CHAPTER 104

On the grand square of the City of Destiny, a vibrant gathering of hunters and onlookers had already formed. The sky above was alive with motion as hunters rode flying cats, occasionally showcasing their prey in triumph. Every so often, a mighty beast would soar through the clouds, trailing chains or howls of defeat.

Among the various spectacles, Rowe and Heimdall's colossal wolf inevitably drew attention, but none could compete with the awe inspired by the presence of a massive red dragon stationed at the center of the square. Its immense frame made conventional transportation impossible, so Asgard employed the Rainbow Bridge to deliver it directly into the square. The dragon's abrupt arrival through the celestial portal had been a spectacle in itself, leaving the crowd in a mixture of fear and awe.

"Roar–roar—!"

The red dragon, though restrained by heavy chains, let out continuous furious roars, its body thrashing with futile resistance. Yet its strength had long since been subdued, and the chains, strengthened by Asgardian magic, held firm. The dragon's display only served to incite enthusiastic whispers and thrilled commentary from the crowd.

Rowe and Heimdall landed gracefully, making their way toward Hela to offer their respects before settling into the crowd with composed anticipation.

Heimdall spoke, voice calm and observant: "Unless something drastic occurs, the first prize for this hunting festival is undoubtedly going to Her Highness Hela. Even Princess Skadi cannot surpass her now."

Rowe nodded in agreement. However, Hoddle's rasping, foreboding tone interjected: "I wouldn't be so certain. After capturing the dragon, Her Highness Skadi ceased hunting. Technically, that's considered forfeiting the rest of the festival. With penalty points added for rule violations, even second place might be beyond reach."

Bart rebutted casually, "That's debatable. Her hunting party gathered a substantial collection over the past two weeks. A group of that size wouldn't fall behind free-roaming solo hunters so easily."

Hoddle fell silent, but his brooding expression remained unchanged.

A murmur rose from the crowd nearby.

"Did you hear? That arrogant Gusi guy got banned. A thousand-year ban from all future festivals."

"A thousand years? That's brutal…"

While murmurs of gossip circulated, a rather overweight flying cat appeared in the sky, carrying the final participant of the festival.

"Meooow—!"

The crowd turned skyward, drawn by the cry.

"Isn't that Tialfi?"

"Who's Tialfi again?"

"He's that hermit from Landvety Forest, the one who lived there for nearly two centuries and never even saw a four-horned goat."

"Oh, right! That unlucky guy!"

Indeed, the final hunter to arrive was none other than Rowe's eccentric old friend—Tialfi, a man infamous throughout Asgard for his abysmal luck in the wilds.

At that moment, the chained red dragon suddenly erupted into an emotional frenzy. The massive iron bindings creaked and tightened as it roared louder than before.

"RROOAARR—!"

Simultaneously, a delicate, trembling whimper echoed from above, originating from the flying cat Tialfi rode upon.

Seasoned hunters widened their eyes in recognition.

"That sound—no doubt! It's a dragonling!"

"A baby dragon's cry! It's unmistakable!"

Rowe turned to Tialfi in shock, disbelief blooming across his face.

Tialfi, though battered and covered in soot and scorch marks, descended like a champion. Despite his ragged state, his face bore a bright, self-satisfied grin. The sun bathed him in warm light, making his disheveled appearance appear almost heroic.

Clutched in his arms was a struggling, fiery-red young dragon—no larger than a goat but full of spirit and fire. It hissed and screeched, baring its tiny fangs and even releasing small embers from its snout. Below, the massive mother dragon shrieked again, thrashing violently in anguish and maternal fury.

Before chaos could erupt, Uller stepped forward. Calm and commanding, he raised his hand, releasing a glimmering wave of ice-blue light. The power of winter wrapped around the dragon, instantly pacifying its rage and dampening its movements.

Uller, as the God of Winter Hunt and third-in-command in Asgard, possessed rare dual Asgardian powers: the all-seeing sight that allowed him to watch across the cosmos, and the cold, crushing power of winter itself. It was no surprise he brought order with a mere gesture.

Rowe hurried over to Tialfi, astonished: "Tialfi… You actually caught a dragonling?!"

Tialfi grinned, brushing soot off his sleeve. "I did. In fact, I found a pair—twin siblings. But one of them was too powerful. Nearly barbecued me alive. I had to settle for this little rascal here." He gestured toward the burn marks on his torso with pride.

Rowe was speechless.

Heimdall chuckled. "So I was right—the mother dragon did lose her young."

Rowe turned back to Tialfi. "What will you do with it?"

"I plan to tame it," Tialfi answered without hesitation.

Hoddle scoffed. "I strongly advise against it. Dragons are notoriously untamable. Over ten thousand years of history, and there are barely any successful attempts—none of which were replicable. Even Lady Brynhild once tried, using a dragonling no less, and still failed."

An elder hunter chimed in: "You'd be better off trying to tame a war god. Dragons are solitary by nature, incredibly intelligent, absurdly strong, and carnivorous. All four qualities make them near impossible to domesticate. Trying to tame a dragon is harder than taming a human."

Yet Tialfi remained unfazed, his confident smile unshaken.

Elsewhere, members of Princess Skadi's hunting group watched grimly. The appearance of the dragonling had utterly ruined their hopes of salvaging second place. Their expressions twisted with envy and defeat.

Suddenly, Uller raised his hand for silence.

Though his voice was quiet, it resonated magically through the square: "Quiet."

Instantly, the crowd fell silent.

"I have reviewed all records and reports from this hunting festival. I shall now announce the official top three rankings," Uller declared.

"First place—Hela."

As expected, there were no surprises. Applause rang out, though many eyes shifted toward Tialfi.

"The second place…" Uller hesitated for a heartbeat before continuing. "Tialfi."

Gasps and murmurs spread.

"Third place—Skadi."

A collective murmur passed through the crowd. Many hunters whispered to each other:

"Tialfi took second with just a baby dragon?"

"Well, considering the rarity… and the danger involved…"

"If it hadn't been for that foul, Skadi's group would've secured second with their haul. Such a shame…"

Rowe let out a quiet sigh.

The embarrassment was evident. Skadi and Kuur had fallen far, not even securing second place. It was unfortunate, yet not entirely surprising. In Asgard's history, Kuur was eventually overshadowed and dethroned by Odin—a destiny seemingly playing itself out again.

With Hela victorious, it came time for rewards. Though the glory was hers, the triumph was a collective one. The members of her hunting group were summoned and presented with their prizes.

Two grand rewards were distributed: First, a generous bounty—one thousand runes per person. Second, a gift of legendary quality—an Immortal Steel dagger.

Immortal Steel, second only to Uru in Asgard, was a mythical metal used in the forging of powerful weapons. Hela's own sword was predominantly made from it. To receive such a blade was a rare honor.

Each dagger was engraved with Odin's name and radiated a faint silver light, enchanted with the "Immortality" spell to resist damage and maintain its edge.

Rowe's dagger bore the inscription:

"Immortal Rowe's Blade, gifted by Odin."

He stared at the weapon, awe and joy swelling in his chest. All around him, hunters admired their new daggers, the silver glow shimmering in their hands.

Hela's gaze swept across her group, pride in her eyes.

Finally, she addressed them: "You fought well. Your bravery has earned not just rewards, but the respect of Asgard. I, and Odin All-Father himself, shall remember it."

"Our honor, Your Highness," the hunters chorused, bowing in unison.

As the hunters dispersed, Hela's voice called out once more, gentle but commanding.

"Rowe, stay."