Under the scorching sunlight that pierced to the bone, cold sweat drenched my body, trickling through every open pore. My breath came in ragged gasps after swinging my wooden staff hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of times.

  “Huff, huff…” My voice was hoarse, each inhale feeling heavier than the last.

  Behind me, Fenrir sat leisurely, savoring the fresh bird girl, none other than the prey I had hunted today. Though she seemed relaxed and idle, her sharp eyes and ears never failed to keep track of my training.

  Every time I slowed down or slacked off, she would immediately shout at me to refocus on the rigorous training she had imposed.

  Training? Yes, this was her order to train myself because she had a bad feeling about the future. And according to her, her instincts were never wrong.

  “I know I’m dumb, but my instincts never fail me.” That was what she had said just yesterday evening after we finished eating fruit.

  I hadn’t rejected her idea. I didn’t think it was a bad suggestion. Besides, I still needed to train certain aspects of my human body.

  To be honest, I believed the human form was nature’s masterpiece, a pinnacle of evolution. A highly flexible frame, an intelligent brain, remarkable adaptability, and a well-balanced posture. The combination of these factors made it a body that could truly be considered perfection.

  Moreover, this form was naturally the most ideal for hunting or combat due to its flexibility. That was also why martial arts had developed into so many variations across the world. Humans instinctively created terrifying fighting techniques.

  If only they had higher biological specifications, like the regenerative abilities of an axolotl or something similar, it would be unimaginable how powerful they could become.

  Swoosh.

  First swing, I brought my nearly two-meter-long wooden staff down from above.

  Second swing, a horizontal slash.

  Third, thrusting forward as if piercing an invisible enemy.

  “Good, keep going,” Fenrir commented in a calm tone, her hands busy biting into a raw chunk of meat that still dripped with blood. Though her mouth never stopped chewing, her keen gaze never left me, observing my every movement.

  But something gnawed at my thoughts. These movements felt familiar. As if, in a past life, my body had performed them before.

  Vague memories of a previous existence resurfaced, fragments of an incomplete dream.

  I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be guided by instinct.

  My body moved without conscious direction. My steps grew more fluid, no longer confined by the simple training patterns. My legs and arms swung, spun, slashed, turning the space around me into an imaginary battlefield teeming with enemies.

  I let my body sway and stumble. My footwork seemed unsteady, like a drunken man’s, yet each swing of my staff felt deadly, more natural.

  My movements grew wilder. I leaped, spun, and slammed my staff into the ground, sending snowflakes scattering into the air. Something within me stirred, a primal force, an instinct that guided every motion I made.

  “Stop, Yata!”

  Fenrir’s sharp voice tried to snap me back, but my body was already lost in the rhythm, refusing to halt its flow.

  I continued moving, swinging my staff like a mad warrior in the heat of battle, until suddenly, the wooden staff was stopped, caught in a powerful grip from behind.

  I opened my eyes.

  Fenrir’s golden eyes locked onto mine, narrowed with suspicion.

  “Those movements just now… Where did you learn it?” Her voice was deep, her expression serious.

  She tightened her grip on my wooden staff. Her gaze was piercing, as if she was trying to read my thoughts.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Cold sweat trickled down my temple. I needed a believable answer, but how could I explain this to her? Telling her about my past life was out of the question.

  “I… I once saw an old man training with a spear in the mountains. His movements fascinated me,” I answered, half-hoping she would believe this small lie.

  Fenrir was silent for a moment, raising an eyebrow. “Hm… really?”

  “Yes, I’m not lying. Ravens like me can recall every little detail of our memories, even years later. The only condition is that we have to be truly interested in what we see.”

  “Whoa, I didn’t know that. I guess your kind has a pretty strong memory, huh?”

  Miraculously, Fenrir loosened her grip, seemingly satisfied with my explanation. She raised an eyebrow, curiosity replacing the suspicion on her face.

  “By the way, this old man, where did you meet him?” Her golden eyes now sparkled with interest, as if my made-up story had ignited her curiosity.

  “In the mountains, when I was out hunting for food as a child,” I replied quickly and confidently, hoping to solidify my lie.

  “And... then?”

  “He was incredibly skilled with his spear. I was fascinated by his technique, so I watched him from afar for several days. Even now, I still remember every detail of his movements. And without realizing it, I was able to replicate them, just like what you saw earlier.”

