In Loki's Honor

Then I remembered I had Yznarian's System Core inside me and knockoff Gandalf as my personal A.I. assistant. "Tuisto, can you give me the Character Sheet of each of my previous incarnations?"

"Yes," The old geezer pretending to be an obscure Germanic deity replied.

Nostalgic System windows opened around me, less than twenty. The number made me sad. In more than a third of the lives I've lived so far, I hadn't survived long enough to gain a Status window.

I spent hours checking them and trying to revive the powers in this System-less state. Stuff I've never used properly, Perks that were borderline useless. Some of them, like Haru's Shadow Workshop, depended so much on the System that I could only create a pale imitation of the complex and humongous machinery the Goddess incarnate used to dissect and dismantle dragons.

And one in particular was completely unavailable. My [Tree Refuge] was completely inaccessible. The pocket dimension where I planted a world tree was gone. Well, maybe not gone but I couldn't even... I gave up trying and asked, "Tuisto, why can't I access the [Tree Refuge]?"

"Because that divine realm is bound to your [Wisp of Creation]. The realm still exists but now belongs to your mother Rosalinda."

I grumbled and chewed on my lower lip. My tails waved dangerously behind me. I rubbed the tip of my fingers, feeling the need to scratch something or someone. Loki. I mean I wanted to scratch Loki's face. Until it bled out and became like Deadpool's face.

He would probably laugh, heal his avatar's face, and then tell me that it was my fault for not fully binding with Pandora, the divine core. That if I did that from the get-go, his life would be way easier, yadda, yadda.

My anger then went to the deceased Yznarian pantheon. Every single thing these deities did, every boon, curse, and otherwise was a ploy to get me out of their way. Even the innocuous-looking pocket dimension that was actually a fucking divine realm was meant to get me absorbed elsewhere and leave Yznarian for good. I had no allies among the dead gods, much less friends. It pained me to admit that Wyxnos, even with the adult sequoia tree stuck up his ass, was the best among them.

Bloody hell. To distract my mind, I asked more questions to the System steward.

"What does it take for a deity to form a divine realm?"

"A singular act of will," he wisecracked like a Greek philosopher of old.

"[...] und Gott sprach: Es werde Licht, und es ward Licht!" my soprano sang as Haydn intended.

Tuisto smiled. "Exactly that."

It meant that when the divine core Loki promised me arrived, I could make another divine realm. The sardine can of worms labeled "why would Loki want me to have a divine core" briefly opened but I shut it down. I had smaller fish to fry and was happy to let those smelly anchovies remain sealed.

I felt railroaded and I hated it. Perhaps the same could be said of all my lives, as Dracula would argue, but at least back then I was distracted by all the adventure and fantasy and naiveté of a brand-new life. Of the three, I only had the latter. No. I was sitting at a guest room at Nidavellir's library. I had the fantasy too, just needed some adventure.

So much for staying inside and reminisce. Though I managed to entertain myself with the system-less version of my previous lives' powers for several hours.

I needed some adventure, I decided.

So, I left the library.

*

*

I didn't sneak out. Librarians and visitors alike saw me walk down the library corridors and leave through the front door. Two Dvergar in matte metallic armor stood guard outside. They weren't like the British palatial guard and one of them turned his helmeted head to address me.

"Going out, Goddess Haru?" He politely asked.

"I'm going to explore the city," I told them. "Just stretch my legs, see the sights, maybe buy some souvenirs." I left the part where I asked for permission out.

"We wish you a good time," the other guard said.

"If the Loremaster asks for me, tell him I won't be out for too long. Where's the closest market square?"

They gave me directions and I set off. I had no local currency but maybe whatever shop caught my fancy could barter their goods for a castle or two. Yeah, who am I kidding? The Dvergar architecture and construction materials made those medieval Yznarian erections look like sandcastles made by a toddler.

I walked slowly. Nidavellir didn't have a day or night cycle but if I had to guess, it was night. Fewer Dvergar walked the streets than before but the city didn't seem asleep. I could hear the faint din of hammers on metal, smell flux in the air. The chimneys didn't let out smoke into the air; instead, they rose all the way to the cavern ceiling and disappeared, venting the smoke and soot elsewhere.

