Sinclair found himself again in the grandeur of a hall reminiscent of his previous vision with Odin. This hall bore a striking resemblance to the Hall of Theoden, the Rohirrim King from LOTR. At the far end, Odin sat slumped forward with his hands on the armrests. The god appeared lost in deep meditation or enveloped in slumber; Sinclair couldn't tell which.

As Sinclair slowly rose to his feet, he took a moment to absorb his surroundings. The hall had undergone significant transformations since his last visit. It now mirrored what Sinclair would envision as a medieval banquet hall, complete with sconces holding blazing torches, grand fireplaces warming the vast space, and a lengthy table stretching down the center.

Odin's voice pierced the silence from nowhere: "Give me a few more moments, and I will be right with you, Sinclair." The statement clarified Sinclair's earlier uncertainty.

Guided by an inexplicable instinct, Sinclair settled at the end of the table nearest Odin. A place was meticulously laid out as if it had been expecting him, complete with a plate and silverware. As he waited, his gaze drifted, and thoughts of his family and friends on Earth filled his mind. A chuckle escaped his lips as he realized that perhaps he should start referring to his home as 'Midgard' now, since everyone would be confused by being from "dirt."

Glancing down, he noticed he was still in his Visage of the Wolf skill. His body still resembled a wolf man's, even if it was still mostly human. Did that skill carry over from using it against the centipede, or was he just getting more comfortable being this version of himself? There is one benefit I am glad for. My hair has grown back with a vengeance. Once he had to shave his head due to early balding, he now sported a full head of shaggy hair tucked under his helmet.

After a short while, Odin shifted, rising slowly from his throne-like seat. With a measured pace, he made his way down to join Sinclair, offering a faint smile as he took the chair at the head of the table. "Thank you for waiting. I had some arrangements to finalize for your parents and friends back in Midgard."

A tightness gripped Sinclair's chest, and a weight pressed down on his stomach, making breathing hard. The well-being of his loved ones consumed his thoughts. "Is everyone okay back home?"

"They are managing as best they can," Odin responded, a hint of pride lacing his words. "I've arranged assistance for them, much like the aid you've received. They've recently completed a quest for the town and are integrating well. I believe you'll be pleasantly surprised when you return."

Relief washed over Sinclair as he exhaled deeply. "While thrilled to be here, I yearn to reunite with my family and friends. But why have I been brought here again? And why am I still in beast form?"

Odin leaned forward slightly, his gaze penetrating. "You sustained severe injuries, and while your body recuperated, I deemed this an opportune moment for us to converse. You performed exceptionally in that tunnel. The title you've been bestowed upon hasn't been awarded in so long that I can't remember the last time. To single-handedly vanquish the foe over a hundred levels above oneself. I have always recognized your potential, but I was a little surprised."

Sinclair's brow furrowed. "What title are you referring to?"

Odin replied, "You'll understand once you return to your body. The Dark Elves are currently tending to you, mending your injuries. That is simple as to why you are still in this body form. It is who you truly are. You might think of it as a skill, but you are not human anymore."

Absorbing this, Sinclair leaned back in his chair and knew he would be thinking about that for a while. Not human? The thought sent a slight chill down his spine. "Well, that is interesting. Thank you for telling me. What awaits in the other tunnel? Is it a more formidable challenge than my recent encounter?"

Meeting Sinclair's gaze, Odin stated, "In some ways, yes, and in others, no. A Mykr resides at the end of that tunnel. While it lacks the strength of the Matriarch you've just vanquished, it commands an immense legion of monsters. Should they breach your defenses, they will inundate the fortress and submerge that world in a tidal wave of blood."

Sinclair's complexion lost some of its color. "Why only one Mykr? I was under the impression that Midgard faced a vast invasion ages ago. Wouldn't that suggest your original realms were similarly besieged?"

Odin leaned back, the weight of centuries evident in his eyes. "The Mykr is a unique entity. While it's true that Midgard faced a deluge of threats long ago, it wasn't the only realm to do so, and so it was just the first."

