Chapter 641 – "Daughter of the Howling Star"
The feast had long ended. The gods were still sobering up—some with tea, others with mild regret—but the peace in the air was real.
Loki, now properly groomed and fed, sat beside Alex on the outer balcony of the hall, staring up at the pale arc of the Bifröst stretching overhead.
He sipped something hot from a clay mug—something brewed by Alex, of course. "It's strange," he murmured. "I know I've missed so much… but it's like the world forgot me, too."
Alex didn't reply. He didn't need to. He just waited.
"…Where is she?" Loki finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fenrir. My daughter."
That name sent a ripple through the air.
Thor stiffened.
Freyja turned her head, eyes narrowing slightly.
Heimdall blinked once.
Even Odin, seated at a stone table nearby, set down his mug with slow precision.
They had all been wondering the same thing.
And they had all seen what happened last time.
Alex looked toward the horizon for a moment, then replied calmly. "Safe."
"That's not an answer," Loki said, his voice quiet but insistent.
"It's the only one that matters," Alex said. "But… if you want to see her, you can."
Loki turned fully toward him, his expression unreadable. "I haven't spoken to her since she was born. I've only seen her twice."
Alex tilted his head. "You were likely already trapped in the mirror by then."
Loki's eyes shadowed, but he nodded slowly.
The other gods stood now, quiet and still. Odin, Thor, Freyja, Heimdall, Baldur. Even the Valkyries watched from a distance, their posture tense.
Because the last time they saw Fenrir…
She had been 100 meters tall.
And she had howled down the heavens.
Alex closed his eyes.
(Fenrir. You free?)
Her answer came instantly, curious and content.
(Yes, Father.)
"Come here," he said aloud.
And then space bent.
Not cracked. Not warped.
It bent, like a cloth pulled gently in the center.
A portal opened silently in the middle of the sky above Asgard.
The air dimmed slightly.
The wind stopped.
And through that fold in reality… something stepped forward.
A paw.
The size of a warship.
Followed by a leg, a flank, then the massive, shadow-furred form of a wolf taller than the mountains.
Fenrir emerged—700 meters tall, her silver fur gleaming under the sunlight like woven starlight. Her amber eyes glowed faintly with runes. Her breath misted like winter storm clouds.
And in her mouth—
A 500-meter long T-Rex dangled between her teeth, limp, still steaming from the jungle planet she had just left.
She crunched once, swallowed lazily, and turned her enormous head.
"…Papa?"
Alex floated upward to meet her eyes. "Come down a bit. You're blocking the sun."
She blinked once, then shrank—700 meters to 7 meters in the span of a breath—until she landed softly beside him, now the size of a large horse.
The gods stared.
They had seen Fenrir before, yes. But not like this.
Not with this calmness, this control, this presence.
"She was 100 meters last time," Thor muttered. "When did she—?"
"She's been growing," Alex replied. "The world I placed her in has no gods, no rivals. She's… the top of the food chain."
"Clearly," Freyja said faintly, glancing at the half-digested dino scale still stuck to Fenrir's paw.
Loki stepped forward slowly.
Fenrir tilted her head.
"…You look like my father," she said, voice low, thoughtful. "But not the one I met. Not the one who ignored me."
Loki stopped. "That wasn't me."
"I know," Fenrir said. "That one didn't smell like anything."
She stepped closer, still larger than a war-horse, yet oddly gentle. "This you… you smell like sea wind. Magic. Fire. Confusion."
"That's… accurate," Loki muttered.
Alex stepped aside, letting the two face each other.
Fenrir hesitated, then spoke. "Why did you never visit?"
Loki closed his eyes, pain flickering across his face. "Because I was locked away. In a mirror. For thousands of years."
Fenrir was quiet for a moment.
Then she nodded.
"…Okay."
Loki blinked. "That's it?"
"I don't need more," she said. "You came back. That's more than most ever do."
She leaned down and gently nudged his chest with her muzzle.
"I missed you."
And for the first time in 3,000 years…
Loki wept.
The emotional moment between Loki and Fenrir passed like a gentle breeze across the stone steps of the divine terrace. For a while, the gods remained silent—perhaps out of respect, perhaps out of uncertainty.
But the silence didn't last.
Odin was the first to speak.
"…Alex," he said slowly, voice heavy with measured curiosity, "where exactly did you send her?"
Thor folded his arms. "And how does a wolf become 700 meters tall in only a few years?"
Freyja's gaze was sharper. "Even her scent… it's not just divine. It's refined. Evolved."
Heimdall didn't speak. But he was watching Alex very, very closely.
Alex, as always, stayed calm.
He let the questions gather like clouds—but offered no thunder in response.
"She's on a planet far from here," he said simply. "One filled with powerful life forms. Many of them are massive beasts, some ancient, some newly evolved. A dangerous place."
"And yet she thrives," Odin noted.
"She does," Alex confirmed. "Because she's stronger than them."
Baldur narrowed his eyes. "That doesn't explain the rate of her growth. Her structure, her control. It's not just raw power. Her evolution is… directed."
Thor took a step forward. "You said 'a planet with powerful life.' But who made it that way?"
Alex smiled faintly. "Nature, perhaps."
It wasn't a lie.
But it wasn't the whole truth either.
In his mind, the answer was clear—but only to him.
I have no intention of telling them about World Frontier.
That world, once thought to be a game, was now a living, breathing realm—one shaped by his will. He had created seeds—tens of thousands—infused with mana, adaptive evolution traits, and fragmentary Laws. He scattered them across the planet—into soil, air, water. Over time, they had grown into:
Fruits that enhanced mana circulationRoots that altered metabolismVines that triggered evolution in grazing speciesLeaves that sharpened perception
Animals ate the plants. The plants transformed them. Predator and prey alike adapted, grew, changed. Some gained intelligence. Some mutated. Some became something else entirely.
The world itself became a crucible of survival and potential.
A place where strength wasn't given—it was earned.
Ciel, the will of that world, had never protested. In fact, she agreed. She watched with quiet amusement as her forests changed and her beasts became legends. To her, it wasn't corruption—it was evolution. And it made the planet more interesting.
So Alex stood in front of the gods now, perfectly calm, and repeated:
"It's just a planet. A fertile one. The life there is powerful. That's all."
Freyja wasn't satisfied. "You're telling me that it's just… coincidence? That she became like this by accident?"
