Chapter 132: The Goddess's Request
The steel palm pressing against her throat brought a faint sense of suffocation, and the cold snow seeping into her clothes blurred Skaði's thoughts for a heartbeat.
Even now, she had not fully processed what had happened.
It was not because the opponent's strength exceeded her expectations. In fact, Rowe's displayed power, under deliberate restraint, only hovered around the level a god should possess.
What truly shocked Skaði was his skill.
He turned her own attacks into the foundation of his counterattack. Even the force that pinned her down at the end had been entirely self generated.
Skaði's martial training came from her counterpart, Scáthach, the Queen of the Land of Shadows, a god slayer whose spear arts approached the domain of the divine. Skaði was far from Scáthach's true level, yet she was still skilled enough to be called formidable.
And yet this method, using an opponent's power so cleanly that defeat felt like self destruction, was something she had never even considered.
She could not predict it.
She could not react to it.
So the fight ended in an instant, before she could bring out any of her heavier options.
She lost.
And by his own declaration, she became the spoils of war of this "dead man."
"Are you unconvinced?" Rowe raised an eyebrow.
In truth, he had no intention of treating a goddess as spoils. That had simply been the most efficient way to force an exchange and probe the peculiarities of the Norse gods.
More importantly, he needed a guide.
He needed someone who could point him to Jötunheimr with certainty, the realm where the giants resided.
As long as Skaði could fulfill that role, everything else was negotiable.
Victory and defeat were irrelevant. Besides being human, Rowe was also a machina god of Atlantis. The machine's computing power could be mobilized at any time, and under that kind of calculation, "technique" became less a matter of talent and more a matter of inevitability.
What happened between him and Skaði could barely be called a battle.
But Skaði was clearly unwilling to accept it.
Even if it changed nothing.
Rowe could not afford to discard such a useful piece.
"But before that, can you let me get up first?" Rowe glanced to the side, toward the slender hand gripping the chest of his robe.
Even in defeat, Skaði's instincts had counterattacked at the last moment.
She had meant to seize his throat.
Instead, in the tilt and fall, she missed and clutched his collar.
So Rowe could not rise. He was held tightly against her, his body pressed close to the goddess.
One steel forged hand remained on her neck. His other hand rested amid her scattered purple hair beside her head. His legs were spread, bracketing her hips, and Skaði's legs had lifted slightly, resting against his waist.
They were close.
Too close.
The position was unmistakably ambiguous.
Skaði drew a deep breath, regained her composure, and released her grip.
Shy, or annoyed?
She had never had intimate contact with the opposite sex, but Skaði prided herself on having a warrior's temperament. She refused to let her thoughts drift that way.
Rowe's mind remained calm as well. He had long since outgrown flustered reactions.
He released his hold and stood.
Skaði sat up in the snow, face composed.
"Losing is losing," she said. "There is no such thing as being unconvinced."
For a moment, the Snow Goddess sounded remarkably forthright, almost blunt.
Rowe was faintly surprised.
"However," Skaði added immediately, retracting her own statement with the speed of a thrown spear, "I am unconvinced."
She was ultimately not Scáthach.
Scáthach would have been pleased, delighted by any blade that could push her further.
Skaði, after a fight, would instinctively believe she could have won.
Even if they shared an origin, their experiences were different. There was an unbridgeable gap between a god and a warrior who lived only for battle.
Still, her unwillingness held little resentment.
Skaði's temperament was gentle by nature. Even toward strangers, even toward strange ghosts, she remained the same.
She brushed snow from her long purple hair, smooth as flowing water. The movement made her full chest rise and fall under the tight fabric of her dress.
"So I'll keep a close eye on you," she said, dark purple eyes narrowing with determination, "until I defeat you."
A grudge.
Yet the way she bared her teeth looked more endearing than threatening.
Rowe understood it for what it was.
A compromise.
To keep a close eye on him, she would follow him.
And he could easily guess her true intention. She wanted to learn. She wanted to steal that method of turning an opponent's strength against them, then use it to defeat him and wash away the humiliation of being pinned so quickly.
Rowe did not mind.
"You're always welcome." Rowe spread his hands, placing no restrictions on her.
Under his watch, she was not going anywhere.
He looked around. The light had begun to dim, the world shifting toward the blue gray of approaching night.
"So now, I need to go somewhere," he said.
"Guide me."
"Where?" Skaði asked reflexively.
"The base of the World Tree," Rowe said, pointing toward the distant trunk that cut the sky apart. "Jötunheimr."
No one in this world knew who he truly was.
There was no harm in saying it aloud.
Skaði made a small sound of surprise.
"Hm? You're going to Jötunheimr too?"
"Too?" Rowe's gaze returned to her.
"Mm." Skaði nodded and began tidying her skirt, smoothing fabric that had been disturbed by the fall.
"In fact, the reason I hold the Snow Mountain Goddess hunting ritual every year is to find a hero who can enter Jötunheimr."
She clearly assumed Rowe was human, and a human ghost at that. To her, he could have no connection to giants.
Giants represented chaos and disorder. Humans lived by order. Hostility was natural. Communication was nearly impossible.
So Skaði hid nothing.
It was not even a secret.
"Decades ago," she continued, "the Great God Odin issued a prophecy."
"He said a group of terrifying giants would appear in Jötunheimr. They would have bodies of lava, frames of steel, and power strong enough to rival gods."
"Odin wants the gods to investigate the situation thoroughly. Whoever finds the 'king' of that group first will receive Odin's eternal protection."
Odin, the king of the Norse gods, carried authority no less absolute than Zeus in Greece.
His protection was a prize that would make even gods scramble.
Skaði's eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion flickering for the first time.
"But what are you going to Jötunheimr for?"
"Of course," Rowe said with an easy smile, "to find 'life' in Jötunheimr."
Half true.
Half false.
But Skaði did not suspect him.
Jötunheimr held the Spring of Wisdom and Knowledge. It was not unthinkable that one might seek resurrection through what lay there.
"That's perfect." Skaði's expression brightened. "You and I can cooperate."
"You help me investigate that group of giant kings, and I'll help you find the knowledge of the reincarnation spring."
They reached agreement with alarming speed.
"However," Rowe said, lifting a hand, "this is not cooperation. This is my command."
Skaði stared at him.
"Hm? A mere human ghost, and you're arrogant?"
"This ghost just defeated you, a goddess," Rowe replied calmly.
"It was a trick." Skaði clicked her tongue, pride flaring again. "Once I decipher your moves, I'll show you what it means to be wise in the magic mirror."
Then, as if remembering something more important, her expression shifted into thoughtful curiosity.
"I wonder what the king of those strange giants will look like," she mused aloud.
"The giants I've seen before were terrifying enough. The king of those strange giants must be far more terrifying."
"Maybe we'll even have a big battle."
The goddess continued chattering, her tone rising with anticipation, painting an exciting future with innocent confidence.
She did not notice.
In the dim light of approaching night, Rowe's expression had become strangely difficult to read.
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