Chapter 16: Nork [Season 2:Nork]

The world, at times, seems to be divided not only by physical borders, but by climates of the soul. There are lands that welcome you, warm as childhood; others, cold as an inevitable fate. And then there are those… where the wind blows with the voice of the unknown. Such was Nork.

When one steps into foreign soil, it is not only the body that travels: the spirit is also put to the test. The landscape changes, but even more so does the traveler. For the true challenge is not always the enemy that awaits you… but the echo of your own doubts.

The silence before battle can be more cruel than war itself. While the body prepares, the soul wonders if it will be worthy of the choices already made. But there is no turning back.

Today, Eden and his companions tread on ground marked by old legends and broken promises. A place that will receive them with courtesy… but not with kindness. Nork is no land of welcome; it is a trial, a filter, a warning.
And the cold that surrounds them comes not only from the weather… but from the fate that lurks.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Morning arrived with a biting chill, one that slipped through layers of clothing as if warning of something deeper than a simple change in season.
“It’s especially cold today…” Isaac murmured, rubbing his hands. “Winter’s not supposed to be here yet.”

Shu barely shifted his gaze toward the snowy horizon.
“Well, sometimes nature wants to tell us something,” he said in a calm tone.

“Are you trying to sound deep, or are you just too lazy to talk more?” Isaac retorted, raising an eyebrow.

A faint smile drew across Shu’s face, just as Aphrodite appeared from one of the paths leading to the edge of the grounds.
“Looks like you’re all here,” she remarked in her usual serene tone, though the tension in her eyes betrayed something else.

Shu stepped forward, crossing his arms with a trace of unease.
“How are we supposed to get to Nork? It’s said to be far from here.”

“Relax,” Aphrodite answered without stopping. “He’ll take care of that.”

The ground beneath their feet trembled subtly, and a crack of light opened in the air before them. From that dimensional rift emerged a golden carriage, drawn by horses black as night, their eyes glowing with an almost ghostly intensity.

“Incredible…” Eden whispered, unable to look away from the majestic vehicle.

Hermes descended from the carriage with elegance and motioned with his hand.
“Are you ready?”

No one replied with words, but the three of them climbed in without hesitation. Instantly, Hermes returned to the driver’s seat and snapped his fingers.
“Link.”

The air split once more, and the carriage plunged through the portal onto a luminous path that seemed to belong to no known world.

Once inside, the journey was dizzying. The faces of the young ones briefly distorted with speed, until a mantle of energy enveloped them, shielding them from the impact of the passage. The space they traveled was not land, nor sky… nor even void. It was something else, something designed solely to connect worlds, an invention from another time.

“What is this place supposed to be?” Eden asked, resting his forehead against the window.

Shu answered without taking his eyes off the path ahead.
“Many years ago, the King created this dimension to connect the farthest regions of the world. Reaching them by ordinary means would take years… even decades.”

“And where exactly are we?” Eden pressed, frowning.

“That remains a mystery,” Shu replied. “Only the King knows.”

A sudden chill ran through Eden. He raised a hand to his temple as a sharp pain forced him to shut his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Shu asked, turning toward him.
“I don’t know,” Eden murmured. “For a moment… I saw something. Images… but I can’t remember them anymore.”
“Not even one?” Isaac leaned in, more attentive now.
“No… it all vanished.”

While words stumbled inside the carriage, outside—upon its roof—Aphrodite and Hermes spoke in hushed tones, the kind carried by those who bear the weight of difficult choices.
“Are you certain about this?” Hermes asked, watching the glowing trail they left behind.
“In our position, there aren’t many alternatives,” Aphrodite replied. “I don’t know if this is the right thing… but it’s the only thing we can do.”
“Even if it puts these kids in danger?”

Aphrodite’s face did not waver.
“If a sacrifice is needed to save the world… I’ll make it.”

Hermes sighed.
“You sound like Shun when you say things like that.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” she answered with a bitter half-smile. “Shun doesn’t distinguish between right and wrong. To him, everything is a game. He does it because he enjoys it.”
“Then perhaps he’s the most human among us.”
“Or perhaps the monsters are us.”

