"Is that you, Fandral?" The voice came from inside the room.
'Fandral' stiffened for a heartbeat, then lowered his head slightly and replied in a calm, respectful tone.
"Yes. Your Majesty. Why are you still awake?"
Odin did not turn around. His fingers rested on the ancient book in his hands, idly brushing the worn cover.
"There are matters on my mind." He said. "Sleep eludes me. You are on duty tonight?"
"Yes." Fandral answered. "Do you have any orders, Your Majesty?"
Odin was silent for a few seconds. Then he gestured toward the shelves. "You may remain here and study for a while."
"…Understood."
Odin closed the book and placed it back on the shelf.
"Remember to return it to its original position when you finish." He said calmly. "And refrain from reading too many books on dark magic."
"Though your willpower is commendable, your mana reserves are insufficient. Do not allow yourself to be tempted."
"Thank you for your guidance." Fandral said respectfully.
As the words faded, Odin's divine presence dissipated like mist in the morning light.
The room fell silent.
'Fandral' finally exhaled and placed a hand over his chest.
"…So it was only a divine projection," She muttered quietly. "I thought I had been discovered."
A pity.
If it had been the real Odin, perhaps she could have fulfilled her mission in one stroke.
She turned to leave…
Then stopped.
Her gaze drifted back to the bookshelf. To the book Odin had been reading.
It was not fully returned to its place.
After a brief hesitation, she stepped forward and reached out.
The moment her fingers touched the cover, a sharp pain pierced her palm. She tried to withdraw, but the book opened on its own, pages fluttering silently.
Her eyes widened.
This was not a spellbook, it was a historical record.
A complete chronicle of Asgard from its birth, through the rise of Odin, to the great wars that reshaped the Ten Realms.
She read quickly.
The World Tree had originally connected the Ten realms.
The Tenth Realm, now lost, had belonged to the Angel Clan.
Their ruler, the Angel Queen, had once forged a contract with Odin. Treasure in exchange for war. The angels fought as mercenaries in Asgard's campaigns.
Then came betrayal.
The Angel Queen, believing her wealth greater than Asgard's, turned against Odin.
She attacked Asgard and in the chaos, secretly abducted Odin's daughter.
The war ended in defeat.
The Angel Queen fell. And Odin's daughter… died in that conflict.
Angela's breath caught. "So that's the truth."
No wonder there was hatred. No wonder Silver City and Asgard never reconciled.
Her thoughts raced.
What was the princess's name?
Could it really be…?
No. She shook her head sharply.
Impossible.
Even if a god's heir were reincarnated, it would be within the same race. Not as a cat, an orange, four-legged, meowing creature.
Absurd.
She flipped through the remaining shelves quickly. Dark magic. Light magic. Ancient rites.
Valuable, yes, but nothing unique. And useless to her, a being aligned purely with light.
Time was running out.
She calculated silently. Fandral should be waking soon. Staying longer would be reckless.
Closing the book, Angela stepped out of the library and returned to the chambers assigned to Silver City's delegation.
There, she carefully dressed the unconscious Fandral, restoring every piece of armor and clothing exactly as it had been.
Before dawn, Fandral stirred awake.
He sat up abruptly and looked down at himself.
Clothes intact and armor secure.
No pain or memory gaps… at least none he could sense.
He touched his head cautiously. "…Huh?"
Did I drink too much last night?
Fandral knew his limits. He had never lost consciousness from alcohol, certainly not enough to forget an entire night.
Unease crept in.
Without even changing his clothes, he hurried to the monitoring chamber of Asgard Palace and accessed the corridor records from the previous night.
What he saw made his brows knit together.
On the screen, only he appeared. He staggered into a corner clearly drunk then… never came out again.
Guests passed through the corridor afterward. Servants. Guards. No one stopped. No one even glanced toward the corner.
Later, during cleanup, the maids walked by casually. Still no reaction.
The final footage showed two elf girls, arms wrapped around Garfield, stumbling past in a drunken haze.
Something was very wrong. Fandral replayed the footage.
Then it clicked.
"If I passed out in that corner." He muttered, "Someone would have noticed. At least one person would have looked."
But no one did.
Not even the guards. That meant only one thing.
"My presence was concealed… by a spell."
And this was Asgard Palace, the residence of King Odin.
If someone had impersonated him, moved freely under illusion, and acted under his identity…
Fandral didn't waste another second. He rushed straight to Odin.
Odin had just risen when Fandral burst in, breathless, and explained everything in detail.
After hearing the full account, Odin was silent for a long moment.
Then he spoke words that left Fandral even more unsettled.
"Fandral." Odin said calmly, "Your loyalty is unquestionable. What happened last night, you alone may know of it."
"…" Fandral.
"Do not tell a second person," Odin continued. "Not Thor. Not Loki."
"…Yes, Your Majesty."
"You will understand in time," Odin said, waving his hand. "Go. Rest."
"Yes." Fandral bowed and left, his thoughts racing.
No one may know. Especially Thor and Loki…
Then…
"Wait." A realization struck him like lightning.
He didn't mention Garfield.
Thor—no.
Loki—no.
But Garfield?
Fandral stopped in his tracks.
"…Garfield isn't human." He muttered. "He's an orange cat, no, a cosmic beast wearing the shape of an orange cat."
Odin didn't forbid telling him.
"…I get it now."
Suddenly feeling far too clever for his own good, Fandral turned and marched straight toward Garfield's quarters.
The guards at the door immediately raised their hands.
"General, you can't enter right now."
"I have urgent business."
"But~"
"But what?" Fandral snapped, brushing past them. "Do you know how serious this is?"
He pushed the door open…
Before he could register the scene inside, two indignant cries rang out and a violent gust of wind exploded outward.
BOOM
Fandral was launched backward like a doll, slammed into a stone pillar, and slid down it in a very undignified heap.
The guards clapped their hands over their mouths.
"You little… what are you laughing at?" Fandral groaned.
"General," One guard said solemnly, "We are trained not to laugh."
The other nodded. "Unless we really can't help it."
"..."
Inside the room, Garfield slowly opened his eyes. Two pairs of furious eyes were glaring down at him.
He cautiously turned his head.
Then looked around.
"…Oh no." His fur stood on end.
This is bad.
Very bad.
This cat's life is in danger~!
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
PhantomDream