KamiKowa: That Time I Got Transmigrated With A Broken Goddess
Chapter 97: [97] No Such Thing as Free Rides

Chapter 97: [97] No Such Thing as Free Rides

Xavier’s headache intensified, each throb like a hammer striking an anvil inside his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pain to subside, but it only grew stronger. This wasn’t normal—even his worst migraines had never felt this severe.

He tried to focus on his Input Buffer display, summoning it with a thought. The translucent pink interface flickered into existence, but the numbers and metrics wavered, difficult to read through the haze of pain.

HP: [■■■■■■■■■■■■■] 800/800

IB: [□□□□□□□□□□] 0/250

The display showed his health at full capacity despite the agony in his head. If he wasn’t taking damage, then the pain had to be from something else. Being separated from Calypso seemed the most likely cause—their divine entanglement meant they couldn’t be more than two hundred meters apart without consequences.

But I’m still alive, Xavier thought. That has to mean something.

The bearded man watched him with narrowed eyes. "You don’t look so good.."

Xavier dismissed the display with another thought and pressed his fingers against his temples. "Just a headache. It’ll pass." He took a deep breath of the frigid air, letting it fill his lungs. "I didn’t catch your name."

"Didn’t throw it," the man replied, then chuckled at his own joke. He scratched his beard, dislodging small crystals of ice that had formed in the thick hair. "Name’s Gunnar. Been trading between the settlements for thirty years now." He jerked a thumb toward the driver. "That’s Rachel. She’s the one who insisted we pick you up."

Xavier leaned forward to get a better look at the driver. The movement sent fresh pain lancing through his head, but he pushed through it. All he could see was the back of a fur-lined hood and shoulders wrapped in thick animal pelts.

"She’s a seer?"

Gunnar nodded. "One of the better ones. When she says jump, smart folks ask how high." He lowered his voice. "Been traveling with her for eight months now. Still gives me the creeps sometimes, the way she knows things."

Xavier stored that information away. A seer who’d insisted they pick him up meant someone in this place had anticipated his arrival.

"Thank you for stopping for me," Xavier said, directing his words toward the driver. "I appreciate it."

The driver’s head turned slightly, acknowledging his words, but she didn’t speak or look back.

"Don’t take it personal," Gunnar said. "She doesn’t talk much. Says the voices are too loud already."

Xavier nodded as if that made perfect sense. He turned his attention to the world around them, trying to gather as much information as possible.

The landscape was harsh but beautiful. Snow-covered mountains dominated the horizon, their jagged peaks cutting into the gray sky like teeth. Forests of pine and fir clung to the lower slopes, their branches heavy with snow. The valley they traveled through was relatively flat, though outcroppings of dark rock broke through the white blanket occasionally.

The cold was unlike anything Xavier had experienced—a deep, penetrating chill that seemed to reach into his bones despite the fur blanket someone had draped over him.

This isn’t Earth, Xavier realized. Or at least, not the Earth I know.

The wagon hit a rut in the road, jostling its occupants. Xavier’s head throbbed with renewed intensity, and he couldn’t suppress a groan.

"Here," Gunnar said, reaching into a pouch at his belt. He pulled out a small leather flask and offered it to Xavier. "Firewine. It’ll help with the pain."

Xavier accepted the flask cautiously. He removed the stopper and sniffed the contents, detecting a strong alcoholic aroma mixed with something herbal.

He took a small sip. The liquid burned going down, spreading warmth through his chest. Almost immediately, the edge of his headache dulled. Not gone, but manageable.

"Thanks," Xavier said, handing the flask back. "That helps."

Gunnar nodded, returning the flask to his pouch. "So, these friends of yours. What do they look like? Might be we can help you find them."

Xavier considered how much to reveal. Without knowing more about this place, it was hard to gauge what would sound strange or suspicious.

"One has silver hair," he said, deciding that Calypso was his priority. "Pink eyes. About this tall." He held his hand to indicate her height. "We were traveling together when we got separated."

"Silver hair, eh?" Gunnar rubbed his beard. "That’s unusual. Not many with hair that color except for the very old or..." He trailed off, eyeing Xavier with new suspicion.

"Or what?" Xavier prompted.

"Or those with the blood of the Winter Court," Gunnar finished. "But you wouldn’t be traveling with one of them, would you? Not unless you’re a fool or a spy..."

Xavier kept his expression neutral despite the pounding in his head. "We’re not from the Winter Court. Just have unusual coloring."

Gunnar studied him for a long moment, then shrugged. "Your business, I suppose. "

The wagon crested a small rise, revealing a larger settlement far ahead. Unlike the scattered hamlets they’d passed, this one was substantial—a proper town or small city. It sprawled across the valley floor, surrounded by a wall of dark stone. Buildings of varying sizes clustered within the walls, many with smoke rising from chimneys. At the center stood what appeared to be a fortress built into the side of a mountain, its towers reaching toward the sky.

"Vykengard," Gunnar announced, gesturing toward the settlement. "Not the prettiest city, but the forges keep it warm, and the walls keep out the worst of the winter beasts."

"How much farther?" Xavier asked, partly to keep Gunnar talking, partly to distract himself from the pain.

"We’ll be there in a few hours," Gunnar replied. "You planning to look for your friends there?"

Xavier nodded, which was a mistake—the movement sent fresh waves of pain through his skull. "It seems like a good place to start."

"You got coin?" Gunnar asked bluntly. "Vykengard isn’t cheap, especially for outsiders."

Xavier realized he had no idea what passed for currency in this place. His wallet contained credit cards and cash that would be useless here.

"I can work," he said. It wasn’t a direct answer, but it was true. He had skills that could be valuable in almost any setting.

Gunnar laughed. "Everyone can work. Question is, can you do something worth paying for?" He eyed Xavier’s clothing. "You don’t look like a smith or a hunter. What skills you got?"

Xavier weighed his options. In his previous life, his marketable skills had been assassination, theft, and seduction—none of which seemed wise to advertise.

"I’m good with my hands," he said finally. "Quick learner. Good at solving problems."

"Vague," Gunnar noted. "But I suppose you’ll figure something out or starve trying." He reached into a pack beside him and pulled out a chunk of dark bread and a strip of dried meat.

"Here. You look half-starved already."