As the Assault Continued, Loki's Movements Gradually Slowed
As the attacks dragged on, Loki's movements grew increasingly sluggish. The black armor he wore boasted extreme defensive power and self-regeneration. Even so, constant exposure to the enemy's strikes meant it would shatter faster than it could heal—a simple truth. Especially against an opponent of equal caliber.
"...How long do you plan to keep this up?"
Helga's words missed the mark. Loki was attacking. He simply hadn't landed a fatal blow. She knew that much.
Most of Loki's armor lay in ruins. Evil spirits clung thickly to his arms, legs, torso, and face, suppressing him.
"...You're in the same boat, aren't you?"
"......"
"What are you hesitating for, Sirin?"
Helga bit her lower lip at Loki's words.
"It was just a mistake."
"You've always been a poor liar."
Just a little more, and I might spot an opening...
Loki eyed Helga's massive blue greatsword. Her hand trembled faintly. Her agitation was mounting with time. But subduing her through ordinary means would be tough.
Loki smacked his lips.
Should I go on the offensive?
He barely managed to steady himself. His body felt like a waterlogged sponge—heavy all over. Standing was a chore now. He yearned to use the mythic restraint artifact back in Valhalla Palace, but it wasn't at hand. Another approach it was.
Only one option available right now.
The creation he and Yun Sirin had devised together.
"Jormungandr! Fenrir!"
Loki's mythical offspring from legend. Monstrosities birthed by a god!
A wolf's head and a serpent's burst from his armor.
"......!"
"Seize Helga!"
At Loki's command, the two beasts wrapped their elongating bodies tightly around her. Helga ground her teeth at the familiar monsters and glared at Loki—or rather, his armor.
"That armor...?"
"Doesn't it ring a bell? It's the one you and I painstakingly crafted."
Loki snapped his fingers, and the serpent and wolf shadows tightened their grip on Helga.
"Especially this restraint skill—you came up with it yourself."
"......"
"Lady Helga!"
The Black-White Church followers drew their weapons and charged.
"Sleipnir."
Loki swung his golden spear, Gungnir, through the air. Space tore at the spear's tip, a paper-thin line rapidly expanding into a monstrous steed. Towering twice the size of a normal horse, with six legs, golden mane, and barding covering its body.
Sleipnir. The legendary mount ridden by the king of the gods, Odin.
The beast snorted fiercely, jaws gaping wide. A massive fireball materialized between its teeth and spewed toward the charging followers.
They scrambled back in panic.
"Entertain yourselves with it."
Loki glanced at Helga as he drew a green potion from his bosom. A purification potion.
He downed it, and the evil spirits clinging to him peeled away, drawn into Helga's body.
Gazing at Helga, pinned by the two beasts, Loki's red eyes gleamed.
"How's this? The tide has turned, hasn't it?"
"What... do you intend to do with me?"
"Nothing. If you've forgotten me... I only wish you'd hear my old tale."
"......"
"And reaffirm my identity."
Loki felt his own sense of self slipping away too. He'd sought Helga not just to ensure her safety, but to anchor his fracturing psyche. She was the only one in this alien world who could truly empathize.
"So, let's talk."
***
Loki began to speak. He recounted memories of their time together—not in this world, but their original one.
The more he shared, the more faintly Helga responded.
Darkness had fallen over the forest by then, moonlight their sole illumination.
"Your turn now."
"I... have nothing to say."
"Anything will do. What you've endured. Your life story, even."
"......"
He removed his helmet, flashing a bright smile. Helga stared blankly, her guard fully down.
What does he want from me?
"I..."
Helga's mouth moved of its own accord. Once started, the words flowed honestly, naturally—surprising even her.
She vented her rage along the way. Tales of trusting and following humans, only to be betrayed. Of the foreign nation she had relied on crumbling to ruin.
And... her search for "something."
Silence settled then, heavy and profound. Her eyes began to waver, as if recollection dawned. She looked at Loki.
Morning sunlight filtered through the leaves, birdsong the only sound in the quiet.
She spoke softly.
"My... name. Call it again."
"Sirin."
"Again..."
"Yun Sirin."
"......"
A long silence stretched. Then, she said,
"You're... finally here..."
Loki met her gaze.
"Why... only now..."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"...did you come find me?"
A faint smile touched her lips.
"Senior Kim Hoon..."
A name he hadn't heard in ages. Loki stared at Helga, then smiled gently.