"No," Alex said softly. "I'm telling you that the world she lived in shaped her. Not gods. Not fate. Just nature."
Loki glanced at him.
There was something in his gaze. A knowing flicker. A subtle understanding.
He said nothing.
Neither did Odin.
But the silence now carried a different weight.
A weight that said: They don't believe you. But they also can't prove it.
For now… that would be enough.
Sensing the growing tension from the gods and the unspoken questions hovering in the air like blades waiting to drop, Alex casually shifted his weight and turned toward Fenrir, his voice light:
"…That T-Rex you were carrying."
Fenrir tilted her head. "Hmm?"
"Do you mind if I cook it?"
She blinked.
Then looked down at her claws.
Only now did she remember the half-devoured 500-meter dinosaur she'd been holding in her mouth when she arrived. Its massive tail still hung limply from a spatial fold she used for storage. It had been her breakfast—half-finished, barely chewed.
"You want to cook it?" she asked, confused.
Alex nodded. "Why not? I've never tried cooking anything that's been hunted by you before. Might be interesting."
Fenrir looked startled.
"…You can cook this?"
Alex shrugged. "I've cooked gods' banquets, remember? A dinosaur's just another ingredient."
She opened her mouth to protest—and then froze.
Her eyes widened.
"…Wait. That's right."
She blinked once, then again. A strange expression crossed her face—something between awe and embarrassment.
"I've never eaten your food before."
Everyone turned.
Even Loki raised an eyebrow.
Fenrir looked down at her claws, then slowly sat. "I've only ever eaten raw meat. I never thought about it before. I… don't know what cooked food even tastes like."
A silence passed. Then:
Skuld gasped dramatically and ran over to Fenrir like a scandalized older sister.
"YOU'VE NEVER EATEN ALEX'S FOOD!?"
Fenrir leaned back instinctively, surprised. "…No?"
Skuld turned to Alex, arms flailing. "This is a crime! A food crime! Fix it!"
Alex was already smiling. "On it."
With a snap of his fingers, he summoned an enormous floating platform—a glowing, rune-etched disk easily 100 meters across. The T-Rex corpse was gently transported onto it, suspended by golden threads of mana.
He turned to Fenrir. "You'll stay small, right? I don't want to cook a mountain-sized lunch."
Fenrir, still a little stunned, nodded.
"I'll stay this size."
Thor muttered, "I still can't get over that that's her small form…"
Alex laughed.
Then he floated upward, surrounded by glowing circles of Mana Law. Dozens of glowing knives, pans, and utensils spiraled into place behind him. His hands moved in rhythm—scaling, cutting, searing, marinating—all in midair.
The scent that followed—
Even Odin's eyebrows lifted.
As the savory scent of cooking dinosaur flesh spread through the divine terraces of Asgard, the gods who had been tense moments earlier now found themselves following their noses like curious beasts.
The floating cooking platform shimmered with layered spell circles—containing heat, aroma, and air pressure—ensuring nothing escaped unless Alex allowed it.
Then, one by one, tables appeared around the platform. Luxurious, yet simple. Chairs made of polished divinewood formed in spiraling arcs. Tableware of star-silver and obsidian bone materialized with a flick of his fingers.
Alex glanced down. "I'm making enough for everyone. Hope you're hungry."
Skuld was already in her seat, bouncing like a child on festival day.
Thor grunted. "You always say that like we have a choice."
Odin smirked. "At this point, denying your meals would be a greater crime than Fenrir's lack of seasoning experience."
The gods sat.
And the first platters arrived, floating in glowing trays of polished light:
Main Dishes from the T-Rex (Divine Fire-Grilled):
Celestial Flame-Grilled T-Rex Steaks
Thick-cut, seared over volcanic flame, rubbed with a blend of World Frontier spices and crushed mana fruit salts. Juicy and smoky with hints of wild sage.Draconic Pepper T-Rex Ribs
Slow-roasted for hours in a pressure-enhanced field, coated with a sticky glaze of pepperfruit, sun-nectar, and black honey. Fall-off-the-bone tender.Seared Sky-Beast T-Rex Slices
Thin slices grilled on flat stone, served with ethereal dipping sauces—one that cools the tongue, and one that stings like lightning.Crispy Solar Char T-Rex Belly
Belly meat flash-fried in radiant oil extracted from Fire Lotus seeds. Crispy skin, melting fat, and an umami core that made even Freyja close her eyes in pleasure.Smoked Thunder-Tail Medallions
Medallion cuts from the tail, cured with frost-bark salt, then smoked over mana-soaked cedar from World Frontier. Served with roasted glacier potatoes.Mana-Braised Bone Marrow Roast
Bones split and slow-braised in mana broth until the marrow turns into a silken golden paste—served with warm hearthbread for dipping.
Side Dishes:
Sun-Spiced Ember Beans – cooked in dragon oil and crushed herbsGrilled Root Chips – crisp and sweet, from the deepgrowth roots of the FrontierStonefruit Relish – a tangy-sweet sauce to balance the meatsCloud-Crusted Mana Rice – fluffy, faintly glowing, and perfectly balanced in taste
As the food arrived, even Fenrir stared wide-eyed. She sniffed one of the flame-grilled steaks placed before her, cautiously poked it with a claw, then glanced at Alex.
"…Can I eat it?"
"Of course," he said with a small laugh. "This one's yours."
She bit in.
And froze.
"…It's… warm," she whispered. "But not burning. Juicy, but not bloody. The flavor—"
She trailed off.
Then devoured the entire cut.
And her tail thumped the ground like a pleased wolf pup.
Loki, across the table, laughed for the first time since his return.
Freyja sipped her wine and whispered, "He doesn't just feed people. He rebuilds them."
The banquet flowed like a gentle current, with platters floating in and out, meat sizzling as it met enchanted plates, and soft golden light illuminating the terrace like dusk made eternal.
Gods who once stood across battlefields now shared dipping sauces.
Even Odin—stoic, thunder-eyed Odin—had taken a second helping of the roasted marrow roast, casually dipping his hearthbread into the silky golden pool like an old man at a village inn.
Fenrir, having devoured her fourth steak, leaned back—still in her reduced form—tail sweeping behind her lazily. Her expression was… thoughtful.
"…You know," she began, licking her fangs, "I used to think raw T-Rex meat was the best thing I'd ever eaten."
