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….
Noticeably somehow perceiving my state, Laura, walking beside me, stopped gawking around and shifted the gaze of her brown eyes to me.
I had to pull myself together so as not to disgrace myself in front of a child.
A small part of me, evidently responsible for sanity and logic, tried to give me a kick and force me to take the girl away from sin, but… we had almost reached the end of the bridge, and trudging back to the guest chambers to hand her over to her mother would take so long…
After all, X-23 is ten times more adequate and restrained than Thor and I were at her age.
And if the larvae of these two acrobat brothers could walk through the treasury without screwing up (especially Thor), then she will definitely manage.
Yes, all this is out of respect for her, not because of my laziness!.. Oh primordial spark of creation, I am already convincing myself by appealing to the coolness of a ten-year-old girl; what has Asgard done to me in these pitiful few hours?!
So, with persistence worthy of a true descendant of Odin, crushing the shoots of reason, conscience, and adequacy in myself, I descended the bridge to the gates of the suspended structure and, gesturing for the Einherjar guards to stay at their post, entered inside, dragging a small innocent girl with me.
The magical energy collected in the treasury washed over my skin with a prickly breeze.
Each trophy of Asgard's past achievements rested in its niche, shielding it from others, but the general background still forced one to focus and throw unnecessary thoughts out of one's head.
Gungnir in my hand also reacted to the alien power.
Essentially, it was the spear that allowed me to feel it more acutely than happened before, but the Spear of Kings itself sort of whispered to me that it was ready for battle, although it didn't feel real danger, just reminding me.
It "reminded" me of a lot of things generally; for example, it was a somewhat unpleasant surprise for me that Gungnir treats being in a pocket dimension extremely negatively.
That is, I could put it away, but it got offended and didn't shy away from pouring this emotion onto me.
An attempt to figure out what the matter was led to the artifact explaining to me "on fingers," or rather, with images of feelings, that it is a symbol of Power, a Status item, and simply Handsome, in connection with which it cannot be hidden and shame on you if you try.
In other words, everyone must see how awesome it is, ALWAYS. It wasn't capable of thinking in fully understandable categories, but the general meaning was exactly that.
In short, Odin's spear and I still had to fully get used to each other, but right now it wasn't important. Now I came here for the legacy of my other father…
"Touch nothing," I warn Laura as soon as we descended the steps to the tier of the treasury I needed. "Most things here are extremely dangerous, even if they look broken."
"…" the girl nodded understandingly, remaining silent as usual.
We unhurriedly covered the central corridor between the niches and found ourselves at a pedestal with a bizarre rectangular device in which streams of light swirled continuously.
The Casket of Ancient Winters looked like a solid blue crystal, bound in metal in some places and faceted on the surface by a skilled jeweler.
Its magic, mighty and deadly, felt at a distance of several steps, swirling like a thin veil around the pedestal, but remaining in immutability and calm.
For the Frost Giants, the Casket was an artifact even more valuable and important than Gungnir and Mjolnir for the Asgardians, but it just so happened that my predecessor never wondered "why?" Once in distant childhood, Loki was frightened by Odin's story that any Aesir, attempting to use the power of the Winter Casket, would inevitably die or be severely injured, as the ice magic of the Jotun artifact is incompatible with the power of the Gods, whose essence is flame and light.
Having matured, he simply didn't take an interest in the "father's useless trophy," which no one would let him research or take out of the treasury anyway.
The Allfather's cunning move was perfectly understandable to me now, but some apprehension before unknown magic remained, preventing me from casually reaching out and touching the blue surface.
The power fettered by the shell was frightening. It was alien to everything Loki knew and could do in magic.
Surtur's Eternal Flame, located in another part of the treasury, was much more familiar and understandable, although it presented perhaps even greater real danger to any divine races, for it couldn't be extinguished by any forces, and only the most powerful beings were capable of subduing its power with their will.
It would simply devour everyone else, regardless of any walls, armor, and flesh, as soon as it was allowed to break out of the boundaries of the enchanted brazier.
However, I wasn't going to just stand and look at the play of light behind the blue facets. I didn't come here to chicken out at the last moment, especially knowing that I can use the legacy of Jotunheim.
"Whatever happens to my appearance, don't be afraid," I warn Laura, extending my left hand to the Casket.
And… I touch it carefully with a finger. One.
A cautious and weightless thought, along with my own power, slides forward, intending to grope and cognize the essence of the artifact.
A second of numbness and a flash of wild cold, contrary to normal instincts, force the hand to jerk further, laying completely on the surface of the Casket.
But before the burning frost can lick the palm, it is replaced by a pleasant warmth rising higher and higher up the arm.
The exposed skin rapidly turns blue along with the spread of this sensation, and simultaneously with the new color, spiral patterns of the Frost Giants appear on it.
The creation of the Jotuns recognized me as "one of its own"…
The Casket of Ancient Winters didn't have the neural interface of Asgardian technomagical artifacts familiar to me, but it had its analogue built on pure magic.
It was rougher, not to say more primitive, but, if one can express it so, relied more on instincts… no… physiology… also not quite… Rather it was something like an intuitively understandable set of reflex reactions that suddenly appeared in me.
A very strange sensation. Strange, but pleasant.
Moreover, the neural interface remained a neural interface, albeit embodied on a different logical base, and through it, I could fully understand and realize the artifact's functionality. Which I did, and… barely held back laughter.
No, the Casket could undoubtedly be used as a weapon; in this regard, it was even more dangerous than Gungnir, as it could cover manifold larger areas with one strike and literally change the climate of entire continents and planets, albeit not instantly.
It could be used as a means of weather control, sending or hiding a storm and the coolest gale in it wasn't difficult. But all this paled before its main function.
It was a textbook.
No, not like that; it was the quintessence, the very essence of Ice Magic.
The Casket didn't hammer strict formulas of Runic Script into the head, which the Aesir used to manufacture weapons, nor did sinister knowledge and rituals lie there.
No. It simply gave Awareness, understanding of the essence itself.
And the "reflexive" neural interface allowed literally absorbing, assimilating the techniques of Jotun magic as if I hadn't just practiced creating an Ice Spear or Frost Armor, but actually devoted my whole life to continuous improvement in this direction, comprehending it in such deep nuances and details as far from every recognized master can boast.
An amazing and strange feeling, which explained well why Odin put so much effort into taking this veritable Treasure from Laufey.
Perhaps the artifact had limitations, definitely must have, like a certain level of user power or their blood, and maybe time between uses, but even so, it was simply… oh, I lacked words.
….
If you want to read ahead by 20+ chapters from here you can visit my Patre-on.
[P] [A] [T] [R] [E] [O] [N]
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