"...Long time no see, Sirin."
His first greeting not as Loki's avatar, but as Kim Hoon himself.
***
Roden Territory had seen a flurry of incidents in short order.
First came the return of Prince Ash, presumed dead. He'd led the central nobles' main force out, only to return having lost most of the nobles and troops—dragging a horde of barbarians in tow. Rumors swirled that plunder was imminent.
Second was the massacre at the banquet hall. Assassins had ambushed the Nords Prince Ash brought. But the assassins were annihilated. Word spread that their corpses were displayed as table centerpieces at the Nords' feast, stoking unease among the locals. A female knight parading the streets with a skewer impaling a body hadn't helped.
Third: the Black-White Cult. They'd entered unhindered, distributing water and food to the people. With rumors they spread plague, this deepened the chaos.
And fourth: the cult's return, after seeming departed.
"...H-Hey! Is this okay?"
Wall guards gawked at the procession. Crow-masked Nords, flanked by the cult's high priestess in white robes, followers trailing behind.
They'd turned a blind eye last time, but with the territory's mood, they couldn't now.
As guards moved to block, the commanding knight halted them.
"...Orders came down. Don't touch the beast-masked Nords."
"But—!"
The previous group alone had terrified many. Letting these in was poison.
The knight knew, but...
"Too late. Botch this, and you might need to watch your back more than the front."
The guards didn't grasp it—until the citizens' reaction left them speechless.
"What the...!"
Some knelt, hands clasped in prayer toward the group. Guards and others shot them incredulous looks.
Among the pray-ers: bowers, chanters, even weepers.
Not mere respect or admiration. It was worship.
"Word is... the Black-White Cult fed the starving, healed the sick. Not just a few. Imagine the obsession from that grace..."
The knight groaned. A riot could erupt.
"We let it pass quietly."
He watched them go.
Loki arrived at the mansion to Aum and Kudan greeting him. Aum especially looked baffled.
"...Whatever this is, you've stirred up quite the spectacle."
Loki glanced at Helga, who followed silently behind.
"Guide her and her companions to rooms."
"Another odd crew. Who is she this time...?"
Aum trailed off, spotting Helga.
"D-Death Angel!"
"...Do you know me?"
"Of course...! Aum Linia, at your service! Don't you remember?"
Helga shook her head.
"Sorry. I don't recall everyone I meet."
"R-Really? B-But I learned cooking just for...!"
Disappointed by her blank response, Aum sighed.
"Th-This way! We can talk cuisine...!"
"......"
Aum led her off. Loki asked Kudan,
"Where's Kankun?"
"Playing with the dark elves."
"Good. And... Marquis Hallum?"
Sensing something off, Kudan scratched his head.
"Uh... Holed up in a room."
"Well done."
Loki headed inside, time to issue commands.
***
Marquis Hallum awoke.
"Huh?... Where... is this?"
A full day since Aum showed him the room. Realizing it, his face twisted in curses.
"Damn it all! That bastard...! D-Daring to imprison me?!"
Coming here felt like entering a lion's maw. No one visited all day. Knocking yielded nothing; the door wouldn't budge. Only then did he grasp his captivity. He'd yelled himself hoarse and slept—now stirring.
"Damn, still no one! Toying with me? This humiliation, someday...!"
"Someday what?"
Cold sweat at the voice behind. He turned: a crow-masked man lounged on the sofa.
"......!"
Mercy! Hallum froze briefly, then flashed his signature smile.
"Oh! Well, if it isn't... the King of the Nords?"
He slithered from bed, groveling toward Loki. He recalled dubbing him "King of the Nords" at the banquet. If it pleased, he'd milk it.
Loki eyed him coolly.
"You remember well, pig."
"Pig...? Pardon?"
What did this punk just say?
Hallum flushed crimson.
"That's... a bit harsh. And curt, too."
"Why show respect to one who sought my life, pig?"
The menacing tone dripped disdain. Unused to such humiliation, veins bulged on Hallum's forehead.
"Y-You said we'd negotiate... At least some courtesy?"
Loki ignored him, lifting a teacup without looking.
Sipping, he said,
"Courtesy to livestock? Amusing jest."
That snapped it. Hallum's reason shattered.
He grabbed a decorative flowerpot and smashed it down on Loki.
Thud!
But before his fury resolved, Hallum's face crumpled first.