Alex grinned. "Was?"
Fenrir nodded seriously. "Yes. It was juicy. It screamed properly before dying. Very satisfying."
The table paused for a moment, most of the gods blinking at that last sentence.
Freyja tilted her head. "Screamed properly?"
Fenrir nodded again. "Some prey don't scream. It makes the hunt less fun."
Skuld stared at her in horrified fascination while chewing a rice ball.
"But," Fenrir continued, "there was one prey I didn't like."
Loki raised an eyebrow, sipping spiced mead. "Oh?"
"A big one," Fenrir muttered. "About 600 meters tall. A green gorilla. Four arms. Lived in the jungle valleys of the southern continent."
Alex blinked. He vaguely remembered that species—he'd seen it during one of his visits to the wilder regions of World Frontier. Genetically mutated by consuming multiple types of combat-fruit and stormroots.
Fenrir bared her teeth slightly. "I fought three of them once. They were strong, yeah. Could throw boulders like thunder. Their howls cracked trees. I won, of course."
Thor looked impressed. "Sounds like a good fight."
"It was," she agreed. "But their meat—awful."
She stuck out her tongue.
"Tough. Rubbery. Bitter. Like trying to chew a muddy mountain boot. I only took a few bites before I threw the rest into a lava pit."
Skuld gasped. "You wasted food?"
"It wasn't food," Fenrir huffed. "It was punishment."
Several gods chuckled.
Alex rubbed his chin. "Next time, let me cook it. I might be able to turn it into something edible."
Fenrir looked at him, intrigued. "You think you can fix that?"
"I've cooked abyssal serpents and Hellwasp queens," he said mildly. "I could probably turn that thing into soup dumplings."
"Soup… dumplings," Fenrir whispered, as if he'd just spoken a divine spell.
Skuld leaned closer to her across the table. "Careful. That's how it starts. First soup dumplings… then your whole personality changes."
The gods laughed.
For a moment, it felt less like a summit of immortals, and more like a family dinner—chaotic, loud, and somehow deeply healing.
Even Odin, with his single storm-colored eye, gave a faint smile as he watched the strange group around the table. His gaze lingered on Alex.
There was still suspicion.
Still unspoken thoughts.
But for now… they'd eat.
And for now… that was enough.
Chapter 642 – "The Thunder and the Tyrant"
The scent of roasted meat still hung in the air like perfume laced with memory.
Fenrir lounged beside the feast table, tail sweeping with lazy satisfaction, while Skuld continued feeding her rice balls. The gods were chatting, drinking, and laughing like they hadn't in centuries—until Thor, halfway through his fifth rib, looked up thoughtfully.
His golden eyebrows furrowed.
"…That thing you cooked earlier," he said, licking sauce from his thumb. "The T-Rex."
Alex glanced over. "What about it?"
Thor pointed a large, greasy finger. "You said it was 500 meters tall when Fenrir brought it in, right?"
Alex nodded. "That's right."
Thor grinned. "And she hunted it? Killed it herself?"
"Bit its spine in half," Fenrir said proudly, mouth full.
The thunder god's grin widened. He stood, rolling his shoulders with a metallic crunch. "That's a big beast. Sounds like fun."
Alex tilted his head. "You thinking what I think you're thinking?"
"I want to fight one."
Silence.
Freyja turned slowly. "You want to what?"
"Fight it," Thor repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You said the planet's full of powerful creatures, right? That T-Rex was no ordinary beast. I want to see how strong it really is."
Skuld nearly choked on her drink. "You just ate its cousin!"
Thor shrugged. "Nothing wrong with dinner and a workout."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "You want me to summon one here?"
"If you can," Thor said. "Unless it's too much for you."
Alex smiled faintly. "I didn't say I couldn't. I asked if you were sure."
Thor's eyes gleamed like storms preparing to break. "I am."
The other gods were perking up now. Heimdall raised a brow. Loki leaned forward in his seat, clearly interested. Even Odin, who had been content to sit silently, shifted just slightly—just enough to show he was paying full attention.
Alex placed down his utensils.
"Fine," he said. "But not here."
He stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeves.
"Find us a wider area," he said calmly. "Unless you want the terrace shattered and Asgard half-eaten."
Thor laughed. "I know just the place."
Moments later…
A new location unfolded before them—a divine arena carved into the very side of a floating continent, surrounded by hovering cliffs, magical wind barriers, and observation platforms shaped like suspended coliseums.
It was vast. Large enough to host titans. Carved from black stone streaked with veins of gold lightning.
At the center stood Thor, already summoning his armor.
Alex stood across from him, arms crossed, the space around him vibrating faintly with invisible laws.
Above, the sky began to darken.
Gods filled the upper rings, murmuring with anticipation.
And Alex looked up casually and said:
"Alright then. Summoning one now."
The wind shifted.
The arena, once silent and vast, now crackled with energy as Alex raised one hand skyward. Mana flared—not wild, not chaotic, but focused. Clean. Deliberate. His body glowed faintly as the Law of Space bent beneath his will.
"Summoning now," he said, his voice calm.
A circular rift opened above the center of the arena—massive, pulsing with golden light. The air pressure dropped. The ground vibrated.
Then—
BOOM.
A massive shadow emerged, one limb at a time.
First, a scaled leg thick as a mountain pillar. Then another. Then a tail that slammed the ground behind it with enough force to create a crater. Dust blasted outward, only to be caught by Alex's subtle mana dome—shielding the spectators.
The creature roared as its head emerged—a monster from a prehistoric nightmare, except larger than anyone could have dreamed.
Its height?
520 meters.
Its jaws?
Lined with black bone-like spikes, each tooth bigger than a house.
Its eyes?
Vacant. Soulless. This was no magical beast, no intelligent creature. This was pure apex predator instinct. It did not hate. It did not reason.
It only devoured.
Fenrir watched from the stands with a nostalgic wag of her tail. "This one's a little bigger than the last…"
Skuld gulped. "That thing's the size of an entire forest."
Loki crossed his arms. "And Thor wants to punch it?"
Below, Thor laughed thunderously.
"He doesn't just want to punch it," Alex muttered under his breath. "He wants to enjoy it."
The T-Rex spotted Thor. It didn't pause.
With a guttural, bone-shaking roar, it charged, the earth splintering beneath each step.
