CHAPTER 101

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"Okay." Without much thought, Rowe followed Heimdall toward the dragon.

"Roar..." The red dragon, clearly recognizing Rowe, became visibly agitated. The sudden shift in its demeanor startled the flying cat that had been toying around its head.

Staring at the massive red dragon, Rowe pondered for a moment before pulling out a dagger and a crystal bottle, intending to collect some of its blood.

He didn't know whether young dragon blood could still be sourced in the future. If not, perhaps adult dragon blood could serve as a substitute.

The dragon's hide was incredibly tough—on Earth, most conventional firearms wouldn't be able to penetrate it. The dagger Rowe wielded had been issued back in Camp Warnerheim; its quality was ordinary, and even with considerable effort, he struggled to pierce the dragon's thick skin.

Still, dragon blood began to flow, and Rowe managed to fill a crystal bottle. As he examined the dragon's enormous body, he realized one bottle wouldn't be enough.

With that, he retrieved three more crystal bottles and proceeded to collect more of the rich, crimson blood.

"Why do you need so much dragon blood?" Heimdall asked curiously.

"Dragon blood is a potent alchemical ingredient. Don't forget—I'm still a pharmacist." Rowe shook the filled bottle in front of his face.

It was noon. Sunlight flooded the clearing, and under its rays, the dragon's blood appeared almost translucent, its rich redness resembling molten fire, flickering as though alive.

Rowe observed the shimmering fluid thoughtfully. It should be able to replace young dragon blood, even if the substitution rate isn't perfect... he mused.

Just as he prepared to stand, Heimdall added, "You might as well cut off a piece of dragon hide. You can have someone craft leather armor from it. Dragonhide armor is among the finest—extremely resistant and even carries traces of draconic aura. Beasts will sense it and stay clear. It'll make traveling through the wild far easier."

Rowe hesitated.

After all, this dragon was to be offered in sacrifice to the Spirit of Norn. While others were taking blood and pulling scales as keepsakes, outright removing a slab of dragonhide seemed excessive.

Noticing Rowe's reluctance, Heimdall chuckled. "You were the top hunter in this festival. What's a piece of dragonhide? Besides, you can heal the wound afterward."

That made sense.

Rowe nodded to himself. With no more hesitation, he raised his blade and sawed off a large swath of hide from the dragon's side. Even though the dagger wasn't ideal, determination carried him through. Sweat poured from his brow by the time he finally succeeded.

"Ow—Ow—!"

The dragon let out a tortured scream. If it hadn't been so thoroughly weakened, it would have torn Rowe apart on the spot.

Eventually, Rowe stood, a full-body-sized section of dragonhide clutched in his hands. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and exhaled deeply.

Cutting through the dragon's flesh had been grueling—far more so than just bleeding it.

"Owww..." The dragon glared at him with fury in its eyes, panting heavily, every breath resonating with rage.

Despite their beastly habits—solitary wandering, naked savagery, blood-drinking instincts—dragons were far more intelligent than common creatures. Many rivaled human intellect, and some among their higher ranks could even speak, shift into human forms, and seamlessly blend into society.

Indeed, in the Marvel universe, there were dragons with such abilities.

This particular dragon seemed to understand what was happening. It may have even realized it would be sacrificed to the Spirit of Norn. Although Rowe had healed it earlier, its loathing hadn't faded—it fixed its predatory eyes on him, smoldering with hatred.

Concerned the dragon might suddenly lash out, Rowe left promptly and found a secluded spot to analyze the dragon's blood.

He placed a vial of the blood onto the formula template for the [Talent Mixture]. The evaluation process activated immediately.

[Substitution value for young dragon blood: 45%]

Rowe frowned as he read the result.

Only 45%?

He had expected at least 50%, if not more. This result was disappointing. The difference between adult and young dragon blood was clearly substantial.

The [Talent Mixture] required a full bottle of dragon blood to function properly. Using inferior ingredients would certainly diminish its effectiveness. If the efficacy dropped too much, the final product wouldn't be worth using.

His goal for the mixture was ambitious—he hoped it would elevate someone to the level of a Tier 3 warrior. If the result ended up being a glorified energy drink that added five centimeters of height and a boost of stamina, it would be a crushing letdown.

…

Asgard Palace

Within the grandeur of Asgard, the god-king Kuur—a cosmic powerhouse and current ruler of the realm—sat on his throne, speaking with Uller.

"Gurth injured someone during the hunting festival?" Kuur asked, brow creasing slightly.

Uller nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. Witnesses confirmed that Gus struck another hunter with a warhammer."

"Gus is impulsive, but not usually so reckless. Did something provoke him?" Kuur questioned.

"There was indeed provocation. The hunter he attacked is named Rowe Garrison. He also wields a warhammer and uses holy magic. One of his spells is particularly provocative, and seems designed to anger opponents," Uller explained.

"How strong is he?" Kuur asked, his fingers tapping against the throne's armrest.

Uller considered for a moment. "I've been observing him. He's... resourceful. If he hadn't run out of mana, I doubt Gus could've beaten him."

Kuur sat in thought for a moment before murmuring, "Perhaps he's a candidate for the Heavenly Hammer…"

Uller hesitated. "Your Majesty, regarding the punishment of Prince Skadi and Gus…"

At this, Kuur's expression darkened. After a pause, he waved his hand dismissively. "Let justice be done according to the law."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Uller bowed and departed.

Left alone, Kuur rose from his throne. He paced across the vast hall, eventually stopping in front of a mural.

The palace was lined with murals—Asgardians cherished these artistic records, often depicting great moments of their civilization.

This particular mural featured Kuur himself, Odin, and the former god-king Bor. Brothers. Father and sons. A family once bound in harmony.

Kuur's eyes locked onto Odin's painted figure—his younger brother. Slowly, his hand curled into a fist...

…

Norn Forest — Hunting Festival Camp

After capturing a dragon and witnessing it injure another participant, the festival's outcome became clear. Hela allowed the hunters to rest for the day at the assembly point.

Standing before the group, her regal presence commanding their attention, she declared, "The hunting festival nears its end. Before we conclude, there will be one final hunt. We shall return to the City of Destiny bearing our trophies!"

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