There was little to remark upon regarding the nature of piety itself. Aside from it, however, Lubos had also dropped a curious item—[Soul Mark: Wolf King Lubos].
Soul Mark?
This entirely new concept immediately piqued Rowe's interest.
[Soul Mark: Wolf King Lubos]
After a target is imprinted with Lubos' Soul Mark, it may inherit some or all of Lubos' characteristics… The target must be a wolf-type creature, and the effect is dependent upon its potential. Adult wolves experience extremely diminished returns; pups are strongly recommended.
Reading this, Rowe found himself contemplating possibilities.
By that logic, as long as he could locate a wolf cub of exceptional potential, he could effectively raise and mold it into a creature akin to Lubos?
Tempting, to say the least.
After all, Lubos was one of the most iconic hunter companions in World of Warcraft, at least at one point. Though Rowe was a ten-thousand-year paladin in the Marvel-verse, he still had heard the tales.
To be fair, he always felt that hunters with powerful pets ranked among the second-most dominant archetypes in World of Warcraft—particularly those who had captured fearsome beasts. Wolf King Lubos was strong, sure, but not particularly flashy. A giant monster like a Tyrannosaurus would leave a far greater impression, often making heads turn when taken into battle.
And of course, the top profession that could stand above all?
Clearly, it had to be the best actor and… paladin.
Still, where would he find the right wolf?
There were plenty of gray wolves in the Landvety Forest, but most of them were underwhelming. Rowe didn't think he could find a high-quality pup there any time soon.
Wait… Nornheim.
He remembered—Nornheim had a decent wolf population. Perhaps he could check during the upcoming hunting festival?
Rowe kept this in mind.
After a morning of medicine-making and a casual lunch at the tavern, he returned discreetly to the island and traveled to Vanaheim using the space tetrahedron.
Upon arriving in Vanaheim, Rowe headed straight for the Garkan Warehouse, rented a swamp beast, and journeyed toward his destination.
This time, he came with a purpose—the Skrins.
Not long ago, while gathering herbs in Vanaheim, Rowe had encountered an item steeped in strong sin energy, leading him to track and identify the lair of a Skrins Lord.
Now, he had returned to eliminate it.
Asgardians lived lives of abundance. Their realm was small, their population limited, and their lifespans long. Thus, crime was exceedingly rare.
Though Rowe had always carried a heart full of justice and righteousness, the simplicity and honesty of the Asgardian people had left him with few opportunities to put it into action. In over a decade, he hadn't even encountered a petty thief.
Unlocking the third level of divine spells demanded more than just three boss kills and sufficient donation points—it also required a hundred acts of vengeance. That is, the execution of a hundred true villains.
At this rate, completing such a task could take ages.
So upon discovering this Skrins Lord, Rowe didn't hesitate.
After two days of travel, Rowe reached his destination—a forest bordering a massive swamp.
Night fell.
"Brother… this forest is full of Skrins. Weak though they are, they always swarm in the tens of thousands… You sure you wanna do this?" asked the beastmaster.
"Of course," Rowe replied, leaping off the creature's back and speaking with calm confidence.
"Mind paying in advance?" the beastmaster added quickly.
Seriously, what was with all the beastmasters from the Garkan Warehouse?
Rowe grumbled inwardly but still handed over the fee before heading into the dense forest.
Soon after entering, Rowe encountered small groups of Skrins—two or three at a time. As he pushed deeper, the numbers swelled dramatically.
The Holy Light pointer began to pulse more intensely, signaling that he was closing in on his target.
Last time, Rowe had needed Ander and Wayne's assistance. Now, however, he was confident he could eliminate the Skrins Lord on his own.
Hours passed, and he finally infiltrated the heart of the Skrins lair. Any further movement would alert the entire hive.
But the target was close—perhaps only a few hundred meters. The Holy Light pointer directed him toward a small wooden cabin nestled amid the tangled vegetation.
Rowe took out a Swiftness Potion and downed it in one gulp. Then, he burst forward into the horde of Skrins.
"Enemy!" came the high-pitched shriek from the swarm.
Activating Divine Protection, Rowe became impervious to the frenzied attacks, tearing through their lines with impressive speed.
In under half a minute—thanks to the potion's boost—he reached the cabin and shattered the door with a single swing of his warhammer.
"Protoss?!" The Skrins Lord jolted upright in bed, instinctively reaching for a weapon.
But Rowe didn't give him the chance.
Judgment!
A beam of divine fury surged forth as Rowe hurled his enchanted warhammer.
Boom!
With the sin amplifying his judgment, the Hammer of Justice obliterated most of the Skrins Lord's body in one cataclysmic strike.
The Holy Light pointer faded, its purpose fulfilled.
With the enemy vanquished, Rowe turned and prepared to escape.
Outside, however, a sea of Skrins awaited. Layer upon layer of insectoid bodies, they surged like a tidal wave.
Still, Rowe didn't flinch. He charged into the swarm, raising his hammer high.
Hammer of Blessing!
Holy fire and divine energy coalesced in a radiant explosion at the head of his weapon, conjuring an energy warhammer far denser and more tangible than the one conjured by Judgment.
Boom—Boom—BOOM!
The Hammer of Blessing spun through the air in a spiraling arc, cleaving through the masses. Green blood sprayed in every direction.
Where once there was a wall of bodies, now stood an open path.
Without wasting a second, Rowe dashed through the gap and quickly exited the lair of the Skrins.
---
Upon returning to Asgard, Rowe swam back to Landvety from the island.
Unexpectedly, while cutting through the forest, a familiar figure came into view.
"Tialfi!" Rowe gasped.
Ahead, not far from where he stood, Tialfi collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from a wound in his abdomen.
With one hand, he clung to the neck of a four-horned goat. With the other, he plunged a dagger into the creature's chest, twisting it again and again.
Rowe froze in disbelief.
It wasn't just the surprise of seeing Tialfi here… it was what Tialfi had managed to capture—a four-horned goat!
It was like watching a tribal warrior from a remote century suddenly storm into the halls of modern Europe.
The dagger churned within the goat's chest, striking a weak point—its heart.
Within moments, the four-horned beast ceased struggling. It fell limply, gasping shallow breaths, unable to resist further.
"Ahh!" Tialfi cried out as he released his grip, clutching his wounded stomach and collapsing.
"Are you alright?" Rowe rushed forward, examining the injury and immediately channeling divine energy to cast Faith for healing.
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