Overlord And The Blue Citadel - Chapter 3 fenrir The Divine One

With a callous, otherwise blank, expression he turned his gaze away from her.

Neia blinked a few times having heard of his proclamation. His true name was Fenrir? It didn’t really ring any bells to her, but she could only assume that it held divinity behind it. Her eyes traced over towards the false sky above.

It was hard to believe this place was created, but there was no other explanation for a place that looked bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. The sky had begun to change, like a day and night cycle.

She could tell it was much quicker than the actual time outside, she knew that for sure. She stroked her chin with her fingers, seeing how lively the place was becoming a night befell the strange realm.

A set of blood-curdling howls could be heard from every direction, even behind them. It was just like the one he had released earlier, but in many more numbers, overlapping with one another.

It nearly sent a chill down her spine. Were they his brood? Or were they his pack? Had he created them too? Her eyes set on the man who had captured her, paralyzed her and even threatened her with death. Yet, he had only walked with her under his arm like she was a piece of lumber.

She didn’t know to be amazed or to be insulted, but all the same, his Godly touch had graced her. How many humans did one know, who had been touched by such a being?

Had she been the first human to ever come in contact with such a thing? One day, she had achieved so much more than she had ever done in the Paladin Order. Even though technically she had never left them as she was but a Squire.

“As your Squire…” She began speaking as she gestured a hand towards him, immediately taking his attention as her voice reached him. Neia was surprised by his attentiveness, but all the same, he was no longer smiling like he had been when talking moments ago. He still seemed lost to her.

“Yes?” The eight-foot-tall self-proclaimed God shifted his entire body to face her alone. His two-toned eyes, ashen blue and firey ember hues, animately rested upon her face in a mild glare.

Oddly enough, their glares seemed to match as it was part of her habit to the same. Though his eyes were not as murderous or villainess hers, they were beautiful to look at, even captivating. It was as if she was staring into the eyes of a hungry beast, a confidant predator, a wolf staring back at a humble sheep.

“What do you expect of me, Fenrir-sama? You are a God, I am but a mere human being compared to your divinity… You even spared my life, despite my trespass into your magnificent home.” Neia used his true name, or at least the one he had given her. She knew of four gods, or six if she counted that of the Slane Theocracy. If this was going to be another addition to the pantheons, she would be his devote follower as he was a living God unlike all the rest, Neia could be his Paladin.

The First Paladin to follow the God of Wolves and Shadows, God made Flesh.

“I expect you to serve me and entertain my whims, there is much you haven’t seen here, girl.” The imposing figure didn’t take her eyes off of her, and yet it felt so empowering.

That was until the words that he shared rang in the back of her head, “M-More? There’s more!?” She raised her voice slightly, somewhat horrified at the realization that there was more than just this plane of existence within the tower she had entered.

Her gaze moved towards the ‘tower within a tower’ and was mystified. More Floors like this one? How different were they going to be? Was she going to explore them…? The excitement of adventure reverberated against her ribs from the very depths of her heart.

“Excluding this floor from the full count, there are ten others, all of which have traps waiting for intruders…” His eyes drifted away from her and moved back towards the sandstone Labyrinth. “If those Paladins of your Order went further in, they would have surely perished.”

“They left me for dead,” letting her eyes fall to the dusty ground at her feet, eying the sand and the dirt as it overlapped one another. “Tripped me in order to survive, took my task away from me.” Her fingers balled into fists, their nails digging into her palms lightly.

“And you will be avenged,” his eyes left the sandstone structure and went to her sword which was sheathed at her hip in a plain scabbard. “First, I must see what you can do, where your talent lie. Only then will I know how to use you, what to take from you and what to give.”
for visiting.

“What to take from…?” What was there to take from her that she already hadn’t lost? She never had anyone’s respect. Her eyes had cursed her since birth, and her mother beat her when she complained about it, as it was something she inherited from her father.

Nonetheless, she looked up to her mother, and even more so to her father who was part of the most elite group within the Paladin Order. Again, she thought, what was there he could take?

What would he take?

Hesitantly her hand trailed along with the knob to the hilt of her sword, before grasping onto it. Drawing the weapon from its sheath, she clasped her other hand beneath the other. Moving into an offensive stance.

“Do not hesitate, your weapon is harmless towards me. Now, steel yourself, strike me.” What he was about to see next, he didn’t expect, she swung at him with the intent to strike just as she was ordered and yet… The use of her sword was informal, low aptitude. Catching the tip of the blade between two fingers, his gaze remained down at her. “Are you able to pull it from my grasp?”