Thor grinned. His cape whipped behind him as he pulled Mjölnir to his hand in a flash of lightning.
"Come, beast! Let's see if your bite is worth the noise!"
And then they collided.
The impact was a blast of wind and earth-shattering force—Thor's hammer against the beast's snapping jaws.
The monster's bite caught Mjölnir, pushing Thor back several dozen meters before he dug his heels in, swinging upward and smashing the T-Rex's snout with a thunderclap.
The beast recoiled—but only for a moment.
Then it attacked again.
They fought—evenly.
Each of Thor's strikes cracked bone, broke teeth, dented scale.
Each of the T-Rex's charges threw Thor like a thunderbolt into the far cliffs—only for him to burst out of the rubble laughing and roaring back.
Lightning scorched flesh.
Jaws slammed into stone.
Spectators watched in stunned silence as a god of thunder and a prehistoric juggernaut battled like primal forces made manifest.
Odin, arms folded, muttered, "It's been a long time since he's smiled like that."
Alex watched from above, quietly maintaining the summoning field.
"Let him enjoy it," he said. "This one won't last forever."
The clash between god and beast raged on—one a storm given form, the other a walking extinction event.
Thor leapt, hammer crackling, and slammed into the T-Rex's neck. The monster roared and twisted, throwing him across the arena, where he skidded through a mountain ridge with an avalanche of dust and broken stone.
But he stood again.
Blood dripped from his brow. His armor was cracked.
And he was smiling.
From the observation rings above, the gods watched in awed silence.
"He's… enjoying this," Freyja whispered.
"Of course," Odin replied. "It's the first time in centuries he's fought something that can actually push him."
Down below, the beast reared back and roared, its bellow shattering boulders.
Thor stood tall, eyes narrowed, and called out:
"Alex!"
Alex glanced down, still floating calmly above the arena.
"I'm going to end this," Thor shouted. "Don't block the sky."
Alex gave a small nod. "I wasn't planning to."
Then, the storm came.
Clouds split. Thunder cracked open the heavens. Mjölnir blazed with light, spinning faster than mortal eyes could track.
Thor raised his hammer to the sky.
"Ragnarok's First Echo—Stormbreaker Fang!"
Lightning didn't fall.
It exploded upward from him—a surge of divine electricity so bright, the entire arena turned white for a heartbeat. Then the sky answered.
A spear of lightning the size of a mountain crashed down onto the T-Rex, engulfing its entire body in a blast of raw divine energy.
The creature screamed, but it was already too late.
Muscle tore. Bone snapped. The beast collapsed, smoking and seared, its towering body falling with an earth-shaking crash.
When the dust cleared, only silence remained.
The T-Rex twitched once… then lay still.
Thor stood beside it, breathing heavily, shoulders heaving—but triumphant.
He raised Mjölnir toward the sky with one hand.
The gods erupted in cheers.
Even Odin offered a rare nod of approval.
Alex smiled faintly, voice dry as he floated down to the ground.
"Next time, try not to overcook the meat."
Thor laughed and dropped to a seated sprawl beside the corpse.
"Then you'd better bring another one."
Thor remained seated beside the smoldering corpse of the 520-meter T-Rex, chest rising and falling steadily, armor scorched and dented. Despite his grin, the toll of the battle was visible—cracks in his vambraces, a deep gash along his side, faint burns along his jaw.
Before he could even reach for another breath, a warm glow enveloped him.
Alex had landed beside him.
The air shimmered as golden mana spiraled from Alex's hands, threading through the cracks in Thor's body like liquid light. A perfected healing spell, woven with Mana Law and shaped for divine resilience.
Thor blinked as his wounds vanished, his fatigue washed away like ash under spring rain.
"Already?" he asked, glancing at his now-pristine arms.
Alex shrugged. "You'll want to lift your mug tonight. Would've been a shame if your wrist was still broken."
Thor laughed. "You're a better support than half the healers in Valhalla."
"Don't tell them," Alex said. "They'll unionize."
Just then—
A rippling sound echoed through the air, followed by three bursts of light above the arena.
Heimdall arrived first, sword sheathed but eyes glowing like molten stars. Beside him, Baldr, radiant and calm as always, floated down with a surprised expression. Three Valkyries appeared seconds later, golden spears raised in alarm, their wings flared wide.
All five stared at the scene below.
Their eyes locked onto the T-Rex's corpse—its steaming, half-charred body still twitching from residual divine lightning.
And in perfect unison, they exclaimed:
"What the hell is this?!"
Heimdall looked at the crater, the shattered terrain, and the collapsed mountain in the distance.
"…Who summoned a walking calamity?!"
One of the Valkyries muttered, "Is that a dragon?"
Baldr tilted his head. "No wings. Too many teeth. Too many muscles."
"It's a T-Rex," Thor called up cheerfully, waving. "I killed it!"
"…You what?" Heimdall stared at him like he'd gone mad.
Alex stepped forward, still calm. "He asked me to summon it. I gave him what he asked."
Baldr blinked. "Where did you even get something like this?"
Alex replied smoothly, "It's from a distant planet. The apex predator of a very violent ecosystem."
One of the Valkyries whispered, "It's bigger than our divine boars."
Another added, "Its skull could be hollowed into a temple…"
Heimdall narrowed his eyes. "And why did no one inform me this was happening?"
Thor gestured at the wreckage. "Would you have let me do it if we told you?"
Heimdall opened his mouth, paused, then sighed. "Fair."
Baldr looked at Alex. "Did you plan this?"
Alex shrugged. "No. I just provided the ingredients. He did the cooking."
The gods laughed again.
And from the stands above, Fenrir called out with a smirk:
"Now you know how it feels to hunt one!"
Chapter 643 – "The Tyrant's Banquet"
Smoke still rose from the shattered arena floor, and the air carried the electric aftertaste of divine lightning and scorched dinosaur.
But the beast was dead. The god was healed. The crowd was hungry.
Alex stood atop a ridge near the corpse, arms folded behind his back, eyes thoughtful. He glanced once more at the slain 520-meter T-Rex, estimating the remaining viable cuts.
"This could probably feed a city," he said aloud.
Thor, still beaming with satisfaction, stretched and cracked his knuckles. "Then maybe it should."
He turned to the others. "What do you say? Shall we feast again?"
Heimdall muttered, "As long as the food doesn't scream at us mid-chew…"
The other gods chuckled.
