Try to keep up, Kara’s voice teased through the Pack Link, electric in Karl’s head.

  Karl grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he muttered, then leapt into the fray.

  The Nøkk scattered as he landed, the impact shaking the riverbank. He swung with both claws, smashing two spirits into the mud hard enough to burst their seaweed-wrapped torsos. But they were clever. The survivors slipped back into the river, their glowing red eyes gleaming just beneath the surface as the music began anew, though this time it was even darker.

  A cold wave rippled through Karl’s limbs as a result. His movements dulled. The melody sank into his muscles, leeching away his strength.

  Stamina: 74/84

  Health: 120/130

  Each note drained him ten points. It felt like trying to fight while drowning in honey. His body screamed to stop, to close his eyes just for a second.

  Pathetic, Fenrir’s voice rumbled in his mind. Even a cub should resist a lullaby.

  Karl snarled and pushed forward. He tore through the haze with brute force, ripping one of the violinists from the shallows and slamming it against a boulder until its melody cut short.

  Slay Nøkk River Spirits: 7/20

  But there were too many. The river boiled with shadows as the remaining Nøkk slipped under, their music echoing eerily through the water. The red glow of their eyes shimmered like embers beneath the current.

  Kara waded in beside him, water splashing up to her chest. The cold bit through their fur, but she didn’t hesitate—she plunged her claws into the current, dragging a shrieking Nøkk out by its tangled hair. With a violent swing, she dashed it against the rocks.

  “These little guys are annoying!” she growled as one of the creatures hurled its violin at her snout.

  Karl barked a laugh and kicked another out of the river, cleaving its chest with a single claw swipe. “I think I’m winning!” he shouted as another kill surged warmth through his limbs.

  Slay Nøkk River Spirits: 14/20

  Each death made him stronger, faster. The more blood he spilled, the clearer the world became. His body burned, his senses sharpening to an edge.

  Kara growled and threw herself forward, doubling her pace. The two of them thrashed through the river like children in a pond, sending walls of black water crashing over the banks. Their combined roars drowned out the violins.

  Slay Nøkk River Spirits: 18/20

  The final two fled downstream, their shrieks echoing between the frozen trees.

  Karl slowed, chest heaving. “What are you at?” he asked, panting.

  “Nine,” Kara said through a grin, eyes gleaming with challenge.

  Karl blinked. “Nine?” His gaze flicked to his kill count. Nine.

  Kara’s grin widened. “Guess we’ll see who wants to be beta tonight.”

  Before he could react, she shoved him hard. He stumbled backward, crashing into the opposite bank. By the time he regained his footing, she was already leaping free of the river, racing along the frosted ground toward the last two Nøkk that were upstream.

  This is embarrassing, Fenrir rumbled, disdain dripping from every word. Must you always submit like a runt?

  Karl rolled his eyes. “Not helping,” he hissed, then dug in his claws and sprinted. Mud sprayed behind him as he scrambled after her.

  Kara’s tail flicked ahead, taunting him as she closed in on the remaining targets. He pushed harder, every muscle burning.

  “Being her slave wouldn’t be that bad,” Karl muttered under his breath.

  He felt her reaction instantly—a burst of joy, a flash of affection—rippling through the Pack Link like sunlight under ice. It made him smile, even as he lunged forward with renewed speed.

  No, he didn’t truly mind the thought of yielding to her. But still—he had something to prove.

  Karl seized a rock the size of a shield from the icy bank and hurled it across the river. The stone smashed through the water with a crack. The two fleeing Nøkk shrieked in alarm, their glowing eyes flashing crimson as they turned to escape upstream.

  They never got the chance.

  Karl triggered his Elf Leap, his body flickering into a streak of light. In the blink of an eye, he appeared in front of them—moonlight blazing off his fur. The creatures barely had time to shriek before his claws clamped around both their necks. He yanked them from the water and bit down, jaws grinding through bone and sinew with ease. The taste was foul, and very slimy, but victory still tasted sweet.

