The Dvergar stared at me, then back to Loki. I felt as if the answer to my question was obvious but it failed me. Until one of them snickered “trickster” under his breath.

Oh.

I failed to see it because it was too much on the nose. The trickster god was leading a kitsune into the dour, industrious, and stern city of the Dvergar. A recipe for disaster in their eyes, it must be.

One of them moved their head as if they were counting my tails. I pushed down the urge to preen under the attention. Yes, my tails were magnificent, thank you very much.

I was off my game. I was no longer the big fish in a small pond, able to go and crush kingdoms on a whim. Here, in this higher realm of existence, where streetside smiths could forge divine cores and border guards wore more enchanted items a level 80 back home would shrivel under, I was but a curiosity.

While I remained absorbed in my own thoughts, the world’s gears ticked forward.

“We’ve confirmed your claim. You may pass, trickster.”

The gate opened, the faintest noise of metal scraping on metal the only aural indicator of the movement. I was impressed. It must’ve weighed tons and yet it moved perfectly. I could even see the stone doors moving slightly upward, a sign that they used gravity to force the doors shut.

On the other side, the scenery changed radically. I couldn’t see any signs of natural stone formations. Instead, a vast, cosmopolitan underground city sprawled in all directions. Everything was carved stone, ornate glass, and wrought metal. Most of the stone was white marble, seizing the light from the windows and lampposts and making the cave glow. The light levels were like daylight in an overcast day. The cave ceiling was far above the ground.

The architecture was a mix of classical and practical. Some stone walls had carved frescos of scenes of battle and foreign landscapes. Everything was huge. Though Haru was on the shorter side, the Dvergar were more than two times my height. I felt forced to look up as I walked side-by-side with Loki, else I would stare at Dvergar codpieces.

Not everyone wore armor but I would guess at about half. Why would they walk around armored? Maybe it was some Norse bullshit about everyone and their grandma being warriors but as I checked the armors for enchantments, I realized that the Dvergar’s sheer size and physical strength made wearing magical metal the same bother as a human donning heavy leather. And the sets of armor had strong enchantments on them.

I wondered if I would draw more attention but the Dvergar seemed to be a no-nonsense people. We weren’t causing any trouble and the charcoal-dark-skinned people saw no reason to challenge our passing. They must’ve trusted their border guards to make sure anyone inside the city had a reason to be there. Not to mention that despite his reputation, Loki was an Aesir, adopted son of Odin.

“Tuisto,” I called in my mind.

The System Core hologram appeared out of nowhere next to me, walking on my other side. “What’s on your mind?”

“Will my reincarnation power work if I die in here?” I asked without using sound.

“Yes. Though it will latch to the nearest unborn sentient creature.”

“And that is an issue because…”

“Do you have any idea how slow the Dvergar’s reproductive cycle is?”

“Worse than the elves back ho…me?” I stammered at the end. I never had to consider whether Yznarian was my home but it seemed that spending centuries across several ages and millennia shifted my perception of what home was from Earth to Yznarian.

“Way worse. Violence aside, the Dvergar fears not death from old age. They can take their time before having children and these grow very slowly. The Álfar is even worse.”

I wondered how Tuisto knew that.

“What if there’s no suitable sentient unborn to take over?” I asked.

“I would go for non-sentients. Though the Dvergar strive to keep their city clean, it has no lack of vermin. I’d recommend trying to not die.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“What about my levels and the [Surpasser] Perk?”

“You can’t gain levels, but you can grow stronger in your new incarnation. You won’t find it codified in numbers nor would you receive aid from the System. [Surpasser] now accelerates your body’s growth all across the board, instead of giving you points to allocate. It is up to you to figure out what powers and abilities your new forms will have.”

“Skills?”

“What you learned in your previous lives will remain. But you won’t have the System assisting you and covering for small mistakes incompatible with your skill level. I recommend taking your free time to practice your skills and see where you stand. I’m sorry I cannot say more than that.”

“Why?” I asked, a vein throbbing in my head. My tails moved unconsciously, signaling my irritation to those who knew how to read kitsune body language. After reaching the pinnacle of power in the world, this demotion was grating on my nerves.

I felt like in one of those xianxia novels, where the protagonist moves up into a new realm of cultivation and becomes a nobody again as everyone was that more powerful. To be fair, it was a good gimmick to prevent power creep but damn.

