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Chapter 4: Bet

"Scorch!"

Forseti recalled this name not just from his current memories but also from his past lives.

If he remembered correctly, Scorch was the Asgardian guard infatuated with Hela in "Thor 3."

But from what he knew, Odin's eldest daughter Hela was only a few decades old. Was Scorch the same age as her? Judging from the movie's portrayal, it didn't seem likely.

Could this world not be exactly like the Marvel Cinematic Universe but a similar, parallel version?

Forseti frowned inwardly. If this world didn't strictly adhere to MCU rules, could he still leverage his foresight advantage? Despite some knowledge of comics, his understanding was limited.

"Do you remember now?" Scorch asked irritably.

Forseti coughed. "I remember," he replied.

Scorch grinned, but the grin slowly turned sly as he tapped Forseti on the shoulder. "Bet you haven't forgotten Amora's kiss."

Confused by the profound look on Scorch's face, Forseti asked, "What?"

Scorch's eyes widened. "You forgot that too?"

"...I forgot."

"Alright, I'll forgive you for forgetting my name," Scorch chuckled.

Forseti couldn't help but inquire, "What does 'Amora's kiss' mean?"

From his past life's memory, Amora was an Asgardian villain. Could there be a connection?

"The reason you fell from the tree!" Scorch exclaimed animatedly, gesturing vividly. "You made a bet in the name of All-Knowing and Almighty Allfather Cul. If you could climb that tree and touch the thinnest branch at the top, she'd give you a kiss—the kind you'd write home about!"

"You did it, and everyone was waiting under the tree to witness!"

Forseti felt a rush of embarrassment, realizing he fell from a tree for this, risking his life for a kiss... How pathetic!

Suddenly, he empathized a bit with Uncle Peter. If he had such a nephew, he'd probably find him exasperating.

Forseti was reluctant to go through with it, even to admit it happened.

But Scorch was insistent, nudging him like a bull. "You made a bet in the name of the all-knowing and almighty Father Kool. You must go."

Being small and slender, Forseti couldn't resist Scorch's strength and was promptly pushed along.

After a few steps, he halted. "Cul?"

Scorch looked puzzled. "You forgot about the All-Father?"

Forseti reflected and realized he had indeed ignored Cul in his subconscious, overly impressed by Odin from his previous life. It took Scorch's reminder for him to acknowledge it.

While not well-versed in comics, Forseti had some knowledge of Cul from "The Origin of Fear."

Cul, Odin's brother and former heir to Asgard's throne, was now the Asgardian God of Fear under Odin's rule.

According to "The Origin of Fear," Cul who was Asgard's rightful ruler, defeated by Odin, who then obscured the truth.

In this world, Cul was Asgard's king, yet tensions brewed. Forseti mused on internal and external conflicts in Asgard...

Soon under Scorch's guidance, Forseti arrived at a small forest. A towering tree dominated the scene, dozens of meters high with dense foliage.

A group of about a dozen people gathered beneath it, mostly teenagers chatting in pairs.

Among them stood a striking blonde girl at the center—beautiful and young but exuding a mature elegance in her attire.

A few men stood silently, including a tall, muscular bald man with a stern expression.

"This is the tree you fell from," Scorch pointed out.

Others noticed them and cheered, "Look who's here!"

"Hey, Rowe's here to collect his reward~"

Whistles followed, adding to the festive atmosphere.

Forseti felt incredibly embarrassed, pushed by the crowd toward the blonde girl as if to face a family reunion.

"Hi, Amora," he greeted uncertainly.

It had to be admitted, Amora was stunningly beautiful and charming, which explained the men's envious glares.

Including Scorch, Forseti sensed a tinge of jealousy in Scorch's gaze directed at him being kissed by Amora.

But what puzzled him was that, aside from jealousy, Scorch seemed oddly excited, which Forseti found hard to comprehend...

Yet, he certainly didn't want to complicate matters.

Though he didn't recall Amora's specific misdeeds, he knew her reputation as a villain. He wanted no association with trouble.

"You managed to touch that twig and come out unscathed. I must admit, I'm impressed. I thought you wouldn't make it..." Amora's expression was complex as she exhaled. "But I promised in the name of All-Father, so I will keep my word."

In Asgard, agreements carried divine weight and were rarely broken.

With that, Amora tossed her long golden hair and approached Forseti with a sultry smile, lips moist like a ripe peach ready to be plucked.

