Chapter 359: The Allfather's Backup Plan

It had been an exhausting battle—one unlike any Solomon had faced before. His enemy this time was not a mortal foe but the physiological response triggered by the friction of black stockings, the deep-seated pleasure coursing through his veins, and the faint pain from high heels. These sensations tapped into primal instincts embedded in the genes of primates over millennia of evolution.

For the first time, Solomon truly understood the arduous decisions mammals had faced in their evolutionary journey. The speed of reproduction determined the ability to dominate limited resources, and to retain their evolutionary advantage, humans had lengthened the gestation period. Everything in life was an exchange. This difficult trade-off had ultimately placed humanity at the apex of Earth's food chain.

Every sigh he exhaled was a metaphorical swing of his sword against this battle's intangible enemy. Every strong heartbeat declared his refusal to yield. The witch's cries signaled the start of her counterattack, but the sorcerer's incantation unleashed a spell, overwhelming the witch's mind with ecstasy and securing her defeat beneath Solomon's magic.

The Cheshire cat, perched lazily nearby, disdainfully licked its paw. Humans got so excited about creating a "kitten"? Its own kittens had formed a legion that ruled this entire building. Every female cat here belonged to it, and yet it had never boasted about its accomplishments.

But that had been before it lost its… assets. Remembering this, the Cheshire cat let out a mournful wail.

Meanwhile, the maid-clad homunculus tilted her head in confusion. She couldn't comprehend what her master was doing. Was this some sacred human ritual? Had her creation involved a similar ritual?

Exhausted, the mystic and the witch lay together in the bathtub, warm water lapping at the witch's waist as she sat atop Solomon. She sighed contentedly. The battle had been a long one, requiring Solomon to employ many supporting spells to ensure their efforts culminated in a perfect result.

"You're a man now, Boya," the witch teased with a soft laugh. "But don't get any funny ideas—no spies, no archaeologists…"

"I swear, nothing of the sort has ever happened," Solomon promised. The witch silenced him with a kiss, her slender hand beginning to wander again. The mystic felt himself being drawn into an unparalleled paradise. It was Eden, the idyllic haven of humanity, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon—a place of beauty where every joy and desire was fulfilled.

"We should get a bigger bathtub," she murmured. "At least one that fits two people comfortably."

"Of course. I'll get one tomorrow!" Solomon responded earnestly. "I'll even learn how to renovate the bathroom."

"You did well," Athena said approvingly as she set a plate of freshly baked lasagna before Solomon. The enticing aroma of melted cheese filled the air. However, Solomon, pale-faced, could only pick up his utensils with Lorna's scornful encouragement. Given his physical resilience, such fatigue was unusual—but his opponent had been the Umbra Witch, one of the most formidable women in existence. That his symptoms were limited to a sore waist and weak legs was already remarkable.

"This is a rite of passage for men," Athena remarked, pinching Solomon's arm to gauge his muscles. "No need to feel embarrassed. Look at those ancient Greek sculptures—your physique is no less impressive than theirs. For years, I've had you train to develop muscles that naturally attract women. This will only keep happening. Isn't that right, Lorna?"

"Solomon doesn't even wear sunglasses, hoodies, or basketball jerseys. Why would any woman be interested in him?"

"That's precisely why I've been teaching you art," Athena retorted. "So your tastes wouldn't be corrupted by street culture. Just look at yourself—baggy clothes, sunglasses, gold chains… You need to fix that, young lady."

Solomon, dazed, picked up his teacup and sipped it. He heard none of this. Instead, the pleasurable memories of the witch's gift lingered vividly in his mind, leaving him longing for a repeat. Only when car keys jingled in front of him did he snap out of his reverie.

Athena immediately noticed his distraction.

"Perhaps I brought you here too soon," she said with a sly smile. "There's an exhibition today. Maybe I should invite Jeanne to join me?"

"No, that's fine!" Solomon replied, suddenly alert. Jeanne, upon returning home, had already noticed the unusual smells and traces left in the house. The homunculus hadn't completely cleaned up, and Solomon himself hadn't even managed to leave the bedroom. After a chaotic family comedy, Jeanne grudgingly agreed to let Solomon sleep in Bayonetta's bed, provided she occupied the middle. Luckily, the bed was large enough for three—once the bullet holes in the sheets were mended.

That, Solomon could handle.

"I doubt Jeanne will be so easily deceived again," he said, stuffing another bite of lasagna into his mouth. "Now she follows Bayonetta everywhere like a kitten, never leaving her side."

"You did well," the Sorcerer Supreme remarked as Solomon drank the herbal concoction she had prepared for him. With each sip, his complexion grew rosier, and his sore muscles gradually relaxed.

"You should've done this long ago," the Ancient One said, pleased. "In the past, you'd already have two snot-nosed brats trailing behind you. You've got a sword, a lance, armor, and a horse. Even if you lost everything else, your skills as a leader of heavy cavalry would ensure no shortage of women."

She launched into an extended lecture about the habits of medieval nobility, regaling Solomon with anecdotes about sneaking out of countess's bedrooms or escaping from furious husbands. This left Solomon deeply apprehensive about the lifestyle of nobles before the medieval era. The Ancient One even suggested that, had he lived in those times, Morgan le Fay herself might have recruited him for her cause.

"Soon, you'll need to visit the Allfather," she added, abruptly shifting the topic to Odin, who had recently been sent to Earth.

When Solomon expressed concern about Odin's mental state, the Ancient One dismissed it with a disdainful comment.

"The Allfather doesn't hold Kamar-Taj accountable for this; after all, it's Loki's fault. He has no intention of contacting Thor either. With Loki's cunning and Heimdall's oversight, Loki isn't capable of overthrowing Asgard. All he wants is the throne. According to intelligence, Loki is currently indulging himself."

"What about Gungnir? Odin didn't have the spear with him when he arrived on Earth."

"Do you think that's possible? Wherever Odin is, Gungnir isn't far behind."

"So, the Allfather still holds true power in Asgard?" Solomon downed the last of the herbal tea and quickly followed it with a piece of candy to mask the bitter taste. "So he's just toying with Loki, isn't he?"

"Essentially, yes," the Ancient One confirmed. "Never underestimate a god-king's foresight. Even I can't predict Odin's next move. Every order Loki issues will reach Odin eventually. You'll understand when you get to Finland—he's handling official duties even now."

"Poor Loki," Solomon muttered, popping another candy into his mouth before unsteadily getting to his feet.

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