Odin's one-eyed gaze fell upon Freyr, then swept over the ominous sword in his hand, and he slowly nodded.
He reached out and took Tyrfing.
The blade was heavy in his hand, the dark scabbard wrapping around his fingers like a living thing.
"As you wish, Freyr. Ásgarðr accepts your sword and promises never to use it in any bargain. Freyja's marriage will be considered separately."
Odin's voice carried the majesty of the God-King, temporarily setting the tone for this chaos.
Watching Tyrfing fall into Odin's hands, Freyr's heart felt as if it had been torn away, empty, accompanied by a strong, pulsating pain.
This was a soldier's unwillingness to part with a divine weapon by instinct, and also regret at having given away a trump card on his own impulse.
But he held on, straightened his back, and refused to show even half his weakness before the Æsir gods.
He did not notice that Freyja beside him had subtly relaxed her tense shoulders the moment he handed over the sword, and a flicker of relief appeared in the depths of her eyes.
"It's alright..." Freyja murmured softly in her heart, her mind echoing with the solemn instructions that the God-King Narcissus had secretly entrusted to her before leaving Vanaheimr:
[Freyja, keep an eye on your brother, especially regarding Tyrfing. This is a cursed magical sword that drinks blood when unsheathed, and will eventually bite its master. Its light can bewilder its owner, dragging them into the abyss of destruction. Never let Freyr draw this sword. If the situation forces us to give it up, do not hesitate to do so. Sometimes, loss is true preservation.]
At that moment, she had still been a little surprised why the God-King feared this sword so much.
Now it seemed that the God-King Narcissus's profound gaze had already pierced through the mists of time and foreseen this scene in today's Golden Palace—foreseeing Loki's cunning, Freyr's impulsiveness, and the disaster this magical sword could bring.
Perhaps he had used Loki's provocation and the greed of the Æsir to allow this dangerous 'lord-killing sword' to leave Freyr and leave Vanaheimr.
As for what waves it would cause in Ásgarðr in the future... that was no longer their primary concern.
Freyja gently tugged at her brother's sleeve and looked at him with an expression that said "calm down, it's alright."
Freyr received his sister's signal, and although his heart was still heavy, he barely managed to suppress his surging emotions.
And Odin, sitting on the throne, stroked the cold scabbard of Tyrfing, a light flashing in his eyes.
He naturally felt the powerful force contained within this sword, and the hidden ominous atmosphere.
A magical sword forged by the Vanir god, Narcissus... now it was all in his hands.
Was this a gift from Freyr on impulse, or... a deeper layout by Narcissus?
The subtle atmosphere in the Golden Palace had not yet fully subsided when Odin ordered someone to summon the craftsman waiting outside.
The God-King sat high on the throne, his one eye looking at the sturdy craftsman below, his voice like a cold wind wrapped in frost, clearly echoing through the hall:
"Outsider, we have carefully considered your request. Freyja is a noble goddess of the Vanir, and her marriage is by no means a bargaining chip. Ásgarðr's covenant with Vanaheimr must not be so desecrated. Therefore, we join Freyja in refusing your request."
Odin's words were resolute, leaving no room for change.
His demeanor was impressive, trying to deter the other party with this.
The craftsman listened quietly, raised his head, his eyes calmly gliding over Odin on the throne, and then over the gods with various expressions.
Finally, his gaze, consciously or unconsciously, lingered on the blade of Tyrfing, which had just been received from Freyr and was now emanating an ominous hue in Odin's hand.
"I understand the God-King's concern," the craftsman's voice was still loud, with a strange calm.
"Since a good match with the goddess Freyja cannot be achieved, then, as a substitute..."
He paused, extended his thick finger, and accurately pointed at Tyrfing.
"I want—this sword. As payment for building the God's Wall."
As soon as these words were spoken, the Golden Palace, which had just calmed down, once again erupted in uproar, even more intense than before!
"What?! He wants Tyrfing?!"
"Arrogant! This is simply a fantasy!"
"How can you give him the sword that just arrived?!"
This time, even without Freyr and Freyja, the brave warriors and gods who advocated strength within the Æsir clan exploded one after another.
Týr, the god of justice and oaths, if he were here now, would have been the first to stand against this and defend the glory and property of Ásgarðr.
And if Thor hadn't gone to the border to fight, his thunderous roar would have long shaken the dome of the Golden Palace, and Mjölnir would not have hesitated to point at this presumptuous craftsman.
However, neither of them was there.
But that didn't stop the other gods from expressing their anger and unwillingness.
The absence of Týr and Thor gave some gods, who might not have dared to speak up on ordinary days, a chance to fight over the future ownership of this sword—how could a foreign craftsman be involved?
"Absolutely impossible!" an Ásgarðr general, known for his bravery, roared.
"This sword was gifted to Ásgarðr by His Highness Freyr, symbolizing the friendship and trust between our two races! How can I hand it over to you?"
"Right!" another warrior of the Æsir tribe echoed, his eyes flashing with the desire to find divine soldiers.
"Even if... even if the craftsman could actually build the wall (though we don't believe it), it would be absurd to exchange the sun and moon, let alone a divine sword that may contain infinite power?"
"Yes! We cannot give it to him!"
"The treasures of Ásgarðr, how can outsiders covet them!"
The crowd was suppressed and almost unanimously opposed.
The gods, who had just secretly rejoiced at obtaining Tyrfing, seemed to have had their scales touched at this moment and resolutely refused to let this tempting magical sword slip through their fingers, even if it was only a theoretical possibility.
Loki stood to the side, watching the chaotic scene, a mocking smile on the corner of his mouth.
He was pleased to see the greedy and profit-concerned faces of the gods.
His gaze darted between the unusually quiet gray horse of the craftsman and the confident face of the master, and the doubts in his heart were like stones thrown into water, the ripples growing wider and larger.
Odin sat on the throne, his one eye deep, like an abyss shrouded in mist.
He listened to the gods' resistance, feeling the cold touch and faint pulsation of Tyrfing in his hand.
Refusing the craftsman and maintaining the original proposal was the safest choice, in line with the will of the gods.
However, the unusual confidence shown by this master, as well as his attempt to ask for Tyrfing at this moment, were all strange.
This magical sword, made by Narcissus, had caused a real storm just as things were beginning... Was this a coincidence, or a node already marked on the thread of fate?
The wisdom of the God-King made him sense an unusual danger, but the opposition of the gods and his deep desire to complete the high wall made it difficult for him to easily conclude.
In the Golden Palace, arguments and confrontations were endless.
The craftsman still stood calmly, as if the noise of the gods had nothing to do with him, patiently waiting for the final verdict.
And the undercurrent of the Tyrfing blade lay quietly beside Odin's hand, like a silent vortex, ready to swallow something more.
╔══════════════════════╗
📘 Want more?
Join me on Patreon for bonus chapters
and early access!
🔗 https://www.patreon.com/cw/OverlordD
╚══════════════════════╝