World Traveler Villain-Chapter 241: CH: 238 The Eye in the Sword

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{Chapter: 238 The Eye in the Sword} ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

William stared at the Casket of Ancient Winters in his hand, its icy energy radiating with an unrelenting chill. Cold fog drifted around him, frosting the ground beneath his feet. The relic pulsed with power—raw, ancient, and almost alive. This artifact wasn't just a treasure; it was the very heart of the frost giants' strength, their sacred core, the origin of their terrible wintry might on the planet Jotunheim.

Over a thousand years ago, a fierce battle was waged between the forces of Asgard and the frost giants on Midgard—Earth. It was a conflict of cataclysmic scale, shaking the very foundation of the realms. In the end, Asgard emerged victorious, and with that triumph, they took possession of the Casket, ensuring the frost giants would never again threaten the Nine Realms.

The Casket of Ancient Winters harbors an unfathomable frost energy—so strong it could potentially freeze an entire planet in a few hours and bring an ice age again. But that very power is also its danger. No one had ever fully unlocked the Casket's might—not even Odin dared to awaken it completely. Its force was simply too overwhelming.

And William? Even with his considerable abilities, he was no exception. If he recklessly tapped into the Casket's core, his body would instantly become a lifeless statue of ice. Still, thanks to the Ice Corpse Bead he had previously absorbed, William could now barely awaken a sliver of the Casket's energy—a tiny thread of frost from a vast, frozen sea. Yet even this small portion of power was devastating.

A cold blue light shimmered across his form. With a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, William sealed the Casket away into his storage space and muttered to himself, "Just keep pretending to be a sword."

Then, without another word, he vanished, disappearing into the shadows like a ghost swallowed by the night.

---

Sif's Residence — Asgard

"Have you seen my sword?" Sif asked one of the palace maids sharply, her tone anxious.

The maid bowed quickly. "No, Lady Sif. I haven't seen it anywhere."

Sif furrowed her brow, clearly frustrated. "That's strange... I'm certain it was just here a moment ago."

"Would you like me to help you search for it, miss?"

Sif shook her head, waving her hand dismissively. "No, I'll handle it myself."

She turned and strode out of her chambers, her boots echoing lightly on the stone floor. Something didn't feel right. Her sword wasn't just a weapon—it was an heirloom, a relic passed down from her grandfather, a warrior of legend. Losing it felt like losing a piece of herself.

Out in the garden path, something caught her eye—a glint of steel half-buried in the grass.

"Sword?" she gasped, rushing forward. She picked it up and examined it carefully.

"Why... Why are you all the way out here?" she muttered, turning the weapon in her hands. "This is definitely my sword... but something about it feels... off."

She frowned. The balance felt ever so slightly different, and the surface was colder than usual. Still, she brushed off the unease and sighed. "Too many strange things have happened lately. Maybe I'm just overthinking it. I need a hot bath."

As the word "bath" left her lips, the sword in her hands gave an almost imperceptible twitch.

Sif's eyes widened slightly. "What the—? Did you just... move?" she whispered, staring at the sword. But then she chuckled to herself. "I must be imagining things. I'm clearly more tired than I thought."

---

Inside the Bathing Hall

The bathing chamber was vast and beautifully adorned, with golden trimming, crystalline fixtures, and a steaming pool carved from marble. Sif entered, the sword still in hand, and hung it delicately on a nearby rack beside a silk robe.

She approached the large circular bath, its warm mist swirling in the air, and slowly began removing her armor piece by piece. The plates slid off with metallic clinks, revealing the taut, battle-hardened body of a seasoned warrior—elegant yet powerful, feminine yet undeniably strong.

Unseen by her, a faint glow shimmered from the hilt of the sword. An eye—dark, glinting with mischief and hunger—flickered into view for a brief second. It stared, unblinking.

The sword wasn't just watching—it was William.

And he was struggling.

Inside the sword's enchanted form, William's thoughts were spiraling.

Ladies above, this woman... Her body is like carved marble blessed by the sun itself! So radiant. So... distracting. Focus, William! Control yourself. This is dangerous territory.

His fingers itched to take shape, to reveal himself, to leap into the bath and make some excuse—anything—but he knew better. The Palace guards, the sorcerers, even the All-Father's seers could appear at any time. He couldn't afford a misstep, not now.

He clung to reason with every ounce of willpower he had.

Meanwhile, Sif slipped into the water with a soft sigh, her brows still furrowed. She reclined slightly, letting the warmth ease the tension from her muscles.

But that strange sensation returned—like invisible eyes watching her.

She looked around, frowning. "Am I being watched...?"

Silence. Only the sound of trickling water echoed through the room.

She stared for a moment longer, then slowly relaxed again. "I'm too on edge," she muttered. "Asgard's been nothing but chaos lately."