He paused, choosing his words carefully. "When Midgard was under siege, many realms, including our original ones, took proactive measures. Barriers were erected, enemies were purged, and certain entities were contained. The Mykr you speak of is one such entity. It was imprisoned, cut off from its kin, and its power restrained."

Sinclair leaned in, absorbing every word. "But how has it remained solitary for so long, and how has it accumulated such a force now?"

Odin sighed, "Over time, even the most formidable prisons can weaken, allowing their captives a semblance of influence. The Mykr, although isolated, has been biding its time, attracting monsters and growing its horde, feeding off their energy and strength."

Sinclair took a deep breath, trying to process the gravity of the situation. "So, it's up to us to ensure it doesn't break free."

Sinclair could once again feel the burden of responsibility on him. He was never going to be free from this impending dread, he thought to himself.

Odin paused, his gaze thoughtful, as if choosing the right words to convey the gravity of the situation. "Sinclair, there's another revelation that you must grasp. When the world seed rooted itself within your chest, it created an indelible bond between you and Midgard. Should one of you falter, the other will inevitably suffer the same fate. Your destinies have become intertwined in ways neither of us fully understands yet. I can see you carry immense burdens. But, you must steel your resolve. What was done to you will never be reversible. I am truly sorry."

For a second, he couldn't see or hear anything. There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears. Sinclair fought to regain his center. What is wrong with me? Focus Damnit! He digested the words, trying to understand their implications. He just couldn't, though. So, he would be thrown into one fight after the next, and if he ever stopped, would his planet die, too? That was absurd!

Odin continued talking, possibly trying to put a positive spin on the news. "It seems impossible now, but congratulations are also in order. The last battle's experience propelled you to level 25. Consequently, you're eligible for a race evolution. Intriguingly, it's conceivable that as you evolve, so might Midgard. Due to the power it lost during its displacement, its degradation to an F-level planet mirrored your initial starter race level. Unfortunately, because of that link, your journey to ascend in levels is significantly more arduous than others. The thresholds you must surpass are far steeper. While many of your comrades are nearing level 25, their paths have been notably less challenging."

Sinclair rubbed his temples, a mixture of frustration and clarity crossing his features. He sat there breathing, trying to organize his thoughts. After what felt like a literal eternity, he stated, "It makes sense, I suppose. I can't say I am happy about this, but I will do my best to keep my world safe. The journey to level up did feel unreasonably challenging. There's also this lingering feeling, like Midgard is always there, hovering at the edge of my consciousness."

Odin nodded, a glint of sympathy in his ancient eyes. "That sensation you describe? It's the nascent bond you share with the planet. Entities of immense power, like Midgard, possess sentience. Over time, you'll have to nurture this connection and learn its nuances."

Sinclair sat in silence, absorbing the weight of Odin's revelations. He felt like a colossal burden had been placed on his shoulders… again. The fate of his beloved Midgard was now tied inexorably to his own. The concept of the world seed flickered in his mind. How close was he to reaching the breaking point? Would one misstep endanger everything he held dear?

Observing the storm of emotions playing across Sinclair's face, Odin said, "It's evident, the turmoil you're grappling with. The enormity of bearing a world's fate can be overwhelming. But trust in time's ability to forge resilience."

Sinclair met Odin's gaze, desperation was evident in his eyes. "It's just so much. I'm merely one individual amidst a vast cosmos. I'm doing everything within my power, but the dread that one wrong move might have catastrophic consequences is paralyzing."

Odin leaned forward, his voice gentle yet firm. "Regrettably, your path is as treacherous as you perceive it. Yet, while the journey is yours to undertake, remember that you're not venturing into the abyss alone. You have a formidable support system — your kin, the burgeoning community you've found solace in, and, indeed, myself. Though the onus is yours, many stand ready to bolster you in moments of weakness."

Sinclair, battling the waves of anxiety that threatened to engulf him, took several steadying breaths. He focused on centering himself, drawing strength from deep within. "Your words of support mean more than I can articulate," he said, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint smile.

"Do not underestimate the importance of your role," Odin replied with a compassion that belied his godly stature. "While cosmic matters demand my attention, your well-being and that of Midgard are paramount. I've found ways to bend the rules to aid your journey better. Take, for instance, that new title of yours. Though it already bore considerable power, I've added my personal touch. I believe it'll serve you well."

