Valhalla Palace's Sparring Grounds
“Argh!”
A Nod warrior thrust his sword into his comrade’s chest. Crunch! Black energy poured from the blade, shredding the Nod warrior’s body to pieces.
“Gah!”
The warrior with the pierced chest groaned. “Surrender!”
“Like hell—!”
The impaled warrior bashed his comrade’s head against his own to shake him off. He staggered but quickly regained his balance. With a roar, red aura burst from his body. He swung his axe. Clang!
“Hmmm~”
Amid the chaos of clashing battles, a woman hummed a cheerful tune. Kankun Raguna. Her eyes suddenly widened as she hummed along.
Slash!
The Nod warrior who’d lost his arm collapsed, and another who’d claimed victory raised his sword high, bellowing in triumph. “For Valhalla! I, Razan, son of Noran, have defeated Diana!”
“Ooooh!”
Cheers erupted around them. Blood trickled from the chest of the defeated warrior, his vision blurring. Just before death claimed him, Kankun approached and sprinkled a potion over him.
“Gaaah! Damn! Thought I was done for!”
The warrior, revived from the brink, clutched his chest, gasping. The wound had vanished as if it were a lie.
“Haha! No one dies in Valhalla!”
Kankun couldn’t help but marvel at the sight every time. The blessing of the skillbook is incredible!
Loki had selected only the elite among the Nod warriors and ordered them to master the “skillbook.” And just by reading the book, they could wield Divine Gifts.
So it’s true—only those chosen by Constellations can use Divine Gifts!
And thanks to the potions? The Nod warriors could train in brutal, life-or-death combat every day. Not only did the number of Divine Gift users explode, but they gained real battle experience too. Warriors who were already strong grew even stronger.
Just then, a young man appeared walking down the palace corridor.
“Ah! Lord Aum!”
“Hm? Ah, Lady Kankun.”
Aum Linia bowed his head in respect to Kankun. Feeling awkward, she bowed back in kind. To Aum, she was a shrine maiden chosen by Loki himself, deserving of such honor. To Kankun, being treated this way by a former great chieftain still felt strange and burdensome.
“Where are you headed?”
“To see Lord Loki.”
“Ah! Then I’ll come too.”
It was just the time for her morning prayers anyway.
An average of fifty refugees flowed into the frozen lands each day. They were all fugitives or wanderers with nowhere else to go. Most had lost half their numbers to monsters—or fellow humans—before even reaching the frozen wastes, dying of starvation or slaughter. Loki, taking pity on them, had decided to accept them. And over the years, it had become routine.
This morning began the same way: welcoming refugees. Some thirty gathered in the grand hall, met by watchful gazes. Loki sat upon the jade throne, with Shaman and Aum, Per and Kudan, and Kankun standing below.
Kankun tilted her head up at Loki. “Huh?”
The odd sound drew most eyes to her, but Aum ignored it and pressed on. “Refugees from the southern Britann continent, my lord Constellation. What is your will?”
“……”
Hans was normally in charge of refugees, but for some reason, he’d vanished since last night. No accidents could happen in Valhalla Palace, and since Loki hadn’t summoned him, the subordinates assumed he’d been given a mission and let it slide.
Aum blinked at Loki. Something felt off today. Alien? Awkward? Unnatural, somehow.
“Lord Loki?”
“Uh… um… handle it… yourselves.”
Loki waved his hand like a malfunctioning doll, movements jerky.
“…Understood.”
Aum glanced at Per, who nodded and led the refugees away.
With them gone, they moved to reviewing letters from the provinces. A mountain of scrolls piled before Loki.
“Dispatches from the regions, my lord. Please review and judge them…”
Loki nodded and reached out. The motion was unnaturally stiff.
“…Are you unwell?”
As Aum approached to ask, Loki flinched and shook his head. “No! I mean… no way?!”
“…Your voice sounds strange too. You must be under the weather.”
“Y-yeah! Just a bit of a cold! Not feeling great today…”
A cold? Aum smiled faintly. Another excuse to shirk work, no doubt.
That’s when Kankun tilted her head again. “Um…”
All eyes turned to her.
“Lord Hans, what are you doing?”
Heads swiveled back to “Loki.”
“…What are you talking about…?”
“You’re wearing armor modeled after Lord Loki’s…”
“Loki” cleared his throat awkwardly. “I don’t know what you mean.”
As “Loki” hurriedly reached for the scrolls, Aum swiftly grabbed his hand.
“……!”
“Loki” froze. He glanced cautiously at Aum, whose face smiled but whose forehead veins throbbed visibly.
