That One Time I Married A Crazy Goddess

Arrival in Svarthelm

(The next morning)

The gates of Svarthelm loomed high above them, a towering structure of dark iron and polished stone, adorned with intricate carvings of gears, dragons, and serpentine patterns that seemed to move when caught in the right light. The city was nestled within a valley framed by jagged peaks, the skyline dominated by tall spires, gilded domes, and smoke-stacked forges that billowed gray trails into the otherwise clear sky. Jörvaldr's sun, pale and cold yet unyielding, bathed the city in a stark brilliance, its rays glinting off the polished brass and steel of the city's machinery. 

Illyana, Sethrak, Zyphira, Gridd, Kivorn, and Draeven—stood at the edge of the city, momentarily taking in the sight before stepping into the chaos. It was a strange, surreal blend of medieval grit and mechanical ingenuity. 

Zyphira held her chest, holding in a deep breath, but Sethrak held his twin sister's hand, not saying a word.

The streets were cobbled but uneven, worn down by years of heavy foot traffic and the wheels of carts burdened with goods. The city thrummed with life: vendors hawking their wares, the clinking of tools in the distance, the hissing of steam from valves along the buildings, and the faint hum of automatons moving methodically through the crowds. 

Gridd stated, "So we couldn't reach the Velmires crypt from Gabriel's Ladder. Any idea why that is?"

Illyana replied, "Probably because it might be destroyed. Or protected with magic."

Draeven added nervously, taking in the surroundings around him, "It would, m-make sense.."

Sethrak said, "The Velmires are cunning. If they abandoned their old sanctuary to create a new one, they would have destroyed traces of themselves there."

Kivorn sighed, "…Please don't tell me…we won't find any good things there?"

Gridd folded his arms, "Only reason yer' going there is to summon Kassius."

Zyphira wanted to speak, but she continued to hold her chest, she did not want to be here, being in the same place where her trauma attacked her and stayed. The same place where she was mentally destroyed.

Illyana said, "We shouldn't worry, we'll find him. Even if the Lysfødt couldn't get in contact with him, we shouldn't lose hope."

Kivorn responded, "Illyana…always the one to be all happy."

Sethrak looked over at Zyphira, and asked, "I'm sorry I made you come here—."

"No. It's okay. I'm okay. Xyenn wouldn't just up and leave."

"You've been distracted lately."

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Xyenn this, Xyenn that. You have feelings for him, don't you? Even though he's with Yuuna."

"….I can't lie to you, brother. I hate that I feel like this about him. Seeing how he's able to keep going after dealing with so much, seeing how he's always sacrificing himself over and over to win, I always wanted to be like that instead of getting super drunk to forget my issues. Coming here after so many years is the first step in doing that. I would run to go get drunk but…i'm fighting it so I can deal with this."

"Abandon these feelings for him." Sethrak said with a serious tone.

"…Alright."

The automatons were everywhere. 

They stood like silent sentinels at the gates, their brass and iron bodies gleaming in the sunlight. Their movements were jerky and mechanical, yet there was a strange precision to their actions, as if they were guided by an unseen hand. Each automaton was humanoid in shape, but their bodies were composed of interlocking plates, with exposed gears and pistons that hissed and clanked softly as they walked. Their heads were smooth and featureless save for two glowing, circular eyes—cold and unblinking—that emitted a faint blue or red light depending on their purpose. 

As the group entered the city, they observed the automatons interacting with civilians. One stood at a busy intersection, directing foot traffic with stiff, exaggerated motions, its voice a metallic monotone that echoed through the street: 

> "CITIZENS, PROCEED WITH CAUTION. DO NOT OBSTRUCT THE FLOW OF TRAFFIC." 

Another automaton stood outside a vendor's stall, scanning the contents of a crate while the merchant argued with it. 

"I got the right amount, ya hear?! You must not know who I am!"

> "ERROR: PAYMENT DOES NOT MATCH REQUIRED AMOUNT," the automaton droned, its glowing eyes flashing red. "ADDITIONAL FUNDS MUST BE PROVIDED." 