Sinclair raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "You know how to keep someone in suspense, don't you?" he quipped, his voice playful.

Odin chuckled softly. "Time is of the essence, my young friend. While I've extended our meeting, you'll soon be drawn back to your physical realm. Given my constraints, our conversations might be few and far between. Remember the lessons, and take heart in knowing you're not alone in this epic journey."

They dined in a relaxed ambiance, exchanging pleasantries over an impressive feast that was fit for gods. Roasted boar, dripping with juices and seasoned with herbs from the fields of Asgard, sat beside freshly baked loaves of bread, still warm and fragrant. There were platters of golden honey-glazed pheasants, steaming root vegetables, and bowls filled with berries and fruits from the highest branches of Yggdrasil itself. Mead flowed freely, poured into goblets crafted from silver and etched with runic symbols, and the rich, sweet drink seemed to imbue warmth and courage to all present.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

With a twinkle in his eye, Odin recounted tales of Sinclair's grandsire, stories from the days when he was still finding his footing as a fledgling leader of the other Wolf Lords. The hearty laughter and tales and the warmth of food and drink made Sinclair feel both comforted and slightly intoxicated with camaraderie. But as the moments passed, Sinclair felt an increasing tug, signaling his imminent return to corporeal form. He bid Odin farewell, a blend of eagerness and trepidation coursing through him. What did this mysterious title hold for him?

His consciousness seamlessly transitioned back to his physical form. As he stirred, a dull ache accompanied the grogginess clouding his mind. Strong hands steadied him, offering support as he attempted to rise. Blinking away the haziness, he recognized the priests of the Dark Elves, the remnants of their healing light dissipating from their fingertips. Gratitude welled up inside him, and though words seemed inadequate, he managed to mutter a heartfelt "Thank you."

But the ordeal had taken its toll. Sinclair's attempt to stand was met with a sudden dizziness, causing him to slump back down somewhat gracelessly.

Obeying the voice urging him to rest, Sinclair settled down, trying to regain his bearings. He extended his senses, seeking the familiar presence of Chewy and Leia. Their comforting reassurances returned to him, easing his tension and allowing him to focus on his recovery.

After what felt like an eternity but was nearly twenty minutes, the dizziness began to subside, and the haziness that clouded his vision began to lift. Slowly, as clarity returned, the figure of City Lord Garret materialized before him. Realization dawned as he pieced together his surroundings. Jokingly, he remarked, "I'm guessing I'm not in Kansas anymore?"

City Lord Garret gave him a quizzical look, "Kansas? I'm unfamiliar with such a place. Regardless, you're currently at the forward operating base. And it seems we've had to heal you once again. Do you frequently court death so closely?"

Sinclair was unable to determine whether her query was based on genuine concern or mild annoyance.

Chuckling weakly, Sinclair replied, "I promise, it's not a hobby of mine per se. It seems I just kind of go where the System shoves me." He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "Kansas is just a place from a story back home. It's a way of saying I'm not where I expected to be. And thank you, by the way, for the help. I seem to be racking up quite a debt with your people."

Lord Garret regarded him with an inscrutable expression. "Let's just say you've made things... interesting. But you've also brought hope. That counts for something." Her lips twitched into a small smile, suggesting that there might be a hint of warmth beneath the stern demeanor.

Sinclair smiled back, grateful not just for the rescue but for the semblance of camaraderie amidst the chaos.

Garret's gaze intensified, her eyes drilling into Sinclair. "Why would you engage a being more than a hundred levels above you, with only your two companions for backup? Had you been defeated, that beast might have unleashed havoc upon everyone here."

Sinclair met her sharp gaze, discerning the apparent exasperation beneath. "In all honesty, I didn't envision us failing. And even if things had gone south, we had enough reinforcements on standby. Besides, the title that came with the victory was too tempting to pass up."

Exhaling sharply, Garret responded, "You could have chosen safer means to fill your three title slots rather than embarking on such perilous feats."

