The hunting expedition with the Vikings was exciting, interesting, but it showed me where I stood in this new realm. My MIRV Force javelins should've shredded that worm. The Origami Eidolon should've fought at least in equal footing against the monster. And my own physical prowess should make killing it myself in Glorious Melee Combat™ as easy as a child dissecting an ordinary earthworm.
I've dealt billions of points of damage with a single sword swing. Given, the cut I gave the Böggdra Bögvar with the adamantite thinblade was nasty but it was basically the worm cutting itself against a very sharp object. All I did was to hold it in place and not get raked to death by its claws.
Yes, I was salty. I was no longer the big fish in the small pond, giving gods sass and more than black eyes. Worse, my own mana reserves were pitifully unprepared for the expense I incurred during the expedition. Like any old archmage reincarnated, I ran into a mana debt [1].
That's why I spent the last two days sitting in my bedroom, refilling Kel'Kaldor's Phylactery. Thankfully, the mana of this realm was thick enough that my ravenous absorption barely put a dent on its density. But the exercises to improve my natural mana regeneration were second nature to me. It left me with a lot of time to think and brood.
My sulking was interrupted by a knock on the wall. "Goddess Haru, a visitor is here to see you," A Dvergar voice said. Probably some library acolyte. Ragnar had dozens of them around.
"Enter," I replied.
The door opened. The acolyte ushered Meinar in. The Viking champion thumped her solar plexus with a fist and then showed her palm.
"Heil ok sæl!" She said with a smile.
I returned the greeting, affirming that we saw each other as equals. I could claim a higher status as I was a "goddess" but the amount of divine energy I could command was pitiful. This far removed from Yznarian and my worshipers, I also had nothing in the Saintess tank, so to speak. Until Loki came around with that divine core, and if I decided to take it, I was a goddess in nothing but name.
"Take a seat," I said before the situation could become awkward. Meinar stood there like a soldier during an inspection.
"You slipped during the celebration," she said as she pulled the desk chair.
"I have a special condition; it would be disrespectful for me to approach Odin's temple without express permission."
Stealing divinity from the Aesir boss and sending it to Loki would be close to a declaration of war. I had no idea what my standing was with the Norse gods but it was presumptions of me to even assume I had one beside being Loki's...
Better not finish that sentence.
"We got what we needed from King Hrothgar. Now it's time to journey back to Midgard."
"I wish you safe travels," I said. "And sorry for ditching you without warning."
"You had your reasons, I'm sure of that. In any case, Odin didn't take offense," Meinar said with a soothing voice as I raised an eyebrow. "He spoke to me."
Of course He did. Meinar was the main character of her own epic. Not many could claim that.
"The girls wished to give this to you," she produced a carved bear claw pendant with a twine string. It was from our worm friend as it was too big to belong to a proper bear. Runic symbols covered the claw, some crude, some refined. It was obvious the runes weren't carved by the same person. "This is proof of our friendship. Show it to any Viking and an offense against you becomes an offense against me."
I proudly threw the loop of twine around my head, letting the claw rest against my decolletage. "Thank you. I'll treasure this."
"Our skalds will sing songs of your magical prowess. It was amazing to see you use magic without the use of an implement, something our own casters said to be impossible."
My ears flicked at that compliment. Back in Yznarian, mages and wizards used staves and wands only for the enchantments they had or if they had some System Perk related to the implement. It was something I avoided as I didn't like to depend on tools. However, back in Yznarian, the System did the heavy lifting of the spellcasting process. To some adventurers who only cared about results, casting a spell was different from clicking a button on a computer screen with one's mouse only because they didn't have computers or mice to click with.
"Your modesty is refreshing," Meinar said to fill the silence as I just stood there in shock. "A humble deity, who would've imagined."
"I imagine here's plenty humble deities but I'm in a transition phase. It is the first time I leave my world and I'm too far away from my worshipers."
"Of course," Meinar answered diplomatically.
We talked for a quarter of an hour about the next leg on Meinar's journey, which was to ferry the ore and metal they gained from the Dvergar to make weapons for them.
*
*
In the afternoon, I finally traded my room for the library halls. There, I waved to an acolyte. The young Dvergar quickly made his way to me.
"How may I help, Goddess Haru?" He asked respectfully.
"I need information on basic magic technique. A primer for spellcaster apprentices of sorts. Also, something about implements for magic and how to craft them."
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
"Absolutely. I'll do my best to—"
"Actually," I interrupted when the overeager acolyte was about to dash after the beginner books.
"Yes?"
"Make it about metallurgy, crafting with metal, crafting with monster parts, alchemy, enchanting, and cosmology." The last one was the odd guy out.
This time, the acolyte didn't dash away. "Anything else?"
"No. That'll be it for today, thank you."
"It's our pleasure, honored guest," he said before turning around and walking to pick the books I needed slower, this time.
*
*
This was what I should be using my time on. At that point, I felt like a backwater redneck who roughhoused a solution to every problem. With a hammer, probably. A metaphorical hammer. What I needed to act as someone who belonged in the greater scene was knowledge.
Yes, I felt stupid as I let the realization sink. Was this why Loki took me to this library? To break my bad habits and let me improve my crafts? I doubted it. Loki must've had some nefarious motive for this and me learning something useful was only a side benefit. It could be some secret Ragnar was guarding, stolen through the Encyclopedia. Or it could be nothing. He took me here to keep Ragnar, myself, and whoever else was watching guessing.
The first book I read was on magical traditions. They were as plentiful as the stars above the firmament, which was poetic in nature but allowed the author, a Ljósálfar arcanist, to figure out the basic elements of spellcasting.
