Rory Skyfrost and his group of conspirators waited in front of Utgard’s gates for the guards to return and grant them entrance.

The sun’s arc rose in the firmament and turned the night blue into a canvas of colors occupying the red-violet spectrum.

The morning wind was blowing through their clothes, and Clockwork rubbed his arms. “Are you sure this is going to work out?”

“Don’t worry. We’re going to get Ragna Griffin.” Rory smirked. His onfidence oozed out of every syllable. “There ain’t a single plan of mine that ain’t well thought-out. Look. They’re already back.”

The gates opened, and the guards existed alongside another person.

The moment, they lay their eyes on the guest, everyone’s attention jumped up.

Clockwork and Lacie reached for their weapons while Rory and Gerard took a step back. The siblings looked at each other, and without a word, Gerard nodded.

Under his jacket, Rory activated one of his runes, forcing himself to maintain his smirk.

He had prepared for many obstacles they could encounter in Utgard, but why the Hel was this guy here?

“Allo, allo.” The third person grinned and waved his left arm. “I’m Nephthys Mukhtar. You’re awesome ride.”

No one reacted. All four waited for a provocation that would confirm their suspicion and give them a reason to strike.

“What’s with you guys? Nephthys started to chuckle. “You look like you saw a djinn.”

“Ain’t that close to the truth.” Beads of sweat formed on Rory’s temple. “Did you take a wrong turn in Agrabah, or what is Queen Ghoul doing in Utgard?”

“Haven’t I told ya?” Nephthys skipped forward. He hopped to every word and circled Rory’s group. “I’m your awesome guide. As a Samurai, it’s my duty to assure that you’re gonna have a safe trip to the Chiefs.”

“How unexpected.” Rory eyed Nephthys from the flamingo-pink hair to his boots.

Why would Utgard let a Kemet join the Seven Samurai? Not only did their members include a dog, but Kim Jong-hui wasn’t the only maniac in their ranks anymore. Now there were two of them.

“Don’t we all need some spice in our lives?” Nephthys giggled and bowed before Rory. He took his hand and touched the knuckle of his middle finger with his lips. “And I can add some sweets as well.”

“Sorry, but it just so happens that I’m diabetic.” Rory removed his hand. “And spices make me wanna shit.”

Nephthys straightened his back and performed a pirouette, his eyes laying on Clockwork.

“Speaking of unexpected. Cyrus Clockwork, how ya doin? Last time I saw you…” Nephthys paused and clicked the nails of his thumb and middle finger against each other. “By Raa, wasn’t that in the abandoned prison. In Worms, right? We both tried to get our hands on an antique statue. You gave me a good beating, but in the end, you walked right into my trap.” Nephthys’ eyes turned into slits, and his smile widened to a grin. “I’ve heard what happened to your gang. I’m sorry for your men. I can’t imagine how horrible it must be to have the spirits of your friends haunting you.”

Lacie growled. But before she could retaliate, Clockwork had stretched his arm. Like a shield, he held her back and would deflect any attacks that could hit her.

“Don’t worry.” The emotions from Clockwork’s face disappeared. “There aren’t any souls in need of passage left. I’m avenging nothing but my pain.”

Rory looked at Clockwork.

How did his men die? If someone fell on the battlefield, they would go to Valhalla. While someone like Sven Erikson had lost his life in a conflict, no one had declared the situation a “battlefield”. Nothing would stop Helena Luisenbarn from taking his soul to Hel.

Those who died with too many regrets and an intact body would return as Draugr to single-mindedly fulfill one purpose. At least, if one believed in superstitions, and most people in Midgard adhered to the customs.

So, why did Clockwork assume that neither option had become the fate of his men?

Nephthys stopped moving. “You’re not talkin’ ‘bout my afterlife either, are you? What you’re saying should be impossible, but lately, the impossible seems to have become probable.” Nephthys turned around, and with a hand wave, he told them to follow him. “Anyway, let’s go.”

The five walked through the gate and entered a tunnel. Lights shone from every direction into their faces. All five raised their arms and shielded their eyes from the brightness that had turned the construction’s original color into alabaster.

They walked further until the brightness started to mute, and cyan greeted their eyes. Once the tunnel ended, rows of silver buildings rose into the morning sky that hung like a painting above the city.

Rory looked around and smiled. “Is this Utgard’s famous Rice Road? It looks amazing.”

Nephthys mimicked his expression. “If you’re already like this now, then wait until it becomes night. It’s like a different city.”