Further down the street, a group of automatons marched in unison, dragging a ragged man in chains. The man's pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as the automatons pulled him toward an ominous iron tower in the distance, their glowing eyes unyielding. 

Gridd clenched his fists at the sight. "This ain't right," he muttered, his voice low and simmering with anger. "They're treatin' these people like cattle. It wasn't like this last time I was here. Gotta do somethin'—."

Sethrak placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder, his reptilian eyes narrowing. "Not yet," he said firmly. "If you act now, you'll die. And you'll take us with you. Our father spent years using alchemy to create these automatons, magic doesn't work on them."

Gridd scowled but said nothing, his gaze lingering on the man as he disappeared into the tower. 

Draeven looked around, his fingers twitching, thinking, 'This place makes me feel uneasy.'

As they ventured deeper into Svarthelm, the stark divide between the wealthy and the poor became painfully evident. The main streets were lined with opulent buildings, their walls adorned with intricate carvings and gilded embellishments. Expensive vendors displayed their wares in elaborate stalls: silks imported from distant lands, rare gems that sparkled like captured starlight, and mechanical trinkets that whirred and clicked with mesmerizing complexity. 

A noblewoman in a flowing crimson gown walked past, her neck draped in pearls the size of marbles. She was flanked by two automatons, their glowing blue eyes scanning the crowd for potential threats. 

"Make sure no dirt gets on me. This is fine leather."

The automatons responded, "Yes ma'am."

Nearby, a group of children in tattered clothing begged for scraps outside a bakery. The baker shooed them away with a broom, muttering curses under his breath. 

"Get out of here! Making me look bad!"

In the alleys, the shadows deepened, and the air grew colder. Shady figures lurked in the gloom, their whispered conversations cut short whenever an automaton passed by. One man darted out of an alley, his face pale and desperate, but an automaton intercepted him with terrifying speed. 

> "UNAUTHORIZED ACTIVITY DETECTED," the automaton intoned. 

The man raised his hand, summoning a burst of lightning magic and it hit the automaton, but the automaton didn't flinch. It lunged forward, its claw-like hands snapping around the man's throat. With brutal efficiency, it twisted, snapping the man's neck with a sickening crack, blood shot from the mana eyes and mouth, nose and ears. Blood pooled on the cobblestones as the automaton dragged the body away, its glowing eyes cold and indifferent. 

Another automaton arrived moments later, extending a mechanical arm that sprayed a fine mist over the bloodstain. Within seconds, the mess was gone, leaving no trace of the violent encounter. 

Kivorn's jaw tightened as he watched. "We…could stop this," he growled, his voice barely above a whisper. "We…don't need Xyenn or Yuuna. We're strong enough on our own." 

Zyphira shook her head, her expression grim. "You're wrong," she said. "We're outnumbered, outmatched, and we don't know how these machines work. Magic doesn't affect them. Charging in without a plan is suicide, duh."

Kivorn glared at her, his frustration evident. 

'Not strong enough without Xyenn or Yuuna. I hate this. No joy on the faces of the people, only the rich assholes. The same joy I want to have, can only be granted to us by being strong enough. Pains me, I can't do this on my own.'

As they continued through the city, Draeven suddenly stopped, his sharp eyes narrowing as he looked up. 

"What-what is that?" he muttered, pointing to the sky. 

The others followed his gaze and saw them—iron cages suspended high above the city, barely visible against the bright sky. Inside each cage was a figure, their bodies limp and lifeless. Some were skeletal remains, their bones picked clean by crows that circled overhead. Others were still alive, their gaunt faces staring blankly at the city below. 

Illyana covered her mouth in horror. "They're...keeping them up there?" 

"An example," Sethrak said darkly. "A warning to the poor. Step out of line, and that's where you'll end up. The nobles here who step out of line are only able to pay a fine of gold coins. Even if they massacre an entirety of people. They need an ass kicking."