The carriage emerged from the portal just as their conversation drew to a close. Before their eyes stretched a completely frozen landscape beneath a gray sky.
“We’ve arrived,” Hermes announced.

One by one, the three students descended. Eden was the last, and as his feet touched the snow, he felt as though something ancient was waiting for him.

Aphrodite watched him closely.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes,” he replied, though something deep within him wasn’t entirely sure.

The story in Nork was only just beginning.

The gates of Asgard opened with a long creak, as if even the metal itself respected the weight of those about to cross them. Beyond the threshold, the city shone with a serene beauty—gilded by icy reflections and reinforced by towering spires that thrust like spears toward the clouded sky.

Heimdall, standing tall with the gravity of centuries upon his shoulders, walked with them a few steps before halting beside a statue of black stone.
“From here on, you will go alone. I have other matters that require my attention.”

Aphrodite raised an eyebrow, making no effort to hide her sarcasm.
“And how am I supposed to know where to stay? I didn’t expect Nordic hospitality to be limited to dropping us at the entrance like lost tourists.”

“Nai will take care of that,” Heimdall replied, folding his arms with an impatient gesture.
“I’d give your service a two out of ten,” the goddess muttered, turning to her companions.

“Shut up,” growled the guardian of the Bifröst as he walked away. “Maintaining the connection between worlds is more important than playing tour guide.”
“Yes, yes… whatever you say, Mr. Busy.”

Nai appeared among the golden corridors, walking with the confidence of one who knows every stone of that territory. His blond hair, icy in color, was tied back in a high ponytail, and his sharp face matched his sharp character.
“Come. It’s not far.”

He led them along a path lined with warrior statues until they reached a sturdy-looking cabin, built from dark wood and crowned with frost-covered shingles. From the outside, it didn’t seem like much, but a powerful energy lingered in the air, as though the house were protected by ancient Nordic blessings.

“We’re here,” Nai said, stopping at the door. “If you need anything, speak to the guards. At the very least, we’ll try to make sure your defeat isn’t too uncomfortable.”

Eden stared at him, not fully understanding what he had just heard.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me,” Nai replied with an arrogant smile. “Do you really think you’re going to win?”

Eden stepped forward, fists clenched.
“I have no doubt about it.”
“Don’t make me laugh. Of the three of you, the only one worth anything is the green-haired one. The other two are nothing but dead weight.”

Eden’s hand seized the Nordic by the shirt, pulling him slightly closer.
“What did you say about us?”

Shu quickly stepped in, placing a hand on his companion’s shoulder.
“Let him go. He’s not worth it.”
“Didn’t you hear him? He called us dead weight.”
“And you said you were going to win, didn’t you? Then don’t waste your time. Prove it.”

Grinding his teeth, Eden released Nai, who straightened his clothes without losing his smirk.
“You seem very confident. I hope those aren’t just empty words.”
“We won’t fight you,” Shu said, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll destroy you.”

Nai burst into laughter and turned away.
“I look forward to our battle, child prodigy.”

A bolt of lightning descended from the sky and engulfed him for an instant. When the light faded, he was gone.
“So… you already know me,” Shu murmured, crossing his arms.

Silence hung between them for a moment. Then, without needing to say anything, they entered the cabin. The wood groaned under their steps—welcoming, yet laden with tension. Outside, the winds of Nork howled with an ancient warning.

Night fell over Nork with an unnatural speed. The sky, once gray and frozen, had turned into a dark blue so deep it seemed to devour the light. Eden walked alone through the cobbled streets, wrapped in a thick cloak that barely kept out the cold seeping into his bones.

Despite the reigning silence, he felt he was not alone.

His steps carried him into an older part of the city, where the buildings were lower and torches flickered desperately against the stone walls. There, his eyes caught sight of a small shop with a barely legible sign: Zenor’s Weapons and Secrets.

He entered without a second thought.

A welcoming warmth greeted him, along with the muffled sound of hammers and the scent of molten iron. At the back, behind a counter cluttered with all kinds of weapons, an old man with a thick beard and lively eyes looked up.
“Good morning… or should I say, good evening,” Zenor said, wiping his hands on a rag. “What do you need, boy?”

