Chapter 786: Chapter 7 Lies Don’t Hurt, The Truth is the Sharp Knife Chapter 786: Chapter 7 Lies Don’t Hurt, The Truth is the Sharp Knife Immortal Palace Asgard.
Odin followed the guidance shrouded in mist, passed through the dense tree shade, and arrived in front of the World Tree Yggdrasil.
Gazing at the light patterns on the trunk before him that rippled like waves, he hesitated for a moment, then strode directly into them.
Accompanied by a crisp sound of water, Odin suddenly discovered that he had entered an unfamiliar space.
This was an area enveloped in mist, with relics of deep grey rocks scattered around. Due to the passage of time, they were covered in barnacle-like attachments and algae; some of the towering foundations had deep etchings on them, which sometimes ran through the entire stone. Twisted tree roots often emerged from the water surface between the ruins, like serpentine Snake Pythons lying in wait.
More wondrous still, this body of water seemed to be either blessed or cursed; living beings could walk upon it without sinking, while lifeless substances tossed within would embrace a swift descent, vanishing without a trace.
Odin surveyed his surroundings and soon turned his attention to the foundational platform in the center of the waters.
Shrouded by light fog, three figures in sheer gowns, exuding a mysterious and timeless air, sat on the edge of the foundational platform, scooping up clear spring water from the deep pool with earthen pots, watering the entwined roots at their feet. Everything harmonized naturally.
But upon closer inspection, Odin discovered that the space around them seemed oddly disjointed. The world was invisibly divided into three distinct canvas-like boundaries, each depicting entirely different scenes.
Beneath the feet of the first, frost and flame intertwined, World Tree roots barely sprouting new buds;
Beneath the second, the green of Life filled the surroundings, World Tree roots already enveloping the foundation;
And under the third, the surroundings took on an indescribable blur and desolation, World Tree roots became tangled and complex as if they’d reached their end, or extended into unknowable Domains…
“Oh Divine King who created the World, we have been awaiting you for a long time. Since you have heeded the call of Fate, step forward now.”
The deep and slightly husky voice pierced through the mist, reaching Odin’s ears.
Odin snapped out of his daze, not moving further but instead looked vigilantly towards the three silhouettes on the foundation platform that inexplicably pressured him:
“We are the Norn sisters, daughters of Orlog, chroniclers of Fate…”
Voices ancient, mature, and youthful replied together, introducing themselves in turn.
The eldest sister Urd, with short hair, had a sombre and deep air, her skin slightly darkened, amber eyes deep as aged wine, as if holding untold past stories;
The middle sister Virdanti, with hair cascading down her shoulders, displayed an elegant and regal temperament, in the prime of her beauty, eyes fixed forward, resolute and uplifting, always brimming with passion for everything;
The youngest sister Scouty, with braided hair, appeared playful and lively, her rosy cheeks hidden behind a veil, revealing nothing of the truth, a book of tree bark sitting in front of her knees, never flipping open, enigmatic and inscrutable.
Odin stepped closer to scrutinize the three Norn sisters seated on the foundation, recalling the secrets once passed on by his grandfather Buri.
Above the tangible realm of Life, the invisible force of Time rules over the destiny of the World, penning the beginning and end of all things; its name is Orlog.
It is formless, non-material, without beginning nor end, an eternal law of the universe, harboring the oldest and highest power.
The daughters of Time? Goddesses who rule over Fate?
Are they the ones who call me? What do they want me to do?
As if understanding Odin’s thoughts, the eldest sister Urd spoke indifferently:
“As a reward for creating and crafting the World, you have the right to ask us questions.”
Odin, upon hearing this, his eyes brightened, spoke eagerly:
“I want to know how to unite the Nine Great Kingdoms, bringing the Asa Divine Race to prosperity!”
Hearing the unmasked ambition, the Norn Goddesses, seemingly anticipating such audacity, were not surprised but quietly spoke:
“Everything has a price…”
Odin nodded in agreement.
After a time as Divine King, he had discovered that in this world born of sacrifice, one often needed to follow the principle of equivalent exchange: to gain something, something else must be given up.
“What do you want? Treasures? Divine Artifacts? Or worship?”
The three Goddesses shook their heads, their expressions still calm:
“None of those. We need a tool of writing to pen the final words of your destiny.”
After hearing this, Odin was momentarily dumbfounded.
A tool of writing? What was that?
Seeing Odin’s confusion, the Norn sisters did not give a precise answer but languidly mused:
“Oh Divine King, Fate does not give gifts without reason. Go seek the giant Mimir of Wisdom. He may give you an answer.”
Before Odin could ask more, the surrounding scenery shattered like ripples, spring water, foundation, Norn Goddesses all disappeared, leaving him outside the World Tree, everything that had just happened seeming like a dream.
Odin muttered to himself, recalling this relative of the Giants.
His mother, Bestra, was a giantess created by the Ancestor Giant Ymir, and Mimir was her blood brother.
Which meant, by lineage, he should call Mimir uncle and there was indeed a close connection with the Asa Divine Race.