His brow furrowing, Sinclair replied, "Three title slots? I've already secured five; the new one I've yet to inspect should make it six." The confusion evident in his eyes momentarily overshadowed Garret's apparent annoyance. Given Sinclair's natural aversion to confrontations, redirecting the conversation away from potential conflict seemed the best approach.

"No one has more than 3. I have heard rumors of people having 4, but they were given at the whims of gods and are so rare as to be myth more than reality." Garrett continued. She looked at him like he was crazy. "Show me your titles, if you will. If you open your screen, you can make certain aspects visual if your willpower is high enough, and considering your crazy stats, it is."

Sinclair pulled up his menu. After all they had done for him, he could share this information with her. However, he wanted to see the new title anyway. Scanning his menu, he found the notification line and clicked on the new title. He was shocked at what he saw.

New Title: Hammer of the Thunder God (Mythic)

Description: Like Thor's legendary quest to reclaim Mjölnir from the giant Thrym, your journey is marked by the courage to confront and reclaim what is rightfully yours, no matter the guise you must adopt or the depths you must traverse. Your path is one of facing giants, where each encounter with a towering foe is not just a battle but a testament to your indomitable will. In the grand tapestry of challenges, not the minor skirmishes that define you but the epic confrontations that push you to the brink, where your strength, wit, and resolve are tested against the colossal. With every giant felled and every impossible victory, you grow not just in might but in legend, embodying the spirit of the Thunder God himself.

Effects:

Adversary's Boon

: Triple experience gained from enemies 25 or more levels above you. No experience is earned from weaker foes.

Titanic Resolve

: Greatly increases resistance to mental and emotional manipulation, ensuring unshaken focus in battle.

Stormborne Fury

: Increases damage against larger foes by 20%, empowering strikes with the force of a thunderclap.

Mjölnir's Echo

: Successful heavy attacks have a 10% chance to release a concussive shockwave, staggering nearby enemies.

Colossus Breaker

: Reduces the durability of enemy armor and defenses by 15% when striking colossal or heavily fortified foes.

Bonuses:

Increases base stats by 15%

Additional +15 to Luck and Willpower

Garrett's eyes widened, her disbelief evident. "This... this is unprecedented," she murmured, a mix of awe and trepidation in her voice. "The title Hammer of the Thunder God is of mythic rarity, and your bonuses... they're extraordinary. I've never seen anything like this."

Sinclair's eyebrows furrowed as he read the details aloud, from the formidable boosts to his attributes to the unique skill that would allow him to accrue experience at a staggering rate against mighty foes. "The Adversary's Boon... This means I'll have to seek out formidable opponents consistently?"

Garrett nodded. "It's a double-edged sword. You'll grow incredibly fast against the mightiest of adversaries, but against lesser foes, your growth will stagnate. This title pushes you onto a path of relentless challenge only from the toughest opponents."

Sinclair leaned back, processing the implications. The weight of his new reality bore down on him. But a fire burned brighter within him — a challenge had been set, and he would rise to meet it. "If this is the path fate has set for me," he declared with a determined glint in his eye, "then so be it. I'll embrace it with everything I've got."

Garrett's gaze pierced into Sinclair's, an earnestness evident in her eyes. "I understand the gravity of sharing that information with me, even if you don't, and the reservations you may have about this request. But if you've discovered a method or strategy to aid my people, I am honor-bound to pursue it. If revealing your stats can provide a beacon of hope for the future, then I'm willing to make whatever assurances you need," she implored.

Sinclair studied her momentarily, torn between safeguarding his secrets and potentially aiding a more significant cause. "Alright," he began cautiously, "I will share my stats with you, but there are conditions. You must swear an oath, reinforced by the system itself, that you won't disclose the specifics of my stats or skills to anyone. The penalty for breaching this trust will be instant death. Furthermore, I'll provide insights into how I attained this growth and offer guidance for future developments, even though I don't think it's that special. In return, you'll take in one of our own, mentoring them in governance, economics, and civic management. They will learn the intricacies of running a city and its growth strategies and be guaranteed protection under your watch."