Eden approached calmly, his gaze lingering on each sword with a mix of wonder and uncertainty.
“I’m looking for a sword. But I have no idea which one I should choose.”

“Ah… another young man who wants something to define him,” the blacksmith murmured, narrowing his eyes knowingly. “Do you have any preference?”

“Light, but sturdy. Something I can wield with precision.”

Zenor nodded and, without another word, produced a black sword with golden details that gleamed elegantly under the torchlight.
“This one should serve you well.”

Eden was left speechless. The blade had a flawless shape—balanced and perfect. But before he could take it, the blacksmith’s gaze fell on the wrapped hilt hanging from the boy’s belt.
“Wait a moment…” Zenor said, lowering his voice as he stepped out from behind the counter. “That sword you carry… may I see it?”

“This one? Sure,” Eden replied, carefully unfastening the sheath.

Zenor took the weapon with almost reverential respect. His hands, hardened by years of labor, held it as though he feared awakening it.
“It can’t be… I never thought I’d see this sword in person.”

“Does it have something special?” Eden asked, confused.

“Are you joking? This sword is famous even among those who don’t believe in legends. They say it was carved by the gods themselves.”

Eden raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how the saying went…”

Zenor chuckled, but there was no mockery in his eyes—only respect.
“Why are you looking for another sword if you already have this one?”

“Because I can’t use it. Every time I try to draw it… something stops me.”

The blacksmith nodded slowly, as though the pieces finally fit together.
“That would explain it. This weapon… it’s cursed.”

“Cursed?”

“Not in the sense of being possessed by an evil spirit,” Zenor clarified, carefully turning the blade. “But because it was sealed by its former owner. Only someone able to bear the weight of the lives it has taken can unleash its true power.”

Eden swallowed hard. Something inside him stirred.
“The weight of lives?”

“Yes. It is said this sword once belonged to a warrior called Gen, the Lion of Fire. He was feared, respected… hated. In the Millennial War, he cut down millions, and rumors claim the souls of those slain by its edge remain trapped within.”

The boy lowered his gaze to his grandfather’s hilt, and for the first time he felt something beyond affection or respect. He felt fear.
“And what happens if someone tries to use it without being prepared?”

“Madness is the least that could happen. This sword does not let itself be wielded by just anyone. It needs someone who accepts what it means to take a life… and keeps doing so without hesitation.”

“I’m not like that.”

Zenor shrugged.
“Maybe you aren’t yet. But perhaps, one day, you’ll have to be.”

Silence settled between them. Outside, the blizzard roared more fiercely.

With respect, the blacksmith handed the sword back before taking another from a shelf—the same black-and-gold blade he had shown earlier.
“Take this. Until you’re ready, you’ll need something reliable. You don’t owe me anything. Consider it on the house.”

“Really?” Eden looked up with gratitude. “Thank you, Master Zenor.”

“Just make it worth it. I hope your fight turns out to be interesting.”

With a slight bow, Eden took his leave and returned to the frozen streets, the new sword hanging at his side.

But as he walked, his hand brushed against the sheath carrying his grandfather’s legacy. And for the first time, he felt that this weight… was also part of him.

The streets of Nork seemed asleep, yet Eden knew something was moving within the shadows. His breath left his lips as vapor, and his footsteps echoed through the cobbled alleys like a restless whisper. The cold was intense, but it wasn’t what froze his skin.

He stopped abruptly in front of a small, silent square. The faint glow of blue fire lamps lit the white stone ground, their reflections distorted in the frozen puddles.
“You’d better come out of hiding,” he said quietly, letting his words drift into the icy air.

A subtle murmur, almost imperceptible, answered from the rooftops. Within seconds, small bodies began descending with erratic movements. They were green creatures with long ears and gleaming eyes: goblins.

One landed right in front of Eden, clicking its tongue impatiently.
“That thing you carry… it belongs to us.”

Eden frowned. There was no need to ask what they meant. The hilt of his grandfather’s sword peeked slightly at his side, but its presence seemed to draw those creatures like a beacon.
“I’m not giving it up,” he replied, bracing himself.