Gridd's knuckles cracked as he balled his fists. "We'll save the lot of em' when we get the chance."

"You can, and you will," Sethrak snapped, her voice sharp. "Remember to keep your composure here. If you die here, what good will it do? We need to be smart about this. We still have a mission: Find the old sanctuary of the Velmires and summon Kassius."

Gridd stared at him for a long moment before nodding reluctantly. 

'The lad's right. I should focus. Not let my moral compass turn me into a fool. I grew out of that, remember?'

Kivorn noticed how Sethrak and Zyphira are more serious now more than ever. This is the very place they had escaped their perverted father, the place that haunted them for years. Sethrak is known to be brutally honest with a smile while keeping his arrogant demeanor, and Zyphira is usually happy and outgoing without a care in the world. It was completely obvious how this are affects them.

The group turned a corner and found themselves in a plaza filled with vendors and performers. A man in a gold-trimmed cloak played a harp made of silver, its music hauntingly beautiful. Nearby, a vendor sold finely crafted masks, each one more elaborate than the last. Rich nobles strolled through the plaza, their laughter loud and grating as they purchased trinkets and luxuries without a care in the world. 

But the peace was shattered by a commotion near the plaza's edge. A group of men, their faces hidden by hoods, had pulled knives on a merchant and were demanding his goods. 

Before the group could react, two automatons arrived, their glowing eyes flashing red. 

> "CRIMINAL ACTIVITY DETECTED. TERMINATION INITIATED." 

The criminals turned their weapons on the automatons, hurling bolts of magic. The automatons didn't flinch. They advanced with terrifying precision, their clawed hands slicing through the attackers like knives through butter. 

One man's head was severed cleanly from his shoulders. Another was impaled on an automaton's extended arm, his body twitching as blood pooled beneath him. The remaining criminal tried to flee, but an automaton caught him, snapping his spine with a single blow. 

The automatons cleaned up the carnage with methodical efficiency, dragging the bodies away and erasing the bloodstains. The nobles in the plaza barely seemed to notice, their laughter and conversation continuing as if nothing had happened. 

>"FOR THE GLORY OF THE KINGDOM, ENEMIES HAVE BEEN DEALT WITH."<

Everywhere they looked, the city was alive with activity. Nobles haggled over rare goods, performers entertained crowds, and automatons patrolled the streets with unyielding vigilance. But beneath the surface, there was a festering rot: the suffering of the poor, the brutality of the automatons, and the oppressive control of the city's elite. 

Illyana's heart ached as she looked around. "This place... it's beautiful, but it's wrong," she said softly. 

Sethrak nodded. "It's a gilded cage. Everything looks perfect on the surface, but underneath, it's a nightmare." 

'I feel watched. We can't be exposed like this. We have to look for him…'

The farther they walked into Svarthelm, the more alive the city seemed—not alive in the warm, comforting way of a thriving village, but in the restless, buzzing way of something unnatural, something driven by cold purpose. The distinct hiss of steam valves, the rhythmic clatter of gears, and the sharp metallic whirring of the automatons filled the air. It was a city constantly moving, constantly shifting, as if the very streets were part of a vast machine. 

The streets grew narrower, the buildings taller. Massive stone structures interwoven with metal scaffolding loomed over them, their windows gleaming with polished glass and their walls adorned with intricate patterns of steel and gold. Bridges of dark iron connected the upper levels of these buildings, allowing the wealthy to traverse the city without ever setting foot on the streets below. 

Above, the wealthy elite walked these iron bridges, their laughter and conversation drifting down to the streets like faint echoes. They wore fine silks embroidered with metallic threads, their clothing shimmering with a faint magical glow. Some carried floating crystal orbs that acted as personal assistants, whispering advice or reminders into their ears. Others were flanked by automatons, their movements precise and deferential. 

Below, on the crowded streets, the poor labored in misery. Ragged beggars sat slumped against the walls, their hollow eyes watching as nobles strode past without so much as a glance. Merchants hawked their goods with desperate enthusiasm, their voices hoarse from shouting over one another. 