The first and most common one was the geometric shaping. Wizards like me did that with their spell circles, using the mana constructs to tell the magic what to do. It was very strict, inflexible, but predictable and easy to master. So long a person could draw the correct diagram, the spell would happen once fed enough mana.
Then the emotional shaping. Sorcerers and Warlocks used their own emotions, feelings, and sheer willpower to shape the mana or beat it into submission, respectively. If the Wizard was an orchestra musician playing a legacy instrument, a sorcerer was a rapper, doing the beatbox with his own mouth while singing his song. And the Warlock was someone who kit-bashed his own instrument using a sledgehammer to beat metal and wood into submission. But emotional shaping could do anything, even what the caster hadn't intended. Without a limit, even. Sometimes, the spell was so grandiose it devoured the caster's body and soul to fuel itself.
The third type was the sympathetic shaping. The domain of witches, druids, hedge mages, and shamans. Hedge mage was a catchall category that included most unschooled casters who stumbled into magic and their descendants. Psychic "crystal ball" clairvoyants, for example. They were usually extremely limited to a single gimmick or two. Sympathetic shaping used a lot of symbolism and related things, like using a straw doll to harm a person. But it also had no range if the relationship was strong enough.
It was quite similar to what we knew in Yznarian, making me believe the System core was pre-loaded with some knowledge. I asked Tuisto but he didn't reply or react. It made me ponder. Did I want to go down the path of spellcasting? I needed a focus for this life, a goal to strive toward.
Before making a decision, I started reading the book on implements. The suspicion I formed after talking to Meinar confirmed itself. Staves, wands, and other implements were collectively called foci and they helped the caster to shape and concentrate their mana. From higher potency to better aiming or lower costs, a focus could offer all sorts of benefits.
In Yznarian, under the System, foci were useless unless they gave buffs or stats. The System's guidance made up for those benefits. I can only imagine the chaos it was after Loki yoinked the Core.
Didn't I already know enough magic? Bah.
I missed the System. Murder some, earn cool powers. Without training for years, ba-da-bum, here's a Perk on your lap. Centuries of easy power made me complacent. Addicted.
No. No magic, no bookworming for me. The Encyclopedia had all this library, at least the parts I could access, already copied. I could read this pile of books anytime in my next life.
The unique Myrkheim experience was not in this library. It was outside Nidavellir. In the tunnels, where monsters lurked and minerals hid.
As the idea formed in my mind, it felt right.
A regret I had was that Lily's life was cut too soon, too short. Truly, others were cut even shorter and sooner but they didn't even earn a name or a Class.
It was time to brush the cobwebs and reinstate my [Monster Hunter] career.
*
*
I went back to Brynn's smithy to get outfitted. Yes, I could make my own armor, enchant it even, but I wanted to belong in Nidavellir. Dress the part. See if Dvergar armor was everything the legends sing about them.
But I needed money for that. Dvergar money. Brynn directed me to an antique trader, someone who bought treasures from faraway lands. After parting with some junk, I had lying around in my infinite storage, I finally could afford to get decked in the best armor in all the nine realms.
Though it would take time. Not even the old me, boosted by all the System shenanigans, could make a full suit of armor in one go. I left Brynn with my measurements and wishes and went back to the library, to study on monsters, caverns, and mining in Myrkheim.
The realm had a self-regenerating property. Imagine this. Myrkheim has existed for hundreds of thousands of years. The Dvergar were very inclined to mine the shit out of it. Humanity, in less than ten thousand years of history, got close to deplete Earth of its minerals. The realm would eventually close unused tunnels and caverns at random, a process that took thousands upon thousands of years. But it was well-known that Myrkheim grew its minerals back.
The trick was that a tunnel or cavern needed to be almost forgotten by the sentient people living here for it to regrow. Anything well-traveled between two settlements, trade routes, their adjacent tunnels, and stuff charted on maps was bound to remain as they were. Just a mention to a side tunnel scribbled on a parchment was enough to keep it from closing.
It made sense. How would people keep their secret passages open otherwise? Perhaps this was just a justification using the phenomenon to explain itself.
What I got away from all this was that I should move away from the city and then start digging wherever I sensed minerals. Old tunnels that were marked on a map were probably there, the old and forgotten ones might be, might be not. Confirming their existence would solidify that very concept, as far as the realm was concerned.
In a sense, the laws of physics didn't apply to the other eight realms the same way it did to Midgard. Where did all the heat created in Muspelheim go to? Or all the heat sucked into Niflheim? What allowed the Jotunn to ignore the square-cube law when convenient to them?
*
*
A week later, I was ready. Brynn made a light plate armor for me, one that was enchanted to change shapes along my body up to a degree. It could also use my mana to self-repair and was very resistant to damage. The finish was a dull gunmetal gray, matte as to not shine and reveal my position, and every plate and joint was treated and covered in some beast leather as to not make much noise while moving. The Matriarch's holy symbol adorned the center of the breastplate and pauldrons.
I wore it underneath Princess Alloralla's ancient living silk suit. It was the oldest surviving piece of living silk and it was very strong. It would be high level too if the System still existed but alas. As for armaments, I had the Adamantite Thinblade on my waist, the scabbard almost horizontal because the weapon was so damn long. Strapped to my back was a better version of the humongous blade I tested myself with back then.
Everything else I needed was in my infinite dimensional storage.
Before I departed, I checked with the merchant guild to see if they had posted any bounties on monsters. Moving along the streets clad in obvious Dvergar armor did impose some respect but my small stature made me look like a child playing soldier in the Dvergar's eyes.
The guild had nothing that interested me. I went on, crossing the gates and into the wilderness.
----------------------------------------
[1]: a common occurence in "Keiran", by Emergency Complaints. https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/77820