[Olympian Pantheon]
[Karma: 298,876⬆️]
It kept increasing—again and again and again. It was already nearing the three-hundred-thousand mark. Aron hadn't cared in past timelines, but now he did as the situation was truly dire.
'How are they doing this?' he thought.
He still stood on the monster's head as it sliced through the sea at razor speed. Khorn and Peter clung desperately to one of its scales, faces pale against the roaring wind, praying they wouldn't tumble into the churning water from the sheer velocity.
At last, land appeared on the horizon. Hours had passed; the sun was turning crimson. He had expected days of travel, but Goliath moved at extraordinary speed, subverting all calculations. Aron's golden eyes darkened, nostrils flaring sharply.
"The stench is strong here, very strong," he said as they reached a silent shore. They had chosen a deserted spot deliberately. The city of Nuuk grew more visible in the distance: the birthplace of Norse mythology.
"Go low," Aron ordered. The beast slowed instantly, diving deeper until only the tip of its head remained above water.
They landed illegally, with no safe options. Only Khorn had a valid passport, Aron's expired centuries ago, Peter's lost at sea. Discovery meant instant arrest as her influence was useless here, but the mission demanded the risk.
And even though the ground was thick with snow and low hills. Beyond lay the raw city, a place where heavy drinkers often ended up broken, James tragically among them.
Aron scanned the horizons warily, the oppressive stench carried hints of unfriendly divine scrutiny already brushing against them.
"I hope he isn't lying drunk in some gutter," Khorn muttered.
Aron turned. "It's that bad, huh?" he said quietly.
"My lord, James and the others… They're different from me. They took your absence differently too, especially James. He was devastated without your guidance," she murmured.
Indeed, James had always had a soft spot. He had inherited Aron's strength but not his heart, and that raw power only made him more emotionally unstable.
"I'll reach him," Aron said as they started walking.
"My lord?" Khorn called, eyes lowered, stepping closer. "What if…"
"…"
She let out a long breath. "My lord, what if he hates you? What if he wants nothing to do with you, or us—anymore?"
Aron gave a faint smile. "If that's the case, I'll convince him. He is my child as much as you are, Khorn." He knew what she truly wanted to say but couldn't bring herself to voice.
James. When they met, friction was inevitable. Aron knew it himself as What kind of father abandons his children for hundreds of years? What kind of father vanishes one night and never returns?
"Khorn," he called.
"Yes, lord."
"He's family. He'll listen, even if it has to be through our fists."
Khorn nodded and pulled out the scanner tuned to James. Water still dripped from the cracked casing; it had stopped working completely. "…Well, this is done for. We'll need to repair it," she said.
Peter's eyes lit up. "Oh, so we're going to Nioanellir?" The place where all their equipment was forged and sold, where even gods went to craft weapons and tools.
Aron nodded. "But we need a place to stay first. Khorn, can you handle that?"
Khorn smiled and produced a card: a dark titanium debit card representing a fraction of her fortune. Peter gawked, stunned by the raw power such wealth commanded.
"Isn't that the Premium Cursor?" Peter asked. "That's ultra-luxury, VVIP level."
Khorn said nothing as they marched toward a nearby hotel. Aron pulled his hoodie up and paused briefly, sniffing the air with rising tension.
"My lord?" Khorn called.
"Stay close, we are in foreign territory here," he muttered.
They soon reached a grand hotel by the road. The receptionist asked for IDs, but Khorn slid the card forward and quietly inquired how large of a "donation" would secure silence and a room. The staff glanced around, then smiled.
"Welcome to Freyja's Release," she said warmly, handing over the keys.
Aron returned a faint smile. His golden eyes pierced the receptionist, past flesh to divine essence beneath, something steering inside that shouldn't be...normal—but he said nothing. As he wanted nothing. He took the keys and headed upstairs.
'They are being cautious as well,' he thought.