Garrett's eyes didn't waver as Sinclair outlined his terms, and to his surprise, she responded almost immediately. "Agreed," she said firmly, summoning a system screen that crystallized their pact. The document detailed their conversation, capturing every clause and stipulation.

As they both agreed, a palpable weight descended upon them—a tangible sign of the system's acknowledgment. Their commitment was sealed, binding them to a future forged in mutual trust and collaboration.

Garrett listened intently, her sharp eyes scanning every detail of Sinclair's stat screen, absorbing the vast amount of information he was sharing. The revelation about his encounter with Odin, the significance of the world seed, and the amplified challenges in his tutorials were significant. But what resonated most deeply was Sinclair's perspective on the system.

Sinclair continued, his voice filled with conviction: "In my opinion, the system is merely a tool. Too many have become its slaves, blindly following its dictates. But I've come to see it differently. Just like any system, it has its vulnerabilities and loopholes. And if you approach it with determination, with a mindset of bending it to your will rather than being governed by it, then it can be a powerful ally."

Garrett paused, contemplating his words. "Your approach is unlike any I've encountered. Everyone I know, including myself, has largely adhered to the system's guidelines, believing them to be the best path to power. There are even groups out there that would brand you a heretic for speaking out against the system like this. But you... You've demonstrated another way that perhaps harnesses more of one's potential."

Sinclair nodded, rolling his shoulders in a loose shrug. "Exactly. Instead of letting the System dictate your growth, use it to complement your efforts. Earn your strengths, internalize them, and make them yours first. Then, when you turn to the System, it's not to define you—it's just an enhancement to what you've already built."

Garret leaned forward, his brow furrowed in thought. "But how do you get past being forced to level up? For any of us, it happens automatically."

Sinclair exhaled, tapping his fingers against the table as he considered his response. "I've been thinking about that a lot since your council members brought it up." He paused before continuing, his hands gesturing as he worked through his explanation. "I didn't get my first level until I was well into adulthood. By then, I'd already trained my stats naturally to a higher baseline and picked up some bonuses from a title. I think that's the key.

"If you take a kid at whatever age you start training them, get them to build their body naturally first—develop their base stats without relying on the System—then, when they finally access it, they're starting from a much stronger foundation." He let the idea settle before pressing on. "Then, before they hit that first level, you gear them up with stat-boosting equipment. I assume you should focus on willpower since it controls many system interactions. If they don't get good titles or natural bonuses, it will take some power leveling, but it should be possible to control how they enter the System."

His words came fast, his hands moving as he laid out his theory. It wasn't a perfect plan, but it was his best answer to what she was asking.

Garret's eyes widened slightly, the pieces clicking into place. "It's a shift in thinking," he said, his voice steady. "We've relied so much on the System that we've forgotten to maximize our capabilities first. You're saying we should push our natural limits, refine our strengths, and only use the System as a tool, not a crutch."

Sinclair smiled, "Precisely. Remember, the strongest foundations are those we lay ourselves. The system should be the embellishment, not the core."

"Sinclair, if this works out the way I think it might, you have no idea how much it will propel our race into being able to defend itself better. We have been led into thinking the system is the only way forward for so long that we forget how to function without it.

"I suppose that's the great thing about perspective. I have spent my entire life without the aid or knowledge of a system, so depending on something alien is foreign." Sinclair stated.

"Oh, and one more thing—how do I evolve my race?" Sinclair asked, his voice carrying a tinge of curiosity. "I just hit level 25 and heard I could evolve my race at that point, from F to E."

Garret's eyes widened in surprise. "Level 25 already? That's impressive. Usually, in new worlds, it takes people months to reach that first major milestone. You've done it in less than a month," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "It's a bit complicated, though. We'll need a cleansing priest, and we'll prepare a special bath for you to wash in. Let me guess—you don't know what gets unlocked with the evolution either, do you?"

Sinclair let out a sigh, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "No idea. And a bath? That sounds a little... ominous."

Garret chuckled, already sending messages through her city interface as she turned to walk away. "Trust me, Sinclair, it's all part of the process. You might not understand it now, but you'll enjoy it… eventually, anyway."

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