"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The Viking warship lurched violently. Several robed Druids were blasted straight out of the cabin, tumbling through the air and about to be swallowed by the raging, chaotic waves below.
"Careful!"
At the critical moment, Samael and Brynhildr swept in from opposite sides, seizing their arms and dragging them back onto the deck.
"What happened?"
The Ancient Serpent grabbed a Druid who seemed barely able to keep his composure and questioned him with a frown.
"T-that lady… she… she seems to have lost her mind!"
The Druid's face was deathly pale, his eyes fixed on the cabin in sheer terror.
Boom!
At the same time, a torrent of crimson-black Mana blasted out from the doorway. A figure clad in black, dragon-scale armor crossed a sword wrapped in cedar branches before his chest to block the impact. He was driven backward across the deck, carving out two scorched trails before crashing down onto the planks.
Once he stabilized himself, the sealed helmet disengaged on its own. Beneath the disheveled black-and-white hair was a calm, sharp-featured face.
"Sigurd, hold the outside. I'm going in."
Seeing this, Samael's expression tightened, his bearing turning heavy and grave.
"As you command, my lord."
The warrior king nodded solemnly and waved over nearby Druids to erect a barrier, sealing off the area. Yet as Sigurd watched Samael step inside, he hesitated, clearly wanting to say something but stopping short.
The instant the Ancient Serpent crossed the threshold, a massive wolf wreathed entirely in crimson-black Mana flames lifted its head. Its cold gaze locked onto Samael, and the air grew stiflingly heavy.
One minute… two minutes… three minutes…
Bang!
The ship shuddered violently amid the surging Chaos Tide as unstable crimson-black Mana bursts sprayed outward.
"Your Highness!"
Brynhildr's face drained of color. She immediately summoned her spear and flashed forward, placing herself in front of Samael.
Before the Valkyrie could charge, however, a hand gently caught her shoulder and pulled her back. The spreading Mana currents collapsed and dispersed before they could reach either of them.
"Grrr…"
The ferocious giant wolf lowered its head, jaws parting as it released a dull, muffled growl.
Just as Brynhildr braced herself for battle, the howl abruptly faltered.
"Ugh…"
"This… she…"
The Valkyrie stared in disbelief at the sight before her. The giant wolf lay sprawled on the floor like a dead dog, limbs splayed, ears drooping, weakly retching.
"What madness? She's just seasick. The Mana's leaking out because it's gone unstable…"
Samael had already walked over. He squatted down, lightly patting the wolf's back, and explained with an exasperated eye roll.
The Nordic people were born seafarers. Most had grown up hunting at sea or sailing from a very young age.
Seasickness was rare among them. Even those who suffered from it as children usually overcame it through repeated voyages and physical adaptation.
So seeing such a powerful existence reduced to this state on a ship, nearly tearing it apart in the process, was completely beyond their imagination.
Just seasickness, and it caused this much chaos…
Brynhildr twitched at the corner of her mouth. Was this entire family made up of monsters? She didn't even know what to say.
"Tell the people outside to bring some citrus, mint leaves, and tea."
Samael gently patted the listless wolf head resting against his knee to soothe it, then turned and gave Brynhildr a few quick instructions.
As the Valkyrie left and the door closed once more, a swirl of crimson-black light spread through the room. The giant wolf lying limply on the blanket rapidly shrank, its body reducing to around one and a half meters in length.
Samael stiffened, quietly withdrawing his fingers from the smooth back without leaving a trace.
"What? Keep going. I was just starting to feel better…"
The head resting on the Ancient Serpent's lap lifted in irritation. Wolf ears perked up, amber eyes locking onto Samael, and there was an oddly world-weary tone to her voice.
"Seriously," Samael said, flicking a glance at the flaxen hair spilling across her pink back, as well as the brown tail lazily swishing near her tailbone. "Next time you turn back into human form, could you at least put some clothes on first? Stop ambushing me like this."
"I'm a great and wise divine wolf. Why would I wear human clothes?" the flaxen-haired girl replied, completely unbothered.
She sat up and stretched in front of him without the slightest hesitation. Her long hair swayed with the motion, barely concealing the view of her chest.
"Because this is the human world. Put some clothes on!"
Samael immediately covered his eyes, his expression darkening. He reached into a Magecraft array, pulled out a prepared Greek-style white dress, and tossed it straight onto the divine wolf's head.
"Hmph. Humans and their boring sense of shame. What a hassle…"
She yanked the dress off her head and tossed it aside, grumbling as she shifted into a more comfortable position and flopped back down on Samael's lap, trying to ease the dizziness and nausea from her seasickness.
"Do you want me to throw you back to Asgard and put you under house arrest, Fenrir?" Samael asked coldly, his serpentine eyes narrowing.
That one line was enough.
The stubborn divine wolf reluctantly got up. Without the slightest sense of modesty, she stood right in front of Samael and clumsily pulled the dress on.
Watching the scene, the Ancient Serpent could only turn his head away and press a hand to his forehead, his face growing darker by the second.
A moment later, the barefoot werewolf girl stepped forward again, hands on her hips. She leaned down suddenly, bringing her face within inches of Samael's. Her blood-red eyes carried a brazen, defiant glint.
"Fenrir, what are you doing?" Samael froze for a beat, then instinctively leaned back to widen the distance.
Fenrir, pleased to see her "mighty aura" apparently forcing her strong opponent to retreat, nodded in satisfaction. She gave a smug little snort, her voice rising with an oddly cheerful nasal tone.
"I was born earlier than you. By human customs, shouldn't you be calling me big sister? Come on, say it a few times. Let me hear it."
Samael stared at the head thrust toward him as if waiting to be addressed, then slapped Fenrir on the forehead. His expression was full of grief and exasperation.
"Fenrir. Fenrir! You and Hela were both raised by me from the time you were little. I worried myself sick over your education, ran around for your future, negotiated with the gods for your sake. I've done so much for you. What did I ever do wrong for you to treat me like this? If we're going by human customs, why have you never once called me foster father?"
"Uh… is that actually a thing in Midgard?"
Fenrir was instantly thrown off. A flicker of guilt rose in her chest, and combined with her seasickness, her brain immediately turned into a mess.
"So tell me," Samael pressed. "Who ranks higher, your big sister or your father?"
"F-father…" Fenrir stammered. "But isn't Loki our father?"
"Did he ever raise you?"
"No…"
"Did he ever teach you anything?"
"No…"
"Did he ever brush your fur, bathe you, or cook you delicious roasted meat?"
"Also no…"
"So all the fatherly responsibilities he never bothered to fulfill got dumped on me, right? Then what's wrong with calling me foster father?"
"I mean… that does sound right, but it still feels like something's off. You're not lying to me, are you?"
Fenrir narrowed her eyes, thinking hard. Then she bared her fangs, her expression turning wary.
"A lie only counts as a lie if someone loses something," Samael said smoothly. "Since you don't trust me that much, let's compromise. We'll just call each other by name. That way, neither of us gets the short end of the stick."
"Hm?"
Fenrir's sharp gaze lingered on him for a moment. Then she suddenly slammed her left fist into her right palm, her face turning solemn.
"That makes sense!"
...
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