Night fell, and the chaotic sea, once deafening and violent, quieted somewhat.
Across the water floated giant squids like small mountains, their flesh more than half eaten away. Severed limbs and spilled organs drifted across the surface in pieces, a miserable sight.
A breeze blew in from afar, carrying the briny stink of seawater mixed with the rich aroma of roasted meat.
Sizzle…
On the decks of the Viking fleet, Berserkers and Druids gathered in small groups, squatting together. Some drank mead and joked loudly, while others fished squid legs out of pots of thick, fragrant broth, their color bright and appetizing, cheeks puffed as they ate with wild enthusiasm. The mood was rowdy and lively.
Slurp…
As the smell of smoke and food drifted up to the flagship, the pink-haired Hildr, standing guard outside the control room, couldn't help swallowing.
In her distraction, the bucket balanced on her head tipped over, dumping salty seawater straight down onto her hair.
"This is punishment time. If you don't want to get scolded, stand properly."
Thrúd, with her long straight blonde hair, frowned and snorted as she reprimanded her.
"But I'm starving, Thrúd…"
The rabbit-ear-like group synchronization organs atop Hildr's head drooped limply. Her eyes stayed locked on the deck below where smoke curled upward, and she licked her dry lips without thinking.
As for the dark-haired Ortlinde, she was far quieter than the others.
Because she had fallen asleep… with her eyes open.
Thrúd's face darkened, exhaustion creeping in.
They had been sailing for two days without encountering any real danger, and everyone had relaxed. They had almost forgotten this was the Chaos Sea, a place crawling with threats.
This lapse in vigilance, even with His Highness returning in time to deal with it, still cost them ships and manpower. For a fleet already short on personnel, it wasn't a small mistake.
"Our guard was down, and those monsters broke through our defenses. We even disturbed His Highness. Standing here is a light punishment."
"But His Highness didn't say he was punishing us. Can't we at least eat first? Just watching them is torture…"
"Eat? You idiot! Just because there's no punishment doesn't mean we didn't mess up! Big Sister is doing this to protect us. She's been inside for an hour. She must be taking the main responsibility on herself, enduring a harsh punishment right now!"
Thrúd scolded coldly, then kicked Ortlinde, who had started nodding off again, while she herself stood perfectly straight.
"Is it really that serious? His Highness is pretty easygoing. Last time, he even patted my head."
Hildr muttered doubtfully, stroking the fluffy, soft pink rabbit-ear-like organs on her head.
"Did you forget what His Highness really is? The World Serpent that devours gods. Maybe he was just checking whether you'd taste good. Stand still."
Seeing her pink-haired sister fidgeting again, Thrúd couldn't help mixing scolding with a hint of intimidation.
"Tch, no way he would—"
"Ah…"
At that moment, suppressed, trembling moans seeped through the door from inside the room.
The pink-haired Valkyrie, who had still been half doubtful, jolted in fright and instantly fell silent.
Three heads crept toward the door, pressing close to the wall as they listened. The sounds, sometimes low and heavy, sometimes high and wavering, made their hearts rise and drop like they were on a roller coaster.
"Gulp…"
The Valkyries exchanged stunned, horrified looks.
Was Big Sister… being eaten?!
Inside the room, a graceful figure lay sprawled across the table, her body trembling uncontrollably. Her smooth, jade-like back was exposed under the dim light, her skin tinged with an enticing rose-red flush.
"Mm…"
"…?"
The soul-melting moan made Samael's hand jerk, his movements stiffening as he stopped in place. He sighed helplessly.
"Seriously… does it hurt that much? Should I call Thrúd and the others in to help?"
"N-no… no need. I can handle it. It's just… it's just too itchy…"
Brynhildr's voice was barely more than a whisper squeezed from her throat, her face flushed bright red.
"Alright. Then bear with it. Here it comes."
Sigh. Serves me right. I'm never doing this kind of thankless work again.
Samael shook his head, leaned down, and suddenly increased the strength in his fingers.
"Mmm… ah!"