Beside him, Scorch's eyes widened, utterly captivated.

Others gasped or held their breath.

"Wait."

No one expected Forseti to raise his hand and interrupt.

"What's wrong, Forseti? Gonna freshen up first?" someone joked.

Forseti composed himself, organizing his thoughts. "Sorry, Amora, I didn't consider this before... You don't have to kiss me. Let's just forget about this bet."

"What?" Everyone was incredulous.

By all accounts, no young lad would refuse a kiss from a beautiful blonde, especially one who paid the price of being unconscious for days.

"Are you kidding?" Scorch whispered.

Someone else chimed in, "Come on, Forseti, if you've got bad breath, I'll do it for you."

Laughter ensued.

Taking a deep breath, Forseti's expression turned serious. "I'm serious. I've learned my lesson—the consequences of my past recklessness and foolishness."

Amora looked at him, perplexed, at a loss for words.

Scorch urged anxiously, "You were out cold for days; that's lesson enough!"

Forseti remained resolute.

After a brief silence, Amora asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The mood shifted. The previously lively crowd fell silent, and the once stern men eased their hostility.

Amora suddenly laughed, captivating and enchanting. "Alright, if you don't want to kiss, we won't kiss. But this agreement stands. Anytime you want this kiss, I'll be here~"

As her words echoed, the men who were initially standoffish widened their eyes, their gazes sharpened.

They looked at Forseti, nearly shooting sparks—literally. In Asgard, some could shoot lightning from their eyes.

Especially the tall, muscular bald man clenched his fist conspicuously, radiating hostility.

Noticing their reactions, Forseti inwardly cursed, realizing they were a pack of sycophants simps!

Still, by doing this, he found himself unable to distance from Amora as he wished—a troublesome predicament indeed...

The crowd dispersed gradually.

Scorch's expression watching Amora from a distance was conflicted—relieved yet crestfallen, as if his expectations hadn't been met.

"Scorch?"

Startled, Scorch snapped out of his reverie. "Huh?"

"I'm heading back," Forseti said, patting his shoulder.

With that, Forseti turned and left.

By now, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow through the forest.

Observing the sunlight filtering through the trees, Forseti couldn't help but wonder: What exactly was the sun in Asgard?

Asgard had days and nights but lacked celestial rotations. Its calendar included years and months without corresponding natural phenomena.

Asgard was a small land floating in space—not a planet, yet with stable surface gravity akin to Earth's.

Much about this place seemed peculiar, as if designed by a god indifferent to physics. Forseti knew this world wasn't the one he knew—a universe governed solely by physical laws.

In the Marvel universe, science existed alongside magic and gods. The mysterious power he brought with him to this world—Holy Light—underscored this reality.

Here, the authority of physics paled beside the Asgardian God-King's...

Lost in thought, Forseti suddenly furrowed his brow, sensing someone approaching.

Turning, he saw a black-haired woman approaching slowly.

Youthful yet confident, with black hair cascading over light armor, she bore a striking presence. "Forseti, son of Garrison."

Forseti's full name was Forseti Garrison, akin to how Thor was addressed as Thor Odinson.

In Asgard and the Nine Realms, using "Son of" in one's name was rare—mainly reserved for formal or ceremonial purposes.

In Forseti's memory, such naming conventions were used in duels.

"Who are you?" Forseti asked, eyeing the woman.

Instead of answering, she mused aloud, "Do you know why Amora wanted to bet with you?"

"Why?" Forseti inquired.

"Amora studied magic in Nornheim. She learned a prophecy concerning herself from the Time Caverns—about you, too," the woman explained.

"A prophecy?"

About Ragnarok?

Forseti pondered and asked further, "What prophecy?"

The dark-haired woman's smile widened. "As long as you make that bet with her... you will definitely fall to your death."

Forseti was stunned for a moment, then recoiled, unable to suppress a shudder.

If that were true, it meant the blonde girl wanted to witness his demise!

Truly a villain!

A wicked villain!

He quickly composed himself. "But I'm perfectly fine."

"That's what intrigues me." The woman's voice was magnetic, her smile akin to deep, luminous waters.

Forseti felt drawn to her captivating aura, finding her far more alluring than the blonde girl.

"It appears the prophecy was mistaken," Forseti said, his nerves showing.

"Perhaps," the woman replied nonchalantly. After a final glance at him, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the woods...