Baldur and the Mistletoe (1)
A colossal Jotun sat upon the throne of the void. Those unmistakable purple eyes. Ashen-grey skin paired with calluses covered in blackened, hardened scales. Within those eyes existed only immeasurable sorrow and pitch-black darkness. At the same time, a mismatched, bitter smile played across his lips.
Born between the giant Fárbauti and Laufey, he was a Jotun. Literally born when lightning struck a conifer tree—a fiery man whose flames refused to die out. A father who longed for his three children, and the enemy of the gods. Once he had stood beside them, played pranks with them, but now he was the master of the void, waiting for his chance at revenge.
Countless titles could be attached to him, but this single name was enough.
Loki.
He was watching a man who stood before him, chuckling with glee. A loyal servant who had carried out the plan flawlessly, even at the cost of his own fangs. All because Nidhogg had brought the holy sword.
“Kekeke. Amazing. Absolutely amazing, Loki!” It was pure admiration. “Just like you said, that stupid saintess bitch dragged the hero along. How the hell did you pull that off?”
“That’s—” Loki began to speak heavily, but Nidhogg pressed a finger to his lips and shushed him. “No. Don’t tell me. Yeah, I think I can guess anyway.”
Whether Loki’s brow furrowed or not didn’t matter to Nidhogg. It wasn’t important. Thanks to Loki’s grand plan, he could finally destroy Yggdrasil. Dealing with some nameless eagle would be as easy as eating cold porridge.
Loki let out a sigh and reached out. His massive black fingers closed around the holy sword. Nidhogg handed it over without resistance. After all, that had been the goal from the start.
Kiiiing—!
Like the sound of gears locking into place and stopping. An overwhelming roar erupted across the holy sword. Bright red blood surged upward. It was the rune of Odin that the hero Kim Taesik had engraved with his own blood.
Loki effortlessly dismantled the characters created by a supreme being. Tang. Tang. Tang! At the same time, he hammered void runes into the holy sword. A sword made from mere mistletoe, now capable of cutting the void. It felt like mocking the power of the beginning, and he didn’t like it.
But what could he do? This sword would signal the start of everything.
Loki let out a faint, crooked smile at the wound left behind from releasing the runes.
“...A hero, huh.”
There hadn’t been one in the ‘previous’ round. When the gods fell and the dead clashed with the Einherjar. Even when that old fart Thor smashed Jormungandr’s head. Even when Hel led the army of the dead into Midgard. Even when Sleipnir tore into the gods. The outsider named Kim Taesik had not existed.
Because it was such a peculiar situation, Loki had laughed.
Mistilteinn hadn’t looked like this in the previous round. What had been nothing more than a simple plant had now taken the form of a sword. The key that would announce the beginning of Ragnarok. The only thing capable of piercing the god Baldur.
Mistilteinn had finally taken the shape of a weapon and fallen into Loki’s grasp.
“Is this, too, fate?”
He had used the Goblet of Reincarnation to turn the world back. Carrying all his memories, he had stepped into the void for the first time. Between Niflheim and Muspellheim.
Loki had fused all the worlds connected by Yggdrasil into a single continent.
“Everything is for my children.”
To take away everything from that detestable Odin. To torment the humans he cherished and held dear. He had made the three hells exist near Midgard.
Loki was both king and master. A revenger living with all the memories of the previous round. At the same time, he was a father who loved his children.
Even if an outsider existed, it didn’t matter. He was nothing more than a human who borrowed the power of the holy sword and relied on Odin.
The hero Kim Taesik. The moment Loki altered the runes on the holy sword, their contract must have been severed.
“Kuhuhuhuhu!”
He could clearly picture Odin’s bewildered face. There had been a time when he believed Odin’s blessing would be with him.
“Not anymore.”
Don’t forget. I, too, once moved as one under Odin’s grace. And now, human, you will feel it too. What it means to no longer have Odin’s blessing.
“Nidhogg.”
“Yeah?”
“You may act freely now. You can fight the nameless eagle as you wished, or return to Niflheim.”
Those words carried many meanings. Nidhogg wasn’t stupid enough to miss them. It was a simple, straightforward message.
“...You mean spread the void, right?”
Kekeke. In the blink of an eye, Nidhogg had transformed into a massive dragon and spread his wings. The energy of the void swirled like a storm. The pressure was enough to make even Loki step back.
“I shall obey that command.”
A dragon’s roar echoed.
“O King of the Void.”
He bowed his head. It was no common sight for the apex predator of all living things to lower its head. Dragons were arrogant. Arrogant and ferocious. Nidhogg knew this well. Every dragon was like that. And yet this one had bowed to Loki.
Loki was strong.
At the sight, Loki chuckled softly and began to walk. Across empty air. He quite literally trampled the void as he moved. That was the dignity of the ruler and king of the void. The very image of a sovereign.
Slowly. Very slowly, he turned his gaze toward the god he had kidnapped. And with a truly fantastic idea—no, to recreate the past—he opened his mouth.
“Blind Hodr.”
“W-who are you…!”
Baldur’s brother and a god of Asgard. Loki felt a surge of anticipation at the chance to repeat it all again. Slowly, he poured the void into his head. It was simple hypnosis and manipulation.
In the previous round, Loki had thrown the mistletoe and killed Baldur himself. But not this time. Repeating a failure? Loki was no fool. Rather than being caught as the culprit, having Hodr throw it would create far greater chaos. That was the surest way to sow maximum confusion.
