After a while, someone raised his hand and said weakly, "Master Scala… I don't want to go."
"Okay." Scala nodded and said nothing.
"Anyone else ready to quit?"
Seeing that no one responded, Scala said, "Go back and prepare, we will leave tomorrow morning."
Rowe and Sigurd returned together. On the way, he asked, "Sigurd, have you been in the herb collection team before?"
"No, it's my first time," Sigurd said. "To be honest, I hesitated just now. If Lord Scala had asked again, I might have chosen to quit."
Rowe said, "It's only been half a year since the last large-scale attack. Although the Skrins multiply rapidly, they probably haven't recovered much in just six months."
"The Skrins are only one aspect. There are trolls in the forests of Vanaheim. If we encounter trolls, we'll be in serious trouble," Sigurd replied. "Trolls aren't as weak as Skrins. If a troll lands a hit on someone with a physique like ours, we'd likely be crippled."
He then shrugged. "Of course, trolls are rare in Vanaheim. I've always been lucky, so I'm sure we won't run into any."
That evening, as usual, Rowe opened the holy tome and purchased five Gifts of Destiny from the Devotion Store.
[Thank you for your patronage] [Thank you for your patronage] [Book of Experience: Manny Wolf] [Piety +0.51] [Grant Faith (Shard)]
Nothing new. Rowe had drawn plenty of Grant Faith fragments in the past six months. It was a basic healing spell, positioned on the second level of the sacred tome's skill tree alongside Holy Light Strike and Judgment.
Through months of lottery draws, Rowe had realized that while the Gift of Destiny could yield fragments of unlocked spells, it couldn't skip levels.
After thousands of draws, he had gathered many second-layer spell fragments, but not a single piece from the third layer. It became clear that the so-called "everything is possible" nature of the Gift of Destiny wasn't as limitless as it seemed. Reality imposed constraints.
This realization frustrated him. The third layer contained the group attack spell [Hammer of Blessing], which would be invaluable against swarming enemies like the Skrins.
Later that night, he entered the training space, dispatched the manic wolf with his warhammer, then washed up and went to sleep.
---
The next morning, the herb collection team, consisting of two squads of soldiers and a team of healers, assembled in an open area of the camp. Rowe glanced around. There were about thirty people in total, with Scala leading the expedition.
Under Scala were the captains of the two soldier squads. Coincidentally, Rowe recognized them both. One was Cole, who had first brought him to Vanaheim. The other was Sigurd's friend, Heimdall.
Once everyone was present, Scala led the group out of the camp and into the forest.
Vanaheim's forests were dense, with thick canopies casting deep shadows. As soon as they entered, the light dimmed, and a wave of humidity enveloped them.
Their destination, a patch of rare medicinal herbs, lay several days' journey away.
The first day passed peacefully. The team marched steadily, eventually stopping in a small clearing to rest for the night. No disturbances occurred.
---
The next morning, Rowe, accustomed to his daily sparring practice with Graf Swifttooth, hesitated. Given their current environment, he decided against entering the training space.
The experience space felt too real. When he left it, his body would be drenched in sweat. If anyone noticed, it would raise suspicions.
Besides, the forest was dangerous. If they were attacked while he was inside the experience space, he might not react in time.
Still, he didn't want to abandon his training routine entirely. Looking around, he spotted Ander.
"Ander, are you free?" he asked.
"Sure. What's up?" Ander replied.
"I want to spar with you."
"Alright, but I won't go easy on you," Ander said with a grin, grabbing a sturdy branch and taking a combat stance.
Rowe found his own branch, and the two squared off, slowly circling as they looked for openings.
Ander struck first. He lunged, swinging his branch like a sword toward Rowe's throat.
Snap!
Rowe swiftly parried, stepping between the trees to evade.
Clack! Clack! Clack!
The branches clashed multiple times in rapid succession, sending leaves fluttering to the ground.
Ander, a properly trained Asgardian warrior, displayed formidable skill and strength—far superior to a novice like Skorche, who had yet to step out of the beginner's phase.
Despite Rowe's paladin training, he was still a beginner. Worse, he was at a significant physical disadvantage. Soon, he found himself on the defensive, retreating under Ander's relentless strikes.
Swish!
Ander capitalized on a small opening, swiftly maneuvering his branch to hover inches from Rowe's throat.
The spar was over.
The two sat down on a nearby rock to rest, chatting as they caught their breath.
"Honestly, your body type is better suited for lighter weapons like daggers," Ander commented. "Why did you choose a warhammer?"
"Uh… well, hammers make more impact," Rowe replied casually.
Ander chuckled, then seemed to recall something. "Actually, there's someone in Asgard similar to you—not suited for a warhammer but insists on using one."
"Hela… Princess Hela?" Rowe blurted, quickly adding the proper title.
He vividly remembered the mural in Thor: Ragnarok, where Hela was depicted as the original wielder of Mjolnir.
Ander looked puzzled. "Why would you say that? Princess Hela uses a sword. I was talking about Princess Skadi."
Rowe blinked. "Oh… I guess I confused them."
Ander laughed. "If you ever saw them side by side, you'd never make that mistake."
ROOOOAAARRRR!
A thunderous bellow erupted from the depths of the forest. Instantly, the entire herb collection team leaped to their feet, weapons drawn.
"It's a forest troll!" someone shouted in alarm.
Rowe turned toward the source of the noise. More than a dozen enormous, armored figures emerged from the foliage, brandishing massive weapons. Their voices were guttural and hostile as they snarled in broken Asgardian:
"Asgardians… DIE!"
They were colossal, nearly twice the size of an average Asgardian. Their bodies were covered in thick, shaggy hair, but unlike wild beasts, they wore armor and carried enormous weapons.
It was clear they were here for blood.