They reached the top floor suite. At last they could rest after fighting, surviving, and enduring that bone-rattling ride on Goliath. Khorn and Peter were utterly exhausted.
"Finally, some rest," Khorn sighed, collapsing onto the plush sofa. Peter stumbled toward a bedroom.
"My lord, I'll take a short nap—" he mumbled, but he dropped to the floor and began snoring instantly.
Aron glanced at Khorn, already asleep on the sofa. Haha, Plans could wait; rest was more urgent now. He walked to the wide window and gazed out over Greenland. The stench still bothered him intensely.
'Hmm. Even Khorn didn't notice we're being watched,' he thought. How could she? A goddess herself was keeping tabs on them. In this era, gods of different pantheons weren't cooperating. That was his advantage for now.
He should rest as well, but his body was ridiculously resilient and sturdy, and it had become even more so after absorbing surging karma, granting him greater access to his divinity. Even now, the wounds from his fight with Goliath were healing rapidly.
He stepped onto the balcony and spread his aura wide, threading it with potent divinity. Gradually, small birds, sparrows, pigeons, crows, began to arrive one by one, drawn inexorably until they filled the entire balcony. He laced his divinity through them all, and they soaked it in like a sacred blessing.
"You will all be my eyes and ears from now on," he said. The birds nodded as though they understood every word.
Aron smiled faintly. "Good. Now spread out across the state and beyond." The flock scattered in every direction.
But two remained. Not crows, two large ravens, staring intently at Aron with unnatural intelligence.
"What do we have here?" Aron muttered. "Finally tired of hide-and-seek?"
Kaaaacckk!!
One raven cawed sharply, wings flaring aggressively as if ready to strike.
"Oh, you're threatening me now?" Aron asked. His hand moved at sonic speed, so fast it seemed he hadn't moved at all. and the raven was suddenly gripped in his unbreakable fist. The second raven panicked, hopping frantically along the railing.
Aron pulled the captured raven closer, feeling faint divine resistance pulse against his grasp. "I dare you. If you get in my way, I will wipe out your entire Asgardian race." He tightened his grip mercilessly, divine power surging to crush the surveillance link, but both ravens vanished in an instant, leaving only a scattering of black feathers.
"My… lord?" Khorn called sleepily, stirring alert. "I felt… something divine. What happened?"
"Nothing to worry about, just some stupid birds," he replied calmly. "Sleep properly on the bed and rest. We'll be busy tonight."
Khorn rubbed her eyes, nodded sharply, and shuffled to her bedroom, stepping on the collapsed Peter.
Aron brushed the feathers from his hoodie. They all needed rest for now; harder times were coming. He understood it clearly, his low karma wouldn't just burden him with bad luck. It would actively force him into dangerous, abnormal situations. Like the burning building. Like the plane crash.
[Notification]
[Multiple Norse gods are watching you.]
And now, before they had even properly arrived, the enemy was already at their throats.
.
.
.
In the middle of Greenland's ice caps, a truck pulled over on the side of the main road. From the back, two men hauled an unconscious figure—a man reeking of alcohol and piss, still clutching a bottle in his limp hand. They swung him once, twice, then hurled him into the snow.
"Damn, good riddance. Hope he freezes out here," one of the men said.
"He won't… that's the problem," the other replied. "We tortured him, pumped him full of poison, and the bastard still breathes… like a cockroach."
"Is he… maybe one of the—"
"Shush! You want to die?! That's taboo," the second man hissed. With that, they slammed the truck's back shut and drove off, leaving the man sprawled in the snow.
He should have felt the cold, but instead he pissed himself again, the warm stream soaking his pants yellow and warming him in his usual way. A few birds passed overhead. A familiar scent drifted past on the wind, and it hit the dead-drunk man like a thunderclap.
"…My lord!?"
His eyes snapped open. He bolted upright, suddenly wide awake.
"…Where the hell am I?" he asked himself.