Chapter 12: Kneel Peasants! -V
...The Sanctuary wards should have triggered alarms or drawn guards by now. But it's quiet.
*Sigh* It looks like I need to go back by myself.
.
I glance down.
My shirt's half-burned, skin beneath torn and scorched where the runes flared brightest. My arm still twitches—nerves not fully responding. Pain pulses with every heartbeat, a dull throb just below screaming.
"Ælir," I grunt, limping forward, "diagnosis."
[Scanning...]
A faint hum buzzes behind my ears.
[Conclusion: No permanent damage. Severe rune-burn trauma along right forearm, shoulder joint overstrained. Internal energy pathways destabilised, but already stabilising. Estimated regeneration time: 1 hour.]
"...Good."
[Advisory: Do not perform any rune invocation until recovery is complete.]
I grunt, dragging my weight toward the entrance. Each step feels heavier than the last, like gravity is conspiring against me. The corridor ahead still glows faintly with residual energy—the aftermath of the beast's explosion leaving a haze of ash and broken runes along the walls.
My body will recover. It always does. But something still gnaws at the back of my mind.
That creature, the mind-taker beast, was usually used to infiltrate the enemy back in the war during Borr's reign. After beating its opponent, the beast will brainwash the defeated opponent and give its control to its handler.
The handler, the dark elves of Svartalfheim, can issue commands and receive information from the other side through it.
But, self-destruct isn't one of its abilities...
If I'd lost, the beast would have brainwashed me. Gaining a prince as a pawn in Asgard.
I glance back once at the scorched crater where it self-detonated.
No trace left behind.
An enemy has infiltrated the palace, but I don't know who?
Asgard is in the midst of expansion, it's surrounded by enemies externally. Internally, Asgard doesn't seem to have a problem.
Odin's reign, although it was violent and strict, aligned with this society's warrior culture.
At least, I haven't heard any complaint or rebellion from the people.
Either way, someone knew I'd be here.Someone was watching.
They are targeting me.
And I need to find out who.
A sound of galloping horse echoed in the distance.
I turned my head, every joint aching but slowly mending. A black steed tore across the grassland, weaving between stone monoliths and scorched moss. Dust curled behind it like smoke.
The rider leaned forward, riding like a phantom from an old saga.
"Prince Sævor!"
Uncle Arkan.
He pulled his warhorse to a sudden stop, hooves slamming the ground. In one smooth motion, he dismounted—gray hair tied back, armor dark and stripped of ceremony. A soldier to the core.
His eyes scanned me, then narrowed.
"By the roots of Yggdrasil… are you injured?"
I straightened slightly. My wounds were sealed, thanks to Ælir's regeneration, but the ache inside hadn't left. Muscles and veins still simmered from the Chain Rune's backlash.
"No visible injuries," I muttered. "But I wouldn't recommend arm-wrestling me right now."
Arkan's brow twitched. "What happened here? The explosion—"
"Something I wasn't supposed to find," I cut in, glancing back toward the smouldering field. "A Mind-Taker Beast. Someone let it out—or planted it. And when it failed... they triggered a failsafe."
"Mind-Taker?" Arkan's eyes sharpened. "That's Dark Elf warfare."
"I know," I said. "And someone made sure it left no trace."
Arkan's jaw tightened. "You were targeted?"
"I'm certain of it."
"Someone knew I'd be here. They planned for failure."
He exhaled slowly, then gestured toward his horse. "Come. You shouldn't walk in your condition."
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
I didn't argue.
He helped me up onto the horse. I leaned slightly against him as we galloped toward the gate, exhaustion finally catching up.
When we arrived, Geri was standing beside the carriage, arms crossed, tapping his foot in boredom.
Then he saw me.
Tap stopped.
Eyes widened.
"What in the Nine Realms happened?!"
"Wards muted the explosion," Arkan said curtly. "Localised breach."
Geri stepped forward, visibly worried, but I waved him off.
"I'm alive," I mumbled. "Just tired. Bones feel like molten gravel. Let's go home."
I slumped into the carriage seat with a groan.
"…Man. I'd kill for a cheeseburger."
Geri blinked. "A cheese what?"
I closed my eyes. "Never mind. I'll tell the chef later."
Arkan placed a firm hand on my shoulder before I shut the door. His grip was steady.
"I'll investigate this myself. The king will hear of it directly."
I met his gaze. Dependable. A man the royal court trusted—and someone I'd known all my life. Well, my Asgard life.
"Thanks, Uncle Arkan."
He nodded once, then turned back toward the field.
.
.
.