After dinner, Rowe headed into Landvety Forest alone. As he walked along the winding path, he retrieved a pair of gloves from his Sanctuary space and slid them onto his hands. Next, he summoned the Ice Shaper Longbow.
The Ice Shaper Longbow exuded a potent aura of cold when forming ice arrows. Without gloves, the frostbite could be severe—potentially dangerous, even to someone like him.
Though inconvenient to wield, this heirloom of the ice-shaping tribe possessed terrifying power. An ordinary Asgardian goat struck by it—even grazed—would instantly freeze, rendered immobile by the penetrating cold.
Even the resilient Landvety wolves fared no better. Rowe had taken down several of them with little effort using the longbow's chilling power.
What he still didn't know, however, was how the fearsome four-horned goat—the deadliest beast in all of Asgard—would react to being struck by an arrow from the Ice Shaper.
While wandering deeper into the shadowed forest, Rowe found his thoughts drifting to past encounters here.
Initially, he had doubted the superstitions surrounding the elusive four-horned goat. But even after ten years of hunting alongside Tialfi, he had neither seen nor heard the creature.
Rare though it was, not hearing even a whisper of it across a full decade seemed statistically improbable.
As he interacted more with seasoned hunters at the tavern, Rowe gradually realized just how extraordinary it was that Tialfi, a veteran hunter who spent at least a third of each day in these woods, had not crossed paths with the beast in over a century.
On average, about twenty or so four-horned goats were captured each century. For a hunter of Tialfi's caliber and dedication to avoid it for that long defied all odds.
Rowe had begun to suspect that his own fortune had taken a turn for the worse—his luck seemed cursed. He recalled last year when he'd purchased the Gift of Destiny from the Pious Store and received more than thirty consecutive "Thank you for your patronage" messages instead of a real reward.
Maybe he was afflicted with the dreaded "African Chief" luck. And now, with the Tial-African Chief not present, perhaps fate would finally turn in his favor.
For about half an hour, Rowe roamed the dense underbrush.
Then, suddenly—he heard it.
"Mah-baa—"
The cry was strange, unnatural. A blend of bleat and roar, it was the unmistakable cry of something unnatural—something feral.
Rowe froze.
A four-horned goat?
Impossible. Not once in ten years of hunting alongside Tialfi, and now—on the very night Tialfi was absent—it appears?
It was the curse of Tyarfia, no doubt.
Heart pounding, Rowe crept forward toward the sound, feeling a mix of exhilaration and terror.
The four-horned goat was renowned across Asgard for its brutality and ferocity. Most hunters would flee at first sight of it.
But Rowe had options. If his attack failed, he could escape using his Quickness Potion. While the creature was fast, it couldn't outrun a well-prepared Sanctuary knight running for the protection of an Asgardian tavern.
Peering from behind a tree, Rowe saw it: a monstrous goat feasting… on a wolf.
A goat that ate wolves.
The beast was massive—three or four meters in length—with four enormous, curling horns that shimmered with a metallic, silvery hue. They looked forged from uru itself—an aura of indestructibility emanating from them.
"Bah—" it growled gutturally, ripping flesh from the gray wolf beneath its hooves.
Rowe's confidence faltered. Could he really defeat such a beast?
He backed away slowly and summoned his staff, animating a nearby boulder into a rock puppet. He sent it quietly around to flank the beast.
From the Sanctuary space, he retrieved a bronze arrow crafted in Asgard and nocked it onto the Ice Shaper Longbow.
Though the longbow could generate arrows of pure ice, combining its magic with a physical arrow increased its penetrative force.
He drew the bowstring, the cold surging around him, spiraling into the bronze arrow, which shimmered and then morphed into a glistening blue alloy of ice and metal.
His strength wasn't enough to fully draw the bow. His arms trembled under the strain, and he released the arrow mid-draw.
"Thwip!"
The projectile whistled through the air and struck the goat's flank, shattering into icy shards upon impact. Frost bloomed across its fur.
The four-horned goat let out a guttural cry of pain.
It turned sharply, ready to charge, but the rock puppet hurled two large stones—"bang, bang!"—both slamming into its thick skull. Temporarily distracted, it spun toward the golem.
Rowe noted the injury—tiny cracks of frost fading rapidly as the goat's wound healed at an alarming rate. The arrow's icy magic had little effect.
Unbelievable. Its regenerative power was monstrous.
Rowe recalled: the goat's bones were nearly impervious—except in the head or heart. But if he could cripple a leg…
While the puppet kept the creature distracted, he drew the bow again and fired an ice-shaping arrow at its hind leg.
This time, the arrow struck true—but the impact failed to reach bone. The beast barely flinched.
Then, it roared and turned, charging the rock golem.
"Boom!" The puppet exploded into rubble.
The goat then turned its full attention to Rowe, fury flaring like solar fire from its nostrils. "WRAAAGH—!"
Out of options, Rowe summoned the Sanctuary and consumed a spell fragment.
Blind Light!
A flash of blinding brilliance burst from his palm, illuminating the forest like a second sun. The goat snarled, squinting against the sudden radiance, stumbling and veering off-course.
Rowe seized the moment. He drew Verrigan's Fist, gripped the warhammer with both hands, and leapt into the air.
Hammer of Justice!
His hammer crashed down onto the beast's forehead, releasing a seismic shockwave.
"GONG—!" The impact rang like a cathedral bell.
The four-horned goat reeled and collapsed, its limbs twitching from the stunning blow.
Rowe dashed forward, swinging the warhammer at one of the beast's legs.
Holy Light Strike!
"BOOM!"
Verrigan's Fist came down hard, crushing muscle and sinew into the forest floor. Blood and ice splattered.
But to Rowe's dismay, the creature's bones remained intact—its regenerative tissue already working to undo the damage.
Not even a fracture.
Staring in disbelief, he struck again—once, twice, three times—each time with full force, but still the bones resisted.
The wound regenerated rapidly. In mere moments, it was gone.
Rowe readied his warhammer for another strike—but the four-horned goat stirred.
With a sudden surge, it kicked out with its massive front hoof—striking Rowe square in the chest.
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