Who Did This Little Cutie Belong To?

"Who are you?"

Hearing a voice call out, Thor looked down and saw a little girl standing behind him.

Thor quickly took in the figure before him.

Those slender limbs, waist-length golden hair, and those unmistakable pale-gold eyes...

Though she was much smaller, the little girl before him was clearly a miniature Ais—or rather, Ais as a child.

He immediately tried to speak to her. "Ais, this is..."

But before he could finish, his voice seemed to be swallowed by an invisible wall. His vocal cords didn't vibrate, and the air remained utterly silent.

What was this?

Thor's thoughts shifted. He looked down at a cartoonish puddle by his feet.

Instead of his body, the reflection showed a deep, writhing mass—a blurry, pitch-black shadow.

I can't even form a body?

When the shadow didn't respond, little Ais furrowed her brows. Her pure curiosity quickly turned to wariness.

She asked again, her voice carrying a childish chill. "Who are you?"

The only answer was the same silent darkness.

"Come on!"

Without the slightest hesitation, little Ais's gaze sharpened. Her small body tensed at once, like a golden kitten with its fur standing on end.

She moved so fast that her movements were impossible to follow. A long sword nearly as tall as she was appeared in her hands, and she pointed its tip at the mysterious shadow without hesitation!

It was Ais's signature weapon, the Sword of Despair.

It had been recreated in the dream almost perfectly, down to the smallest detail.

Tsk...

Deep within the shadow, Thor's consciousness let out a silent sigh.

At least the weapon had been recreated perfectly.

It seemed that forcing Shy Bud's dream ability into action with 75 Stardust was still too much, even in its heavily weakened form.

Should he use Stardust as the direct price to force it?

Thor considered it briefly, then shook his head.

This wasn't a matter of life and death. Spending Stardust outright would be far too costly.

This ability to enter dreams was somewhere between the [Mortal] and [Regional] levels. He would probably need 800 Stardust to use the full version at will.

He could force it into action, but the price would be the permanent loss of 8 Stardust.

Seeing that Ais didn't remember their nighttime training at all and was even treating him as an enemy, ready to attack, left Thor feeling helpless.

It seemed the dream training had failed...

Just as Thor was about to give up,

a surge of pure energy poured into him without warning.

This energy...

Thor immediately sensed its nature.

It didn't come from a Dungeon monster's Magic Stone. It was closer to his own source energy—in fact, its very essence was more akin to it!

It carried a familiar warmth, one that seemed to originate from divinity.

Syr?

Thor understood.

Had she done something outside and deliberately sent him some of her power?

As soon as the power entered him, Thor felt his control over this cartoon dream rapidly strengthen. His previously blurry form began to stabilize as well.

But he had no time to consider what was happening outside!

"Hey!"

Little Ais clearly thought he was a Dungeon monster. She gave a sharp cry, and the Sword of Despair, nearly as tall as she was, came crashing down with a fierce whoosh!

Before the blade even reached him, her pure battle spirit and icy killing intent were already upon him.

There was no time!

Thor's thoughts raced. Using the sudden surge of power, he immediately pushed his dream ability to its limit.

Just before the sword light struck, the pitch-black figure convulsed and reshaped itself!

He scattered Dream Dust, drawing out the desires and needs buried deep in Ais's heart.

Whoosh!

His body instantly took shape, becoming a clear human silhouette.

Thor didn't even have time to see what he looked like. The deadly blade had already stopped an inch from his forehead!

He spoke at once. "Wait! I'm not your enemy!"

The sword stopped.

Little Ais stared intently at the man who had suddenly appeared before her, her pale-gold eyes fixed on him.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze.

Then the cold wariness in her gaze melted like snow, replaced by incredible delight.

"Father!"

Her childish voice brimmed with excitement, almost breaking into a squeal.

Without the slightest hesitation, she let go. The Sword of Despair clattered onto the cartoonish ground.

With the awkward momentum of a child, her little body shot toward Thor like a golden cannonball and crashed into his arms!

She wrapped both arms around his waist, burying her face against his midsection.

"Father! You're finally back!"

The sudden word left Thor rooted to the spot, momentarily stunned.

