could be more correctly described as hobbling onto the arena. Zesshi gestured to the ground. "You stand here, I'll go further." She turned around slightly.
The old man had not seen where she pointed, since she was once again in his blindspot. With a quick eyeroll, she gestured again. Havi nodded vigorously in understanding, taking the spot quietly.
Zesshi continued onward, standing several meters away from her challenger. She planted the ferrule of her great scythe into the loose, sandy ground, and scrutinized the old man calmly. He fidgeted, nervously setting his book down on the ground. Pity prodded at Zesshi's heart. Should I even go through with this? I might end up killing the old man unintentionally. That would not look good, even if he is such a mook. She looked up. The sky had darkened with storm clouds, and lightning danced throughout. Not that it mattered.
"Are you ready, Havi? This shouldn't take long."
"It won't."
Zesshi looked back down at the old man, who had not moved at all. His voice had sharpened like a knife, his gentle smile was gone, and the lively sparkle in his eye had dimmed into nothingness. All that remained was a cold, dead gaze.
What's this tightness in my chest all of a sudden? What's- Am I… sweating? Who is this old man?
{Týr's Temple, the Dwarven Forge…}
"You want me to make… that?!" barked Brok. He looked and gesticulated at a drawing Atreus had made in his journal, which Kratos held out to him. "Is it a weapon? Armor? Or likewise an implement of war, of which I'm a master at shapin'? No? Then forget it! Even if I did wanna make such an insignificant gewgaw, I'm liable to chip my tools workin' on something so delicate and ladylike." The blue dwarf scoffed and returned his attention to his current work, a hardy dagger.
"Then shingle it, pattern-weld it with skap slag. Keep the layers thin, and alternate the overlay," said another voice. To the surprise of the three people and the accompanying reanimated severed head who were present, Sindri had appeared to make such a suggestion. Brok crossed his arms skeptically.
"Okay, smart guy, now where d'ya propose I find me a lump of quality skap slag, huh? Last time I saw one, I could still get rigid down south!"
Sindri said nothing, but smirked, and reached into the small bag hanging from his belt to one side, taking out a fist-sized stone of teal, almost crystalline and translucent. Brok's eyes widened as he took it from Sindri.
"Shut yer mouth! Is that… Where did ya…"
"I had to get my hands dirty. Hrk." Sindri gagged slightly.
Brok's astonishment turned into a smile as he burst into laughter. "Well, don't just stand there! Let's do this!" he shouted, tossing the half-forged dagger away and placing the stone on the table.
"What? You? You're fine with working on something that isn't a weapon?" asked Sindri.
"Ah Hel, why not?!" Brok glanced between Atreus' widening smile and Sindri's increasing surprise. "What? I can grow too!"
Sindri shrugged, and the two dwarf brothers set to work, with Atreus looking on joyfully, and Kratos just looking on. After no small amount of banter and passive-aggressive instructions passed between the two dwarves, the key had been fashioned. As Sindri was about to hand it to Atreus, Brok stopped him, picking up his branding iron. "Don't forget this!"
Sindri nodded, extracted his own brand from his bag of tricks, and handed it to Brok. Putting the two red-hot irons together, Brok pressed the combined brand onto the side of the key, and it set with a hot sizzle. Now truly finished, Sindri presented the work to the two customers. Atreus looked at the brand. "It's the fork brand you guys had before you split up… but now it's different…" he remarked. "It's cut in two…"
Brok paused to look at Sindri, as he spoke forlornly. "Well, uh, that's the price of reforging somethin' what broke… Oh, now quit yer grinnin', boy. It's downright unsettlin'."
"I'm just happy to see you two back together again. I knew you two love each other, despite not talking for so long."
"Quit it, princess, you're gonna get me all weepy," sighed Brok.
Sindri smiled and looked at his brother. "I like the new brand better. Don't you?" he said as he turned to look at Atreus and Kratos.
Kratos said nothing, nodded curtly to the two brothers, took the newly-made key, and left through the main doors to the chamber, Atreus tailing him. It was quiet for a moment in the Temple's vestibule.
"So," asked Sindri. "Any big projects you working on?"
