Stockholm Grand Palace — Part 2
The Stockholm Grand Palace.
A place where an entire city is one colossal palace.
It spanned both the heavens and the earth, floating in the air like a mirage or a celestial city, gazing down upon the ground below.
Its white walls and blue rooftops blended together, creating a dreamlike atmosphere.
Rumble!
At its peak, thunderclouds churned.
Lightning continuously struck from the center of the clouds.
The Survivor of Ragnarok.
The Victor of the War of the Fallen Gods.
The spire where Thor resided.
As I felt the intense mana waves emanating from it, a faint shiver ran through my body.
‘Terrifying.’
At least I had arrived without much trouble.
I pushed the control stick forward.
The Red Cougar glided smoothly through the air, descending toward the city.
Flying cars were truly a marvel.
The magical spirit operating it was incredibly intelligent.
If I had come by plane, I would have been bogged down by check-ins and immigration procedures. But the magical spirit had taken care of everything midair.
Of course, my status as an honorary Paladin of the Thor Church helped a lot.
Without it, I would’ve at least had to make a video call.
[I wish you a pleasant journey, Master.]
“Yeah, wait for me here.”
I parked in the designated area and stepped out.
I could feel the curious gazes of onlookers.
Unlike in Korea, where people would create a commotion calling me “Black Tiger Swordmaster,” there was none of that here.
They glanced at the Thor Church emblem on my chest, nodded as if understanding, and looked away.
“Hey, did you hear?”
“On the Vigrid Plains…”
“Let’s make a pilgrimage! This could be a chance to change our fate!”
Perhaps because this was a holy land for the Nordics, the atmosphere was far from solemn.
From midday, the streets were filled with warriors drinking and shouting, their shirts open.
There were Viking warriors who looked like they’d walked straight out of the early Middle Ages, modern and stylish Nordic youths, and ancient berserkers draped in bear pelts—all mingling together.
A strange harmony of the ancient and the modern.
I stood at the edge of the main road in front of the parking lot for quite a while.
‘Where am I supposed to go?’
In the game, it was simple.
There was usually a background illustration and a few choices, like:
[Palace]
[Market]
[Inn]
[Plaza].
You’d go to the plaza, talk to the fortune teller, and when they said, “A benefactor will find you today,” you’d head to the market, tap on random shops, and the quest would begin.
The reward? An invincibility item: Mistilteinn’s Regret.
“Excuse me, where is the plaza?”
“#$^#!@#&%$$(!%&$%?”
“Do you not speak English?”
“^%(^&#@$%@!#!”
“Sorry to bother you.”
I don’t speak Swedish.
And honestly, even if I did, it wouldn’t have helped much.
In this world, Sweden, Norway, and Denmark still used ancient Norse as their primary language instead of their modern counterparts.
After much wandering, I finally found someone who spoke English.
Even then, their accent was so thick it was nearly incomprehensible.
With a combination of gestures and painstaking explanations, I eventually arrived at the plaza.
A towering statue of Thor stood magnificently in the center.
The place was packed with people.
Stalls were set up all over.
There were vendors selling unidentifiable materials, merchants brewing strange potions in cauldrons that gave off bizarre smells, and magicians playing flutes to make artificial spirits dance.
Fortunately, among them, there were fortune tellers.
They were marked by banners featuring Odin’s symbol—a bleeding, one-eyed emblem—and small cushions on which crystal balls rested.
However, there were too many of them.
At least ten.
‘Well, this should be simple.’
I activated [Bright Eyes] and scanned the area.
With [Insight] included in the trait, it revealed the nature of the fortune tellers one by one.
[Deception]
[Trickery]
[Mockery]
[Greed]
Most of them displayed such traits.
If even one had the [Divination] trait, it would’ve been fortunate.
I frowned at the sea of frauds until I saw the last fortune teller, and my expression softened.
[Prophecy] [Divination] [Mysticism]
These three traits.
She was the real deal.
In the game, there had been no illustrations, so I hadn’t known, but she turned out to be surprisingly young.
Early twenties.
An unusually young age for a fortune teller.
As a result, while other fortune tellers were busy with customers, she sat alone, swatting away flies.
“Excuse me.”
When I addressed her in English, the fortune teller—no, the prophet—stared at me intently.
“What brings you here?”
“I’d like a reading.”
I handed over a gold bar I had prepared in advance.
Its market value was roughly 10 million won.
It was wrapped in paper to keep it hidden from prying eyes.
The prophet checked the gold bar and looked surprised.
“Speak your question. What do you wish to know? The past? The present? The future? I can peer into anything you desire.”
With a combination of [Prophecy], [Divination], and [Mysticism], she was trustworthy.
I casually sat down in front of her.
“I want the power to stand against gods and demons—invincible strength.”
This wasn’t my own line but one taken directly from the game’s dialogue options.
The prophet stared deeply into my eyes.
