Death's Disciple [Sys Apoc, OP Villain MC, LitRPG] Chapter 62: 1.62 Dinner Plans

Read chapter 62 of Death's Disciple [Sys Apoc, OP Villain MC, LitRPG] by TTReynolds on NovelPedia.

Chapter 62 The heart of Europe, Fredricka Heasten, managed to live up to the reputation. She was a tall woman, almost taller than myself, if not equal to me. Her strawberry blonde hair was fashioned into braids that were then hung in loops before being pulled back into a bun. Her piercing green eyes stole your gaze and held it like a vice grip. If one managed to finally pry their vision away from that vice, they would notice a small smattering of freckled over her cheeks, and an angular nose that set a divide between the symmetrical features of her face. She wore a lavish green gala gown with a closed collar and chest, though the back was open. It hugged her upper body from neck to waist, where it opened out like flower petals blooming about her legs. Long legs at that, which were visible between the flared dress folds. The fabric itself was patterned with intertwining lines in what appeared to be runic script, if not for the fact that the dress was wholly a mundane item. She was pretty, immensely so, but just as all the others in the room, it wasn’t her outward appearance that grabbed my attention. Her aura was soft, almost welcoming. A large realm of soothing energy that felt like a flowered garden in a summer day. That realm connected to the two women that stood behind her, connecting Fredricka to the two of them by a small, almost imperceptible tether. A tether that was made of silver light, of soul essence. Up to that point, I had never seen another Hunter, monster or entity that utilized the silvery energy. Besides Lady Death, of course, but that just went without saying. So to see those connections now, it sent me into a bit of tailspin. Is she also a Disciple? No, Death said I was the only one. So did that entity I fought back in the tower dungeon. I thought to myself as I watched the woman lean over slightly and speak into the ear of her guest who stood at her left. Some other ability or skill then? Something tied to her class? Exact knowledge on the abilities of the various Legendary Ten was hard to come by. They might have been globally famous, but they were also valuable assets. Figureheads, leaders, Beacons of Hope, in Barry’s case. Which meant most information beyond their lives before the System’s arrival, and the facts around their feats of power, were all that was known. That didn’t mean there weren’t clues to dissect. And I knew that Fredricka’s guests weren’t just powerful Mythic Hunters that she kept by her side. Her Guild’s name was Fólkvangr, and reports always referred to the eight women who were closest to her as Fredricka’s “Valkyries”. Those threads were easy to tie together and lead back to a simple assumption. It also explained why the men in her Guild were so desperate to join. Even Common Tier Hunters were accepted, and they all fought feverishly in any dungeon they entered, almost to the point of recklessness. And it was said that those Hunters who fought the hardest, got immensely stronger, as long as a Valkyrie was there to see their efforts. Barry might be the Beacon of Hope in the Americas, but Fredricka was the Goddess of Europe, and everyone was happy to fight for her. The woman Fredricka had whispered to approached the small group of Hector, Nieve and Barry. Even as a Mythic Hunter approaching Legends, she stood perfectly straight and carried no hint of hesitation in her expression. She stopped in front of them and bowed slightly, her own gown ruffling from the movement. Then she spoke softly, low enough that even I couldn’t make out the words. Barry’s eyes widened just a fraction, and he nodded in return. The woman turned around, and Barry looked over at me, nodding in a “come on” gesture. I separated from Norton and Kaia, meeting Barry in stride as he approached Fredricka. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as we moved, with every eye on us, and what was going on. We stopped in front of the three women, exchanging basic bows of greeting until Fredricka’s expression morphed from a