  Slay Nøkk River Spirits: 20/20

  He spat out the black ichor, grinning toward Kara with mock pride. “That’s twenty.”

  But she didn’t stop running. With a snarl that was equal parts laughter and affection, she lunged and tackled him straight into the shallows.

  The water erupted around them. Her teeth grazed his throat—more teasing than savage—as they rolled together. They nipped, wrestled, and kissed in the bloodied current, their muzzles smeared with dark slime.

  Then came the familiar chime.

  Quest Completed: Nøkk ’Em Dead

  “Your moonlit murder date was technically a success, though the System would prefer less kissing between kill animations. Seriously, get a room (and take a bath with this new soap).”

  Primary Objective:

  Slay Nøkk River Spirits 20/20

  Rewards:

  Item: Nøkk’s Hand Soap (Legendary) — A minty-green gel that scrubs off blood, slime, and bad decisions anywhere, anytime. Instantly removes gore debuffs and grants +1 Charisma for 10 minutes because cleanliness is next to godliness.

  Alpha Path (+1): lvl 5 (40/150 Reiði)

  Reiði Points (+1): 1

  Wealth (+11): 5,651 Gold

  Glory (+220): 1,225

  Level (+1): 29 (60/300)

  Skill Points (+1): 4

  Bonus Reward:

  Kara is now your Beta for the rest of the night and must obey every command.

  Steam rose from their bodies as they collapsed beside one another on the stony bank. The cold air shimmered with heat from their carnage. Kara’s fur, still streaked with drying blood, steamed faintly where the moonlight touched it.

  Karl nuzzled her muzzle, breathing in the mix of pine sap, sweat, and faint forge oil that always clung to her. Beneath the gore, she smelled like home. He hadn’t realized until now how deeply he loved her.

  You’re not a burden, he sent through the Pack Link, his thoughts warm. You’re mine. The curse, claws, all of it. I wouldn’t change you.

  Kara’s bloody grin spread across her muzzle. Thank you, she whispered back, voice soft in his mind. She leaned closer, pressing against him. The position was clumsy—two enormous wolves trying to embrace—but it didn’t matter. The moment felt human.

  Karl opened his mouth to say something—something awkward, no doubt—but the scent hit him first. Metallic and sharp, like burnt copper. His ears twitched. Somewhere in the dark, metal struck metal in rhythmic clanging.

  Kara’s gaze snapped toward the sound. “I smell it too,” she said aloud. Her tail flicked once. “Want to find out what it is—and possibly murder it?”

  Karl chuckled. “After that date? Sure.” He swiped a paw over his chest and activated the Nøkk’s Hand Soap. A faint green mist shimmered over his fur, erasing the filth and blood in an instant, leaving behind a crisp mint scent before he applied it to her.

  “Well,” he said with a crooked grin, “just one more kiss before we go, Beta.”

  She laughed as he leaned in once more.

  13

  TURN UP THE HEAT

  Finally, Fenrir rumbled inside Karl’s mind as he and Kara leapt up from the riverbank, soaked and grinning after their rather long—and rather destructive—make-out session. The once-serene riverbed looked as if a small battle had taken place, gouged earth and shattered reeds bearing witness to their “bonding.”

  Karl felt a flush of embarrassment at the sight, but it didn’t last. The warmth in his chest drowned out shame as quickly as the moonlight glimmered on Kara’s silver fur.

  Don’t you want me to have love? he thought, half-annoyed, watching her shake herself dry. Droplets flew off her in glinting arcs, catching the moonlight like falling diamonds.

  Love is merely a distraction, Fenrir growled. A leash on the strong. You would serve me better sowing an entire litter—many wives and heirs. Not one cage of affection.

  Karl rolled his eyes and snorted. “You’re very romantic,” he muttered aloud.

  Kara glanced back, one ear flicking, but before she could ask, the air shimmered with red letters. A new System notification hovered before both of them, reflected in her glowing eyes.