“The weather’s nice today, isn’t it?”
“...What the hell are you talking about all of a sudden?”
“It’s the perfect day to throw something at Baldur.”
Throwing weapons at someone who could not be harmed had already become a game among the gods of Asgard. It was also the moment when Baldur let his guard down.
Baldur was loved by the world. Nothing could wound him. He was quite literally an omnipotent god. That was why his death would bring a massive storm.
There was one thing Baldur had overlooked. It had been true in the previous round, and it was true now in this second round. The fragile mistletoe. Baldur had ignored the mistletoe, and that was why he would die.
Mistilteinn was a sword made from mistletoe. Its form might be different, but it was still his weakness.
The old Loki, who had been vicious and loved to toy with others. Old habits die hard. Even now, he intended to play a bitter prank. No—this was the bell signaling the beginning of his revenge.
“Hodr. Can’t you hear my voice? Why aren’t you answering?”
“...I’m asking who the hell you are!”
“It must be hard since you can’t see, right? I’ll help you. You want to throw a blade at Baldur too, don’t you?”
Hodr flinched. In the end, Loki had pierced the emptiness in his heart. He shouted. It was a massive resonating drum that echoed in the ears. The more it did, the more Loki wanted to carry out his plan.
“Wait, this voice is Lo—!!”
So that it would be even more despairing. So that he would be killed by his own brother. Starting with Baldur, he would kill the gods one by one. And eventually…
—Ragnarok.
He would cause that war once more. This time, he would not fail. He would definitely protect his children. Even if the world cursed him as evil, he would love them.
—In the end, what will swallow the world is the void.
Declaring this, Loki let out a giggling laugh. So bitterly. So viciously.
“Shh.”
“...Ah.”
“Throw this at your brother. He’ll definitely like it.”
He whispered.
*
It happened in an instant. Nidhogg’s breath had wrapped around my entire body and passed by. The bastard’s fang had been shattered by the holy sword. But in that fleeting moment, Nidhogg had snatched the holy sword away.
The situation had passed so quickly that I couldn’t regain my senses. I could feel my internal organs had been smashed to pieces. Even with my eyes closed and without feeling the pain, I knew. This was a seriously fucked situation.
More than anything, my connection with Odin had been severed. That meant the rune engraved with my blood had been erased. How?
The question arose, and I unconsciously tilted my head. Runes cannot be erased. You either use them or destroy them. Those are the only two options. But the holy sword cannot be destroyed. Mistilteinn was a sword with no way to break it.
Then there was only one possibility. That son of a bitch Nidhogg must have already done something. He had probably overlaid something on top of the rune. And the method would be anything but normal—something wicked and brutal. Because he was an evil dragon, after all.
In my frustration and rage, I bit my lip. Crunch… I felt a fang pierce through my lip. Pure white blood flowed down my chin.
“...Odin.”
I’m sorry.
“Fuck. It’s all over now.”
Yggdrasil would be stained by the void. Sorry I couldn’t clean up the shit properly. Fuck. Who would’ve thought Nidhogg would go after the holy sword? And by using Fina to lure me in, no less.
“Ughhh…”
“Hero!”
“I’m fine. I’m okay, so just call Fina over.”
She was probably still inside the ice wall, holding back the undead. Healing wounds like these would be as easy as eating cold porridge for her. So I asked them to call Fina, but—
Ah. Seria’s arm wasn’t in good shape either. Her blackened arm had been invaded by poison and void energy. Bete might be able to suck out the void energy, but not the poison. We needed Fina.
“I’ll go.”
“You will?”
“I can’t just watch a friend die.”
“Pfft. I’m not dying, dumbass.”
Of course, that was a lie. I was barely clinging to life, on the verge of death. My throat burned and my vision was blurry. The bleeding was too severe. The abdomen torn open by the breath was openly displaying its contents.
Thud!
“Th-thank you.”
“Save the thanks. Just hurry up and heal him, woman.”
Tirgar said indifferently. It was because I had told him about the previous hero party. Maybe that was why? Tirgar openly showed hostility toward them. He was only holding back because he had to. Because we needed them right now.
I didn’t expect anything from that bitch who had trolled us to the very end by grabbing our ankles, but the only one here who could use healing magic was the saintess Fina. So he endured it. He endured it while watching his little human friend dying.
“...Hey. Fina. Fuck, I told you to heal me, why are you gouging out the undead’s eyes?”
“S-sorry. I couldn’t hel—”
“Before I pull all your teeth out, try saying ‘I couldn’t help it…’ again. Then I really won’t hold back.”
A mistake is a mistake. I don’t like excuses. They’re just a way to run from problems and a defense mechanism for cowards. Of course, I’d make excuses in a justified situation, but we don’t call that an excuse. Fina was just looking for a pretext.
“...Forget it. Just heal me quickly.”
“Y-yes!”
She slowly chanted the runes. A warm, brilliant light gathered in both her hands. The divine power of the goddess Freya healed the wounds from deep within. The destroyed internal organs regenerated with new flesh. Fresh vitality flowed through my five viscera and six entrails, and the shattered bones cracked! snapped back into place with a brutal sound.
“Hoo…”
Niflheim was supposed to be cold enough to freeze you to death, yet I felt so furious that I thought I might burn to death from the heat. And so, a week passed.