With a thought, the Lost Sage’s Encyclopedia, no brackets anymore, popped out of my infinite storage and floated to my side and opened on a page. The damned book logged everything, including my thoughts and my status. With a glance, I could see the compiled list of skills from all my lives. The numbers meant nothing anymore but I found it refreshing to see them.

As we walked, I experimented with some spells, the less flashy ones. Only a handful of Dvergar noticed I was using magic. Or only a handful failed to disguise their awareness or showed interest. It was a coin toss.

*

*

As we approached Nidavellir’s center, the architecture got an upgrade, adding frescos, murals, some vegetation, and better materials. Metals I couldn’t recognize adorned the buildings, stained glass let the diffuse light from the roof through, and so on. The buildings became bigger and I could see a massive palace dominating the skyline. Flanking the palace, other big (but not as big) buildings enticed my curiosity.

We turned one street before a palace gate. Of course I wouldn’t get the scenic route. Then, we turned and moved toward the marble steps of a massive building that resembled the Grecian Parthenon if the Vikings had built it. If the Vikings could build with stone. On second thought, The only similarity with the Parthenon were the columns. Which weren’t even round. The roof was flat. Most of the buildings here had flat roofs since they didn’t need to worry about rain or snow.

Loki stopped before the steps.

“Here you are. Learn as much as you can from the Loremaster,” the God said. “I won’t come any closer to the library.”

I glared at the Asgardian. He smirked.

“Toodles!”

* Poof! *

And he was gone. The Dvergar escort stared at where the Trickster was moments before and then at me. I tried to present a relaxed and calm front but my mind was a mess.

The stalemate ended when we heard the sound of footsteps coming from the building. “So you are the new Goddess Loki sent my way,” A gruff but friendly bass voice rumbled. Judging by the size of their throats, finding a Dvergar tenor would be as easy as finding a prude mermaid. The previous incarnation of the current company excluded.

The Dvergar placed a hand over their hearts and nodded slowly, almost a bow. “We salute the esteemed Loremaster Ragnar,” they said in unison.

“At ease,” Ragnar said as he descended the stairs. He wasn’t wearing armor but some comfortable but lavish as hell robes. “She is a guest of the Great Library.”

The escort detail relaxed. The test of whether I could use Vorpal Claws or Vorpal Bite still would have to wait. Boy, it’s been a few thousand years since they last saw the light of the day.

“What is your name, little Goddess,” Ragnar said with a chuckle as he reached the end of the steps.

He was smaller than before. Did he shrink as he walked down the steps? His smile seemed friendly and my supernatural senses detected no danger from him.

“In this form, you may call me Haru,” I said as I reached out for a handshake.

“I’m Ragnar, but these oafs already spoiled the surprise. King Hreidmar’s Loremaster and head librarian of the facility you see behind me.”

He took my hand. Even when shrunk to almost half his normal size, Ragnar’s hands were still three times as big as mine.

“Well met, esteemed Loremaster,” I said, mimicking the honorific the guards used.

“Well met, Haru. Forgive me if I’m being rude, but Loki said you are a mimic?”

I had half a mind to transform into a treasure chest with teeth just to vent some of the pent-up spite living rent-free in my heart.

“Back in the world I was in, back when the System was still in place, the species of my latest incarnation classified as a mimic, yes. But now that I’m divorced from the System, it is one of the many shapes I can assume.”

“I see it is a sensitive subject,” he said, reading my body language and voice. “It matters not,” he grinned. “You are in a nation of shapeshifters, after all.”

The two dour escort guards showed the faintest smirk. Even if the Dvergar could shapeshift, I didn’t see a single one that was using that particular power, save for the shrunk Loremaster.

I sighed in pretend relief, “Great, does that mean I don’t need to transform into a treasure chest?”

Ragnar laughed. “No, you don’t. Come, let’s go inside. Loki mentioned an artifact tome?”

He explained to me the details of their bargain. In exchange for instruction, room and board, Ragnar would have free reign over the Lost Sage’s Encyclopedia. Wait. Was this Loki’s plan all along? To get the Encyclopedia into Ragnar’s hands?

“Yes, here it is,” I made the book pop into existence, then granted Ragnar access rights to everything except my most intimate thoughts and moments.

“Excellent,” He took the floating book and held it respectfully in front of him. “Follow me, Haru. Let’s get you settled, then we can talk in my office.”