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Chapter 716 - Chapter 716 Violent Negotiation (Part 1) — The Spy Banshee

Lorelei's task wasn't just to uncover how the Asgardians used Himinbjörg to control the Bifrost; she also had to obtain the research results of the Asgardian mages regarding the Bifrost. These were among the royal family's most closely guarded secrets—so much so that even the library of Kamar-Taj had little recorded about the bridge. It could be said that Asgard's current standing was entirely built upon the Bifrost and the technology behind it, which enabled their armies to deploy across vast distances instantaneously and without delay. Asgard itself did not produce many valuable natural resources. The kingdom's splendor and prosperity had been forged through systematic raids on extra-solar territories, funneled back via the Bifrost—like Viking longships crossing the sea to plunder, only this time guided by a powerful and cunning royal house. They turned what they seized into military might and technological strength, rather than squandering it all in one drunken feast after another.

Hela never truly understood Odin's intent. The All-Father's so-called peaceful development was merely a mask—one that he would discard the moment the time was right. After a period of military expansion, Asgard needed long-term plunder followed by rest and population recovery. Asgardians, with their notoriously low birth rates, had to slowly restore the populations of Asgard and Vanaheim. Unchecked conquest would only drain Asgard's already meager natural resources and industrial capacity.

In the future, when the balance of power shifted, Solomon would replicate Odin and Borr's conquest of the Nine Realms—only he would do it better.

The Sorcerer Supreme believed in her disciple's potential to surpass not only herself but also Odin, eventually replacing Asgard's royal house and becoming the new All-Father. She even entrusted Solomon with a classified document about Yggdrasil, the World Tree—an ultimate method for harnessing that cosmic magical entity, to be used only once his plan succeeded. According to her, the plan had been in place for centuries, awaiting only the right opportunity.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't send the gift through the embassy."The sudden voice startled Lorelei so much she jumped from her chair, knocking over her mead goblet on the table. Yet she clutched the parchment tightly in her hand, shielding it from the spilled drink. When she turned and saw who was behind her, joy crashed over her like a tidal wave, drowning out fear and every other emotion. Just as the goblet was about to hit the floor, a precise spell materialized in the air. As if time reversed itself, every drop of golden liquid returned to the goblet, which then righted itself back onto the table.

"My lord!" She couldn't contain herself. After a brief bow, she leapt into the Arcanist's arms. Closing her eyes, she emitted a low purring sound like a kitten, her legs wrapped tightly around Solomon's waist. She buried her face in his long hair, greedily inhaling his scent. "I received the invitation. I'm about to succeed…"

"I know, I know." Solomon gently patted her back. A moment later, the Daughter of the Rhine, cheeks flushed, dropped down from him. Solomon stopped her just as she started to pull at her clothes. "I'm here for the mission report, Lorelei," he said softly, using the palm stroking her body to slightly soothe her fervent mood. "There'll be time for that—once you've finished the mission and returned to Midgard."

"But… since I arrived in Asgard, I haven't—Fine, my lord, as you wish." Lorelei visibly deflated. Had Solomon not continued caressing her neck and cheek, she might have completely lost her motivation. The Arcanist wasn't surprised. In order to make this temptress serve him, he had to thoroughly dismantle the mental defenses she had built over a millennium—turning her into a tool that couldn't live without him.

"Perhaps you'll be interested in a rumor, my lord." Lorelei kept her eyes closed, basking in the affection he gave. "It's about the prophecy of Ragnarök. The All-Father has long searched for clues about it. Lately, there's been a rumor circulating in the streets—Thor isn't the true heir of Asgard. Neither is Loki. The real successor is someone else entirely."

"That's exactly why I'm here, Lorelei."

By the time the taverns lit up and their clamor once again replaced the roar of airships across Asgard's skies, Solomon stepped out from the inn. He wore a deep gray cloak. The tattered, dusty fabric concealed his ornate robes and exquisite gestures. In his hand, a staff carved from deadwood. Beneath the hood, his face appeared aged and worn—an illusion spell disguising him as a wandering vagabond.

"Out of the way, old man!"

Solomon silently stepped aside to let an all-too-common Asgardian drunkard stagger past. Asgard's annual alcohol consumption was staggering. In their culture, a true man was one who could outdrink and outfight anyone. The love of battle ran deep across all classes—nobles and commoners alike. Solomon was fairly sure they didn't like bathing either; he could smell vomit in the air. He paused at a corner where a seemingly ordinary symbol lay half-buried beneath the dust. With a tap of his staff on the rune, he vanished instantly.

"Kaecilius, I smell perfume on you," he said cheerfully to the man before him. "If we took a stroll through the royal palace, I bet we could follow the scent straight to your lover. I just hope you can run fast when her husband comes chasing after you. Wouldn't want Kamar-Taj to lose face."

"Kid, you don't understand Asgardian women yet—wait, actually that line doesn't apply to you. You've got perfume on you too." Kaecilius grinned. "You're late. Any longer, and the spell the Ancient One cast would've expired. I don't want you trapped in that cursed place, especially with that completely madwoman down there. No one can predict what might happen."

"Relax. The banquet hasn't started yet."Solomon stepped out from the shadows where the light could not reach. He cast off the concealing cloak. In the faint glow of magical lanterns, the deep red relic-cloth robe and gleaming gemstones on his body lit up the chamber. Kaecilius was enchanted by the Sorcerer Supreme to block Heimdall's gaze, ensuring Asgard's intelligence chief couldn't overhear their meeting. The scroll Kaecilius carried bore an even stronger spell, enabling Solomon to traverse between the palace and the realm of the dead without alerting Odin.

Kamar-Taj's Arcanists had been formally invited to a banquet in the royal palace. Loki, disguised as Odin, had extended the invitation. Solomon intended to use this opportunity to speak with Hela. She desired a galaxy-spanning empire—a realm of endless war. She cared little for governance. Solomon wanted to see if a deal could be struck—he genuinely believed Hela's combat prowess would be of great value in the future.

"Do you know what you're going to say?" Kaecilius asked.

"Of course." Solomon patted the golden power armor positioned in the center of the room. The Holy Sword and Holy Lance, wrapped in layers of magical seals, lay nearby in a velvet-lined case. The Aegis shield, set with Medusa's head, rested off to the side.

"Summon the attendants to help me into my armor, Kaecilius," he said. "I know exactly what kind of language Hela understands."

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