Patience is Atreus's only ally as he plays along with Hugi's proposal, being verbally berated and taunted from afar along the way. The pale figure is restless, never idle in one place for long before warping with impossible speed to a different destination. Yet lingers in general locations just enough to allow the Wolf of Midgard to keep on the intended path. All the while, the two have traversed miles of terrain, bound over great crevasses and canyon gaps. They've nearly circled the grand peak of Midgard at this point, the only reprieve from this detour for Atreus. Yet, with each glance at the summit, the haunting piece of his past within the mountain's caverns continues to gnaw at his heart. The phantom pain of it triggers a sting over the scar across his eye.
"I have to say, Loki!" Hugi persists with his backhanded comments. "This persona, accompanied by your wild man aesthetic, is not what I expected of Jotunnheim's champion."
Atreus displays dispassionate care for the man's words, his face remaining blank and passive as each antagonizing phrase leaves his white lips. He continues behind, but cements a gap to help blur out the mocking remarks. While urgent to ensure Sigyn's, his resolve to eternalize it to keep Hugi's pestering at bay proves strenuous. The less care he shows, the less his worry can be used against him by the stranger and this Skrýmir, who has yet to reveal themselves. Whoever they are, the Last Son of Sparta would find out and is ready for a fight. However, his vocal and facial absence prompts the pale wanderer to drive a reaction from him. Without a blink of his eyes, Atreus stumbles into the abrupt shifting messenger.
"I'm sorry, is my flawless insight not to your amusement?" Hugi questions, leaning over him. Yet again, he blinks and teleports around Atreus, with each phrase leaving his deathly ill-colored lips. "Am I to dance and sing to get your attention? Is your fair maiden, weeping from the pain of betrayal, all that your little mind can ponder? Perhaps she would do better, and Aesir in the presence of a hybrid mongrel is a comedic dynamic at best."
The last straw draws from that despicable comment from the stranger's mouth. Atreus swings at the pale wanderer with his sharp, brass-knuckled fist that steams and angrily heats. But, of course, he cannot come close to inflicting a decisive blow. Yet, his deduction met his anticipation accurately, resulting in Hugi relocating to a vantage and tactical point to assault him. As the man reappears behind him, back to the trees and neighboring boulders, Atreus clutches several arrows against his bowstring.
"Bruni!" The Wolf of Midgard shouts, engulfing his shots with fury-driven flames.
His bolts fly, dazzling the area with a brief flash of rage-filled fire while scorching toward the unsuspecting messenger. Hugi, directing his focus back to the Wolf of Midgard, instead catches the sight of wild flames exploding right in his face. An eruption of blazing heat coats and cinders the area before Atreus. He smirks, confident that his shot made contact with the abhorrent nag. Nevertheless, he worries not about being lost, as he suspects he's already on the right path to locating Skrýmir and Sigyn. But, from one oddity to the next, his path is dumbfoundedly impeded by an unforeseen observer.
"A cat?" Atreus questions, confounded that he didn't see it before.
Resting brazenly in the open, at the exact center of the roughly paved road, is a long-haired, snow-white cat. The feline's eyes are a mystical blue color, and its body bears so much fluff that one would reasonably mistake it for a cloud if far away enough. Whatever agitation resides within Atreus's heart immediately extinguishes at the sight of the gentle feline. But, even as the now ticked-off Hugi reappears, brushing embers and char from his attire, Atreus's adoring mentality doesn't fade.
"That was, unimpressive," the man conveys in a pissy mutter. "Trying to kill your guide, you maniac... Well, at least I got you to your first test."
"Test?" Atreus asks, just as he lowers himself to pet the feline. "What test? What's the point of this?"
"One of Skrýmir's most famous trials, to be precise," Hugi rambles on, glorifying the mysterious individual. "You see, we have been awaiting your coming for a very, very long time. And the prophet Gróa gave us explicit instructions on what to do when you'd take up your mantle. This is the wise Skrýmir's way of doing so. Among his countless talents and specialties, above his handsomeness, is his unrivaled wit. The great jötunn could outsmart any who sought his knowledge, power, and secrets. Mortal, Elf, Dwarf, or God, none could outsmart him."
The brown-nosing praise that Hugi professed did not vitalize any care for the story. However, the confirmation of bravado over Skrýmir's heritage does cease some of his differentiating thoughts. He suspected the orchestrator of these recent events would be a jötunn. Yet, he cannot understand why he has never heard any prominent stories of him before, especially from his mother in the past. Regardless, the dismissal of this enigma finally sheds clarity and uplifts a sliver of weight from his consciousness. Even granting him solace and firm belief over Hugi's nature as well.
"And you know this, because you're a giant as well?" Atreus hypothesizes.
An eager excitement rivaling a child's bliss rumbles through the decrepit-toned flesh of Hugi. Who begins darting and flashing around the region with an overabundance of clicks, claps, and entertained laughs. And all the while stirring further agitation in the Wolf of Midgard, even in the presence of the puffy kitten.
"Magnificent!" Hugi hollers. "You're not just all muscle and arsenic tendency incarnate!" Hugi appears mere inches away from the Last Son of Sparta. "You would be right! I am Hugi of the Jötnar!"
If not for Hugi's attitude toward him, Atreus would explode with delight that they're other giants. While such bliss was initially experienced when meeting Angrboða, their ravaging crusade dampened such solace and happiness. As well as her many deceitful actions only smother Loki into further despondency. Yet, even when face to face with such a claim, a tether of doubt prevents him from fully embracing the idea. The sight of the countless dead giants of Jotunheim flashes vividly in his mind. Their fate vastly remains in mystery, no matter what theories or thoughts are brought into the equation.