  Pack Link (+1): lvl 2 Bonded Partners: Emotional link stabilized, faint background thoughts sensed. Vision sharing extended to 15 seconds. Range: 65 m, Cooldown: 50 s. Whenever Karl or Kara lands a killing blow, the other restores +10 HP & +10 Stamina. If both kill within 3 seconds of each other: Feeding Frenzy (+15% Attack Speed, +10% Lifesteal for 20 s).

  Glory (+20): 1,235

  Level: 29 (80/300)

  Karl’s grin widened. “Not bad,” he said as the glowing text faded.

  “Not that we need it,” Kara replied with a teasing smirk. She’d already lathered herself with the mint-green Nøkk’s Hand Soap he’d gifted her, scrubbing away the blood until her fur gleamed again. The scent of mint and rain clung to her. In this form, Karl found it strange that he didn’t care about the gore—or the animal part of himself stirring beneath it. He felt right.

  Of course you like it, Fenrir murmured, his tone amused. You are remembering what you are.

  Karl ignored him. “Why don’t you take the lead?” he told Kara.

  Her body moved before she could answer—an instinctive response to the command curse still active from her lost bet. She growled, baring her teeth as the magic pulled her forward. “I was going to lead anyway,” she snapped, the protest half-laugh.

  Karl’s chuckle echoed through the trees as he bounded after her on all fours. “Say it,” he teased through the Pack Link. “Say you like my cooking better than Sigrid’s.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I like your cooking better than Sigrid’s,” she said automatically, the compelled tone dripping with resentment. Then she growled again. “You know that’s already true!”

  “I know,” Karl said, grinning. “It’s just nice not to be the beta for once.”

  Kara flashed an idea into his mind—her human body pressed against his, the river churning beneath them. His knees buckled mid-stride, and he stumbled face-first into a drift of snow. Her laughter echoed across the night.

  You still are, she teased.

  Karl shook the snow from his muzzle and chased her through the moon-washed trees, their paws crunching icy roots. The metallic scent they’d caught earlier thickened with every stride; the burnt oil reminded him of some kind of mechanic shop.

  The forest thinned into rolling hills, the ground dusted with pale snow and dotted with wind-gnarled pines. Everything seemed still. Too still. No birds or deer. Just the rhythmic clang-clang-clang of metal on metal rising from somewhere beneath.

  Karl froze, his lunar sight activating automatically. The world shifted shades, pale blue fading to red as he peered below the surface. Shapes moved in the dark beneath the hill. They were all short, each with broad arms and shoulders. They scurried through tunnels like ants, busy and relentless.

  Those are Dwarves, Karl said through the Pack Link, eyes narrowing.

  Indeed, Kara answered, crouching low beside him. Her breath misted in the cold. But where are they coming from?

  They crept forward together, paws silent on the frost, the moon their only witness as the ground ahead began to hum with the heart of something ancient.

  Kara led the way, nose low to the ground, every movement sharp. Her silver fur caught the moonlight as she sniffed the frozen air, tracing the metallic scent through the hills.

  What stopped them briefly was the sudden sight of Harald Bluetooth and his men riding through the dark forest. Karl could smell them well before their torchlight flickered between the trees.

  He froze, gesturing sharply. Kara stopped beside him. Both dropped low, sliding behind a cluster of frost-coated shrubs. Through the branches, their enhanced sight cut through the gloom.

  Twenty riders moved through the narrow path below, torches bobbing like tiny suns. Harald Bluetooth rode at the front, his blue cloak snapping behind him. The massive Dane laughed, voice carrying in the cold while his torchlight glinted off gold rings braided into his beard. Beside him rode Björn and Mýra, sharing a horse as they always did. Mýra held onto him and looked carefully through the forest.

  Egil trailed near the rear, hunched over his horse with a scroll unrolled in his gloved hands, scribbling even as he rode. His brow was furrowed in frustration.

  Thorstein wasn’t with them—Karl guessed he was still back at Visby, holding the fort and eating Sigrid’s cooking.

  Then a flash of red darted from the treeline.

  Ratatoskr bounded into view, landing squarely on a low branch after apparently urinating on a tree for good measure. The smell hit Karl’s keen nose instantly.

