Chapter 41: The Tower Reaching Heaven

The Tower Reaching Heaven

Existing since time immemorial, a towering structure pierced the very zenith of the firmament.

Some claimed it resided at the world’s northernmost edge, others believed it crowned the peak of the World Tree, while still others whispered of its location within the fabled abode of the gods.

Yet, it was nowhere and everywhere; it simply stood in silent majesty within that eternally secluded paradise, watching over a sea of blossoms belonging solely to one maiden.

It kept vigil over that solitary deity.

“Is this… the Tower Reaching Heaven?” Aldoran inquired, ascending the path of blossoms alongside the maiden.

“Indeed, Lord Odin. This is the fabled Watchtower of Midgard, the Tower Reaching Heaven.”

Trailing behind Aldoran, the maiden left a wake of unknown fragrances, and with every step she took, beautiful flowers bloomed upon the earth.

“How utterly beautiful…”

Even in Aldoran’s myriad dreams, a tower of such breathtaking beauty and grandeur had never once appeared.

Bathed in a pure, ethereal glow, its pristine white edifice soared into the clouds, while beneath a sky as azure as the deepest ocean, countless vines ascended its straight form, bursting forth with vibrant, starlike blossoms.

It was a beauty unparalleled in the world.

“These flowers… they look familiar.”

As they proceeded, petals continually drifted down, settling softly onto Aldoran’s clothes, and with each touch, a warmth spread through her body.

Comforting, serene.

For a moment, Aldoran found herself unable to discern whether this was a dream or reality.

“They are the flowers I once gave to you and Lord Frigga, you see. You may call them Star Thorns.”

“Star Thorns.”

Gazing outward, the sight of blue and pink blossoms unfurling across the boundless fields resembled an ocean of stars.

In Aldoran’s mind, the image of those two flowers, blooming quietly and releasing their fragrance amidst the mist, resurfaced.

“They were my welcoming gift to you. It’s thanks to them that you and Lord Frigga were not eroded by the mist.” The maiden chuckled softly, small dimples appearing on her lovely face.

“My apologies, that sounded rather like boasting. I got a little carried away.”

Aldoran then recalled her first encounter with the mist; it was the ethereal sound of a zither and the inexplicable fragrance within that maddening fog that had saved her and Qing Yu.

“Was it because of you and those two flowers?”

“Yes. Ever since I first arrived in this town, I became aware of the peculiar mist. My prolonged stay was precisely to investigate it, and during my inquiries, I met you and Lord Frigga.”

“Currently, you and Lord Frigga possess no power to protect yourselves. Thus, to ensure your safety, I conjured those two flowers and offered them to you. However, they are merely ordinary little flowers from this place, so their effect is quite limited. My sincerest apologies,” the maiden said with a hint of regret. “Had I known, I should have personally shielded you both with my own power, rather than lurking in the shadows.”

Aldoran started, a jolt passing through her.

The power she had absorbed from the flowers still surged within her, threatening to burst forth from her very being.

Yet now, this maiden informed her that they were nothing more than two ordinary blossoms.

‘If mere ordinary flowers could possess such immense power, then what kind of monstrous being was the maiden behind her?’

“I had been investigating the mist for some time, but it seemed to be wary of my power, reluctant to appear before me easily. It was only when you and Lord Qing Yu arrived that it was drawn out.”

“What is that mist? And what is its purpose?” Aldoran pressed, urgency lacing her voice upon hearing of the fog.

The maiden offered a faint smile.

Before her, Aldoran seemed no more than a child, utterly devoid of the commanding aura befitting the Lord of the Gods.

“That mist… it is called the Corpse Whale.”

‘Corpse Whale?’

‘That mist?’

“Precisely. It is a monster from the Land of the Dead. For certain reasons, they occasionally breach the seals of the Land of the Dead, coming to Midgard to hunt. And that mist… that is it.” The maiden, easily perceiving Aldoran’s confusion, answered unhurriedly.

“In the Land of the Dead, such mist is ubiquitous.”

“The Land of the Dead?” Aldoran turned, glancing back at the maiden with a puzzled expression.

In the legends of Midgard, there existed such a realm of the deceased, a final resting place for all life, where every living soul would eventually return.

“My apologies, but I cannot yet tell you about the Land of the Dead. This is your journey, and you must discover everything for yourself.” Facing those clear blue eyes, the maiden smiled and gently shook her head.

“Discover it myself?”

The maiden nodded.

A cool breeze brushed past Aldoran’s ear.

“Indeed, for you are destined to be the future Lord of the Gods, ruling over all. Therefore, you must personally unearth the answers to these mysteries.”

“If that is the case, then might I ask for detailed information regarding the Corpse Whale?” Aldoran, having no intention of pressing further on the previous matter, began to inquire about the mist’s specific nature.