Neia gave the weapon two distinctive tugs, using all her weight to do so. They didn’t move. She wiggled at the hilt, twisted at it. It was as if the weapon had impaled itself inside that of a rock, it wouldn’t budge aside from the natural flexibility that kept it from breaking. She couldn’t even raise or lower the hilt, let alone slip it out from between his fingers.

“N-no…” Was the only answer she could give before he yanked the weapon from her hands, putting her almost in complete disbelief as she stumbled forward. A second later his hand steadied her and she centered her gaze on his face as he proceeded to toss the weapon over his shoulder as if it were a piece of trash.

It wasn’t even sharp enough to penetrate the ground as it landed and immediately fell flat.

“That is what I will take away, it’s useless to you. Your form, sloppy. Training without the latent capacity for such a tool doesn’t suit you,” Fenrir shook his head as he remained cool-headed.

A frown decorated her fragile-looking lips, her feral gaze once more falling to the side. “People have scolded me and told me I ought to focus more on training up my sword skills,” she shook her head as she seemed utterly disappointed with herself. “Though I am better with a bow, I can hardly call myself an Archer.”

“I am well versed in three types of combat. If you find your talent at something, you focus on that. Sometimes, you will never grasp the full meaning behind a skill and sometimes, it comes naturally.”

Neia blinked at what appeared to be advice that contradicted those of others, rather than looking down on archery, he was pointing her towards her.

“Sword and Shield, they are not what makes a Paladin incredible, let alone a Holy Knight. If your skills are not pliable, you will fall in battle.”

“Are you saying, Fenrir-sama… I should focus on Archery and ignore swordplay?” She didn’t quite understand why he said she should go towards what she finds herself innately good at, while others had scolded her for such things or even looked down upon her.

“Tell me, Neia, what makes a Paladin? Their Vow, or their sword?” His turn of phrase was almost philosophical and something that may be asked by many who did not understand a Paladin.

“My father always said that a Paladin is a person who expresses their belief in Justice through their Actions. A Sword does not define its Paladin, for a Paladin should rush into battle with just their fists for what they believe in,” Neia wanted to sound just as worldly as he. Though when she shared this little bit of information about her father, she began to wonder if her mother beating her was actually justified punishment for her complaints of her father.

Chuckling lightly at her tone of speech, “Interesting,” he reached out and pat her on the head. This patting turned into ruffling, more so enjoying the action himself, as she had answered the question far better than he expected. Her description reminded him of a friend, Touch Me, from the Guild of Ainz Ooal Gown when he was once part of their virtual family.

A sad look danced on his face as he continued to feel her hair beneath his hand. It was soft, perhaps she had washed it, or it was always that way. “Correct… One’s Actions define them.”

Neia was never used to someone touching her head, especially for this long. Eventually, she just let her head lull side to side with his hand, giving a slight smile due to the praise.

Fenrir then paused for a brief moment before withdrawing his hand, letting it fall down to his side. For a brief instant, their eyes locked liked they have done prior, though this time she wasn’t afraid.

The admiration for a God, a creator of such a place of where she stood, was beaming up at him. At the same time, however, her eyes still managed to glare right at him due to her inherited ferocity from her father.

When he broke eye contact and began reaching into his item box, Neia blinked. Was that some sort of magic he was using? He wasn’t hiding it from her, it was almost as if it was some sort of treat. Within a split second, he withdrew his hand and revealed a small ring before holding it out towards her.

“What… What is that?” Neia flushed in the face at the thoughts that immediately came to mind. She didn’t understand why he was holding out a silver ring with a blue gem embedded upon it.

“It’s a magic item called the Ring of Sustenance, it’ll allow you to remain awake for days without being affected by the lack of sleep, food or water. You might want to try it on, girl, it’ll match your tunic,” Huffed Fenrir with a raise of his brow, he sounded callous and stern again, even after being proud of her for answering the question correctly. Despite how cool was being though, Fenrir didn’t sound bitter at all.

Short of timid, she slowly reached out and took the ring into her hand as it was given to her. She stared at the item for a few seconds, before turning her gaze to him.

He was giving her such an item? Wouldn’t it be super expensive, an asset worth keeping?

Neia’s eyes wrestled with the reflection of stars from above that caused the ring to glow briefly before she slipped it over her ring finger of her right hand. Almost immediately she felt as if her hunger, exhaustion, and thirst had been stilled completely.

The ring was real! In the fact that it worked, her eyes widened at the effects which she had never felt before. It as truly a magic ring. It was as if this ring was a sign, to her, that she was truly accepted in his eyes.

