Chapter 96: The Axe of the North Wind
Asker removed his chainmail and allowed Nuo to heal him. His burns were extensive, and there were bruises and contusions from the impact of the fall.
After Nuo’s lengthy lecture, Asker’s injuries were finally treated, and thick bandages were applied.
Nuo insisted that the burned skin needed to be protected and allowed to heal naturally. Using Life I to accelerate the healing process risked causing the skin cells to overgrow, resulting in raised scars and wrinkles.
While Asker didn’t mind the potential scarring, Nuo was adamant that such a cosmetic blemish was unacceptable.
So, Asker became the mysterious bandaged man, enduring the girls’ giggles as they continued their journey.
The Spartan boy guides had mostly been taken by the Iron Cross. Azure Longsword, however, chose a different path, a steep, narrow trail leading up the cliff face above them, the same cliff where the Snow Monsters had appeared and triggered the avalanche.
Based on his years of gaming experience, Asker suspected a connection between the avalanche, the subsequent snowfall, and the Axe of the North Wind.
The increased snowfall was a result of the axe’s anomaly.
Therefore, the avalanche itself was likely related to the Axe of the North Wind.
Perhaps the axe was lodged in the mountaintop, and a Snow Monster had accidentally disturbed it, triggering the avalanche below. Considering that the heavy snowfall anomaly was caused by the axe, this causal connection was highly probable.
The steep trail was much more difficult to climb than the gentle mountain path. In some places, the steps weren’t even stone, but footholds carved into the earth, now covered with snow and ice, treacherously slippery.
“Everyone, be careful!” Asker led the way, using Eleanor’s spear for support. He reached down, helping each girl up one by one. “If you fall, you’ll be half-dead!”
“It’s fine, if we fall, the captain will come rescue us,” Thira quipped as she passed him.
“That’s me!” Asker retorted. “If you fall, I’ll be half-dead!”
Their laughter echoed through the snowy mountains.
…
About an hour later, they finally reached a natural platform, a small, flat area against the mountain wall. The concrete remains of what appeared to be a Second Age Spartan watchtower stood nearby, its roof long gone.
An ancient troll sat at the base of the tower, its wrinkled face obscuring its eyes. It gnawed on a human leg bone.
Behind it, a pile of human remains, skulls, and partially decomposed bodies lay heaped against the tower, mercenaries and Spartans alike.
Seeing Azure Longsword, the old troll paused, its milky eyes blinking. Miel reacted instantly, raising her sniper rifle.
A gunshot cracked through the air, the bullet piercing the troll’s forehead and exiting through the back of its skull.
The troll’s corpse slumped to the ground. Miel looked surprised, seemingly not expecting the old troll to be so fragile, killed with a single headshot.
It was completely different from the younger trolls they had encountered, who could withstand dozens of rifle rounds.
“There!” Thira pointed to a glint of light at the top of the tower. “Asker, is that the Axe of the North Wind?”
Asker took Miel’s sniper rifle and looked through the scope. “Yes.”
He turned to Sidlipha. “Ready?”
“I’m ready!” Sidlipha said confidently.
While waiting for Asker and Medea, Sidlipha had finally digested most of Frost I and had taken Giant I back on Furnace Island.
Angel’s Song was truly the team’s strongest buff. Even the potentially volatile bloodline potion “Giant” was forcibly stabilized by Nuo.
When Asker arrived, Sidlipha had been running around with a giant snowball, trying to quickly digest the “Giant I” potion.
“Good,” Asker said, his voice serious. “Listen carefully.”
“You are not choosing the weapon; it is choosing you.”
“You will enter a vision quest. You will temporarily forget your purpose, lost in a haze.”
“To pass its test, you must find yourself.”
“The only way is to follow your heart.”
“Follow my heart?” Sidlipha laughed heartily, patting her chest. “Okay, I understand everything!”
The girls behind her exchanged glances and sighed.
“That’s it,” Asker nodded.
Sidlipha stepped over the old troll’s corpse and walked towards the ruined tower.
Just as she entered, she poked her head back out, a confused look on her face.
“Asker, what did you just say?”
The girls groaned.
Asker paused, then shouted, “Follow your heart!”
“Okay, I remember!” Sidlipha waved and turned back, the carefree smile vanishing from her face, replaced by a look of grim determination.
“My…heart?” she muttered to herself.
Sidlipha ascended the stairs.
With each step upwards, the air grew colder, but thanks to Frost I, she only felt the chill, no real discomfort.
Then, she heard whispers, ethereal voices seemingly speaking directly to her spirit, like murmurs in a dream, lulling her towards sleep.
Sidlipha pinched the web between her thumb and index finger, the slight pain anchoring her to consciousness, a sense of unease settling in her heart.
Finally, she reached the top of the tower, an open platform exposed to the elements.
The wind howled like a knife, biting at her face, ice and snow swirling around a battle axe embedded in the wall.
The whispers turned to roars, too loud to understand, a deafening buzz filling her ears.
Sidlipha tried to walk forward but stumbled, unsure if it was the wind, the noise affecting her balance, or her own wavering mind.
She stubbornly pushed forward, towards the axe.
Though her steps faltered, though her body swayed, though her vision and consciousness blurred, she pressed on through the wind and snow, step by step, until she finally reached the battle axe.
It was a classically styled weapon, clearly designed for one-handed use, though wielding it with two hands was certainly possible.
The haft was made of dark gray metal (probably steel), covered in strange and intricate patterns, reminiscent of the ancient runes the village elder used to carve into the earth when she was a child.
What were they called… runes?
Sidlipha gazed at the axe, its blade a strange, deep blue, as if carved from ice, a color as deep and dark as the frigid sea north of Svalbard.
It was said that even the bravest Viking pirates, sailing those waters, dared not look into the depths of the ocean under the moonlight.
Those were treacherous waters, and sailors whispered that if you gazed into the depths at night, you could see the palace of Ægir, the sea god, filled with the treasures of countless shipwrecks. A single glance, and you would be compelled to jump into the sea and drown.
The color of this axe was exactly like the color of that legendary sea, though Sidlipha had never been there herself.
The axe head was polished smooth, with simple patterns etched along the blade, as exquisite as an ancient artifact.
The blade was extremely thin, similar to the flying axes favored by Norman pirates. Such a thin blade might be brittle, but Sidlipha believed this blue ice must possess incredible hardness.
Otherwise, the forger wouldn’t have been able to carve patterns onto such a thin piece of ice.
With trembling hands, she reached out and grasped the haft, covered in ancient runes.
Then, her mind went blank.
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