Fenric had made up his mind—he would speak with the old God King Odin, to see if the All-Father would be willing to release his eldest daughter.
"Thor!"
Fenric approached the thunder god directly. "Can I see your father?"
Thor blinked in surprise before shaking his head. "I'm afraid not, Ronan. My father has recently entered the Odinsleep."
"Odinsleep?" Fenric raised a brow.
"Yes," Thor explained, his tone softening. "It is the self-recovery method of our kind. My father's health… has been failing for some time."
Fenric suddenly recalled the timeline—Odin was nearing his end. Once he passed away, Hela's seal would break on its own. The Goddess of Death would return to Asgard, seeking to reclaim her throne, slaughtering all who stood in her way.
That was the beginning of Thor: Ragnarok.
"How long does your father usually remain in this Odinsleep?" Fenric pressed.
Thor shook his head helplessly. "There is no certainty. Sometimes only a few months, other times several years. We Asgardians live long lives; such spans mean little to us."
Fenric frowned. He wanted to ask if Odin could be awakened prematurely, but he stopped himself. That would be too much.
"Very well, Thor. Thank you for your honesty."
After parting ways, Fenric considered his options. Eventually, he turned his steps toward Kamar-Taj once more, seeking out the Ancient One.
In an antique chamber, Fenric and Ancient One sat facing each other over steaming cups of tea.
"Ronan, you seem troubled," the Ancient One said kindly, her ever-present smile making her look almost serene.
"Yes, Master."
Fenric explained his intentions. "I wish to recruit Asgard's eldest princess, Hela. But with Odin in deep slumber, I wonder… is there anything you can do to help me?"
The Ancient One's eyes glimmered knowingly. She had long since discerned the existence behind Fenric, that unfathomable force guiding his every step. She had foreseen fragments of the future, and rather than resist, she chose to assist.
"Ronan," she said gently, "I do not recommend pursuing Hela. She is Odin's trial for Thor. Her return is meant to temper him, to help him grow. A stronger Thor is what the Nine Realms—and Midgard—need. You are not destined to remain here forever. The realms will still require their guardian."
"..."
Fenric froze. Then he remembered.
In the original stories, Ragnarok was indeed orchestrated by Odin—his complicated but deliberate plan to push Thor into true maturity. Compared to Thor's growth, even the destruction of Asgard was secondary.
Which meant Hela was not his to claim.
And yet, the system's contracts were absolute. If Hela acknowledged him as her master, all her ambition would be suppressed. Without her will to rule Asgard, Ragnarok itself might never come to pass.
But then another thought struck him. His brows furrowed.
"Wait… the flame giant Surtur has already submitted to me. He will not move without my command. Without him, there can be no Ragnarok."
The Ancient One chuckled softly. "Leave that to Thor."
Fenric's eyes widened before settling with understanding. Ragnarok would come, Surtur or no Surtur. This was Thor's inevitable crucible.
"Ronan," Ancient One asked suddenly, "how many subordinates do you still lack?"
Fenric answered honestly. "Only one more."
The Ancient One closed her eyes, meditating for a long moment. When they opened again, they shone with clarity.
"Then let me be the final one."
"!!!"
Fenric nearly dropped his cup. "Master… are you serious? That… that doesn't seem right."
Never in his wildest thoughts had he expected her to volunteer. Though he had briefly considered it, the Ancient One was no ordinary figure. She was wise, broad-minded, and truly deserving of respect.
But the Ancient One only smiled.
"I have glimpsed the future. Your presence will not disrupt this world as much as you fear. And besides…" Her tone softened. "Your time here is running out, isn't it?"
She gazed at him kindly. "Do not burden yourself. This should be our final meeting."
"..."
Fenric's chest tightened. He remembered how it felt, back in his previous life, when he first watched her death on screen. That same uncomfortable weight now returned with greater force.
"Master… is there no way to save you?"
"This is my destiny," she replied serenely.
Fenric's heart ached. He stared at her for a long while before bowing his head. "Thank you, Master—for your guidance and your trust."
Together, they performed the oath. As the final words left her lips, the contract sealed itself upon the Ancient One. An invisible force, vast and incomprehensible, bound her.
"…Remarkable." The Ancient One's eyes widened. She could feel it—the undeniable law of cause and effect. No matter her will, she could not disobey Fenric's commands.
"The task progress: 10/10."
Ding—!
"Congratulations. You have completed your mission. You may now choose to leave this world immediately, or remain for up to twenty-four more hours."
The system's prompt rang in his ears, but Fenric ignored it for now. His eyes searched Ancient One's face.
"Master… how do you feel? Are you alright?"
"I am well," she replied with a gentle smile. Then, teasingly, "So, should I call you Master now?"
"No," Fenric said firmly. "Just call me Ronan."
The Ancient One inclined her head. "Very well. But know this, Ronan—what lies behind you, the power that guides you, is beyond all dimensions I can comprehend. It cannot be expressed in words. Its greatness is… immeasurable."
Fenric exhaled slowly and nodded. He agreed.
After all, what else could explain a tower capable of turning stories, movies, and fantasies into real, living worlds? The Samsara Space was no ordinary power—it was transcendence itself.