"I had my mind made up on some sort of Bifröst weapon. Polearm o'some sort. Maybe the big guy or the kid could use it one day, who knows? Say, that the revenant guy had ya do anything major?"
"Not so far. Just improvements now and then on some weapons. I have to admit, he's got access to quality weapons. He hasn't asked for anything on par with hammer or the axe, thankfully. I'm still not used to seeing an undead that isn't completely murderous and bloodthirsty and covered in… rotting flesh and… yuegh. He's awfully hygienic, by comparison." Sindri shuddered.
"I doubt that's why you're accepting his business. Look, we both know the bearded beefer packs some serious punch, as does his kid, but they ain't out and about cuz they're just bored at home."
"Faye… Atreus said it was her dying wish for them to scatter her ashes. The revenant is interested in what we do. We should keep leveraging his interest in our craft to protect Atreus and his dad, and make sure Faye's last wish is fulfilled."
"Yeah… And since they keep comin' back without extry holes where they don't want 'em, I'll take that as a sign the undead guy's keepin' his word… By the by, what made you come back anyway?"
"Atreus, actually, but not in the nicest of ways. He got angry at me for all the stuff that had happened between you and me, though maybe he found out about who he is, and it went to his head a little bit. He seems to have shaped up since last I saw him. But, still… he really chewed me out for it, I have to say. It hurt a lot to hear, sure, but in hindsight, he said things I really needed to hear."
"Ya know, I was startin' to think of findin' ya and havin' a chat with ya myself. I guess I didn't get the push I needed for it."
"Well. That's behind us now. I'm glad to work with you again, Brok. Like the old days."
"Oh, don't go gettin' all senty-mental on me. The kid's having an effect on ya, looks like."
Sindri chuckled at Brok's reply and shook his head. "Do you have any plans for that Bifröst weapon?"
"Yep," replied Brok, pulling out some parchments. "Looky here!"
Sindri grimaced. "Brok… is that… mead? All over these drawings?! Were you drinking when you made this? Come on!"
"Oh quit yer yappin', I spilled damn draugr oil on it."
"Sure, you did… Well… assuming you drew the lines more straight, its construction is good, especially for Bifröst energy. Guess you haven't lost your edge after all."
"Oi, dammit all…" muttered Brok. "It's that guy again…" He stashed the drawings away.
The two dwarves looked up.
A swirling violet portal had just opened in the entry chamber to the temple. The undead king, Ainz Ooal Gown stepped through, accompanied by the dark elf tamer, Aura Bella Fiore. Ainz would have raised an eyebrow, had he possessed any. Both dwarves were together, working on something. Being in the presence of outsiders, Ainz felt he was on ceremony. Stances, poses, strides, all such regal movements were painstakingly rehearsed before his bedchamber mirror in the dark hours of the night. All were catalogued, listed, and numbered in secret. Regal Stride No. 2, a dignified but approachable stance, with hands gently clasped behind the back and head held high. This was its first usage in the field.
"Ah, Master Brok and Master Sindri. It is fortunate that I have found you both here in one place," said Ainz.
Aura looked up at Ainz in admiration. Oh, Lord Ainz! He's so modest!
Brok shrugged. "What'd ya need, Your Kingshipness? 'Nother weapon o'yours need fixin'?"
"You guess correctly. Aura, your bow."
She took out her bow, the chief weapon bestowed on her by her creator. The weapon's name was engraved on it, in Japanese characters: Anata no hāto ni─ 'To Your Heart.' Aura held it for a moment, an instinct stronger than obedience taking hold of her. With a sigh, she overcame it, and placed the bow on the table between herself and the two dwarves. Sindri picked it up carefully, and began scrutinizing it. "Of course, we'll need a few minutes to figure out how we can best upgrade this. Please be patient."
"In the meantimes, I'm thinkin' you ain't interested in a starin' contest? It'd be unfair since you don't blink, Your Highnessship."
Ainz chuckled slightly. "No. I do have a possible project for you two, however, now that you two are cooperating. Would it be within your capability to enchant a small item of jewelry to constantly generate magical energy for its wearer?"
"You got a specific piece in mind, or will any ol' bauble do? We'd need to make some test pieces first to make sure we got the technical parts handled. You wouldn't be happy with somethin' that gobbles up your magic or goes all explody when ya wears it."