Then, drawing upon her mana, she began chanting.
Mana flowed into the crystal ball, which dimly glowed before projecting constellations.
“Right now.”
The prophet, reading the crystal ball, spoke firmly.
“Go to the market. Your benefactor is there.”
Wait, already?
In the game, this step wasn’t supposed to happen so quickly. Normally, you’d waste several days and lots of fees on pointless trips before hitting this point.
“Where exactly in the market should I go? It’s supposed to be quite large. Can you give me a specific location…”
“You’ll know when you get there. If you’re even three minutes late, you’ll miss it. Hurry! Go now!”
Surely, this wasn’t a scam.
Using [Empathic Vision], I could see the prophet’s emotions: urgency and truthfulness.
I nodded and rose to my feet.
I activated Sky Leap and launched into the air.
Swish!
“Whoa!”
“What the…!”
“You scared me!”
Once from the ground, once with Leap, and once with Sky Leap.
A triple jump.
I soared through the air like a bird.
Luckily, I had noted the market’s location on my way here.
At a speed unimaginable to normal people, I dashed forward.
I leapt over small buildings with ease.
When a structure was taller, I scaled its walls vertically, jumping from rooftops and propelling myself forward again.
At Level 6, I had far surpassed human limits.
It was practically on the level of a superhero in the movies.
With that power fully unleashed, I reached the market in no time.
At the entrance to the market—
A scene similar to a traditional Korean marketplace unfolded before my eyes.
And within that bustling crowd, I spotted a familiar face.
“Huh?”
“Huh?”
Both I and they were surprised.
Among them, Sigmund broke into a wide grin and welcomed me with open arms.
“Brother! It’s been a while!”
He stomped forward with heavy steps and pulled me into a bear hug.
We’d started off somewhat awkward, exchanging polite courtesies.
But after a few exchanges of messages, we’d begun addressing each other as brothers.
Apparently, Nordics treated any form of academic or bloodline connections as kinship.
I learned this through a Nordic warrior I met during the War of the Fallen Gods, and Sigmund had confirmed it for me later.
“Brother!”
Hjordis joined in, hugging me tightly.
Her build was as robust as Sigmund’s.
“What brings you both here? Weren’t you supposed to be in the Grand Labyrinth?”
“Well, uh…”
Sigmund scratched his head, looking sheepish.
Hjordis, on the other hand, proudly patted her stomach.
“We came to receive blessings for our new family member.”
“A new family member? Ah! Congratulations.”
“If we’d known we’d run into you, we would’ve brought some mead to celebrate.”
“Drinking while carrying a child? That’s not appropriate.”
“What are you talking about? We should drink for the child’s sake! Besides, a warrior’s liver isn’t so weak that a few gulps of mead would affect the child. Right, dear?”
“Of course!”
Unbelievable. These two are a real handful.
But more importantly, where was the benefactor the prophet spoke of?
Could she have been referring to Sigmund and Hjordis?
Suddenly, a name flashed through my mind.
They mentioned receiving blessings for the baby.
If we’re talking about a Nordic deity associated with blessings for children, that would be…
“Are you here to receive Frigg’s blessing?”
“That’s right! If Frigg grants her blessing, the child—whether a son or daughter—will grow up to be the greatest warrior!”
“But Frigg is dead, isn’t she?”
Not only that, she hadn’t died during the War of the Fallen Gods.
She had perished long before, caught up in Ragnarok, which had swept across the Nordics.
There’s a reason Thor became the chief deity of the Nordics.
Odin had also died during Ragnarok.
Sigmund grinned slyly.
“There’s a way. Honey, let’s tell him what the prophet said.”
“Alright.”
Hjordis closed her eyes.
Moments later, her voice rang out loud and clear.
[From the castle in the sky,]
[In the lowest place,]
[Find the rune that holds twilight.]
[Take the rune to the plains.]
[Board the skyship and conquer the world,]
[Only then will the goddess smile.]
Her voice, imbued with mana, echoed powerfully.
Strangely, the surroundings fell into silence.
At the marketplace—
Though merchants were calling out to customers and shoppers were chatting noisily, it was as if all sound had been cut off.
“What does all that mean?”
“I’ve already decoded the first part. You know what the castle in the sky refers to, right?”
“The Grand Palace. This place.”
“And the lowest place refers to this market. The name of this market is Alla Ragstaga.”
“Huh? What?”
“It’s southern slang for ‘the lowest place.’ Or so they say—it’s supposed to mean the place with the lowest prices.”
It’s not slang; it’s probably Swedish.
Sigmund continued explaining.
“We’ve already found the rune. We thought it might be a rune stone or a rune fragment, but it turned out to be a painting.”
“A painting? They called a painting a rune?”
“Well, runes aren’t just letters—they can also signify mysteries, knowledge, or meanings.”
How surprising.