  Gods, that’s foul, he muttered in his mind.

  The squirrel grinned, tail twitching as he looked at Harald’s many tattoos. “So, Harald, ever tried sending a photo with that thing?”

  Harald frowned. “A what now?”

  Ratatoskr cackled, clearly delighted by his own private joke, and leapt back toward Mýra. She giggled and fed him another sugar cube, which he absolutely did not need.

  Kara’s voice slipped softly into Karl’s mind. Are you thinking about joining them?

  Her tone was cautious, but her eyes said what her words didn’t. She didn’t want him to.

  Karl shook his head. They’ll be fine.

  He watched the riders pass, their torches fading between the trees. Ahead, the hot metal scent trail still burned strongly in his nose. In the distance, another village’s rooftops glimmered under the snow, smoke curling lazily from chimneys. Visby’s allies, or so he’d been told. He could see from his parchment-style map in his mind that he hadn’t discovered that town yet. Maybe he would one day, but not tonight.

  He exhaled, the frost leaving his mouth in a slow cloud. “Let’s keep going,” he said aloud.

  Kara nodded, her eyes catching the moonlight as she rose. Together they slipped back into the forest, following the metallic scent deeper into the hills—toward the buried heartbeat of something ancient waiting beneath the earth.

  A few seconds later, she found it.

  Half-buried in frost and shadow was a ruin—black stone cracked down the middle, its runes long faded. The entrance yawned over a narrow crevice in the earth, invisible from above unless one followed the smell. Cold mist rose from the gap, breathing like some sleeping beast.

  Before they could speak, red text shimmered before their eyes, which updated his internal map a second later.

  Location Discovered: Dvergr Forge

  “Rune access requires a sacrifice if password is unavailable.”

  Available Payments:

  10,000 Gold

  20% of current memories (void where prohibited)

  Something you can’t replace

  Kara’s tail flicked. “Any thoughts?” she asked, her eyes bright with playful challenge.

  Karl could tell she wanted to go in—the spark in her gaze said as much. He wanted to, too. But which would he sacrifice?

  “We could use the weapons,” she said, batting her eyes at him in mock innocence. “Visby’s smiths are good, but Dvergr work would change everything.”

  Karl exhaled through his fangs. “We’re definitely going in,” he said, trying to sound confident. “I just don’t love the sacrifice part.” He eyed the glowing menu again. “Ten thousand gold? I’m already bleeding coin,” he muttered. “And I don’t think I can afford to lose more memories—Mímir’s well wrung me dry as is. So… something I can’t replace.”

  What could that even mean?

  He thought of his epic Dökkálfar Archer armor, then shook his head. Losing it would leave him naked and helpless once he left wolf form. His bow—same problem. His thoughts drifted to Andhrímnir’s Cookbook. The idea hurt. That was more than an item to him. Giving that up would feel like killing a part of himself.

  Then perhaps that’s the price of strength, Fenrir murmured. The gods always demanded blood, boy. You’re just paying in smaller pieces.

  Karl grunted. “Yeah, no thanks.”

  He scanned his inventory through the System’s interface and paused at something small—the Chasm Pebble. He summoned it into his palm, and the air shimmered as the black stone appeared, smooth and cold, vibrating faintly with trapped power.

  Kara tilted her head. “A pebble?” she asked, amused.

  “It’s worth a shot,” he said, tossing it onto the glowing rune at the forge’s threshold.

  The stone hit with a crack like thunder. Red light exploded across the runes, burning through the snow. For a moment, the world went still—then came a flash bright enough to sear the back of his eyes. When the glow faded, the pebble was gone, replaced by a single message written in crimson fire.

  Offering Accepted: Fragment of Ymir’s Skull

  Appraised Value: 1,000,000,000 Gold.

  Dvergr Forge Now Open

  Karl’s jaw fell open. “A billion gold?”

  Kara blinked. “You just… fed a world treasure to a door.”

  He stared at the message, disbelief flickering between awe and nausea. “I—I didn’t know it was worth that much.”