"Indeed not. Any ring or necklace would do. Both, once the technique is refined."
Sindri nodded, done with his inspection. He began laying a runestone into the bow near the central grip. "Hmm… It might take longer than a weapon upgrade, you understand. A lot longer. Modifying the wearer's magic abilities requires some particularly rare materials. It'd be very complicated to enchant, even for artisans like us. Not to mention, we'd be working with your magic, which we've never seen before until recently. We'd need to develop some prototypes first"
"How long will you need to develop a prototype?"
"Well, that'd be dependin' on many factors, Your Majestyship. Like Sindri said, it's, uh, compli-cated. Could take weeks, months even." The blue dwarf shrugged.
"Umu. Fair enough. Will you update me on your progress two weeks from now?"
Brok shrugged again. "Sure. We can't promise anythin' major in that span o'time. Not even totally sure it's possible with our craftin'."
Ainz nodded in acknowledgment. "Then experiment as you please. My personnel are available to you for resource acquisition. If there is potential in this technology, then I intend to develop it." These dwarves' upgrades, Runecraft™, Seiðr, and tier magic combined? I can't even imagine!
"Finished!" proclaimed Sindri, holding up the bow. "With the bow, that is. All your arrows should pack a nice breezy punch when you shoot. Just did a basic wind rune infusion on this thing. It's really sanitary, by the way, so good on you for keeping it like that. Here you go!" he said cheerfully, holding out the weapon to Aura. She gingerly took it and pulled on the string lightly to confirm it wasn't broken.
Brok huffed. "Right then, Your Lordness. Anything else you'll be needin' from us?"
"Not at present. I look forward to doing business with you again." Ainz turned to depart, Aura tailing him. The [Gate] doorway opened once more. He stopped, turning his head enough to see the two Dwarves. "Actually, before I go... Have either of you had the chance to visit my capital city E-Rantel and speak to the Dwarves in my employ there? You would be more than welcome to sell your more common wares there."
Sindri shook his head. "We've been busy with things here and there. You understand, right?"
"Umu. Please make time to rest from your work. Long hours and sleepless nights helps no one in the end."
"That's considerate of you. We'll visit when we can," assured Sindri.
"Excellent. We will-"
Something in the direction of the Realm Travel Room, the central part of the Temple, caught Aura's eye, and she moved in between it and Ainz. "Lord Ainz, look out!"
CLANG!
The whole structure shuddered for a moment, and all was quiet. Ainz looked in the direction of the Travel Room as well. There was nothing. "What was it, Aura?" he asked.
The dark elf scratched at her golden hair, deeply confused. "Someone just… flipped the temple…"
"Flipped the what?" exclaimed Brok and Sindri in unison.
Aura pointed to the central chamber, and looked up at Ainz. "I saw it spin around, Lord Ainz! I didn't know what was happening, so I assumed it was something dangerous and wanted to make sure you weren't in danger."
Ainz stroked his chin. Aura isn't mischievous by nature, even if her creator, Bukubukuchagama, was, so Aura wouldn't play any pranks on like this. And yet, I find it hard to believe that someone would, or indeed could allegedly 'flip a temple.' The loud noise is indisputable though. As much I as I would like to investigate myself, Demiurge asked me for feedback on his Argland Council State project, and then of course, there's our visit to Alfheim that was supposed to be a visit to Freya originally. Between all of that, I really don't have time to look into this personally. Besides, Cocytus still has Ice Wraith scouts in the area. They can take a look and report back. If they get destroyed by anything, it's no great loss since POP monsters respawn automatically after a while.
"We will have our scouts investigate. Come." He guided her forward, placing his hand on Aura's back to nudge her forward. The two of them stepped through the portal, and back to Nazarick. The two dwarves were left alone again.
"That's it, Brok…"
"Wut's 'it'?"
"A finite pool of magical energy!"
"What?"
"Let's go real quick!"
"Hold it, smart guy, what the fuck are you –"
The two dwarves vanished from sight.