Sif scanned the surroundings once more, her sharp eyes darting to every corner of the luxurious Asgardian bathhouse. Yet, she found nothing out of place. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she shook her head with a wry smile. "You're overthinking, Sif," she muttered. "This is Asgard, the heart of the Nine Realms. Who would dare sneak around peeking in a place like this?"

Hidden in plain sight—disguised as the sword in her hand—William was panicking on the inside. 'Why won't she just turn around? I've been staring at her back this whole time!' His mind raged. 'Give me something more, please! What's the point of being a sword if all I see is her spine?'

Still soaking in the bathwater, Sif furrowed her brows. "No... something still doesn't feel right," she whispered, her warrior instincts refusing to quiet down. She scanned the steamy air again, this time more suspiciously.

Her eyes eventually settled back on the sword—on William. "Is it my imagination, or is it that thing?" she said, slowly rising from the bath. Her tall figure, toned and elegant, glistened with droplets of water as she walked toward the sword hanging neatly on the nearby rack.

William's thoughts were spiraling. 'Oh Ladies, she's getting closer. Those big breasts are even more incredible up close. They look soft—no, firm—probably both! Wait... is her... hair down there also blonde? Like Peggy's? That's just unfair.'

Sif picked up the sword and examined it carefully, turning it left and right in her hand. "Why do you feel so... strange?" she murmured, her eyes narrowing. "No. This can't be just in my head. I'll get this checked by the Weapon Master. If it's nothing, at least I can repair the chipped tip."

Without hesitation, she began drying off and slipping back into her clothes, putting on her light armor with practiced efficiency. Her expression was serious—determined to get to the bottom of her unease.

Meanwhile, William sulked inside his metal prison. 'Damn it. Really? A full-body inspection? Lady, I'm perfectly fine. Just take another bath! A long one!'

---

Later – Asgard's Weapon Forge

At the grand forge beneath the palace, where legendary weapons had been shaped for centuries, Sif walked in with the sword in hand.

A kind, white-haired elder looked up from his workbench. "Ah, Sif. It's been a while," he greeted with a warm smile. "What brings you here today?"

"Uncle Soi," Sif greeted with a slight bow. "Could you please examine this sword? Lately, it hasn't felt right to me. There's something off about it, but I can't quite say what."

Soi took the sword in both hands and studied it carefully. "From the outside, it appears normal beside the damage. The craftsmanship is still solid." His eyes, faintly glowing with runes of detection, scanned the blade from hilt to tip. "Did you notice anything specific?"

Sif folded her arms. "It feels... alive. Like it's observing me. I know that sounds ridiculous."

Soi chuckled. "Not so ridiculous, my dear. You've seen enough in your years to trust your instincts. Let's look deeper."

The old man's eyes turned completely green as he activated a more advanced scanning rune. Waves of light passed over the sword again and again. For a moment, he frowned and paused.

Sif noticed. "What is it? Did you find something?"

Soi hesitated for a heartbeat... then smiled. "No, nothing dangerous. Perhaps just a lingering enchantment. The sword is safe to use. No curses or tracking spells."

Sif relaxed slightly and took the weapon back. "Thanks, Uncle Soi. One more thing—I want to repair the tip. It was chipped during a sparring match."

"The alloy used in this blade is rare. We don't have it in stock. I'll need to wait for a new shipment from the dwarves of Nidavellir. That may take a few days."

"That's fine," Sif said. "I'll wait. Thank you again." She turned and left, sword in hand.

Soi watched her go, a thoughtful look in his eye. "Strange," he murmured to himself. "I could've sworn I felt something... watching me. Bah, I'm getting old. Time to pass this forge on to my son before I start talking to hammers."

---

Later that night – Sif's Chambers

Back home, Sif let out a tired groan and rubbed her temples. "Too many oddities today," she whispered. "I need rest."

She unfastened her armor, piece by piece, until she was down to just her undergarments. Her smooth, muscular form lay down on the large bed, the sword placed beside her within arm's reach—as always.

Before long, her breathing slowed, and she drifted off into a light sleep.

But the sword... began to shimmer.

William emerged in human form, appearing beside her on the bed with a slow grin creeping across his face. 'Now this... this is a situation I could get used to.'

He turned toward the sleeping warrior, his mind spinning with both excitement and hesitation. 'She's right here... beautiful, strong, and deadly. But if I do anything reckless, I might not live to see the sunrise. Hah, and they say I'm the brave one. But then again, when did the threat of death ever stop me?'

With a quiet motion, he leaned forward and gently pressed himself over her, curious... tempted... and maybe just a bit reckless.

Sif's eyes snapped open.

And locked onto his.

For a long second, silence filled the room.

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