“What are you doing on the Constellation’s throne, Lord Hans?”
“…What? Aum, Hans? I’m not Hans…?”
“Drop the terrible acting.”
Aum’s smile vanished, his face twisting in fury. “Loki” shuddered.
“…S-sorry, Lord Aum.”
Not Loki—but Hans, clad in the fake armor forged by dwarf Reran at Loki’s request—bowed his head.
“Where is our master, Lord Loki? That’s what we want to know.”
Hans struggled to move the heavy armor, finally pulling a crumpled note from his bosom and handing it over. Aum took it and read aloud.
I’ve found traces of my comrade’s whereabouts. I’ll head out personally, so you search for her swiftly too… And… take good care of Asgard…
Everyone who heard it thought the same thing.
He ran away—?!
Aum ground his teeth, pressing his temples hard. Murderous intent flashed in his eyes, old traumas from the frozen lands resurfacing.
“Not once, but twice now—making trouble for me the same way. Truly impressive, our Constellation!”
In Norse myth, Loki was the god who loved his tricks.
“Achoo!”
Walking across the frozen lake bridge linking the northern frozen lands to southern Britann, Loki rubbed his nose.
“A cold…? Nah, no way! Still… how much farther?”
Loki frowned at the vast expanse. Incredibly wide. Word was it took two days on this ice path before land appeared—far and treacherous.
“Summon Sleipnir?”
The legendary steed ridden by Odin, king of the Norse gods. An eight-legged monster horse with mid-boss-level speed and power. One of the summon options for Loki’s spear, Gungnir.
No, that’d draw too much attention.
He’d left Hans as a double, but discovery was inevitable. Aum would send pursuers. A nation’s ruler couldn’t vanish without repercussions—especially now, with critical issues needing Loki’s decisions.
Though they don’t really need me anyway.
Aum Linia and Hans could handle it. He’ll probably lecture me for hours when I get back.
“Britann continent, huh… Wonder what it’s like?”
Curiosity stirred him. His goal was finding his old colleague, Yun Sirin, but traveling an unknown world brought strange excitement. If she was the “Angel of Death” he sought… she’d roamed the continent for some 300 years longer than him.
What kind of world did you see, Sirin?
“Halt right there!”
A shout rang out, followed by hoofbeats. Loki stopped and turned. Soldiers approached from afar—Nod warriors, now elite troops of Asgard. They surrounded him adeptly on horseback.
“Who goes there? Who dares enter the frozen lands’ gateway… Huh?”
The lead soldier eyed Loki. He wore a crow mask, traveler’s leather garb, and a fur-trimmed robe. To a Nod, the beast mask screamed “hunter,” but a crow mask? They froze.
Only one in the frozen lands wore a crow mask.
“Sh-shaman?!”
“It’s Hoon!”
The soldiers dismounted in shock, kneeling and bowing. Asgard’s number two stood before them—it was only natural.
“Ah, the guards posted here?”
Loki vaguely recalled stationing troops at the frozen lake to protect incoming refugees full of hope.
“Y-yes, sir. Forgive our rudeness just now…!”
“No, it’s good. Better vigilant than lax. But handle it gentler, or newcomers will fear to cross.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
“Then I’ll be off…”
Loki waved and quickened his pace, wary they might be Aum’s men. But a kneeling soldier called out in panic.
“S-sir Hoon!”
Loki halted awkwardly. “Uh, where to? That path leads out of Asgard.”
“Hm? Oh, uh… got business on the continent.”
“The continent…?”
Loki nodded. It’d be exposed soon anyway. As long as he hid his exact goal, it’d be fine.
“What business…?”
Instead of answering, Loki questioned them. “Any of you been to the continent?”
The soldiers exchanged bewildered looks before staring back. “All of us, sir…”
“All?”
“Yes. After Asgard’s founding, most Nods on the continent returned here…”
Nods had tribes, not nations. Rumors of a homeland nation drew them all back—curiosity about their own country fueling it.
“I see. Then one question.”
“……?”
“Truthfully, I’m heading to the continent unprepared. Any advice?”
“You, sir? You could handle most trouble yourself. Stronger than anyone in the frozen lands. But…”
“But?”
“To avoid hassle, steer clear of nobles.”
“Nobles?”
The soldiers nodded in unison. “Yes. Arrogant types who look down on all lesser classes. High or low rank, touching one means trouble. Whatever your goal, no good comes from tangling with them.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
As Loki turned to leave, “Oh, one more thing!”
He glanced back; the soldiers looked troubled. “The Church… those of the Holy Church—never touch them, no matter what.”