{The Sixth Floor of Nazarick…}
Having recently passed through the [Gate], Ainz and Aura stood in a large clearing in the jungle-like forest. Ainz relaxed his regal stance, and looked to Aura. "Make sure to test your bow's upgrades. Cocytus can show you how to activate the runes. I look forward to relying on you when we visit Alfheim later. For now, I promised to speak with Demiurge. And… thank you for looking out for me, even when it turned out to be a false alarm."
"Lord Ainz, please, I was just doing my job as a-" Aura froze in the midst of her plea to remain unthanked. Ainz affectionately ruffled her golden hair, before teleporting elsewhere. Aura would be blushing and smiling ear to ear for the rest of that day.
{The Realm Travel Room of Týr's recently-flipped Temple…}
Mimir gasped and sputtered in astonishment at what Kratos held. "Great Auðumbla's udders… that's the Unity Stone!"
Kratos examined the black and gold, egg-shaped stone in his hand. "You know it?"
"I didn't know if it even existed! I get it now! That's what Týr used to travel between Realms, and even to other lands! You know how you should never stray from the path in the Realm Between Realms? Well, Týr was always the kind to make his own path, if you catch my meaning."
"He held this…" remarked Kratos. "In the missing panel…"
"What do we do now?" asked Atreus.
Mimir was quick to reply. "Well, we just need to get ourselves to the Realm between Realms, and just, uh, yeah. No idea what we'll find beyond that."
"There is a doorway leading to the Realm Between Realms near the dwarves' forge. We will go there," declared Kratos.
{The Realm between Realms, minutes later…}
"Well, lads, if this is it, it's been an honor," mourned Mimir, prematurely.
Kratos grunted. "Have faith, Head."
"Oh, that's right! You hear that, me? It's just a swirling vortex of volatile primordial cosmic energy you're about to be hurled into! No sweat. And if perchance you disintegrate into space dust mid-hurl, just have faith! Easy!"
"Quiet, Head. It is time, boy."
"Right!"
Atreus climbed onto Kratos' back, clinging to his father like one might a sturdy tree. Kratos took a deep breath. He jumped. Below them was a storm of what looked to be clouds, thundering and flashing into a deep blue emptiness below. As they fell down faster and faster, light began to shine just in front of them, as the Unity Stone's runes glowed and shimmered.
"THIS IS INCREDIBLE!" yelled Atreus, his adrenaline rushing with exhilaration.
"I THOUGHT THERE'D BE A BRIIIIIIIIIIDGE!" screamed Mimir.
On and onward they fell, the stars and clouds wheeling by.
Finally, solid ground appeared before them, and with a crash, they landed. It was another branch of the World Tree. Kratos landed in a crouch, and Atreus rolled off of him lightly. They both stood up, and Mimir groaned in discomfort.
"Ugh… how can I be so nauseous without a stomach?"
"Oh, come on, Mimir, that was great!" cheered Atreus.
Kratos had other priorities, looking into the distance ahead. "Look." He pointed towards the distance.
Through the mists loomed a dark, towering structure of black obsidian and gold.
Atreus saw it too. "The missing Jötunheim Tower! I knew there was something down here!"
"Amazing," breathed Mimir, his phantom nausea forgotten. "How do you hide something that exists in all realms? Cast it out of every realm, into the space between! Clever old Týr!"
"How do we use it?" asked Kratos aloud, as they began to move towards the tower.
"We should check inside, but be cautious. Týr's a lover of puzzles, if the rest of his Temple was any indicator, and I think this tower will be no different, I'll wager."
"I am always cautious."
"Let's see here, brother. Fighting trolls, a dragon apparently, smashing through ice with a dead Giant's giant hammer, killing the sons of Thor, escaping Helheim, twice, flipping Týr's bloody Temple to find a magic artifact, jumping headlong into the void with said mythical artifact to stave off disintegration… any more 'cautious' acts of yours you want to share?"
"We survived all of them, Head."
Mimir sighed in defeat.
A short walk brought them to the tower doors. Kratos pulled them open easily. The interior chamber was bare, save for a small pedestal in the middle. Kratos and Atreus walked up to it. There was a small slot in its center. Eyeing the Unity Stone, Kratos inserted it into the slot. The tower doors slammed shut of their own accord, and the tower lurched.
"We are moving."