They continued to walk.

The other members of the self-dubbed Anti-Ragna-Squad couldn’t keep their eyes from the scenery as well. Every new building deserved that their focus switched to it so that they could spend a few seconds in awe before they gave their gratitude to the next wonder of Utgard.

And all the while, Rory was talking. From their way to Nephthys’ car to their drive to the Chiefs’ residence, he provided minute trivia about Utgardian culture. Be it their history, the difference between the different traditional clothing styles, various entertainment pieces, or how each sector of Utgard seemed to be a nation with its customs and food.

His smile, Rory wouldn’t lose for a second. And his ignorance for the growing exhaustion of his collaborators wouldn’t falter either.

Only, once they arrived at the gates of the Chiefs’ residence, Geißel and Quin greeted them and let them into the living room where they could sit and drink tea, did Rory stop talking. Or rather, he stopped talking about Utgard and focused his tongue’s relentless capability to spit out words on the topic at hand.

֎

“Let’s get to the point.” Sitting on the couch in the Chiefs’ living room, Rory drank his green tea. “We know that you’ve let Altera Xion and Ragna Griffin into your country.”

“That’s quite an accusation.” Geißel took a smoke from his cigarette. “But let’s put Ragna Griffin aside, and let’s assume I had granted entry to Altera Xion. Why should that be an issue? Isn’t she one of your Valkyries?”

“Valkyrie candidate.” Rory’s voice turned into a hiss. “But her career was over the moment she had sided with Ragna Griffin.” His eyes started to gleam, and ripples appeared on the tea’s surface as his fingers trembled. “She has failed her Bragi and betrayed Midgard on top of that. I would rather bet my Wert on Kemet-Raa legalizing gay marriage than her becoming anything but a whore on the streets.”

“Rory.” Gerard glared at him, but he shrugged with his shoulders.

His brother was too nice. Humans didn’t reveal their true faces with pleasantries. One had to rile them up and poke their finger in the wounds until they screamed. Even if they didn’t show it, every insult affected their actions and mindset.

“It’s the truth. Once she returns to Midgard, all she’ll get is a bullet to her head. She’ll become an example of what happens to those who betray Midgard. Of course, she could always seek refuge in Utgard. Don’t you think so too, Geißel Xion?”

Neither Geißel nor Quin’s expression changed. Quin opened her fan, revealing its painting of a serpentine creature with a lion’s head, and Geißel puffed his cigarette.

So, Rory continued to talk. “Please, don’t deny it. I’ve done my research on you and your family.” He pulled out his phone from his pocket and showed them a picture of Ragna in Utgard. “We know they were here. No one can enter your country without you knowing about it. And once Midgard finds out, you’ll become our enemies.”

“That would be quite problematic.” Geißel nipped his cigarette against the ashtray.

“That image is already online on some nobody’s account from Vaix who probably doesn’t even know who Ragna Griffin is. But if I were to post it, everyone would know.”

“So, why haven’t you done it already?” Quin asked.

“Cause I have a biiiig heart, and I’m quite fond of your country. So, how about this. You tell me where Ragna Griffin and Altera Xion are, and I keep your little secret for myself. It’s a win-win for all of us.”

“That’s an interesting proposal and an interesting analysis.” Geißel smeared the cigarette butt against the ashtray. “So, let me give you one of my own. You’re in the middle of my kingdom, and you have a known criminal with you.” He pointed at Clockwork. “Am I wrong in assuming that Midgard doesn’t know anything about your little side gig?”

Rory didn’t say a word while Lacie and Clockwork were looking at him.

“If I were to kill you right here and now, no one would know, right?” A katana appeared next to Geißel in the air, and without looking, he grabbed its hilt, pointing it at Rory. “And FYI, our soldiers have surrounded the perimeter.”

““Let me hand it,” you said. “What could possibly go wrong,” you said.” Clockwork ground his teeth while Nephthys pointed a dagger at his chest. “Your plans suck.”

Rory maintained his smirk. “My GPS is on.”

Geißel chuckled. “You’re lying. Everyone can camouflage their phone.”

“But I’ve no reason to do so. And certainly not someone like my brother, who wouldn’t know how to do it, anyway.”

“He has a point.” Quin folded her fan.

Gerard grinned, and Rory sighed in relief.

His brother’s idiocy had saved him.

