Chapter 168: Disastrous Consequences
Inside, sorrow reigned supreme.
The once-arrogant blonde woman was sobbing uncontrollably, clutching two little boys tightly against her chest.
Blanche immediately understood what had become of the third.
Four bodies lay upon the table—
Including the child's.
A lump formed in her throat.
She instinctively pressed herself against Aaron, who was glaring daggers at Vecz.
"Let's go..." she whispered, gently tugging at his sleeve.
But the movement drew attention.
"It's your fault! Your fault!" the chieftain's wife screamed, collapsing to the floor the moment she spotted Blanche through her tears.
Blanche opened her mouth, ready to apologize.
But the words died in her throat.
Someone had appeared.
His silhouette was instantly recognizable.
An armor forged entirely from gold embraced every one of his movements with almost unreal elegance. The polished metal did not merely shine—it captured every fragment of light and cast it back around him in liquid reflections, as though the gold itself were alive. The flames from the hearth danced across each plate of his armor, filling the room with warm flashes that made it seem as though the sun itself had stepped inside.
Everything suddenly felt brighter.
Warmer.
More alive.
Blanche's gaze instinctively rose to his face.
Her breath caught.
She knew.
She had seen him like this many times before.
Yet his beauty still surpassed anything anyone believed possible.
Every feature of his face seemed sculpted with inhuman precision. His high cheekbones, perfectly straight nose, noble jawline, and faint, restrained smile created such flawless harmony that it bordered on the unreal. His skin, bathed in a natural golden radiance, seemed to glow from within, as though sunlight itself flowed beneath it.
His long, brilliant blond hair resembled molten gold. It fell freely over his shoulders, catching every flicker of the fire, while his heterochromatic, incandescent eyes possessed an intensity that was almost unbearable.
They weren't merely beautiful.
They seemed to contain the world itself.
When he moved, he didn't appear to walk.
He glided with sovereign grace, every motion imbued with quiet confidence that commanded respect without effort. His mere presence transformed the atmosphere of the room, as though everyone unconsciously straightened in his company.
In that instant, Blanche understood why so many civilizations had imagined their gods in human form.
No mortal could ever rival such perfection.
He wasn't simply breathtaking.
He embodied an ideal of beauty so absolute that it became almost intimidating, making it difficult to meet his gaze without feeling as though one were beholding something beyond humanity itself.
"One child for one child. A fair payment, demanded by me—with the approval of the All-Father," Fenrir declared in an almost bored tone.
His gaze finally settled on Blanche.
Her eyes widened despite herself.
She was accustomed to seeing Fenrir dressed in modern clothes, looking like any ordinary man of their era.
She had almost forgotten what he truly was.
Now nothing concealed his nature.
Arrayed like this, he looked as though he had stepped straight out of an ancient saga.
His long blond hair was meticulously braided in the fashion of Viking warriors, several thick braids framing his face before joining the rest of his hair down his back. Silver rings engraved with ancient runes held some of the strands in place, glowing faintly in the firelight.
His already imposing frame seemed even more massive beneath heavy furs and pieces of armor protecting his shoulders and forearms. Every movement made the metal chime softly, while the dark leather of his gear bore the scars of countless battles.
He was a predator born to survive the harshest winters.
The god.
The warrior.
The protector.
The wolf.
For a fleeting moment, Blanche understood why so many peoples had once feared his name.
He radiated that primal, almost animal strength that could never be learned.
The strength of a being capable of destroying and protecting with equal conviction.
As though he had sensed every one of her thoughts, Fenrir tilted his head ever so slightly.
Then a slow smile spread across his lips.
Not a warm smile.
Nor a reassuring one.
A mischievous smile, gleaming with the insolence she knew so well.
But this time...
Something else lurked within it.
A deliberate cruelty.
Not the cruelty of a sadist.
Rather, that of a predator fully aware of the reverent fear he inspired—and openly amused by it.
His fangs flashed for an instant.
His eyes sparkled.
And Blanche suddenly had the distinct impression that beneath that playful smile still slumbered the legendary beast capable of making even the gods tremble.
A crushing silence settled over the room until Vecz finally found the courage to rise.
"By Odin! Be more specific!"
Fenrir arched a brow.
"I gave one single command!" he thundered, releasing a fraction of his divine power.
Everyone fell to their knees—
Everyone except the two Players and Glen's familiar, Sapphire.
The weight of divine authority crushed everyone else.
"My protection in exchange for yours, under all circumstances, for those who live upon this mountain!"
Rauõr stood, breaking the tension.
"Our gods are just. I accept their judgment."
"Just?!" his stepmother screamed through her tears. "Why my son?!"
"Because it was your mistake," Fenrir replied, his voice calm and inexorable.
He walked toward her.
The young Viking woman scrambled backward in terror.
Fenrir stopped.
"You conspired with your husband and his second son. Out of jealousy, you nearly killed the one person who absolutely must never be harmed."
He pointed at Blanche.
"This child belongs to me!"
The roar was so powerful that the floor, the stone walls, and the wooden beams trembled violently beneath the Metamorph God's voice.
Aaron immediately tightened his grip around Blanche's hand, while Sapphire frowned deeply.
All this...
Out of jealousy?
The Viking woman had been jealous of Blanche?
"A child? Her?" Vecz spat.
Sapphire growled, ready to intervene, but Fenrir raised a hand.
"You're the one I should have killed, had Odin not judged that you still had a role to play." His voice was icy. "This young woman has seen only seventeen winters. In her world, she is still a child."
Fenrir snapped his fingers, glaring at the Viking with open hostility.
"And you..."
"I condemn you to never have children."
Vecz went pale.
Fenrir then walked over to Blanche and gently stroked her cheek.
"Don't blame yourself. The child is with Odin now. He serves him from this day forward."
Blanche smiled in relief.
She knew the All-Father would take excellent care of him.
He would have a better life there, with a place already waiting for him in Odin's hall.
"Thank Grandfather for me."
The Viking chieftain stared at her in bewilderment.
She had just called the All-Father...
Grandfather?
Who... was she?