"You know me?" Randolph asked, a look of surprise crossing his face.
Sure enough, it was Randolph, Skorch's older brother. No wonder Rowe always felt a certain familiarity about him.
"I'm a friend of Skorch. We should have met a few times before, but it's been a long time." Rowe explained, "My name is Rowe."
Randolph paused to think for a moment, but he didn't seem to recognize him. However, he still smiled warmly. "What a coincidence."
Rowe looked down at his cane, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. "Is this the Cane of Rage?"
"That's right." Randolph replied, lifting the cane to show Rowe. It was almost as tall as a person, made of silver-gray metal, with a sharp point. Intricate, mysterious runes were engraved along its length, giving off a faint magical aura.
Rowe remarked, "I've heard that one loses control when touching the Furious Cane. How do you…"
Randolph nodded, understanding the concern. "It's true that an untrained person might lose their mind if they handle it recklessly. But, like with many things, there are techniques. Master the right method, and it won't have much of an effect."
He added with a grin, "And the holder's willpower plays a big part. Some with strong willpower can wield it without any issue, even if they're not trained."
With a mischievous gleam in his eye, Randolph offered, "Would you like to give it a try?"
Rowe hesitated but was intrigued. "Well… I don't think it'll cause any harm, right?"
Before Randolph could respond, a cold, stern voice interrupted. "Soldiers should never lend out their weapons, especially the Berserker's. Randolph, have you forgotten military discipline?"
Randolph's smile faltered, and he seemed to shrink back. "Just kidding, Skorn."
Rowe turned to see a Valkyrie approaching. She had long golden hair, a serious expression, and an imposing, muscular build that was partially exposed due to her armor's fit. Her chest muscles were notably developed, causing her armor to strain against the force.
"Are you a mage?" The Valkyrie, Skorn, asked, her gaze fixed on Rowe. Given Rowe's youthful appearance, he wasn't much taller than Skorn's waist, and the staff in his hand made him seem like a mage.
"No, I'm a doctor," Rowe answered.
Skorn eyed him with suspicion. "In that case, when the Frost Giants attack, don't be as foolish as last time."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away.
Rowe was left staring at her, puzzled, before looking back at Randolph. "What's her deal?"
Randolph leaned in, whispering, "Skorn is one of the fiercest warriors in the seventh outpost. Compared to her, even Princess Hela seems like a calm little sister."
Rowe blinked, clearly taken aback. "She's that intimidating?"
Randolph nodded sagely. "You have no idea."
Suddenly, a cheer echoed through the camp. Rowe turned his attention to the sound, where the warrior responsible for taking down the Ice Polar Beast was now holding up two massive, jagged beast fangs, waving them triumphantly like oversized weapons.
Randolph chuckled, explaining, "The fangs of an Ice Beast are highly prized. To the Frost Giants, they symbolize courage, and they're useful in a variety of ways. I once killed an Ice Beast with my comrades. Sadly, its teeth were broken, or else we would have all earned a fortune in runes."
Rowe raised an eyebrow. "Do you often encounter Ice Beasts in Jotunheim?"
"Not at all. Ice Beasts are rare, almost mythical. Among all the creatures in the Nine Realms, only the Four-Horned Goat and the Dragon are rarer than them," Randolph said with a nod.
Rowe took a moment to absorb the information before replying, "That makes sense."
After a bit more casual conversation, Rowe eventually returned to the infirmary and, as usual, began his daily lottery draws before heading to bed.
Having spent most of his wealth on learning spells, Rowe had to draw fewer times now. On most days, he only drew twice, with the occasional third pull to indulge himself.
His first result was a disappointment: [Thank you for your patronage], followed by [Thank you for your patronage] again.
Rowe sighed, mildly frustrated.
But then, he received a new message: [Blind Light (Shard)].
He blinked in surprise. After completing all the spells in the second layer, the shards for those spells were no longer supposed to appear. Furthermore, the probability of a third-layer spell fragment showing up was exceptionally low. This was the first time Rowe had drawn Blind Light.
As its name suggested, Blind Light released a brilliant flash to temporarily blind enemies. It was a group barrier spell.
"Not bad," Rowe murmured to himself as he glanced at the shard.
Finally, after some time, Rowe managed to drift into sleep.
---
The next morning, Rowe resumed his duties as a doctor, just like in the previous outposts. His tasks were more complex in Jotunheim, given the harsh conditions soldiers faced. The cold, frostbite, and poisons were all common injuries among the soldiers here, and the workload for a doctor was much heavier.
In addition to his medical duties, Rowe was also undergoing training with several other camp medics, ensuring that he could handle the unique challenges of Jotunheim.
In his free time, Rowe set about identifying herbs in the area, hoping to find a substitute for the lightning core and the rare Purple Lotus.
He had little hope for replacing the lightning core—its external characteristics were too distinct to find a suitable substitute. However, the Purple Lotus was a different matter. If he could find an equivalent, it would save him a great deal of effort.
Unfortunately, after an entire day of research, Rowe had no luck finding a viable alternative to the Purple Lotus.
He remembered the description of the Purple Lotus in the talent mixture formula: "The Purple Lotus grows in the land of destruction, where new life rises from the ashes of destruction."
The Land of Destruction...
Where in the Nine Realms could this be?
Rowe's thoughts drifted, and after another long day, it was time to rest. In Jotunheim, where the sun never rose or set, the concept of night was more about when people rested, determined by the outpost's bell.
"Dong-dong—"
The heavy sound of the bell echoed throughout the outpost, signaling the end of the workday.
Rowe lay back in his bed, feeling exhaustion creep over him. Just as sleep was beginning to claim him, however, a sudden, loud noise erupted from outside.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
The war drums. It meant the Frost Giants were coming.
Rowe immediately shot up, his heart racing, and glanced out the window.
A wave of heat suddenly washed over the scene outside, and the cold that had previously enveloped the outpost began to dissipate. In its place, the temperature soared. The heat emanated from the center of the outpost, where a massive, fiery mirror image of the sun had appeared, radiating a powerful warmth that melted the surrounding ice and snow, causing steam to rise in the air.
As the Asgardians adjusted to the sweltering heat, Rowe could only imagine how unbearable it would be for the Frost Giants.