He reflexively looked once more at his reflection in the puddle.

He had become a vigorous young man.

The young man had well-defined features and deep-set eyes.

That appearance... Thor immediately thought of the heroic statue standing in Orario, the Labyrinth City.

Albert.

A thousand years ago, he had blinded one of the Black Dragon's eyes and driven back the mightiest monster—a legendary hero of ancient times.

So Ais's father was Albert?

Thor understood.

He looked down at the little head buried against his waist, clinging to him with utter devotion. Each delighted, affectionate cry of "Father" stirred something in his heart.

He unconsciously scratched his cheek with one hand. A trace of awkwardness and helplessness crept over him.

It seemed the power that had entered him still wasn't enough to make Ais realize this was only a dream simulation.

Still... being able to talk to her was already much better than being that mass of shadow.

He patiently waited for the little girl's excitement to settle a little and for her arms to loosen around him.

The time was about right.

Thor gently called her name, deliberately keeping his voice low and warm, striving to match the steady presence of Albert's statue in his memory.

"My precious child, Ais," he said, playing the part of her father with just the right touch of concern. "I've been worried about you too. I want to teach you a new sword art called Wind-Riding, so you can protect yourself better. Would you like to learn it?"

Little Ais looked up. Her small eyes instantly shone brighter than the stars.

She nodded vigorously, her cheeks flushing with excitement. Her voice rang out, clear and bright. "Mm! Mm! I want to learn! Teach me, Father!"

She looked as though she had just received the most precious promise in the world.

Though he couldn't be sure whether Ais would clearly remember this dream after waking, there was one thing Thor knew.

With Dream Dust at work, if little Ais trained seriously in the dream, the skills she honed would be etched into Ais's soul like instincts.

They would flow naturally in her battles by day.

Once he had confirmed this, Thor didn't hesitate any longer.

With a thought, a finely crafted rapier that shimmered faintly appeared in his hand.

He bent down and began carefully explaining the most basic opening stance and breathing rhythm of the Wind-Riding Sword Art.

Little Ais gazed up at him, watching the sword in his hand without blinking. Her concentration was almost tangible.

She tried hard to imitate every movement, her small body ramrod straight. Her form was clumsy, but she was utterly earnest.

The undisguised adoration and complete trust on her face stirred a feeling in Thor.

Looking at the little girl before him, so open with her emotions and so pure of heart, and comparing her to the taciturn Sword Princess he remembered, who rarely showed any expression...

Thor shook his head to himself.

The contrast... was a little too great.

As he patiently guided little Ais through her Wind-Riding Sword Art practice, a thread of his consciousness quietly withdrew and sank into the next dream.

The scene abruptly changed.

Damp, chilly air. Twisted, writhing rock walls. And the faint, ever-present malice unique to the Dungeon—

Thor immediately recognized the place as the Dungeon's fifth floor.

Where was this?

Thor was still wondering when the distant clang of weapons rang out, followed by a monster's low growl.

Thor's thoughts shifted, and he headed toward the sounds.

After passing through a narrow passage, the way opened into a relatively spacious chamber.

The sight at its center made Thor's gaze sharpen slightly.

Bell darted back and forth, his clothes already soaked with blood. It was impossible to tell whether it belonged to the monsters or to him.

He gasped for breath, each inhale rasping like a broken bellows, but he still swung his fists again and again, slamming the Stardust he had gathered into the several Minotaurs surrounding him.

"Stardust... Burst!"

With another growl, a dazzling white light exploded against the chest of the nearest Minotaur. The tremendous force sent it staggering back, its thick fur charred black. It had clearly been gravely wounded.

A look of grim resolve flashed through Bell's eyes. He forced himself to rally and prepared to deliver the final blow to the monster!

But—

"Whoosh!"

A white streak, swift as lightning, shot into the fray from the side without warning!

It moved so fast that only an afterimage remained on the retina.

"Thud!"

A muffled impact rang out. The massive, gravely wounded Minotaur was kicked flying by the sudden blow. The monster instantly turned to ash, leaving only a Magic Stone rolling across the ground.

Bell's attack froze in midair. He stared in shock at the figure that had barged into the fight.