As the group passed through one of the busier districts, they were bombarded by the sheer cacophony of the city. A vendor with a small stall crowded with glass jars of colored liquids waved them over. 

"Come, come! Elixirs for the weary traveler! Boost your strength, sharpen your mind, make your skin glow like the nobles above! Only 500 gold!" 

One person approached, saying, "You fucking scammer!"

"I'm not!"

"You're not even an alchemist! You don't have the brand on the back of your hand!"

"You'll never take me alive!" He yelled, running off as automatons chased him.

Next to him, a jeweler displayed ornate necklaces and rings that gleamed with a faint inner light. "Genuine enchanted gold! Wards off sickness, improves your luck, and guarantees success in love!" he called, his voice smooth and practiced. 

Illyana smiled, "Yuuna would love it here."

Draeven asked, "Hope they get here fast, wonder where they'll pop up at?"

"Somewhere random. With Yuuna maybe screaming at the nobles or trying to eat them."

Sethrak added, "Even with her, she will have to be reminded these are very dangerous grounds. This place is unpredictable, ruled over by those of nobility and wealth right under our fathers wing. People see this as a land of opportunity, but don't know the extreme prejudice once they walk through the gates."

A crowd had gathered around a performer, a thin man in tattered clothing who juggled small, glowing orbs of fire. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the orbs spinning into the air, where they formed a burning outline of a dragon before exploding into harmless sparks. The crowd erupted in applause, tossing coins at his feet. 

"Haha! I have more to show!"

One rich couple said to each other:

"We can hire him for our banquet tonight."

"Oh indeed. He'll spice up the evening with his theatrics."

Nearby, a fortune-teller sat behind a small table draped in a shimmering black cloth. Her eyes glowed faintly as she spoke to a nervous young woman. "Beware the second moonrise," she intoned. "It will bring blood and sorrow." 

"Really…? Am I that doomed?"

"I'm afraid so, darling. That'll be 200 gold coins."

"Hey that's steep isn't it? You first told me it was 10 gold coins."

"The worse your fate is, the worse the price gets. I'm a witch, there's always a price."

As they moved into a slightly quieter part of the city, the shadows grew longer, and the air grew colder. The alleys here seemed darker than they should have been, as if the light itself avoided them. Figures moved in the gloom, watching silently as the group passed by. 

Sethrak glanced down one of the alleys, his reptilian eyes narrowing. "Careful," he muttered. "This city has its secrets. There are whispers of a guild of thieves that operates in the shadows, stealing from the rich and disappearing without a trace. And where there are thieves, there are assassins."

Zyphira nodded. "I've heard the same. They say there's a network of vigilantes as well, but whether they're here to help the poor or just cause chaos, no one knows. Either way, it's best not to attract attention." 

Gridd scoffed, his voice gruff and tinged with his dwarven accent. "Bah, cowards, the lot of 'em. If they had any spine, they'd stand in the open and fight, not skulk around like rats in the dark. But…it's good someone's doin' something. Being smart about it anyway."

As they continued, the group passed a small plaza where a group of automatons was assisting a group of wealthy merchants. One automaton carefully polished a nobleman's boots, its metallic hands moving with surprising delicacy. Another carried heavy crates of goods, its gears creaking under the weight but never faltering. 

A merchant barked orders at an automaton, demanding it arrange his wares more neatly. The automaton obeyed without question, its glowing blue eyes unblinking. 

"Always good to have these bad boys around. The king really dedicated years to this so it can serve us and this continent."

On the other side of the plaza, a group of children in tattered clothing tried to sneak past an automaton carrying a tray of food. But the automaton noticed them immediately, its glowing eyes flashing red. 

"UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED," it intoned, its voice flat and emotionless. The children scattered, vanishing into the alleys. 