‘If the maiden was unwilling to speak, then asking repeatedly would be futile.’

“It is thus: Corpse Whales feed on human blood and fear. They have no specific time or place of appearance, but when they manifest, they distort space and draw forth other monsters dwelling within the abyss.”

“Furthermore, within that mist—that is to say, within the Corpse Whale itself—exist creatures known as Mist Folk. They vary in form but consume human flesh, with the blood they leave behind becoming sustenance for the Corpse Whale. In this way, they maintain a symbiotic relationship.”

“Is there any other information?”

‘The more information she possessed, the better. As the saying went, ‘Know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never be defeated.’ Only with sufficient intelligence could Aldoran formulate effective countermeasures.’

“Corpse Whales also possess the ability to launch psychic attacks, capable of manipulating the minds of creatures with a lower magical energy level than their own. Even if an opponent’s magical energy level is higher, if their will is not firm, they may still suffer powerful mental blows. Beyond this, they possess another peculiar ability.”

The maiden paused, gently brushing a petal from her clothes.

“It can alter the physical structure of individuals with low magical resistance, merging them with other objects.”

‘Merge…’

Aldoran lowered her head, a thoughtful expression clouding her features.

“If it has no physical form, how can one possibly defeat it?” After a long moment of contemplation, Aldoran looked at the maiden, asking with genuine perplexity.

‘If an adversary lacked a physical form, any attack would prove futile. Aldoran possessed no means to materialize such mist, which meant that should she ever engage the monster in battle, she would undoubtedly stand no chance of victory.’

“As for that—” The maiden lifted her gaze, looking upwards.

Aldoran’s eyes followed suit, upward.

Circle upon circle of magnificent stairs, carpeted with petals, spiraled gracefully, layer by layer, towards the tower’s summit.

Even at the furthest reach of Aldoran’s sight, the tower’s end remained unseen.

“Your weapon, perhaps, can assist you.”

“My weapon?” Aldoran raised her hand, gazing at her palm.

She had never possessed a physical weapon; in every battle, she had always manifested energy into the form of a spear to fight.

The maiden smiled softly, her blossom-like dimples appearing warm and instantly calming Aldoran’s heart.

“It’s alright. What I refer to is something at the very top of this tower. That, Lord Odin, is your weapon.”

“The Spear of Destiny you spoke of?”

Still smiling, the maiden walked ahead of Aldoran, her hands clasped behind her back, speaking as she ascended the steps.

“Yes, precisely. That belongs to Lord Odin.”

“The spear that always finds its mark, the invincible spear, Gungnir.”

‘The invincible spear…’

Aldoran raised her wrist, observing the golden bracelet, its blue gem softly gleaming.

As she gazed at the symbol of the spear, her thoughts drifted for a fleeting moment.

‘The spear’s emblem…’

“So this is the fabled Spear of Destiny?” Aldoran murmured, her gaze fixed on the maiden’s retreating back.

Petals rained down upon her head and feet.

As the maiden walked, countless petals were swept up by the wind, swirling into pink eddies in the air.

“And this, too.” A gentle breeze passed, and the melodious, winding notes of a lap harp resonated like celestial music.

Some power infused Aldoran’s bracelet.

“Please accept it, my lap harp. She, too, can assist you.”

‘That voice, this lap harp, the person in the mist that day—it must have been the maiden before her.’

“Why… why do you help us?”

The maiden offered no reply, merely ascending a few more steps.

Those brief seconds stretched into what felt like centuries for Aldoran, an unbearable eternity.

‘Every second was an agony.’

“There is no other reason. Simply because… you are Lord Odin.” Only after she had stepped onto the fifth stair did her bell-like voice, carried by the gentle breeze, reach Aldoran’s ears.

The maiden’s steps were light, and the soft spring wind caressed her, bringing with it an aura of peace.

“Because I am Odin?”

“Indeed, because you are Lord Odin.”

The maiden replied calmly, continuing her ascent.

Gazing at the maiden’s petite form, Aldoran paused, a distinct sense of familiarity stirring within her.

‘It was as if she had seen her somewhere before.’

Flames, a colossal tree, light, a greatsword, a pastoral song, a flute, a woman clad in heavy armor, a man waiting anxiously.

Amidst the ruins, where corpses lay for miles and scorched earth stretched as far as the eye could see, Aldoran once again beheld that maiden, and—

A set of scales.

The scales stood proudly, defiant amidst the raging inferno.

‘The scales…’

“Excuse me, have we met before?”

Aldoran, trailing the maiden, inquired thus.

For a fleeting moment, the maiden’s body stiffened.

“My apologies, we have never met, Lord Odin,” the maiden replied. “You are not her, and she is not you.”

“What?”

“No, please, forget it.” The maiden straightened, continuing her ascent without another word.