Alex gave a small smile. "I'll prepare something fitting. We'll need a cleaner space for the tables."
With a flick of his fingers, rings of light expanded outward, transforming a portion of the arena into a massive open-air banquet hall—tables, chairs, serving lines, enchanted torches, and soft golden domes for temperature control.
As the divine construction finalized, Freyja stepped up beside him, folding her arms with a smirk.
"Don't think I didn't notice," she said.
Alex raised a brow. "Notice what?"
"You only served meat at the last meal." She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "No salads, no roots, no leafy things. What kind of feast doesn't have something green to cleanse the tongue?"
Alex chuckled. "Fair enough."
She tapped her fingers against her hip. "So. Make a menu. Vegetables and meat. Impress me."
He grinned. "Challenge accepted."
Preliminary Menu – The Tyrant's Banquet
(Dishes using meat from the 520-meter T-Rex, paired with World Frontier plants)
Vegetable-Based Dishes
Spiritroot Salad with Mana-Vine Dressing
A crisp, cold salad made from spiritroot leaves, glacier sprouts, and flamecarrot shavings, drizzled with a sweet and tangy mana-vine essence.Grilled Thundercorn with Lava-Butter Drizzle
Golden maize harvested from lightning-blessed stalks, grilled over dragon embers and brushed with a savory lava-butter glaze.Earthheart Stew with Floating Root Cubes
A thick, rich stew brewed from earthheart tubers and ghost-onions, with gentle spice notes that pair well with any roasted meat.Skyleaf Tempura Basket
A mix of translucent skyleaf, peppered crunch-vines, and shardlotus petals, deep-fried in whisper oil. Served with a cooling mist sauce.
Meat-Based Dishes
Charred Tyrant Ribs with Magma-Barley Glaze
Slow-cooked ribs, basted with a smoky-sweet glaze from fermented magma barley and ghostfruit sugar.Spiced Flame-Cut T-Rex Sirloin
Thick slices of sirloin seared on elemental plates and served with a hint of crystal-salt and wild herb paste.Mana-Braised Bone Shank
Shanks braised for six hours in a broth of wildgrass wine and crushed ironspice bark, falling apart at the touch of a spoon.Jungle-Beast Jerky Strips
Lightly smoked, dried over four hours using frost-lotus coals—chewy, spicy, and perfect as a side snack.
As Alex projected the menu into the air with a shimmering illusion, Freyja gave a satisfied hum. "Good. Now let's see if the execution lives up to the concept."
Skuld was already floating nearby, holding two trays with a greedy gleam in her eyes.
Fenrir tilted her head. "Can I help?"
Alex glanced back at her with a grin. "Sure. Want to roast the ribs?"
She wagged her tail.
Thor leaned toward Heimdall. "If I ever die in battle, make sure it's somewhere near this man's kitchen."
As the golden dome of the arena faded into twilight hues, the smell of firewood, spice, and mana-cooked meat filled the air.
Alex stood at the center of the banquet circle—a whirlwind of motion and focus. Mana constructs hovered around him like dancing spirits: knives, ladles, skewers, and pans orbiting in perfect harmony. Each movement was deliberate, elegant. He wasn't just cooking—he was performing.
Fenrir stood beside a large fire pit, holding a six-meter rack of ribs between her claws, her fur singed in a few places but her tail wagging in delight. "It's almost done!" she called out.
"Slow-roast it another three minutes," Alex instructed. "Let the glaze caramelize."
"Okay, Papa~!" she chirped.
The Sky-Tempura station was manned by floating mana arms, and the scent of shardlotus petals frying in whisper oil brought several Valkyries hovering closer with eager eyes.
Skuld, of course, had already snuck a plate.
She munched on a stick of roasted thundercorn, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel. "Mmmmmm… tastes like lightning and honey had a baby," she mumbled.
"Chew before you talk," Heimdall sighed as he handed her a napkin.
Thor was carving thick slabs of flame-cut sirloin onto massive stone plates, steam rising from the slices. He was sweating—but smiling. "You've turned a battle into a banquet, Alex."
"You're welcome," Alex replied as he sliced through a glowing mana-braised bone shank with surgical precision. "Just don't eat it all before the others arrive."
Baldr arrived next, helping pour spiritroot salad into wide bowls that glowed faintly in the twilight. "This salad… it smells like moonlight."
"That's intentional," Alex said.
Freyja elegantly sampled a skyleaf tempura piece and gave a small, pleased nod. "Crisp, light, and clean. You did take my request seriously."
"I take all food seriously," he said.
The Valkyries quickly formed a line at the jerky trays, each of them drawn in by the spicy scent of jungle-beast strips cured with frost-lotus ash. One even fainted after chewing a particularly powerful one.
"…She's okay," Skuld said, poking the unconscious Valkyrie with a fork. "That means it's good jerky."
As the stars appeared above Asgard's sky, dozens of gods, spirits, and even distant mythic guests arrived, drawn by the scent.
The Tyrant's Banquet was in full swing.
There was no ceremony. No war council. No divine judgment.
Only firelight, laughter, chewing, sizzling, and the clink of cups.
Thor toasted the roasted ribs. Heimdall passed around gravy with polite grace. Fenrir curled up near a heatstone while chewing a steak half her own size. Even Odin, who rarely lingered at such events, remained seated and silent, slowly enjoying earthheart stew while watching everyone with a faint, unreadable smile.
Alex stood behind the grill, flipping meat with one hand while stirring glaze with the other. Not because he needed to—he could've made illusions, mana clones, or even automated spells.
But he didn't want to.
He enjoyed this.
Serving them.
Letting them forget, if only for a while, that they were gods.
The stars above Asgard shimmered like frost scattered across midnight velvet. Lanterns floated on invisible threads of magic, casting golden warmth across the tables where laughter still rang.
The gods—many of them ancient, once cold and distant—now laughed with mouths full, argued over which sauce paired best with the ribs, and even traded bites like children at a village festival.
Freyja had claimed the largest bowl of earthheart stew, whispering to no one in particular that she was not sharing.
Thor and Heimdall were locked in a silent war over the last slab of mana-glazed bone roast, glaring at each other like titans ready to duel—until Fenrir casually swiped it and devoured it whole without noticing.
"Oops," she mumbled, licking her claws.
Alex just smiled.