The group passed by a shop selling enchanted wares, its windows filled with glowing trinkets and magical artifacts. A floating quill scribbled notes on a piece of parchment, while a miniature golem made of crystal demonstrated its ability to lift heavy objects. 

As they reached a quieter part of the city, Sethrak and Zyphira gathered the group close. 

"We need to find someone," Sethrak said. Zunoshi the Alchemist. He's one of the few people in this city who can help us." 

"Help us..: how?" Kivorn asked, his lazy frustration evident. 

Zyphira glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "Our father... the King of Jörvaldr... He's not just a man. He's the vessel of the Dragon God of Gold and Wealth. If he sees us, he'll recognize us immediately. There's no telling what he would do. We barely went to this part of the city, but I know he feels us in his kingdom. We can't linger on the outside too long."

Sethrak nodded. "Zunoshi can make us a potion to mask our identities. It won't last forever, but it'll buy us enough time to do what we need to do. He's an alchemist."

Illyana, Draeven, and Kivorn said in sync, "I mean if you said he's Zunoshi the alchemist then he's obviously he's an—."

Sethrak scoffed, "I KNOW WHAT I SAID."

Zyphira chuckled, "Oooh Sethrak's embarrassed."

Gridd crossed his arms, his expression skeptical. "And where do we find this alchemist?" 

Zyphira smiled faintly. "That's the easy part. He's in the Brass Vein Market. The hard part is getting there without drawing attention." 

The group pressed on through the thrumming streets of Svarthelm, weaving through the chaos. The air felt heavier the deeper they traveled, the mechanical hum of automatons blending with the chatter of merchants, the cries of beggars, and the occasional hiss of steam escaping from the city's many pipes. 

The district they entered was darker, the towering buildings almost blotting out the pale sunlight above. Here, the wealth of the city seemed to fade slightly—not gone, but noticeably less polished. The streets were still bustling, but the vendors were scrappier, their goods slightly less refined. The rich still passed through on their elevated walkways, but their laughter felt more distant. 

"Where exactly is this bloody market we're headed to?" Gridd muttered, his voice deep and gruff with his dwarven accent. He scratched his thick beard as he glanced at the others. "What'd ye call it again?" 

"The Brass Vein" Sethrak replied, his voice low and cautious. He motioned for the group to keep moving. "It's where the alchemists, tinkerers, and collectors of... unconventional goods congregate." 

"Unconventional, eh?" Gridd huffed. "Sounds like a bloody mess waitin' to happen." 

"It usually is," Zyphira muttered, her sharp eyes scanning the streets. 

As they rounded a corner, the group came upon a large crowd gathered in a plaza. People stood shoulder to shoulder, craning their necks to look up at a figure standing atop one of the buildings. The man on the rooftop had his arms spread wide, his booming voice echoing down into the plaza. 

"And that, my friends," the man bellowed, "is why you need someone like me—Gunthr of the Crimson Claws—to keep you safe!" 

The crowd erupted into murmurs and laughter, most of them mocking him openly. 

"Oh, sure, Gunthr," someone shouted from the crowd. "And what beast did you slay this week? Another rat in the gutters?" 

Laughter rippled through the crowd, but Gunthr remained undeterred. His guildmates—clearly his Crimson Claws—cheered loudly from the rooftop around him, clapping and yelling their support like sycophantic jesters. 

"He's a legend!"

"Yeah, Gunthr's a beats himself! Show respect!"

"Laugh all you want!" Gunthr barked, his voice rising above the crowd. "But when the Abominations of War come clawing at your gates, you'll be begging for my help!" 

The crowd quieted slightly at that. 

Gunthr seized the moment. "You've all heard the rumors! These aren't just beasts. They're harmless creatures twisted by the power of the war gods, turned into bloodthirsty monsters! They don't want food or land—they want to fight! And they'll tear through your villages, your families, everything you hold dear!" 

"Ha! You expect us to believe that?" a man in the crowd sneered. "You're just trying to scare us into hiring you, Gunthr!" 

Gunthr's guildmates, however, roared their agreement. 