"But, how can that be?" Atreus questions, distinctly recalling the fate of the giants. "I thought the giants were-"
Atreus dismisses finishing his statement as the first semblance of snarkiness vacates Hugi's expression. Following with a raised snow-white brow, the fellow giant is dead silent for the first time since their introduction. The sudden vague halt in Loki's sentence drops a lure of intrigue in the jötunn's perception. A quick cough of laughter slips passed his teeth before he paces steadily around the Wolf of Midgard.
"Gone?" Hugi assumes with an amused scuff. Then, utilizing his hands, he grabs and pats random parts of his body, with enough force to make clapping sounds with each press and contact with his palms. "Well, that would be odd to presume. After all, I'm firmly confident I'm here. Which means you're wrong..."
Yet again, the Wolf of Midgard raises a brow in annoyance, staring tiringly at the jötunn's quips and efforts of belittling sarcasm. He has no resentment, no further violent thoughts toward Hugi, but instead of silent disapproval. This dull stare eventually makes the Giant return to his explanations and statements.
"Impossibility is merely an obstacle of creation," Hugi claims, treading beside the stagnant feline. "What is impossible yesterday can be possible today. Such as your first test... Lift the cat above your head... It's the only way through."
Understandably, Atreus can only find himself lost in their way of thinking with that phrase. Yet, as apparent as the sky or earth, maneuvering over or around the cat should be effortless because of its size and the large open landscape around it. Unfortunately, the conundrum over the absurd notion accompanied by Hugi's condescending smirk of patience leads him to believe it's a trick.
"Or, we can just go around," Atreus remarks beginning to sidestep to avoid the cat.
Even as evident in his reasoning, he's met with perturbing resistance. Despite the apparent absence of any structure or solid mass, Atreus makes contact with an invisible wall. With his hands out, he examines the nonexistent barrier and the extent of its height and measurements. Yet, no matter how far he extends his reach, the Wolf of Midgard cannot estimate its size. Only the outlandish texture of ridges, ripples, and crusty dryness of this unforeseeable blockade.
"Oh, I'm afraid your test will not be so simple," Hugi reiterates. "Your only way forward is through the cat... Lift it above your head, and you may continue."
Despite his jesting claim, the Jötunn, by means unknown, has already ventured passed the veil of absurdity. Arms crossed, his antagonistic stare of boredom reignites Atreus's disdain for him. If not for the barrier of uncomprehensive nature of the wall, a few more explosive shots would already have been flung. Face to face with a literal dead end, the Wolf of Midgard takes on the trial. At his approach, the elegant feline lays its belly flat on the frosted gravel. Scooping the cat into his hands, he nonchalantly attempts to lift it. However, even this ordinary critter proves to adopt the ludicrous aspects of these trials.
Never has Atreus held something of such immense weight. He exerts, hardens, and bolsters his muscles to lift the unreasonably heavy cat. Yet, even when barely mustering to do so, the gentle creature stretches to unnatural lengths to prevent its paws from leaving the ground. Overcumbered by the magnitude of the cat's weight and abnormal elasticity, he's briefly brought to a halt by the obstacle. The extent of the immense force nearly lowers him to his knees, and even the stone floor beneath his heels crumbles. Even with the unfathomable event, such disarray only intensifies as the realm reacts in discord to his attempts. The earth rumbles, the forests tremble, and the winds gust violently as he dares the challenge. Countless birds and flying critters flock to the black skies to avert the cataclysm. The urgency of these events recklessly drives Atreus to move forward.
However, with each earth-shattering step, the feline elongates to meet where his hand reaches next. At this point, the cat has become a drape of fluffy fabric that envelopes the Wolf of Midgard. All the while, only one of its paws has elevated a mere inch or so off the ground. But his unwavering resolution to reach the end of his test pushes him to face the seemingly impossible challenge. Even as his legs wane and shake, diminishing in strength from the prolonged weight pushing him down, he allows a fragment of his internal rage to carry him on. Steam and sparks of enraged static pulse and sizzle from his flesh. The desperation to rely on this forbidden power for his sake and Sigyn's riddles him with temporary guilt. Yet, each grasp and stomp forward eventually offers solace and merit for his actions.
At last, the Last Son of Sparta finds the breach of release from the trial. He drops himself to his knees, panting like an over-exhausted sled dog. His heated breath melts away the ice beneath his as his rage subsides to the cool temperature of the winter cast realm. The veined-swelled expression of anger reflected from the frozen floor also dissolves the longer he takes to quell his frustration. This effort is exceptionally more efficient with the odd absence of Hugi and now the fluffy animal. While simultaneously appealing and equally concerning, Atreus sighs, relishing the respite from the giant's nagging. But his solace is brief upon bringing himself back to his feet.
Lifting his sights forward, Loki somehow stumbled upon a cave entrance, which was nowhere to be found before his obstacle. Yet, with the other oddities that have transpired, this passage is the most fundamentally plausible aspect he's faced. But, nonetheless, it will no doubt holds its own elements of discord and illogical nature. Its unperceivable depth already warrants hesitance and skepticism for the Wolf of Midgard. Only mere feet in does it begin to blacken, despite the natural light from the outside. Yet, while dim, the brightness and contrast outside far exceed the wall of obscurity before him. However, the path of shadows gives Atreus no sway or excuse to turn back. Hellbent, following the prospect of finding Sigyn's light, ushers him into the veil of deception.