Fenrir lay beside him now, her form still in her smaller size—about the height of a small horse, but curled up like a great housecat after a day of play. Her silver fur glowed gently from the firelight, and she had a dazed, full-belly look in her eyes.
"I've never felt this full without a fight," she murmured.
Alex knelt beside her and scratched behind her ears. "This is what food is for. Not just survival… but comfort."
Her tail thumped once against the ground.
"You'll be okay going back?"
Fenrir yawned and nodded sleepily. "Yeah. I kind of miss my jungle... I think the T-Rex packs might be getting cocky without me there."
Alex chuckled. "Then I'll send you back. I've already pre-saved the coordinates."
The gods nearby looked over quietly, some surprised by how gently he spoke to her.
Even Odin didn't comment—just watched.
Alex gently placed a hand on her head. She closed her eyes with a little murmur.
A soft, spiral-shaped gate opened beside them—light rippling like moonlit water.
Before stepping through, Fenrir looked back at the gathered gods and tilted her head.
"…Thank you for letting me eat with you."
It wasn't much.
But it was more than she'd said to any of them… ever.
Then she stepped into the light and vanished.
The portal closed.
Alex stood there a moment longer, watching the stars.
A breeze passed—light and sweet, carrying the smell of roasted roots and grilled meat.
Skuld stood beside him, hands behind her back, humming softly.
"You made her feel like a person tonight," she said.
"She is," Alex replied.
And for a while longer, they said nothing at all.
Just listening to the laughter.
To the peace.
As the divine banquet began to wind down, the sounds of conversation softened into satisfied sighs, content silence, and the occasional thud of a god tipping back in their chair after one too many roasted ribs.
Alex quietly stepped away from the final firepit, his sleeves still faintly warm from cooking.
Waiting for him near the edge of the platform, partially hidden beneath the starlight, was Ciel—golden eyes shimmering like quiet lanterns, her presence graceful and calm as ever.
She gave him a soft smile.
"Ready to go?" she asked.
Alex nodded, glancing once more at the floating city of Asgard. The feast was still going on behind them. Thor was singing something off-key. Skuld was stealing desserts again. Freyja was mock-scolding Baldr for not trying the vegetables.
It was warm. Peaceful.
And enough for one night.
"Yeah," Alex said. "Let's go home."
Ciel stepped closer and gently took his hand—fingers interlacing without a word.
Space bent softly around them as Alex invoked the Law of Space, folding reality like silk.
And just like that…
They were gone.
They arrived in silence.
Their home welcomed them—not just a house, but a place infused with memories. Lights came on as if sensing them. The air was gentle, faintly scented with tea and mana-soaked wood.
Shoes by the door. A book left half-read on the couch. The faintest sound of wind chimes outside the garden window.
Ciel slipped off her boots and walked to the kitchen. "Want something to drink?"
Alex smiled faintly. "Only if you're having one too."
She nodded, preparing two cups of night tea—steamed with golden petals and a drop of starlight honey. They sat on the low couch together, warm mugs in hand.
Outside the window, the stars moved slowly. Quiet. Unrushed.
Alex leaned back, eyes half-closed.
Ciel watched him for a moment, then whispered:
"You gave them something special tonight."
"…Just a meal," he replied.
She shook her head.
"Not just a meal. A memory."
He smiled at that.
And in the peace of their home—far from gods, battles, and ancient echoes—they drank quietly beneath the stars.
Chapter 644 – "The Rift and the Red-Clothed Stranger"
The night was peaceful.
The stars outside Alex's window glowed softly, and the warmth of the recent banquet still lingered in his chest. He sipped the last of his tea, Ciel resting beside him, her golden eyes half-lidded with contentment.
Then—
Something rippled.
So faint, it wouldn't have registered to most. Not a sound. Not a vibration. Not even a flicker of mana.
But Alex felt it.
A dimensional fracture.
Thin. Controlled. Recent.
His eyes sharpened instantly. The warmth of the moment disappeared without hesitation.
He stood.
Ciel immediately sat up, already sensing the shift in him. Before she could ask, he said softly:
"A rift just opened. A small one. But deliberate."
She nodded once, calmly.
"I'll enter the seal."
Alex raised his right hand, and the golden symbol of Ciel—an elegant, ever-shifting crest—appeared at the center of his palm. With a gentle glow, Ciel dissolved into light and flowed into the mark, her consciousness merging with his once more.
"I'll keep watch through your senses," she whispered in his mind.
"Stay ready," he replied.
In the next heartbeat, Alex teleported.
He emerged in a narrow alleyway, one of the older backstreets between abandoned apartment buildings in a long-forgotten industrial zone. Faint moonlight filtered between rusted pipes and sagging fire escapes.
There was no one else.
Except one.
The man stood beneath a broken streetlamp, its flickering bulb casting shadows across his red and black robes. His outfit was unmistakably Xianxia-style—elaborate robes, ornate silver clasps, and flowing sleeves. Crimson qi mist clung to him like smoke from a burning incense scroll.
He looked straight at Alex with sharp, narrowed eyes—like someone examining a lowly servant in a cultivation sect.
His face was handsome, sharp-jawed and smug, his long black hair tied back with a blood-red ribbon. He raised his chin slightly and spoke, voice theatrical and full of pride:
"So… you are the one who dares stand in this sovereign's path?"
Alex didn't reply.
He didn't even blink.
The man narrowed his eyes further, clearly annoyed that Alex didn't immediately respond with panic or awe.
"You have no cultivation," the man observed aloud, his voice laced with scorn. "No qi. No foundation. Not even a trace of spiritual root. Hmph… just a mortal trash."
Ciel's voice echoed in Alex's mind, curious.
"He's using traditional Xianxia speech patterns… the whole 'This Sovereign' style."
"He thinks I'm weak."
"That's cute."
Alex studied the man calmly, still unmoving.
The stranger stepped closer, sleeves billowing despite the lack of wind.
"You are lucky this sovereign is merciful," he declared. "I shall allow you to crawl away with your limbs intact, so long as you prostrate yourself and swear never to speak of this meeting."
Alex tilted his head.
And finally spoke.
"…You done?"
The man blinked. "What?"
Alex's tone remained relaxed, almost bored. "The monologue. Was that the whole thing, or is there more?"
The man's eyes narrowed.
Alex's dismissive tone struck him like a slap across the face.
"You dare mock this sovereign!?"