"Aye!" one of them shouted. "Did you hear him? He said war gods! You think you can fight off a beast corrupted by divine power without us?" 

"Aye, Gunthr saw 'em with his own two eyes!" another chimed in. "And so did we!" 

Gunthr raised his hands again, his voice booming. "I've faced these creatures! I've *killed* them! And if you've got any sense, you'll hire the **Crimson Claws** to protect your homes before it's too late!" 

The crowd wasn't buying it. More laughter rippled through the plaza, but Gunthr didn't seem to care. 

As Gunthr continued his tirade, his eyes scanned the crowd. They suddenly stopped on the group—on Illyana, Zyphira, Sethrak, Kivorn, and Draeven. 

"You!" he shouted, pointing directly at them. The crowd turned to look. 

Zyphira tensed, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. Sethrak muttered a curse under his breath. 

"I've seen you before!" Gunthr said, leaning forward as if trying to get a better look. "You were at Gabriel's Ladder, weren't you?! Who's that dwarf with you? And the others who were with you?"

The Crimson Claws turned to look at them as well, their eyes lighting up with interest. 

Kivorn sighed, "Oh…thats that one guy Gorran beat up.."

Zyphira pointed, "Ooooooh that's the annoying guy with those yes-men guild mates. He's funny."

'If the abominations of war made it here, then Ezrael might be planning to attack this place, but my father hasn't been telling the people of Jörvaldr. Keeping it under wraps. He's selfish like that..'

Illyana smiled, "That's him? From the outside of the gate? Haha, I thought he got slaughtered."

"Move," Sethrak hissed, nudging the group forward. "He'll be the one to screw us over."

"Oi! Wait!" Gunthr called after them, his voice cutting through the crowd. "Don't walk away! I'm talkin' to you!" 

But the group kept moving, weaving through the crowd as quickly as they could without drawing more attention. 

The crowd, however, wasn't done with Gunthr. Their interest was piqued by the mention of Gabriel's Ladder, a name that clearly carried weight. 

"Gabriel's Ladder?" someone in the crowd called out. "You've been there?!"

Gunthr hesitated, glancing between the retreating group and the suddenly curious crowd. 

One of his guildmates leaned in, whispering loudly enough for those nearby to hear. "Gunthr, this is it! If we tell 'em about Gabriel's Ladder, they'll see we're the real deal! We could make a killing here! Drowning in gold coins before we even know it!"

Gunthr frowned. "But what if that THING is still there?! That naked glowing woman that killed almost everyone?! Their blood will be on us!"

"But think of the gold, Gunthr!" another guildmate said, practically salivating. "If they believe we've been there, they'll be beggin' for our help! We'll be kings of Svarthelm!" 

Gunthr hesitated, clearly torn, but the group didn't stick around to hear the rest. 

Once Sethrak and the group were far enough away, Kivorn finally spoke, his voice low with disbelief. "I…can't believe Gunthr and his lot made it out of Gabriel's Ladder alive," he said. "Not after the Lysfødt breached it…he's tough.."They slaughtered almost everyone at Gabriel's Ladder. Gunthr and his guild shouldn't have made it out alive. Something's not right." 

Before anyone could respond, Draeven tensed, his sharp eyes darting to the side. 

"Hey!" he said, spinning around. 

'I was careless!'

In that split second, Draeven had saw it—invisible hands, faintly shimmering in the light, slipping something out of Draeven's pouch. The hands darted away, attached to a small figure that giggled as it bolted into the crowd. 

"He can see us?!" a high-pitched voice squeaked. 

"We're screwed!" another whispered. 

"Just keep running until we get there!" 

Draeven didn't hesitate. He vanished in a blur of motion, his speed unnaturally fast. 

"Draeven, wait!" Illyana called after him, but he was already gone, darting through the crowd after the invisible thieves. 

Sethrak said, "Let him deal with them. Kivorn go with him. We'll look for the alchemist."

Kivorn pouted, "Why me..?"