"Did something happen? Who attacked us?" Uriel asked, his voice laced with the cold authority of a sovereign. Though his eye was still heavy with sleep, his consciousness had never fully slumbered. Since his last evolution, something within him had changed — a perception that went beyond flesh, beyond common senses. It was as if his eyes remained open even in unconsciousness. He couldn't explain how, but it felt as though his spirit watched over the world while his body rested. Still, the ability wasn't perfect. He knew something had attacked — of that, there was no doubt — but he couldn't discern what it was, nor its form or nature. It was like hearing a distant sound — present, yet indistinct.
"Snakes… snakes made only of bones," replied Ainz, kneeling before him with instinctive reverence. Uriel hadn't demanded such a gesture, but Ainz, even with fragmented memories from his past life, knew well what it meant to stand before a king. There were kings who didn't care for displays of loyalty, and there were those who saw the absence of such gestures as an affront. Better to kneel — out of respect, prudence, or instinct.
"I can't say if someone is behind this attack, master," Ainz continued, his tone heavy with the weight of his own limitations. "But something is testing us. And I don't like what that could mean."
Uriel crossed his arms, his mind racing. "Alright… stay alert. If someone is behind this, we'll find out — sooner or later. For now, stay on guard. And start uprooting the nearby trees. I want a pile encircling the entire camp area." His voice was direct, but there was a clear plan behind his words. Uriel intended to use his giant ice dragon breath to freeze the trees and transform them into a solid wall, as resistant as steel. A natural shield, forged from the very essence of his power. A defensive measure — and also a message: do not approach.
But amid all the movement, another unrest burned quietly within him — a growing, silent desire. Uriel wanted to find Hela.
As far as he knew, she was a declared enemy of Odin. But Uriel wasn't yet sure how Odin would see him. Hostile? Curious? Indifferent? He needed a plan B, and Hela seemed to fit that role perfectly. However, another doubt consumed him: was this Hela the same portrayed in Marvel movies, Odin's renegade daughter? Or the comic version, daughter of Loki and ruler of Hel? Both were powerful… but which one was real in this world?
"Fenrir… he must also be in the Realm of the Dead," he murmured to himself. His eyes gleamed with intensity. "After I conquer Fafnir, I'll go after him."
At the thought of Fafnir, the dragon blood inside Uriel began to boil — a curious paradox, since he was an ice dragon. Even so, his body reacted as if flames coursed through his veins. It was the call of war, of conquest, of challenge. His skin exhaled an intense icy mist, freezing the ground beneath his feet. The surrounding snow solidified into crystal-clear ice, and the air seemed to tremble from the magical pressure he exuded. If anyone dared touch him at that moment, they would be instantly frozen — a statue of flesh and bone.
Uriel stood still for a moment, observing his own status, which floated before his eyes like an ethereal panel:
Name: Uriel Redstone (Miguel Ramos)
Race: Ice Dragon
Age: 0 (28)
Maturity: Young
Level: 4/50
HP: 5900
MP: 5150
Titles: King of the Ice Giants, Master of the Fallen Warriors, Hela's Respect
Stats:
- Strength: 108
- Speed: 78
- Intelligence: 103
- Vitality: 118
- Defense: 170
"I gained new titles…?" Uriel murmured, surprised, his eyes narrowing at the discovery. "Hela's Respect?"
He hadn't even thought of Hela directly before… and yet, the title was there, glowing like an invisible decoration. That could only mean one thing: she knew. She had already sensed his presence in this world — and somehow, acknowledged him. Had she been the one to send the bone snakes? Was she testing his strength, his dignity, his worth?
And then another question struck him: how had he leveled up? He hadn't killed anyone… On the contrary, he had merely fought Fafnir — and been humiliatingly defeated. A memory that still burned in his pride like an open wound. He hadn't even stood a chance. He had been crushed.
Uriel clenched his fists. He would not accept that fate. Not anymore.
Uriel slowly shook his massive dragon head, his cold eyes narrowing in frustration. His scales shimmered under the faint light breaking through the clouds, and the deep sound of his breathing mixed with the cutting wind of the frozen lands. He tried, in vain, to push aside the bitter memory of his defeat to Fafnir. Thinking of it wouldn't change anything — he knew that — but the humiliation burned in his soul like frozen embers. Revenge, however, was certain. And when the time came, he wouldn't back down.
With a heavy sigh that froze the air around him, Uriel opened the translucent system screen before him. With a simple thought, he navigated to the title tab — ethereal letters floated in space, as if written on the wind itself.
---
[Master of the Fallen Warriors]
Great warriors who fought countless battles for Asgard met their end in the Realm of the Dead. For reasons lost to time, their souls were imprisoned in that cold and silent world. Now, under your authority, these ancient heroes — reduced to skeletons — obey only your will.
Additional effect: physical pain is less intense for you.
Bonus: +1 on next evolution.
[Hela's Respect]
You have been watched by the goddess of death. Hela, lady of the dead, sees your living presence in the world of the departed with admiration. She respects you — and as long as that respect endures, you may communicate with her without fear.
Warning: Do not abuse this trust.
Bonus: +1 on next evolution.
---
"Hm… but what are these '+1 to evolution'?" Uriel muttered, frowning. His narrow pupils gleamed with doubt and curiosity. The description was vague — it didn't say whether it was a power boost, an extra choice during evolution, or a hidden benefit. But whatever it was, it seemed important. Something that could prove crucial when he reached his next evolutionary level. For now, he could only wait… and prepare.
As he pondered this, a different chill ran down his spine. It wasn't fear, but a premonition. Something was approaching.
About ten kilometers from where he stood, a figure walked slowly across the desolate, frozen landscape. Her step was serene, almost silent, as if she glided over the snow without disturbing the world around her. A woman — beautiful and hypnotic, wrapped in a black cloak that fluttered like living shadows around her. Her skin was pale, white as the snow itself, contrasting ethereally with her abyssal black hair, which cascaded down to her waist.
The woman moved without haste, but with purpose. Her features were serene, though her eyes — two dark, piercing abysses — carried an ancient and silent power. Her presence was both majestic and unsettling. There was no sound, but if Uriel had been there to see her — or if one of his servants had enough perception — they would know instantly: that path led directly to him.
And she was coming.
The only question that remained…
Was why.