His voice echoed unnaturally through the alley as he raised one sleeve, summoning a swirl of black-red energy. The flickering aura surged with violent intent—spiked with corrupted qi and twisted formation marks that spun around his body like chains.
"I am Yan Zixiao of the Crimson Void Devil Sect!" he roared. "A demonic cultivator who shattered three immortal heavens with one finger! A breaker of stars! A slayer of saints!"
Alex blinked slowly.
"You're also standing in front of me," he said flatly.
"DIE—!"
Yan Zixiao launched forward, crimson qi forming a demonic spear in his hand, body surrounded by illusionary skulls and devilish flame. The entire alley shimmered as his technique activated—Heaven-Splitting Demon Thrust.
It looked impressive.
It sounded devastating.
To anyone else, it might have been terrifying.
To Alex?
It was a light breeze.
In less than a second, the attack reached him.
But Alex didn't move.
He simply raised a single finger.
And tapped it forward.
A faint ripple echoed through the air.
Then—
Yan Zixiao exploded into particles.
No scream. No resistance. Just a quiet disintegration—his body unraveling like cheap thread before he even reached Alex.
Ash floated down.
A blood-red ribbon drifted gently to the concrete.
Alex stood alone once more.
"That's what I thought," he murmured.
Ciel's voice returned in his mind, impressed. "So much talk for someone so weak."
"He was just a parasite," Alex said, stepping forward.
A faint shimmer caught his eye—the spot where the dimensional rift had first opened. Still raw, though now slowly closing. But the space around it was unstable—twisting geometry, threads of time and mana stretching like bruised skin.
Alex held out his hand and traced a few glowing patterns in the air.
He wove mana with surgical precision—adjusting space, patching it like sewing torn fabric. His control of the Law of Space stabilized the fold, while Mana Law purified the lingering echoes of corrupted qi.
The shimmer pulsed once…
Then vanished.
The dimensional rift was sealed—no trace left behind.
Alex straightened his coat.
"Well, that's done."
"Coming home?" Ciel asked gently.
He nodded once, then teleported again—leaving behind only stillness and a single blood-red ribbon slowly fading into dust.
Crimson Void Devil Sect – Inner Sanctum
Far from Earth, in a dimension knotted between shattered realms and mana storms, the Crimson Void Devil Sect loomed like a scar across the sky. Its dark spires clawed upward into the swirling void, and black sunfire crackled above its temples.
Deep within the sect's Elder Hall, a circle of crimson-robed cultivators sat cross-legged in meditation, surrounded by floating talismans and blood-colored formation rings. The air was heavy with power—dark, refined, and ancient.
Suddenly—
CRACK.
A sharp sound shattered the silence.
Dozens of eyes snapped open.
One of the elders stood abruptly, staring at a crimson jade tablet that had just broken cleanly in two. Its edges glowed for a heartbeat… then turned cold and lifeless.
The tablet was carved with a name:
「Yan Zixiao」
A silence fell over the hall. Then one of the younger disciples gasped aloud.
"That's… impossible. He left less than a day ago!"
Another trembled. "He said he was going to explore a weak mortal world… test his new Divine Devil Art."
A third muttered under his breath, "He called it a vacation…"
The eldest among them, a man with a skeletal mask and a black crown, stood slowly—his mana pressure darkening the air around him.
"The life jade is shattered."
"He is dead."
Whispers broke out instantly:
"He was in the sixth stage of Core Demonic Refinement!"
"His body was immune to fire, shadow, and cursed iron—who could've—?!"
"No one in that plane should've even seen him coming!"
Then someone said it—softly, nervously:
"This Sovereign… is dead."
The room fell completely silent.
The skeletal elder's voice was cold as void ash. "Find the coordinates of the realm he entered. Track the dimensional rift he used. Prepare a retrieval and scout team."
"But Sect Master," one asked carefully, "should we send just a scout party… or an invasion force?"
The elder's fingers curled slightly, crushing a scrying orb to powder.
"We will decide once we know what… killed him."
Chapter 645 – "Unknown World, Unseen Depths"
Location: Crimson Void Devil Sect – Grand Hall of Judgment
Dark red banners fluttered above the marble floor, the scent of incense blending with thick mana smoke. The top elders of the Crimson Void Devil Sect gathered in a ring, seated on floating obsidian thrones that radiated silent pressure. Behind them, hundreds of robed cultivators stood in silence, eyes turned toward the center of the hall.
There, the shattered life jade of Yan Zixiao hovered in a sealed glass orb, pulsing once every few seconds—an echo of the moment of death.
The Sect Master, known only as the Pale Crown Lord, rose to his feet, long skeletal fingers clasped behind his back.
"Let us review what we know."
He waved his hand, and a projection of Yan Zixiao appeared—smirking, boastful, fully robed in red and black. Beneath the image, glowing text marked his level.
Name: Yan Zixiao
Realm: Core Transmutation Realm (Stage 6)
Known Talents:
Refined demonic manaResistant to flame, curse, and toxin spellsPossessed a semi-stable astral echoSpecialized in soul-shattering techniques
One elder grunted. "His defense was among the best at his level. Even without his domain awakened, he could trade blows with early-stage Domain Shapers."
Another added darkly, "He boasted that this was just a scouting mission… a 'side trip to a lesser world.'"
The Pale Crown Lord nodded. "And yet he is dead. Instantly. Without resistance."
The silence thickened.
A female elder with pale violet eyes spoke next. "We must discuss what kind of world could erase a Core Transmutation cultivator so completely. Not suppress. Not repel. Erase."
She gestured, and a projection of the known cultivation realms appeared in the air behind her—etched in crimson and gold:
Universal Mana Cultivation Realms
Foundation Condensation – Body adapts to manaCore Formation – Internal mana core formsVein Expansion – Circulation and casting capacity increasesAstral Projection – Spiritual form may separate and fightDomain Shaping – Create and control personal mana domainCore Transmutation – Mana core changes state; high defense, advanced technique useSovereign Ascension – Unity of body, soul, and mana; can cross dimensionsEternal Throne – Anchored across dimensions; essence leaves echoes even in death
The sect master's gaze hardened.
"Whoever destroyed Yan Zixiao was not below Stage 6. That is clear."
Another elder added cautiously, "Could it be a Stage 7 cultivator—perhaps even Stage 8?"