An instant had gone by when she heard him pull something else out of what appeared to be nothingness, his item box. She could only stare at a weapon which he held out to her, a bow.

Not only was it a bow, but it didn’t have a string. Its design was sleek, gilded in shimmering gold with Celtic designs etched into its exterior and after a few seconds of staring at it… She swore she saw little vibrant arching tendrils of holy light flickering about as if it was reaching out to her.

Just like the ring, the bow was imbued with some sort of magic power.

To Fenrir, this weapon was nothing but a mere low-data magic bow, but judging by her level in which he had discerned, it would be more useful to herself.

“Fenrir-sama?” She looked up to him as the weapon folded into in two as if to be sheathed within her scabbard before he nudged it out towards her direction. “What kind of weapon is this?”

Even before he answered, she accepted the weapon in both hands and stared at its craftmanship.

“That bow will replace your sword, use it to express your belief in Justice, for it will aid you in becoming stronger in both your defense an the defense of others.” Though he had no idea what her sense of Justice was, he still encouraged her, in order to enable a change.

Shifting the item into one hand, the bow folded outward again, revealing its sleek Celtic form. Her eyes widened as when she reached her other hand forward, she could feel the magic power building up in the weapon. As she grasped at the air with her fingers, she pulled her hand back as if she were notching an arrow.

A beam emitted from one end of the bow to the other, an arrow forming strongly as she continued to pull. As she was turned in his direction, so was the bow. Fenrir reached over with two fingers and lightly guided her weapon away from facing him.

“Don’t pull it too far back,” he warned as he could see the reflection of the glowing arrow in her eyes. She was fascinated, taken in by the sight alone.

She could feel the power running through her and into the bow and from the bow and into her. It was as if this very weapon he had gifted her along with the ring, was connected to her, recognizing her as its host. Lowering the bow, she eased the arrow as the magical energy then dissipated. Neia could only stare at the weapon as she now held it to her side, this was a treasure, one that she never wanted to throw away or allow anyone else to get their hands on.

Her attention immediately snapped to him, her cloak shifting in the wind as she turned so swiftly. “Fenrir-sama! I, a mere commoner, cannot express my gratitude… But isn’t this too much?” An aura of determination had appeared to surround her as she then dropped to one knee. “Divine One, how do you value me this much…? I’ve invaded your home… I… Why do you spoil me?”

That was when he gave a smile, whether it was going to stay on his face though was another question, “You are the only one who knows my name. It is only right for you to be rightfully equipped to spread it.”

“I…” Neia didn’t know what to say, she couldn’t with a God. He saw value in her in which many didn’t see in her. They saw her as creepy, weird or strange, maybe even talentless and weak. “In the name of Justice, I will be the one who spreads your name. I will become stronger under you, your enemies will be mine, and should I stray from this taken path may my God strike me.”

It was an Oath, one that completely caught Fenrir off guard, lips parted and his eyes a quite a bit wider than before. Despite all the roleplaying on YGGDRASIL, nothing at all up until now felt real.

An Oath of Fealty, so formal and direct. She gave him permission to strike her should she stray from the path in which she had just chosen.

After a brief staring contest between the two and a feeling of awkwardness filling her chest, he finally spoke aloud, a subtle smile visible upon his lips. “Rise, my Squire,” Fenrir proclaimed with a kind gentle gesture of his hand for her to bring herself to her feet.

Without question, Neia rose as she was ordered to, sheathing the weapon away into her scabbard. It fit almost perfectly, though not all the way in.

“Now… As I have said before, you will tell me everything you know about your homeland and the other lands that surround it. Don’t leave anything out,” Fenrir wasn’t threatening her this time, as he held out an arm to hook onto. “In the meantime, let’s go to the next level.”

Slightly confused as to why he wanted her to take his arm in order to go to the next level, she reached out and hooked her arm with his. That’s when she noticed a ring on each of his fingers.

There was one in particular though that appeared like a motif representing the tower itself.

Suddenly the item on his finger gave an indistinct glow before she knew it, they were no longer between the two sets of Mazes. Instead, however, they were in the center of an arctic region surrounded by mountains. Snow was falling from above, and in the distance was a cabin.

Back when this was just a game, the cabin itself was just a prop, but the interior was decorated nicely through the impassable window. Now, he could see inside of it as if it was fully functional, a real house.

Fenrir was surprised at the sight and as he marched forward, the snow crunched their feet. It took a few seconds, but he was able to jiggle the door open and lead her inside where it was much warmer. Though it was clear to him, the cold wasn’t bothering him at all, but she was shivering…