“Fine.” Geißel lowered his sword. “Gerard Donnerschlag. You’re a man of honor. I’m not fond of Ragna Griffin myself, so I don’t care what’ll happen to her. But promise me that you’ll neither harm my sister nor tarnish her reputation.”

“I promise.” Gerard nodded.

“Good. They’re currently in Heorot. Nephthys, please bring them to the exist.” He looked at Rory. “Gerard Donnerschlag may be a man of honor, but you, Rory Skyfrost, your ego’s as huge as our tower.”

֎

“You can open your eyes again,” said Nephthys.

“Is it okay?” Gerard asked.

“Don’t worry. We have become part of the tower’s system.”

The party opened their eyes and gazed upon a spiraling staircase glowing in red light.

“It reminds me of the temple in the Rising Forest.” Clockwork looked around. “Why the Hel are these ancient temples so advanced?

Rory narrowed his eyes.

The situation didn’t feel right. It didn’t seem that Queen Ghoul was letting them leave Utgard. First, they had to enter a portal into an unknown world where mathematics had gone off the deep end, and now, he had led them into this construct.

Monks wearing dark hoods came from the staircase. Yet, they didn’t descend from the first level. Through an invisible gateway in front of the stairs, the monks had entered from a neighboring room. The monks dispersed alongside the tower’s wall, throbbing their arms in an arithmetic rhythm.

“What’s going on?” Rory glared at Nephthys.

“The operators have started the trials.” Nephthys smiled.

“Trials?” Clockwork drew his butterfly knife.

Nephthys nodded. “If you wanna leave this tower, you’ve no choice but to face the trials.”

“And if we win?” Gerard asked.

Nephthys shrugged. “You’re free to go. But even a Captain’s gonna take his sweet time to complete all eight of them.”

“You, bastard.” Rory fletched his teeth. “You just want to buy time for Xion.”

Nephthys nodded a second time. “Geißel had to bait you with the truth, but otherwise, you would’ve noticed his lie.” He pointed at the staircase. “Honestly, talking about it is a waste of time. I would say, just do it.”

֎

Rory entered a room and looked around. It contained nothing but two banquet tables. Food and drinks covered every centimeter of it, and only occasionally would the cloth underneath peak.

No, that estimation wasn’t correct. Mana had filled the room. He could feel it.

Rory stepped forward and inspected one of the tables. He took a croissant from a plate and bit into it.

Whatever trial Geißel Xion had set up, he would overcome them all. Nothing would stop him from getting his hands on that Griffin girl. Twice had she evaded what should have been complete defeat. He couldn’t let that continue. Ragna Griffin would learn that she couldn’t go against the natural order of the world. The weak would always crumble before the strong.

A flame sprung on the left table and started to spread.

“The trial has started.” An electronic voice echoed through the room, and Rory’s eyes hopped from one place to another.

From where did the voice come?

“Finish the banquet before the fire burns the table to ashes.”

The voice disappeared. Only the blazes of the flames flickered in this room.

Rory clicked his tongue.

From his estimate, there was enough food to feed a family for three days. There was no way he could eat faster than a flame burned through a table. Was this what Geißel thought?

Such logic applied to the weak but not to him. He was strong. If something displeased him, he had the power to change the world to his satisfaction. And anyone who would oppose him, he would crush. This world belonged to the strong. Weren’t the existence of runes and Fylgja proof enough? The strong would shape Aes to their whims, and the weak had no choice but to obey and hope for their protection.

He was born strong, and all the opposition, all the prejudice, and hatred the world had thrown at him, he had overcome. Nothing would ever stop him from carving his happiness. And certainly not some first-year cadet from the academy too busy getting stuck in front of her father.

He would teach Raga Griffin despair. She would understand how weak she was. That girl had deluded herself into thinking she could be more than she was. A chance of luck had saved her before, but the next time, he would crush her. And the world would remember what would happen to those who oppose him.

Rory smiled and jumped into the air, his body morphing into a blue whale.

His Lügenschmied allowed him to use Mana to change his body into whatever form he desired, but he couldn’t exceed his natural height or weight. But since his ability used Mana to activate, in a place like Ymir’s tower, he could sidestep his limitations and use the Mana for the extra kilograms and meters.

The whale dived towards the ground and crashed into the floor. The room rumbled, and in the same instance, Rory opened his mouth and tilted the table with his weight. Like on a ramp, the food slid down the table into Rory’s mouth. Within a minute, he had devoured banquet had to offer.

And with this, Rory Skyfrost had cleared the first level.