  I put on an expression of admiration, trying to make my lie even more convincing.

  Fenrir touched her chin, deep in thought. “Interesting. Your movements did look unique. But this old man, where is he now? I really want to meet him and challenge him to a duel.”

  I took a deep breath before finally answering in a flat tone, “He’s dead.”

  Fenrir’s eyes widened. “What?!”

  I knew my answer would shock her, but it was easier than explaining the truth. In my eyes, this world had its own fate and threads of destiny. I didn’t want to disturb them.

  “You’re serious?” Fenrir asked, her tone slightly softer, but a flicker of disappointment was visible in her eyes. “How did he die?”

  “He passed away while training. He suddenly stopped in the middle of his practice. I kept watching him, from noon until evening, but he never moved. When I flew closer, I realized he had died of old age.”

  “I see…” Fenrir let out a deep sigh, full of regret. “What a shame. I really wanted to see his techniques up close. But there’s nothing we can do when death calls, right?”

  I nodded slowly. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  A slight pang of guilt gnawed at me for lying to Fenrir and keeping my true identity a secret.

  Perhaps, one day, when everything became clearer and her trust in me grew stronger, I would reveal the truth to her.

  But for now, I could only hope that this lie was enough to protect the secrets I wasn’t yet ready to share.

  The day passed quickly, and before I knew it, the sun was preparing to retreat beneath its blanket. Birds flew overhead, returning to their nests after a long day of searching for sustenance.

  Fenrir looked up, gazing at the twilight sky. “That’s enough for today. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

  I nodded and tossed my wooden staff aside carelessly. My body slumped into the snow, exhaustion weighing down every muscle.

  Fenrir smirked mischievously at me. “How does it feel? Tired?”

  I gave a weak nod, unable to deny my fatigue.

  “But it was fun, wasn’t it? As my pet, you need to be a strong enough bird to protect yourself,” she declared, clenching a fist. Then she turned around, folding her arms. “Well, not that it matters. I’ll always protect you anyway. You’re mine, and I won’t let anyone else lay a hand on you so easily.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it.” I answered flatly, still trying to steady my breath.

  “Well then, it’s time to rest and feast. Yeah!”

  I shifted into my raven form to reduce my share of the meal. Then, I followed behind Fenrir, ready to fill my empty stomach after training so hard all day.

  ******

  The silent night greeted me once again, carrying with it the gentle glow of a moon that had lost its perfection. Its light cascaded softly, wrapping the world in silence before delicately tracing the sleeping face of Fenrir.

  Her expression was peaceful, as if the cruel world had never touched her. Seeing her like this made my chest tighten, a storm of emotions churning between confusion, fear, and something dangerously close to care.

  Loki’s request continued to haunt my thoughts.

  Though he hadn’t said it outright, I knew the choice he wanted me to make: either to set Fenrir free or prolong her suffering. A decision that was anything but simple, and one I wasn’t sure I could carry out.

  I pulled out the dagger Loki had given me and held it up to the moonlight. The blade gleamed brightly, as if it was absorbing the moon’s radiance into itself.

  My eyes drifted to Gleipnir, the chain that bound Fenrir so tightly. I brought the dagger closer to it, but my heart… my heart couldn’t follow through. Slowly, I pulled the dagger back, my hands trembling.

  “I can’t do it,” I muttered under my breath, staring at the weapon in my grasp.

  My gaze returned to Fenrir’s face, the girl who had endured loneliness and suffering for so long. A being shackled by nothing but a prophecy of destruction.

  But the shadow of a world that could change if I freed her continued to torment my mind. How would fate shift if this chain was broken? What would happen to her? What would happen to this world? What about Ragnarok?

  “Damn it, this is frustrating,” I muttered, clicking my tongue in frustration.

  I shifted into my true form, spreading my wings beneath the night sky. Without hesitation, I flapped them forcefully, leaving Fenrir’s side as she remained fast asleep.

  The cold wind bit at my feathers, but my wings continued to dance, soaring freely among the distant, twinkling stars. As if they were watching my inner turmoil from afar.

  “Caw. Caw. Caw!”

  I poured every emotion raging within me into a series of sharp cries that echoed across the sky, shattering the night’s tranquility with my unrest.

  Meanwhile, time continued its relentless march forward, indifferent to the turmoil in my heart.

  In six days, I had to make my choice.

  Which path should I take?