For advance/early chapters : p atreon.com/Ritesh_Jadhav0869
"I promise I'll be careful," Aidan said, noting the worry creasing Warren's brow. "And if anything breaks during the enchantment process, I'll replace it immediately."
Warren's expression softened. He pushed the weapons across the table with calloused hands. "No need for that. Do what you must. These old tools could use some magic in them."
Aidan touched each weapon—dagger, spear, longbow—and they vanished with a soft shimmer of light.
Ivy's fork clattered to her plate. "Is that dimensional magic? You created a pocket dimension?"
"Nothing so grand," Aidan laughed, enjoying her amazement. "Just a partitioned space. True dimensional magic is... well, let's just say I'm not there yet."
"Still incredible. I thought you came to Asgard because Midgardian magic wasn't enough for you, but you already know so much!"
"Knowledge is one thing," Aidan said, deflecting the compliment. "Application is another. Speaking of which..." He turned to Ivy, trying to keep his tone casual. "You mentioned you have your mother's grimoire on charm magic. Would you mind if I studied it?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Ivy's eyes narrowed. "Why would you want to learn charm magic?"
"Academic curiosity," Aidan said quickly. "The mechanics fascinate me. How someone could create an entirely new school of magic, even with its... limitations. That takes genuine innovation."
Ivy studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "I suppose there's no harm. I've never had much interest in it anyway—illusions are more my style." She glanced at her father, whose jaw had tightened at the mention of his wife's magic. "Let me fetch it after dinner."
"Thank you." Aidan accepted another slice of venison from Ivy, noting how Warren's hands trembled slightly as he poured more fruit wine.
The conversation shifted to safer ground—hunting techniques, the migration patterns of mountain beasts, the best seasons for tracking. Warren's passion for his craft shone through, and soon he was demonstrating arrow nocking techniques while Ivy rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm.
As the candles burned lower, Aidan finally stood. "I should go. Tomorrow's an early day."
"Wait." Ivy hurried upstairs and returned with a slim volume bound in red leather. "Here. The Codex of Desire, my mother called it." Her lip curled slightly. "It's mostly mental manipulation focused on exploiting masculine psychology. That's why it only works on men."
"Fascinating," Aidan murmured, accepting the book. "Thank you, Ivy. And thank you for dinner, Warren."
Under the silver moonlight, Aidan made his way not to Fandral's castle but to his cave laboratory on the outskirts. The familiar scent of ozone and burnt herbs greeted him as he unlocked the heavy door.
"Still at it, Elder Vogt?"
The old artificer looked up from his workbench, spectacles reflecting the glow of half-assembled space pillars. "Aidan? What brings you here at this hour?"
"Research." Aidan produced a small vial containing several strands of black hair. "I'm working on an antidote. Do you know Lady Sif?"
Vogt's bushy eyebrows rose. "Heimdall's sister? The warrior?"
"The same. Her hair was originally golden until one of Loki's pranks. The transformation potion he used... it's proven frustratingly permanent."
"Ah, yes. I remember that incident." Vogt set down his tools, giving Aidan his full attention. "Loki rarely does things by halves. He likely mixed binding agents to ensure the effect couldn't be easily reversed."
"Any suggestions on where to start?"
Vogt stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Enweizer root sap might dissolve the binding—though mind the corrosion. And Kovimi lizard saliva has color-changing properties. Beyond that..." He shrugged apologetically. "Alchemy isn't my strongest suit."
"It's a start. Thank you." Aidan moved to his own workstation. "Mind if I work here tonight?"
"Please! The company keeps me alert."
Aidan fed the hair samples into his analysis equipment, watching as crystalline displays began showing molecular structures. He'd need to balance his time carefully—weapon enchantments first, then Sif's hair restoration, and the charm magic codex when his body needed rest but his mind remained active.
The next morning found him in Frigga's illusion class, fighting to keep his eyes open.
"Illusions draw their strength from the caster's mind," Frigga explained, her golden robes seeming to glow in the morning light. "The stronger your mental discipline, the more convincing your creations."
With a gesture, she conjured a perfect duplicate of Aidan. It stood beside her, mimicking his slight slouch and the way he absently tapped his fingers when thinking.
The real Aidan sat up straighter, suddenly very awake. "If the mind is strong enough, could one create actual reality?"
Frigga paused, considering. "An interesting question. There are two types of 'reality' in this context. First, perceptual reality—making all observers believe something exists, whether affected by the spell or not. Second, true creation—adding new matter to the universe itself. That remains the province of primordial forces."
"But the first type," Aidan pressed, "if you could alter consciousness universally—"
"You're thinking too narrowly," Frigga interrupted gently. She directed the illusory Aidan to approach the real one. "True perceptual reality means even those who know it's false still experience it as real."
The duplicate reached out and touched Aidan's cheek. He felt warm skin, detected the faint scent of the laboratory chemicals clinging to its clothes.
"Yet it has no consciousness, no soul, no independent existence." Aidan touched the illusion and it dissolved like morning mist. "I understand."
Frigga smiled approvingly before continuing her lecture.
After class, Aidan barely paused to greet Ivy before rushing back to his laboratory. The charm codex proved fascinating—not for its intended purpose, but for its clever exploitation of psychological weaknesses. By targeting instinctive responses, it created vulnerabilities in mental defenses. Crude but effective.
His days fell into a rhythm. Mornings in class, pestering Frigga with increasingly complex questions about mental magic. Afternoons in the lab, carefully inscribing enchantments onto Warren's weapons. Late nights analyzing Sif's hair while his spirit studied the codex.
By the third day, even Odin grew tired of Aidan following them to the royal quarters with "just one more question."
"OUT!" the All-Father bellowed, his patience finally exhausted.
Frigga offered an apologetic shrug as the doors slammed shut.
Rejected by royalty, Aidan turned to Ivy, who at least seemed amused by his obsession. "Don't you ever rest?" she asked one evening, finding him scribbling notes during dinner at her house.
"Rest is for people who aren't trying to unlock the secrets of consciousness manipulation," he muttered, then looked up. "Sorry. Thank you for letting me impose again."
"You're always welcome," she said softly. "Even if you are completely insane."
After seven days of intensive work, the weapons were complete. The spear now extended at will, with defensive enchantments that projected a circular barrier when blocking. The bow conjured its own energy arrows, their power scaling with draw time—perfect for Asgard's endless ambient magic.
The dagger proved trickiest. Aidan attempted to inscribe spatial displacement magic, allowing it to phase through defenses. The enchantment only triggered sporadically, making it unpredictable in battle. Not ideal, but sometimes unpredictability had its own value.
As for the charm magic, seven days of badgering Frigga and Ivy had yielded insights into consciousness manipulation that the original codex never intended. The Charm Witch had stumbled onto something profound, even if she'd applied it crudely.
Aidan stretched, cracking his neck. Three projects progressing simultaneously—not bad for a week's work. Though he'd need significantly more coffee if he planned to maintain this pace.
300 powerstones for extra chapter
500 powerstones another extra chapter
1000 powerstones another extra chapter