Chapter 119: Fenrir’s Pride

Twenty seconds in a frozen world...

For a fighter, that was an eternity.

She read through the evolution requirements again, her brows knitting together slightly.

Only then did she truly understand what Nicky had been trying to explain a few days earlier.

Upgrades couldn't be chosen in just any order.

Some formed a mandatory progression; the earlier ones had to be unlocked before the later ones became available. In other words, even if she had preferred to strengthen Phoenix immediately during her first evolution, the other milestones would eventually have become unavoidable.

Blanche remained silent for several seconds.

Then she looked up at the sky.

In truth...

Nicky had explained it perfectly.

She had simply listened very carefully to the part that suited her...

And ignored the rest.

As usual.

She comforted herself by deciding that, this time at least, her stubbornness had worked in her favor.

Because between a slightly stronger familiar and twenty seconds capable of suspending time itself...

The choice was actually quite obvious.

Choose a Skill:

Warning: These are high-level abilities that appear only on rare occasions. Choose wisely.

Demonic

Authority

Decay

Demonic: Slowly kills the target through endless agony. Blood seeps from every pore, drop by drop, until death claims them. The spell can only be broken if the condemned sincerely apologizes, or if one of their loved ones does so on their behalf. Otherwise, no one—not even the caster—can stop it.

Blanche frowned before reading the remaining descriptions.

Authority: Crushes the will of a target whose rank is lower than the caster's. The target feels compelled to obey every command with gratitude, becoming an exceptionally loyal servant.

Decay: The opponent's body gradually rots until death. The pain is excruciating. The victim suffers a curse that can last for several weeks. Only rendering a service to the spell's caster can lift it.

"So, if I'm understanding this correctly," Blanche said thoughtfully, "only Authority doesn't kill. The other two practically condemn the target to death, regardless of whether the caster wants that..."

You're a dark mage, after all.

Blanche had no answer.

She had chosen that path, yes...

But she wasn't ready to kill.

What was the point of taking a spell she already knew she would never use because it was simply too horrifying?

So she turned to Fenrir for advice. In his current form, he could only communicate through telepathy.

All three are excellent. The first weakens your enemy regardless of their rank, increasing your chances of survival. The second allows you to subjugate your greatest enemies and bring kings to their knees. It solves problems at the source, not to mention giving you eyes and ears everywhere. Excellent little soldiers. As for the third... it's kill or be killed. I suspect that one's a gift from my father. It's exactly the sort of thing he'd come up with. Personally, I'd choose the second. The lesser evil, and by far the more useful.

A gift from Loki?

Were all these spells divine gifts?

Well...

That explanation was every bit as outrageous as everything else she'd experienced.

Still undecided, Blanche turned toward Phoenix, who was lying beside her with his eyes closed.

"The second one," he said. "It'll be far more useful to have loyal little slaves wherever you go. It would be a waste to kill valuable resources when you could simply make use of them."

Both opinions aligned.

And both arguments made perfect sense.

So she selected Authority with a clear conscience.

After all, nothing said she would ever actually use it...

Though it sounded remarkably similar to Dean and Daryl's spell of servitude.

\---

Unique Gift... Calculating...

Silent Casting

Silent Casting allows you to think the spell's keywords instead of speaking them aloud.

Verbal incantations are no longer necessary.

Do you accept?

\---

Blanche froze.

She couldn't tear her eyes away.

At that moment, bathed in a shimmer of silver light, the immense wolf vanished.

His silhouette rippled and flowed with almost unreal grace before giving way to a man.

Or rather...

Fenrir in his human form.

Apparently, he had abandoned telepathy, having grown tired of conversing mind to mind.

As always, his beauty was almost offensive.

His long golden hair cascaded all the way to the small of his back, catching the sunlight like a river of molten gold. His flawless pale skin seemed untouched by cold, wind, or even time itself. And his eyes...

One glacial green.

The other warm gold.

Infinitely luminous.

They possessed that dizzying depth unique to beings who had watched civilizations rise and crumble into dust.

Even the features of his face looked as though they had been sculpted with excessive care.

Everything about him radiated grace.

Elegance.

And perfectly restrained power.

He approached without making a sound.

Stopping only a few inches from her.

Close enough for her to feel his presence...

But never so close that he invaded her space.

Blanche slowly raised her eyes to meet his.

Then she froze.

Because for the first time since she'd known him...

Fenrir wasn't hiding anything.

His usual mask of sarcasm, amused superiority, and lofty indifference had vanished completely.

In its place shone an expression she'd never seen before.

Pure joy.

Almost childlike.

His lips were curved into a brilliant smile.

His eyes sparkled with a pride he wasn't even trying to conceal.

And something in that look moved her more deeply than all the divine powers she had just witnessed.

He was happy.

Truly happy.

Not because one of his plans had succeeded.

Not because he'd won another wager with the other gods.

Simply...

Because his player had finally become the Queen of Players.

He tilted his head slightly, his golden hair slipping over one shoulder with almost insolent elegance, before letting out a quiet, satisfied laugh.

"A little gift from me," he murmured. "Watching you fake a cough to hide a spell is amusing once... not twice."

Caught off guard, Blanche accepted.

One of her greatest fears had always been ending up bound and gagged, forgotten forever inside some dark prison cell.

She threw herself into the god's arms, thanking him over and over.

To her astonishment, he didn't push her away.

Better still...

He smiled.

Delighted.

"And besides," he added, "it could give you a considerable advantage against another mage or sorcerer."

Blanche thanked him again without releasing her embrace.

They remained like that for several moments before both of them vanished.

Fortunately.

The situation was beginning to grow rather embarrassing.

"I knew you'd make it."

His voice, deep and gentle, carried a quiet pride that contrasted wonderfully with the insufferably teasing persona he usually wore.

Then, thankfully—for the sake of the universe's balance—a spark of mischief returned to the god's eyes.

One corner of his mouth lifted.

"Well... you took a little longer than I expected. I was almost considering coming to fetch you myself. That would've been rather humiliating for a future queen."

Blanche burst into an incredulous laugh.

"There you are... I was beginning to wonder what had happened to the arrogant Fenrir."

"He was busy being proud of you."

The reply came with disarming simplicity.

Then, apparently realizing what he'd just admitted, he cleared his throat discreetly, immediately recovered his superior air, and added with only a shred of dignity:

"Don't get used to compliments like that. They're exceptionally rare. I have a reputation as an insufferable deity to maintain."

Blanche shook her head with a smile.

Even when expressing his affection, Fenrir somehow managed to lace it with irony.

And, much to her surprise, she had missed that terribly.