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Chapter 6 - The Spell Architect Awakens

The palace was never quiet, not truly.

Even at night, Asgard hummed with life—through enchanted walls, rune-etched lanterns, the constant whisper of the Bifröst far above. It was a city of gods, where every breath might carry a trace of the arcane, and even the silence had depth.

But in the library tower, the silence was sacred.

The ancient scripts called it Valhalður's Archive, where the royal family's private records were sealed. Not even Thor had been brought here in his infancy. Only Frigga came and went freely, her footsteps soft against marble, her hands tracing memories written in gold-leafed ink.

Tonight, however, another stirred.

He was small. Too small to walk. But he was not crawling.

He was floating.

Only by a few inches. Just enough.

{Image}

Wrapped in quiet shadows, cradled in a spell Ælir helped him construct, Sævor glided between glowing shelves, eyes wide, absorbing everything.

[Language matrix complete.]

[Elder Runes confirmed as primary structure for Asgardian spellcraft.]

"All right. Start mapping how they work together," Sævor ordered, gaze fixed on a massive tome pulsing with arcane light.

The book read: "On the Construct of Cosmic Weave: A Study of Manipulating Ginnungagap Threads."

He couldn't lift it physically—but he didn't need to.

"Ælir."

[Activating remote visual interface. Syncing now.]

Sævor stared at the runes and diagrams.

And the magic began to speak to him.

"To bend the Weave is to speak to reality."

"Each rune is a sound, each symbol a command, each motion a signature."

"But beware the raw source—Ginnungagap, the primordial void. To draw from it is to risk madness."

"So this is the difference," Sævor whispered inside. "Magic here isn't wild. It's structured—like code."

[Correct.] [It is a language that binds domain energy to ordered reality.]

[And we already have domain energy.]

[Indeed. Your Wisdom-based domain allows for enhanced cognitive absorption and multi-threaded magical processing. In short—]

"I learn faster."

He did.

In one night—without any teacher—Sævor understood more about magic than most mortals could grasp in a lifetime.

He learned that spells were structures: runes as nouns, gestures as verbs, intent as syntax. Magic was not chaos—it was a mathematical art, a divine architecture of thought.

Asgardian spells centered around runes, and the keeper and master of them all? His father, Odin Borrson, King of Asgard.

His first spell was small.

A shimmer of light between his fingers.

But it was clean. Stable. Silent.

He clutched it in awe.

"Ælir… that took barely any energy."

[Your optimisation pattern is efficient. Unlike Asgardian spellcasters who rely on brute force or tradition, you build from principle.]

"That means I can scale it."

[Yes. With knowledge and time… you could become Asgard's first true spell architect.]

Asgardian magic aligns closely with their culture: traditional, lineage-based, and often passed down through apprenticeship. There are no formal schools or systemized curriculums. A sorcerer learns from a master, and if worthy, passes that knowledge to the next generation.

The royal sorcerers are more powerful because they have access to the kingdom's library and Odin's royal runes—marks that enhance their casting and deepen their understanding. Odin, as the god of Runes, is their gatekeeper.

Sævor, however, needed no teacher. Through Ælir, he could scan, analyze, and rebuild magic from its roots. He wasn't inheriting knowledge—he was optimizing it.

And so, he continued absorbing everything in front of him.

But time was not endless.

Even now, as he gently deconstructed the spell into glowing fragments, he felt a ripple.

The palace wards stirred.

Someone had noticed.

"Cut the spell."

[Disengaging—done.]

The shimmer vanished.

A moment later, footsteps echoed beyond the doors. Golden-armored Einherjar passing by—none entering. But their magic-sensing spears flickered faintly.

Sævor shrank back into the shadows, hiding within an illusion Ælir wove.

Thud.

Thud. Footsteps approached.

.

.

They passed.

He waited until the silence returned.

.

.

.

Back in his nursery crib, the illusion collapsed, and his small body landed softly on the furs.

Hela shifted in the cradle next to him, watching.

"You're always sneaking off," she babbled softly. And yet, Sævor understood.

How?

Allspeak—a gift in their blood. Asgardian royalty possessed the ability to understand and communicate all languages. It wasn't taught. It simply was. That was how a months-old child like Sævor could read and comprehend magical tomes written in the languages of gods, dwarves, and even the ancient tongues of the void.

Beside him, Hela shifted again. Her tiny hand reached over and poked his cheek, then flopped back down with a quiet huff.

"You really don't like it when I sneak out," Sævor thought dryly.

Hela gave a sleepy babble, somewhere between a complaint and a laugh, before curling closer to him. Her presence was warm and familiar—still innocent, still forming. But it was steady. Rooted.

Sævor turned his thoughts inward again.

"Ælir. You were based on the Great Sage model, right?"

[Affirmative. The template originated from soul-memory fragments during reincarnation. Reference: Rimuru System - Great Sage.]

"So… what's the difference between you and that one?"

[The Rimuru system relies on the Predator skill. It enables the consumption of matter and abilities. Great Sage then processes the acquired data for replication and synthesis.]

[You lack the Predator function. You do not consume.]

[Your system is built around Wisdom. You observe, analyze, and construct.]

Sævor paused. "So instead of stealing power, I figure it out?"

[Correct. Power is acquired through comprehension, not extraction. Your advancement depends on cognitive development, not predatory accumulation.]

"So I won't be able to just take skills and stack them."

[No. You must deconstruct, interpret, and rebuild. Each ability must be earned through system understanding and domain alignment.]

He nodded mentally. That suited him better anyway. He didn't want shortcuts. He wanted mastery.

"Do you grow with me?"

[Yes. System capabilities expand with host's mental and spiritual growth. Increased processing power, interface layers, and system functions will become available as thresholds are passed.]

"Good."

He looked up toward the starlit enchantments painted across the ceiling above their cradles.

"…I need to master the system behind this world."

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A/N: Got any other ideas what to do during his baby's stage? or I'll move to his toddler stage.

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