"No," El said.
Luo Wei frowned, falling into deep contemplation.
The final material needed for the talent mixture was the most elusive—the Sand of Time. Based on all the information he had managed to gather so far, the only possible substitute for the Sands of Time in this realm appeared to be the sand resting at the bottom of the Pool of True Sight.
However, obtaining such sand was clearly no easy feat.
The most ideal solution would be a legal purchase—acquire it openly, perhaps at a steep price. Unfortunately, Nornheim had never sold the sacred sand, and Rowe held little hope in this route.
With purchase off the table, Rowe was left with only one alternative—retrieve it himself. But even this path was perilous.
The power of the Norn Spirit was something Rowe had witnessed firsthand—it rivaled that of dragons, capable of vanishing physical matter within seconds. The Water of True Sight was not famed across the Nine Realms without reason—it could be deemed the most perilous body of water known.
Not only was the body vulnerable to its effects—even physical tools stood no chance.
Rowe remembered clearly: the thick, enchanted chains that had once bound the dragon dissolved the moment they touched the water. The wooden platform the dragon once lay upon had vanished instantly upon contact with the surface.
Still, not all tools were helpless. Rowe theorized that if he had a giant spoon-like instrument, he might be able to scoop some sand before it disintegrated entirely.
However, the tool would need to be three to four meters long, forged from Asgardian bronze several centimeters thick, to survive even a moment in the pool.
Creating such a device wasn't just expensive—it would also draw attention. The blacksmiths would notice, and secrets would be hard to keep.
After thorough consideration, only one method seemed viable—
The Holy Shield.
Armed with the power of the Divine Shield, Rowe could momentarily withstand the water's corrosive effects. But therein lay the problem—he possessed only one fragment of the Holy Shield. That granted him just one second of invincibility.
One second to dive into the water, scoop the sand, and retreat. With the pool's depth spanning several meters, even with his enhanced Asgardian physiology, it was virtually impossible. Rowe knew this limit well—he couldn't make it.
As his mind twisted in frustration, a sudden realization struck him like lightning.
The Potion of Agility! How could he have forgotten?
He also had the Quickstep Elixir. The former could drastically enhance his reaction speed, while the latter boosted his movement velocity. Used in tandem, they could give him the edge he desperately needed.
"What's wrong?" El asked, noticing Rowe's sudden burst of excitement as he slapped his forehead.
"It's nothing," Rowe responded, barely concealing the plan forming in his mind.
---
The Next Day
In a quiet, inconspicuous corner of the City of Destiny, Rowe surveyed the area cautiously. Once satisfied, he activated the Holy Deed.
[Disguise: Flash Gold Town Infantry]
This magical disguise, acquired more than a decade ago, was finally going to be of use.
Summoning Shengqi, a flash of radiant light engulfed his form. When it faded, Rowe now bore the appearance of a Flash Gold Town infantryman—complete with armor and the bearing of a seasoned warrior.
He stepped out of the alley and made his way toward Frigga's residence.
If he could acquire the sand through peaceful negotiation, he would prefer it. Frigga was known to be far more approachable than Duke Norn or the stern Karnilla. There was a chance, albeit slim, that she might consent.
Rowe wore the disguise primarily for precaution—should Frigga refuse, it would be unwise for her to recognize him when he inevitably turned to stealth.
"Who goes there?" challenged two guards posted outside the estate.
Though Frigga wasn't royalty, as Duke Norn's adopted daughter, she was a noblewoman—and thus guarded appropriately.
Rowe smiled with practiced ease. "I am Illidan, a hunter from Vanaheim. I've come seeking an audience with Lady Frigga."
"Illidan? That's an odd name..." muttered one guard.
"What's your business?" the other asked.
"I have a mage companion named Gu'er," Rowe replied calmly. "He is intrigued by the sand found at the bottom of the Pool of True Sight. He asked me to bring him a small vial back, so I was hoping Lady Frigga might allow me to purchase some."
"You should direct that request to the Duke," the guard suggested.
"I tried," Rowe answered, feigning embarrassment. "But the Duke's steward informed me that he is unwell and directed me instead to Lady Frigga or Lady Karnilla."
Fortunately, Duke Norn's illness was common knowledge. The guards did not doubt his story. Moreover, being a guest from Vanaheim gave him a level of diplomatic courtesy. They offered no resistance.
The two exchanged a glance, and one finally said, "Wait here. I'll inform Lady Frigga."
"Thank you."
Minutes later, Frigga herself appeared, graceful and noble as ever. She exchanged a few words with the guards before turning her attention to Rowe.
"That's him, Lady Frigga," the guard said, gesturing toward him.
Frigga nodded politely. "Greetings, Mr. Illidan."
"Good day, Lady Frigga," Rowe responded with a slight bow.
"I've been informed you seek sand from the Pool of True Sight?" she asked, her tone cordial.
"Yes," Rowe confirmed. "My mage friend has asked for only a small bottle, merely for study. I wondered if I could perhaps purchase some?"
Frigga's smile turned slightly apologetic. "I'm sorry, but that is not possible. Even my mother lacks such authority. The Time Cave belongs solely to the Spirit of Norn. Only she may determine what leaves it."
"I understand," Rowe replied, masking his disappointment. "Thank you for your time."
It was settled then. If diplomacy failed, he would have to take the sand himself.
Knowing his disguise would fade within a day, Rowe wasted no time. He headed directly toward the Time Cave.
Perhaps due to the place's inherent danger, security was light. Only a handful of guards were stationed there.
The last time he had visited the Time Cave, El had said a few words and passed through easily. He intended to do the same.
Putting on his most charming smile, Rowe approached the guards.
"…I've lived in Vanaheim for over five centuries," he began, weaving his accent and mannerisms into a convincing tale. "Of all the wonders in the Nine Realms, none captivates me more than the Time Cave. I came to this hunting festival hoping to catch a worthy prize—but alas, I've failed. I thought at least I'd get to see the Time Cave… but now, even that dream might elude me."
Rowe's impersonation of a Vanaheim warrior was nearly perfect. Years of friendship with Wayne had taught him the accent and customs of the Vanir well.
"Dear guards, are we not kin? The Aesir and Vanir share ancestors, tongue, and destiny. All I ask is a quick glimpse of the cave's majesty. Surely you won't deny me such a humble wish?"
One of the guards eyed him skeptically. "You do realize the Water of True Sight is extremely dangerous. If you fall in… you'll never return."
"I only need to peek," Rowe reassured, raising a finger. "Just a moment, I promise. I'll keep my distance."
The other guard waved him along, clearly growing impatient. "Fine, but if you fall in—it's on you."
Rowe grinned, hiding his elation. "I won't. Thank you, truly."
Now… it was time to act.
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