"So, how's she doing?" Strax asked with a smile, watching his new allies return with their dead prey gripped between their jaws.

The tiger pack—if you could call it that—was returning from a successful hunt in the unexplored lands behind Kaelthur.

Monica looked out the window and commented,

"I have to admit... it's going much better than I imagined. I thought she'd take advantage of our generosity a bit, since we offered her and the pack a more comfortable shelter. But actually, she's quite efficient."

She smiled before continuing,

"I've asked Cassandra to return. She'll be useful for freezing all this meat. The longer it lasts, the better."

Strax nodded with a slight smile.

"Freezing is a good idea, but we need someone who specializes in cuttings. We can separate the prime cuts, use the pelts, and sell the rest. That way, we'll have another source of income."

Monica nodded. "I sent a message to Rogue. I asked him to send a butcher and some women skilled in sewing. If we do this right, we can make a good profit—and found a merchant guild."

Yes, it was a good idea. Creating a merchant guild would be the right step to strengthen Kaelthur's influence.

"And the name?" Strax asked. "Shall we change the city's name too?"

Monica looked at him and smiled.

"We're just waiting for you to decide."

Strax maintained his smile. He'd had a name in mind for a long time.

"Asgard."

He thought carefully before speaking. He still retained fragments of memories from the world he'd come from—memories of the mythologies he'd heard, of the battles against the heralds of Athena and Ares… and even of the time he'd seen the emperor being manipulated by Zeus. That had always intrigued him. But now, in a new realm, far from the gods of Olympus, why not appropriate a name that carried power?

"Asgard?" Monica repeated, intrigued. It was a good name, even without knowing its meaning. And Strax seemed pleased with the choice.

"Yes," he replied, smiling. "A name worthy of a new era."

Ever since he had transformed into a full dragon, a hunger for power had consumed him.

That boy's dream again... he thought.

The fight against Scathach—his own mother—had changed something within him. Since then, the thirst for power had become all that remained. He wanted to reach the top of the world, where no one, absolutely no one, could touch his wives. Not even the woman who gave him life.

Monica noticed that distant look, but said nothing. How could she? She simply decided to remain by her husband's side, unconditionally.

"STRAX! Come here!"

The firm voice interrupted the moment. It was the call of a woman—one of his most trusted allies, someone he held deep respect for, especially for protecting his daughter with her own life.

"I'll see what it is," Strax said, kissing Monica's forehead.

"Okay," she replied with a slight nod.

The mansion's main gate creaked as Strax pushed it open, and the cold morning wind hit him in the face. Sunlight reflected off Kaelthur's newly rebuilt walls—a golden glow that contrasted with the air of war and reconstruction that still hung over the place.

The sound of beasts roaring in the distance, the hammering and coordinated voices of soldiers and workers, reminded him that the city was breathing again. With each day, Kaelthur rose stronger.

And now, Asgard was beginning to be born.

But the earlier cry still echoed in his ears. Agnes's voice never sounded in vain. There was urgency, and more than that—there was fear.

Strax crossed the stone courtyard with firm steps, his black coat flapping in the wind. The guards bowed slightly as he passed; he merely nodded, not meeting anyone's gaze. The transport portal—a runed stone arch pulsing with blue energy—rose near the central plaza, guarded by two lightly armored sentries.

As he approached, Agnes's figure was already there, motionless, like a statue about to move.

She wore the ancient armor of the northern plains—blackened steel adorned with golden tribal symbols. Her long hair, the color of aged copper, was tied back in a simple bow. Her eyes, however… her eyes betrayed what her mouth hadn't yet expressed: concern.

"Agnes?" Strax called, crossing his arms. "Why the fuss?"

She turned immediately, and the look she gave him made the air between them vibrate.

"Finally!" she exclaimed, marching toward him. "I was about to break into this mansion if you took any longer."

Strax arched an eyebrow suspiciously.

"You? Screaming for help? That's new. What happened?"

"We don't have time for conversation, Strax!" Her voice came out louder than he expected. "It's Lyra!"