Sigmund saying something this intellectual?
As I stared at him in astonishment, Hjordis chuckled heartily.
“That’s what the magician who sold us the painting said. It was imbued with mysterious mana, so we bought it. But when we found out it only contained a memory recall spell, we lost interest.”
Memory recall magic?
Ah, I get it now.
There was a similar quest in the game.
In that case, I know exactly where we need to go next.
“Can I take a look at it?”
“Of course.”
Sigmund pulled a rolled-up parchment from his pocket.
The delicate artwork depicted scenes from mythology.
The birth of an innocent and pure child-god.
A goddess holding the child lovingly in her arms.
A depiction of her traveling the world, extracting promises not to harm the child.
The mistletoe, too young and weak, left out of these promises.
And finally, the mistletoe being placed in the hands of a blind god, who throws it.
It was the story of Baldr and Mistilteinn.
The moment I saw it, I smiled inwardly.
They mentioned it contained memory recall magic.
Using it would summon not only Baldr but also Mistilteinn and Mistilteinn’s Regret.
“Are you trying to summon Frigg?”
“Yes. We don’t need the full blessing of immortality. Just a modest prayer would be enough.”
Sigmund gazed lovingly at Hjordis as he wrapped his arms around her.
Ugh, give me a break.
Can’t they save their romantic antics for when they’re alone?
These Nordics have no sense of shame.
“So you’ve found the rune. What about the plains?”
“The magician mentioned it. This has to be taken to the Vigrid Plains. Performing the ritual there will summon Frigg, Baldr, and Hod, and we’ll be able to receive Frigg’s blessing.”
And among them, Mistilteinn would surely be present.
What I wanted was the flower that bloomed from the blood spilled when Mistilteinn pierced Baldr.
“The Vigrid Plains… that’s where Ragnarok took place, isn’t it? The battlefield where memories still wage war?”
“That’s right. It’s an eternal war zone. And get this—do you know what’s been happening lately?”
“What?”
“Listen carefully. For the past few days, the entire Grand Palace has been in an uproar.”
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to hear.
Feeling puzzled, I tuned into the voices around me.
To my surprise, snippets of a curious conversation reached my ears.
“Did you hear the rumors?”
“Of course.”
“Skidbladnir!”
“The legendary ship crafted by the ancient Dwarf King!”
“You mean the one that folds small enough to fit in your pocket but unfolds to be bigger than an aircraft carrier?”
“Exactly! They say it appeared at the Vigrid Plains this time.”
“Wow, if someone manages to get their hands on that, their life will be set. It’s got to be worth at least a billion dollars.”
“A billion dollars? Try ten billion. It’s basically a flying aircraft carrier!”
“Should I head to the Vigrid Plains too?”
“Don’t even think about it. Do you think you can survive on a battlefield where ancient heroes have resurrected and are waging war? Over there, even a Level 5 is just a grunt soldier.”
“Damn it. I’m just a Level 3. Guess it’s not even a dream for me.”
“Don’t go. Unless you’ve got a death wish.”
Skidbladnir has appeared?
It’s not as famous as Naglfar or Sleipnir.
But its utility is unmatched.
Its portability and scalability are legendary.
If it has a flaw, it’s its speed.
For a ship, it’s fast, but its maximum speed is only 60 kilometers per hour.
‘Still, it’s a top-tier vehicle.’
For combat, there are ancient dragons or phoenixes.
For high-speed travel, supersonic fighter jets.
But for a mobile base, there’s Skidbladnir.
In other words, Skidbladnir could function as a moving fortress.
Compared to other mobile fortresses like celestial cities or subterranean strongholds, Skidbladnir had its pros and cons—but it was undeniably tempting.
‘I couldn’t get it in the game, but here? Totally doable.’
Now that I thought about it, the mounts I used in the game were nothing special: a flying car, mass-produced airships, generic wyverns, and the occasional saber-tooth tiger.
I had come to seek Mistilteinn’s Regret, but now a top-tier vehicle had appeared?
How could I resist?
I had to get my hands on it, no matter what.
“Do you think the skyship in the prophecy is referring to Skidbladnir?”
“Most likely. The skyship is controlled by the memories of the ancient Einherjar. I guess we’d have to seize it and conquer the entirety of the Vigrid Plains to summon Frigg.”
Not an easy task.
The ancient Einherjar are at least Level 5.
There would be Level 6s among them, and maybe even a Level 7.
But something like this was worth the effort.
It was a rare chance to claim a top-tier vehicle.
Sigmund fixed his gaze on me.
“Brother. Are you ready to share in the glory? From what I can tell, you’ve already reached Level 6. Hjordis and I don’t have the strength to bring down Skidbladnir on our own, so we were in a bit of a bind.”
Me?
I’ve been ready for ages.
I raised my chin confidently and declared:
“Skidbladnir is mine.”
–TL Notes–
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