The Violet-Eyed Elder shook her head. "No. If it were a Sovereign Ascender or World Anchor, we would feel the dimensional disturbance more violently. The echo was… clean. Subtle. Almost surgical."
The Pale Crown Lord finally spoke, voice like frost:
"We may be facing something outside the framework we understand."
"A world with no cultivation signature—yet capable of effortless elimination."
He raised a hand, and a red orb floated into existence—containing the last recorded coordinates of the rift Yan Zixiao opened.
"We will prepare an investigation team."
"Proceed with caution."
"This world may not fear cultivators."
A narrow alley lit by cheap neon signage and the distant sound of honking traffic. The scent of oil and dust hung in the air.
A single cultivator in dark green robes stood before a trembling civilian, one hand raised, mana gathering at the fingertip.
The man was just a clerk—wearing headphones, completely unaware of the danger inches from his chest.
The cultivator's mouth opened, preparing a threat.
He didn't finish.
A golden ripple of light split the air behind him.
Alex arrived.
In one motion—calm, clean, and completely silent—he erased the cultivator with a whisper of mana. No explosion. No scream.
Just a fading mist of red dust.
The civilian blinked, turned the corner, and kept walking—none the wiser.
Alex stepped past where the cultivator had stood and knelt by the faint shimmer still lingering in the air.
"Still unstable," he murmured.
He slid his hand into the dimensional threads like a master tailor through silk, smoothing the mana, bending space to rejoin the wound. Ciel worked with him silently—her magic threading through the seam.
The rift closed.
Alex stood.
It happened again.
Another cultivator. Different robe. Different face. Same presence.
He tried to summon a technique near a parked car.
Alex arrived before the spell finished forming.
One instant.
Gone.
Rift repaired.
Then again.
And again.
And again.
By the sixth time, Alex didn't even sigh.
He simply moved, silent and methodical.
Each time the dimensional veil trembled, he appeared.
Each time a foreign cultivator stepped through, preparing to test their strength, make a threat, or harm someone…
He erased them.
They didn't get to scream.
They didn't get to speak.
The people nearby never noticed.
To them, it was just a normal night.
But to Alex, it was a reminder:
"They're probing this world. Testing how far they can go."
Ciel spoke in his mind, tone sharpened:
"If they keep coming like this…"
"Then I'll keep cleaning up."
Alex stood still in the alley of the sixth incident, hands behind his back, the golden glow of the fading rift reflecting in his eyes.
Crimson Void Devil Sect – Depths of the Jade Throne Pavilion
The Chamber of Eternal Embers—normally dim and quiet—now pulsed with unstable energy. Cracks had formed along the walls of the monitoring altar, and seven shattered life jades hovered in midair, broken cleanly in half. The magical inscriptions around the room flickered erratically.
The Pale Crown Lord stood unmoving, but the air around him was warping with invisible fury.
"Seven deaths…"
His voice was quiet, but it rippled through the chamber like thunder.
The Violet-Eyed Elder was the first to recover her voice. "All of them… were killed instantly. No trace of resistance."
"Six were Core Transmutation Realm," another elder said, stunned. "And one—one of them was… Sovereign Ascension."
A chilling silence fell over the room.
"He… was our backup," a younger elder whispered. "Elder Hongming. He had crossed dimensions before. He wasn't reckless."
"No," the Pale Crown Lord said, his voice hollow. "He was a calculating man. His death confirms it."
He turned slowly toward the now-dead portal mirror—a device still faintly glowing with the coordinates of the world they had targeted.
"This is no lesser plane."
The Violet-Eyed Elder nodded grimly. "Every one of them was an elder of our sect. Battle-hardened. Experienced in assassination, suppression, dimensional combat. And yet…"
She stared at the fractured jades.
"…not one of them managed to send a message. Not even a cry."
One of the Array Masters stepped forward from the corner of the chamber, face pale. "We monitored the mana signature. Each death was… clean. Silent. Like someone snapping a thread."
Another elder spoke in a low, rattling voice:
"This isn't a coincidence. This is a warning."
Someone else added darkly:
"Or a statement."
The Pale Crown Lord raised one skeletal hand.
"No more blind deployments."
"Whoever resides in that world… is not within our realm's understanding."
The room was still.
And then, for the first time in centuries, the words were spoken:
"Prepare the Black Inquiry Circle. We will consult the Grand Records."
"We must know what this being is."
The oppressive silence in the Chamber of Eternal Embers was shattered by a sudden shift in pressure—so intense that several jade arrays cracked mid-air.
A dark mist descended from the ceiling like coiling serpents of shadowed mana, and the temperature dropped.
Every elder—no matter their cultivation—immediately stopped speaking.
From the center of the hall, a pillar of black flame surged upward, then twisted into a figure wrapped in layers of spectral cloth and crimson bone armor.
The Sect Master had arrived.
No one dared breathe as the Eighth Realm Eternal Throne cultivator, known only as the Crimson Void Monarch, descended onto the grand platform.
His very presence warped space around him. Gravity bent subtly, and reality hummed with muted resonance—not because he was altering the world, but because the world recognized him as an anchor of power.
"Seven elders. Gone."
His voice was low, hollow, but carried to every corner of the tower without echo.
"One of them a Sovereign Ascender."
He slowly lifted a shattered jade, letting it hover just above his palm. His face, hidden behind his crimson skeletal helm, betrayed no emotion—but the air trembled at his silence.
Finally, he spoke:
"I will eliminate this 'threat' myself."
An audible gasp followed.
"Sect Master—"
"We should prepare a campaign—"
But he raised one hand. They fell silent.
"This is no war," he said simply. "This is an extermination."
Just then—
A sound.
Faint, at first. But unmistakable.
A voice.
And it was not theirs.
It echoed inside the chamber from nowhere and everywhere, slicing through the wards and spatial boundaries like a knife through silk.
"You've been sending people all along, haven't you?"
Everyone froze.
The pale flame torches flickered. Elder eyes widened.
It wasn't a recording. It wasn't a message.
It was real-time.
"You've killed no one. You've warned no one. You've learned nothing."
The voice was young. Calm. Laced with disappointment more than malice.
Then, the voice turned cold:
"…You're really starting to annoy me."
The chamber shook.
The Sect Master's armor emitted a dull red pulse, his gaze rising slowly toward the ceiling as if trying to pinpoint the speaker.
But there was no source.
Only presence.
Only him.