For a city with these many smithies, it was a blessing. Back in Yznarian the dwarves built the crafting district away from the residential areas but here they mingled and intermixed.

When I passed next to a smithy, I could see the faint hues of a sound-dampening enchantment. It wasn't absolute like, say, a privacy ward but it muted the sounds by twenty or thirty decibels, or a factor between one hundred to one thousand. The enchantment was layered over the whole building, proving that the technique used to enchant the great library wasn't exclusive to fancy buildings.

"Hey, what do you want?" A gruff Dvergar voice came from the smithy. The owner of the voice appeared shortly after, wearing a leather apron and heavy mail gloves that could pass as gauntlets.

"Oh, me? I was just admiring the enchantment in your smithy, sir." I replied in the local language.

The Dvergar raised an eyebrow and rubbed his beard. "Sir? I'm a woman."

My head dropped down immediately. "My most sincere apologies, ma'am."

"Do you need a weapon?" The woman asked. "Tools?"

"I don't have any local currency on me. Would you barter with me?"

"Barter? What do you have to offer?"

"Gemstones. Some metal ingots."

The smith snorted. "Gems? No. Metal ingots? What kind?"

"I have a bar of Truesilver I can part with," I offered.

The reaction was instant. The Dvergar's eyes shifted to the colorful fur duster adorning my back. "Come inside. Make sure your tails don't knock anything off."

"Don't worry, they won't."

The smithy's front room was practical and stylish. Homely. It didn't have weapons or armor on display. Instead, it was decorated more like a house's living room, with mementos and other decorations. The center was taken by a stone table and some chairs.

"I'm Haru, pleased to meet you," I introduced myself and offered a hand.

"You may call me Brynn," the smith said but didn't take my hand. "What weapon can you use?"

A lazy and wasteful woman, Brynn was not. She was straight to the point and looked like she wanted to go back to work without being rude.

"A dagger or a sword would be fine. I can use spears or clubs too but I do not intend to go to war anytime soon."

"Really? From your tails, I believed you to be the more mystical kind."

"I can cast spells and if I had to say, I am more inclined to solving things with magic but I can hold myself in a weapon fight, if I may say so."

"Sure. Mind if I test?" Brynn asked.

"A spar?"

She snorted. "No, nothing of the sort. Just watching your stance and how you swing at a test dummy shall suffice. Follow me to the back."

As we walked, we made small talk.

"Are you visiting?" I nodded in reply to her question. "From the beastlands?" A head shake.

"I'm from another world. Staying as Loremaster Ragnar's guest at the Great Library," I replied.

"I had a hunch you weren't from the beastlands. Fox-Kin with human faces are rare. And we are far from Alfheim."

Alfheim was one of the three higher realms in the Yggdrasil cosmology, along Asgard and Vanaheim. We were in Myrkheim, one of the three middle realms, next to Midgard and Jotunheim. Then Muspelheim, Niflheim, and Hel at the bottom.

As I mused, we crossed the work area. A brick furnace and a silvery anvil dominated the space. The heat would be unbearable for a mortal.

"I'm not entirely fox-kin by blood," I offered. "My mother was not beast-kin."

"Complicated family relations?" Brynn smirked.

"You can say that. It led to a revolution and the building of an empire."

We reached the back. A training dummy made of overlapping pieces of leather stood on a metal pole next to a barrel full of swords.

"Take any sword and swing at the dummy once," Brynn said.

Something on her face, a minor twitch, told me I should pick carefully. So I did. I sensed the magic in the swords and wasn't surprised when some of them had natural enchantments. Nothing too big or too fancy but still. They all had minor imperfections too. Back in Yznarian, these swords wouldn't be amiss in any knight's scabbard. Here, they belonged in the bargain bin. I settled on one sword that had no magic but also no flaws on its blade. If I had to guess why it was here with the other failures, was because of something in the way it was assembled. Or in the tang.