Clang!
With a crisp metallic sound, a purplish-red barbed spine fell into the fruit bowl.
The torn flesh behind Brynhildr's right shoulder twitched and wriggled as the wound reacted, making the hypersensitive Valkyrie let out another stifled cry.
"That's it. Last one." Samael said, dispersing the crude magical medical tools he had formed from Mana. "These barbed spines are poisonous. If you leave them in, they'll interfere with healing, cause cysts and scarring, and might leave behind unnecessary complications."
He lifted the fruit bowl and dumped the seven or eight purplish-black spikes he had pulled from Brynhildr's flesh into the trash.
"I came to plead guilty, yet I ended up troubling Your Highness again."
Brynhildr bit her lower lip, her expression tinged with shame.
"What guilty? A god-level Kraken and hundreds of its kin aren't exactly easy to deal with. You did everything you could. Ships can be rebuilt. People are far more precious. Next time, don't be so reckless."
"To fight for you is our honor! To follow Heaven's decree and serve gods and heroes—that is the very meaning of our existence as Valkyries!"
Brynhildr spoke with unwavering conviction. Rarely did she lift her chin and meet the gaze of the god she served so directly, her face glowing with unquestionable resolve.
"Alright, enough of that. I've cleaned your wounds and purified the toxins. Keep the area dry, avoid using that arm too much, and rest. You'll recover in a day or two."
Samael shook his head helplessly, rinsing his hands as he spoke.
When his eyes fell on the Valkyrie's healed back—smooth and flawless like polished warm jade—he nodded in quiet satisfaction.
Brynhildr's cheeks flushed. She pulled her gown back up over her shoulders, gave a slight bow, and moved to open the door.
The moment the magical barrier lifted, three Valkyries—gold-haired, pink-haired, and black-haired—tumbled inside with startled cries, crashing straight into their eldest sister's arms.
"Why aren't you enjoying the rare seafood feast? What are you crowding here for?"
"Your Highness, we'll go right now. It's late—you should rest early too…"
Before the three younger sisters could explain themselves, Brynhildr forced a smile and physically dragged them out of the room.
The instant she turned her head away from Samael, her smile vanished, her gaze turning icy.
"Who told you to put the buckets down?"
The three little troublemakers shivered, goosebumps erupting across their skin. Acting on instinct, they bolted.
"It's all Hildr's fault! We won't do it again!"
"What? It was Thrúd who said Big Sister was being secretly eaten by His Highness! We were worried about you!"
"You three! Stop running! Get back here!"
Brynhildr stumbled, nearly tripping, her face red to the roots of her hair, equal parts mortified and furious.
"Pfft!"
At the doorway, Samael, who had been watching idly, spat out a mouthful of hot tea and started coughing violently, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He turned toward the shadow inside the room.
"You haven't even done anything. Why are you so nervous?"
Scáthach stepped out from the darkness, shooting her old friend a half-smiling glance.
"Uh… maybe it's a side effect of having done too many questionable things in the past."
Samael avoided her eyes, looking embarrassed.
"Find time to spar with me. I promise that whatever you get up to on this ship, I'll turn a blind eye."
"No deal! Don't try to tempt me—no, don't you dare slander me! Do I look like that kind of snake?"
The Ancient Serpent declared indignantly, eyes sharp with offended righteousness.
Denied, Scáthach seemed slightly disappointed. With nothing better to do, she tossed him a wine flask, and the two resumed their unfinished drinking session.
Amid the lively banquet below, Samael drank as he opened his cross-shaped star pupils, scanning the surrounding Chaos Tide to pass the time.
Then, straining his gaze toward the far horizon, he caught sight of something—
The blurred outline of a continent, faint but distinct.
Buzz—
Suddenly, a pillar of flame laced with dark-gold divine patterns shot into the sky, flickering through the Chaos Tide.
Samael shot to his feet. The cross-shaped star patterns in his pupils expanded and then tightened sharply.
That is…
Someone has ignited the Sacred Flame of Olympus.