The name made him stand still for a moment.

Agnes's daughter—Lyra—was known in Kaelthur. A twelve-year-old girl, full of energy, with the same ferocity in her mother's eyes. Strax had seen the two spar more than once; the girl already wielded a small spear and had an uncanny ability to control the aether of beasts.

"Lyra?" he repeated, frowning. "What—"

But Agnes didn't let him finish. She grabbed his hand tightly and pulled him toward the portal, so fast he nearly tripped.

"Agnes!" he protested. "What's—"

"I'll explain later!" he shouted, and the portal's light engulfed them.

The crossing was a rush of wind and energy. The air grew dense, vibrant, until the brightness dissolved and they emerged into another part of the city—the hillside neighborhood, where houses blended into the forest. It was an area Agnes had chosen because she felt "closer to the beasts."

Before he could catch his breath, she was pulling him along again, running down a narrow path of stone and roots.

"Agnes, what's happening?" he insisted, following her with long strides.

"Lyra. She… she won't wake up!" Agnes replied, without even turning her head.

"What?"

"I went hunting before dawn. When I returned, I found my house filled with mana. An abnormal, heavy flow. And she was lying on the ground, in a trance."

Her voice trembled slightly, but her steps didn't slow. She ran as if the world might collapse at any moment.

At that, Strax's gaze changed completely. The air around him seemed to thicken, and a golden flame shone in his pupils.

Suddenly, he dug his feet into the ground, braking so hard that the stones beneath his boots cracked. Agnes, taken by surprise, nearly lost her balance from the jolt.

"What are you doing?!" she began, irritated and panting. "Let's—"

But before she could finish, she felt her body being firmly wrapped around her. A strong arm gripped her waist, and before she knew it, Strax had lifted her like a feather—his gesture protective and determined, his gaze filled with urgency.

"Let's go," he said, his voice deep and tense.

Then he spread his wings. The enormous black membranes expanded with a crack that made the air vibrate. In a single flap, the wind swallowed them.

The speed was absurd. The world became a blur of colors—trees, rocks, the horizon itself—everything disappeared in a matter of seconds. The sound it left behind was like thunder ripping through the sky.

When Agnes blinked, they were already in front of her house.

The impact of the landing kicked up dust and vibrated the windows. Strax set her carefully on her feet, but his gaze was already fixed on the house—the energy emanating from it was intense, almost suffocating.

"Sis… you weren't exaggerating." he murmured, his wings still spread, his body tense like a beast about to pounce.

Agnes nodded, her face serious, already running toward the door.

"I told you. Something's wrong—very wrong."

...

A few days passed after this fuss. In fact, the days passed quickly as Strax tried to calm the intense flow of mana that prevented him from even approaching Lyra, Agnes's daughter.

While he was going through all this trouble, Monica called Frieren and asked her to quickly come to the new city, "Asgard."

The process was quick, and in less than a day, Frieren was already in Asgard and went straight to see what was happening to the girl.

"Well, I guess we can call this a stroke of luck," Frieren said, glancing at the barrier surrounding the house that prevented even Strax, a Dragon, from entering.

"Luck? It's been two days since my daughter—" Agnes tried to continue, but Strax put a hand on her shoulder. "Listen," he nodded to Frieren.

"So, as I was saying, it was a tremendous stroke of luck." She spoke as she waved her staff, "You and she are demihumans, right?" Frieren questioned.

Agnes's eyes widened at her mention, as she uses a lot of her energy to remove all animalistic traits from her body.

Frieren saw the reaction and nodded, "Then it's a triple stroke of luck."

Agnes looked at her in confusion.

Strax smiled, seeing how happy Frieren was, and asked, "Can you explain, dear?" she asked, smiling.

Frieren nodded and turned to Agnes. "Your daughter was born with a lot of power, right? You've been absorbing her mana, to keep her safe, I presume."

Agnes looked at her... "Yes... this girl is... very special."

Frieren smiled... "Yes, a girl blessed by Mana. A... Shaman."

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