Before he could react, the figure spun around like a whirlwind and lashed out with a powerful kick, its forceful whoosh cutting through the air as it struck Bell hard in the waist.

"Ugh—!"

The pain instantly stole Bell's breath. He flew backward and crashed into a pile of rubble several meters away, curling up and retching uncontrollably.

"Hmph, you're trash. Get out of my way!" A voice, arrogant and full of contempt, rang out.

Thor recognized the newcomer. It was Bete, the Fierce Wolf of the Loki Familia.

In the dream, Bete planted a foot on Bell's head and looked down at him.

His mouth curled into a malicious grin as he continued to mock Bell without mercy.

"Tsk, just look at you. You can't even handle a few little bulls without making a mess of yourself... Heh, if a loser like you belongs to Thor's Familia, then that so-called Thor of yours must be a third-rate god! Trash produces trash!"

"What... what did you say?!"

Bell jerked his head up, his face—already twisted with pain—turning bright red.

It wasn't because he had been humiliated. It was because Bete had dared to insult the supreme deity in Bell's heart!

A fury unlike anything he had ever felt before erupted in his chest!

"Don't you dare insult Lord Thor—!!!"

Ignoring the pain and weakness in his body, Bell surged with the last of his strength, like a furious young beast, and counterattacked Bete!

His eyes saw only the man who had insulted Thor. His mind held only one thought: make him shut up!

But the vast gulf in their real-world strength was just as mercilessly reflected in the dream.

Faced with Bell's reckless charge, driven entirely by anger and lacking any technique,

Bete only sneered in contempt. He didn't even bother to take the attack seriously, merely shifting aside and raising a hand.

"Thud!"

Another heavy impact rang out.

Bell's charge came to an abrupt halt. Bete had grabbed him by the throat with precise ease and lifted him off the ground.

The feeling of suffocation came at once. Bell struggled helplessly, his feet kicking wildly in the air as his vision began to darken.

"Heh, a loser's a loser." Bete looked at his struggling prey, his eyes full of amusement. "You're not even worth making me try. That third-rate god of yours is only fit to take in the likes of—"

Thor watched quietly, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.

The intense humiliation and rage in Bell's dream, along with Bete's pointed insults, clearly hadn't come from nowhere.

It seemed the unexpected encounter in the Dungeon a few days ago, along with Bete's jeering at the restaurant,

had been deeply etched into Bell's subconscious, becoming part of his nightmares.

"Anger, huh?" Thor suddenly thought of something.

He had been wondering how to keep improving Bell's strength.

Now it seemed he had found another promising direction.

Just as Bell was about to wake from the nightmare, the space around them began to tremble, on the verge of shattering,

Thor acted.

His figure blurred, and a long, narrow blade made of pure starlight condensed in his hand.

Steel-Cutting Dash!

The blade flashed like a shooting star, slicing with pinpoint accuracy into the arm Bete had wrapped around Bell's throat!

In the dream, Bete didn't even have time to react. The arm and the strength choking Bell were cut away and vanished in an instant!

"Cough! Cough, cough—!"

Able to breathe again, Bell crashed to the ground, curled up, and choked and gasped violently.

He had escaped death.

He raised his head and looked at Thor, his gaze mingling intense shame with lingering anger.

His cheeks were flushed red from suffocation and emotion.

"I-I'm sorry... Lord God..." Bell's voice was hoarse, full of self-reproach. "I've... I've let you down again..."

Thor looked at him calmly and reached out, helping Bell up from the cold ground with a steady hand.

"My dear child, Bell," he said in a calm, soothing voice, "anger is by no means purely a negative emotion."

He looked straight into the fire roiling in Bell's eyes.

"It can also become a key—a key that unlocks your inner strength and leads you toward entirely new possibilities."

The starry blade in Thor's hand faded away. He raised his hand and touched Bell's brow with his fingertip.

A stream of information, imbued with ancient battle intent and an unyielding will, surged into Bell's mind.

"Now, I will teach you the skill known as [Endless Fury]."

Thor's voice was like a brand, etched clearly into the depths of Bell's consciousness.

"It will guide your anger and turn it into strength that surpasses your limits. It may even... let you briefly transcend death itself when you're pushed to the brink!"