As I drew the sword with confidence, Brynn raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing. I gave the sword a few test swings and found the issue. it was too front-heavy and the grip was for one hand. It was grossly off-balance and any blow could knock it off the hands of a lesser fencer. Worse, it was scaled for a Dvergar. The blade could be fit for a human as a either a big bastard sword or a small two-handed sword.

In my delicate feminine hands, my half-dwarf hands, the hilt was humongous. Yet, I knew I could wield it with one hand only. My strength was off the charts. The blade was as long as Haru was tall.

Some reflection told me it was because of the soul tempering Loki had me undergo with the [Surpasser] series of Perks. All the lifeforce of my previous lives was compressed and fed to my soul, making each successive incarnation more than the previous. If I remembered correctly, some of the early investments in Attribute points had already paid themselves off.

"Should I strike the dummy?" I asked.

"Sure. Do your worst," Brynn smirked.

"Okay. Without magic or Skills, right?"

"What? No, I expect you to display your skills."

I gave an apologetic smile. "No, I was talking about Skills. Magic-fueled Skills. I intend to display my full proficiency with the weapon."

"We call them techniques here, but I understand. Use only your physical skills, please. No magic.

The dummy wasn't enchanted. I held the sword in the iron door stance, with the blade in front of me pointing up. From here, I could go for a stab or a decapitating blow with a twist of my wrists.

With a flurry of movement, I tapped my front feet forward and brought the sword up and then down, aiming for the dummy's shoulder. I felt the pull as it went up but my grip was firm. The blade tapped the dummy's leather body and cut through two layers before stopping abruptly. I felt the sting of the momentum in my hand but it was nothing I couldn't endure.

Bringing the blade back to the previous guard, I lowered it but didn't let it touch the stone floor. Dirt in this cavernous realm was at a premium.

"You still used some magic," Brynn said, a glimmer on her eyes.

"Innate magic. I have a lot of body strengthening and other self-enhancements running all the time. It wasn't even conscious."

If my memory was correct, Lakerta, the lamia knight, had a Perk to improve her grip with weapons. Or was it Percival? I gave the issue a mental shrug.

"You pass," Brynn said. "Though you seem a bit rusty and unsure, I can see you have the skills of a real warrior."

Quest complete, XP gained. Or not. It wasn't a game any... no, it was never a game. it wasn't gamified anymore, that's what I meant.

"Yes, it’s been a few thousand years since I last fought with only a blade."

Brynn froze for a moment but then nodded and straightened her back. "I meant to ask before but you aren't a normal fox-kin, are you?"

"No, not really. This is just the form I feel most comfortable with."

A commotion at the front gate. As they crossed the sound-suppressing enchantment, dozens of armored feet clattered in the entrance. I heard the chattering of boisterous feminine voices.

"Oh, they're back," Brynn said. "Honored customer, would you wait for a moment?"

"Sure. Are they your customers? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, they're customers, and yes, everything is perfect. If these women are this excited, their hunt went pretty well."

Brynn turned around. I fell into position next to her. "Mind if I tag along? I wanted to go hunt some monsters myself, would like to talk to your customers if that's okay with you."

"Perfectly fine," she replied as we crossed the workshop. "If anything, they would love to have another warrior with them."

What I found in the front room was a gaggle of human women. Well, if these six-foot-five-plus behemoths of muscle and blonde braids were actually human. They were all armed and armored in leather armor with metallic plates covering the vital spots. They came straight from the fight, splotches of blood and some dents on the armor plates. They screamed Viking to my eyes. My fox ears twitched. My eyes were at the level of their crotches.

The surprise was mutual. The Viking warriors stopped chatting and stared at me. And at the myriads of colorful tails swaying behind me.

"Brynn, who's this adorable vixen next to you?" The one at the lead squealed.

"Allow me to introduce you, then. This is Haru, a Kitsune warrior, and this is Meynar Ax, a Viking Shieldmaiden."

The Viking's eyes went to the big sword still in my hand. "Can you wield that?" Meynar teased as a challenge.

Shonen manga vibes intensified as the warrior women's interest and bloodlust drenched the room. I sensed it was time to du-du-du-duel.

Life 36 - Chapter 4 - As my first move, I play Kitsune Goddess in the attack position