Another goblin lunged from the side, trying to snatch the sword, but Eden was faster. With a swift move, he shoved it back and spun around, drawing the new blade Zenor had given him.
“Let go of this sword, you damned pests!” he shouted, as another group leapt toward him.

The fight was brief, yet tense. The goblins didn’t seem particularly powerful, but they were agile, slippery, and kept multiplying. For every one that fell, two more leapt out of the shadows. Soon Eden found himself retreating, feeling the press of their attacks from all sides.
“Damn it…” he muttered, holding his breath between thrusts and parries.

Then, a warm and radiant light cut across the sky. Like a solar spear, a beam descended with divine force, striking the center of the square. The goblins, startled, shrieked and stumbled back like rats blinded by fire.

“You’d better stop,” a serene but firm voice declared. “Return to your filthy holes before I truly lose my patience.”

The radiance slowly dissipated, and from the haze emerged a tall figure, golden-haired, clad in silver armor that seemed to shine with its own light. Eden watched cautiously, lowering his guard only slightly.
“Thank you for the help,” he said sincerely.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” the newcomer replied, watching the goblins vanish into cracks in the ground. “They’ve been attacking visitors far too often lately.”
“Don’t worry. What matters is that I still have my swords. Though I don’t understand what they want with this one,” Eden remarked, touching the sheath of his grandfather’s blade.
“No one understands goblins,” the other replied with a shrug. “Not even they understand themselves.”

Eden nodded with a faint smile. The tension was beginning to fade.
“Thanks again. What’s your name?”
“Balder. Just another man of these lands,” he answered with a calm smile, though his aura betrayed something more. He was no ordinary man.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Eden Yomi.”
“The pleasure is mine. I’d love to stay and talk, but I have things to attend to.”
“No problem.”
“I hope to see you again, Eden,” Balder said before vanishing in a burst of light.

Left alone once more, Eden gazed at the sky for a few seconds. The stars of Nork flickered with the same intensity as his thoughts.
“He’s a good man…” he murmured to himself, unaware that deep within the forest, someone else was watching him.

The stillness of the Nordic forest clashed with the stench rising from the black swamp. The dead roots of the trees seemed to crawl like snakes along the shore, and the thick, bubbling water reflected a starless sky.

The reek of death hung heavy in the air.

Atop a rocky formation, a throne built from mud, bones, and dry branches loomed over the landscape. Seated upon it, a figure with long dark hair and serpentine eyes toyed with a dagger, twirling it slowly between his fingers.
“Tell me…” —his voice tore through the silence like a rusted blade— “where is what you promised me?”

A goblin stepped forward, trembling, and fell to its knees before the throne. The rest of the swarm watched from the shadows with anxious eyes, as though their fate was tied to that of the unfortunate spokesman.
“M-My lord… unforeseen problems arose,” it stammered. “The god Balder intervened—we were unable to complete the task.”

Loki stopped spinning the dagger. His smile vanished. Slowly, he rose, descending the mud steps until he stood before the goblin—so close the trembling creature could see its own reflection quiver in his eyes.
“Oh… I see,” he said in a voice almost gentle. “Balder is very strong…” He paused. “And what the hell does that have to do with me?”

The dagger flashed for an instant under the dim light. A second later, the goblin’s body collapsed lifelessly, its neck sliced with chilling precision. A thin spurt of blood stained the blackened mud, and silence reclaimed the scene.

“Do you really think I care about your excuses?” Loki spat, while the rest of the goblins shrank back in terror, their gazes fixed to the ground.

The god turned toward the group. His eyes burned with a mix of fury and disdain.
“The next time you come before me empty-handed,” he growled, “I will kill a hundred of you without exception. Understood?”
“Y-Yes, Lord Loki!” the goblins shouted in unison, terrified.

“Then begone,” he ordered, waving his hand with disdain.

The goblins scattered in all directions—some stumbling, some falling over each other—in their desperate attempt to flee from the god’s presence.

Loki returned to his throne. He sat down slowly, letting silence fall once more. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, glowing with a crimson gleam.
“It won’t be long now…” he whispered, as a faint tremor rippled through the earth— as if even the ground itself feared what was to come.