Was everything really part of Odin's plan? On this, the Mayan death god Ah Puch and the other deities were, in truth, doubtful at heart.
They stood at the bottom of that wide cleft between Tartarus and the surface, watching Titan after Titan clamber upward in high spirits, then spreading their divine senses to "see" the situation at the foot of the holy mountain—and began to question their divine lives.
It was simple logic: if Odin were truly that formidable, how did he fall from a one-world God-King to a defeated captive tossed into this hellhole called Tartarus?
Even if Cronus, the former God-King of the Greek world, was important, if you were going to run a spy operation, should it really be a God-King doing the dirty work?
But if you said Odin had no plan…
It didn't look like that either. After all, Odin kept talking about support from his elder brother, the reigning God-Emperor Thalos—and he really had received it.
See? He'd incited the Titan legion, mortal enemies of Zeus, to erupt at the critical moment—and now reinforcements had arrived.
The Æsir in the distance, radiating powerful divine waves, saw Cronus and weren't surprised at all. They immediately coordinated, using mighty divine arts to support Cronus against the spells falling from the summit of Mount Olympus. To say that wasn't coordination felt a bit dishonest.
With support that smooth, if Odin hadn't colluded with his big brother, it didn't quite add up.
If they had colluded, then what had Odin done to earn it—what would make God-Emperor Thalos let him handle this?
Ah Puch and the others were hopelessly conflicted.
Well, whatever the victors say counts as right. Gods working for wages could only pinch their noses and accept it.
"Your Majesty, how has the Æsir arranged things for us?" Ah Puch asked Odin timidly.
Odin felt a sudden, inexplicable pang of guilt.
Arranged?
What "arrangements" has my "dear" big brother ever made for me?!
At this moment, Odin's heart was both angry and amused.
Those Æsir pivoting so smoothly from frontal assault to supporting Cronus—if you told him Thalos hadn't given the order, Odin wouldn't believe it if you killed him.
As for arrangements… Odin had a faint guess.
In the old days, his brother's policy was "king doesn't meet king." Now it was "emperor doesn't meet king." As the great traitor of the Æsir, if Odin really met him, it would only put Thalos in an awkward spot. By rights, big brother ought to have obliterated him—if betrayal came without a price, then anyone could betray. Thalos absolutely couldn't set that precedent.
In the hearts of the Æsir, Odin was, nominally, a fallen god.
At bottom, Thalos surely remembered the old ties—otherwise Odin's soul would have been annihilated long ago, erased from the universe.
For years, Thalos had kept driving Odin away without going in for the kill—surely out of that sentiment.
Now Odin had turned Cronus—no matter how you looked at it, that was a huge favor to the Æsir.
Odin was extremely clever and deeply calculating—he'd just had a habit of freeloading, unwilling to pay a price, doing things far too lacking in virtue and conscience.
After being handled by big brother for so many years, Odin had learned.
He sighed deeply. Since "the emperor doesn't meet the king," so be it.
Odin swept his gaze over the dozen or so "loyal ministers" who had shed prison tears alongside him. The corner of his mouth quirked up with confidence. "The Æsir main force has its own mission. As for us? We're going to conquer the Olympians' vassal worlds! Come! I'll lead you to reclaim our glory!"
Ah Puch and the others weren't fools.
After so long in a cell, they were already sorely pent up.
If Odin had forced them to follow the Æsir in an assault on Mount Olympus, they'd probably be muttering inside; even if they went, they'd be going through the motions.
Hitting small worlds… that's what we're best at!
Let's go!
They'd long had it in for Tartarus. Now that they'd slipped the leash, how could they not indulge themselves after all this misery?
Just as Odin was about to take off astride a soul-steed "borrowed" from Tartarus, the former Trojan hero Hector rushed out and bowed on the spot. "Your Majesty! Troy is willing to relocate as a nation and follow Your Majesty's footsteps to a new world!"
Odin hesitated two seconds, then agreed. "Very well! We'll finish the suppression first, then open a spatial portal to bring your people over. Return for now!"
He pointed from afar, and a surge of death-aspected divine power poured into Hector's soul. In that moment, Hector's spirit surpassed the rank of a mere heroic shade and became a demigod-level soul with a measure of divinity.
"Thank you, my king!" Hector wasn't a fool. Even a dullard could see the Olympians' rule was unstable. The true-blooded Greeks were suffering in droves—slain or enslaved. As a people generally considered second-class in the Greek world, what hope did the Asiatics of the Troad have?
Since there was no way to pledge directly to the Æsir God-Emperor Thalos, pledging to his imperial younger brother Odin wasn't bad either.
A connection made is a connection used, and there was no time to wait—the decision had to be made at once.
Thus, master and retainer parted for the time being.
Elsewhere, Thalos had certainly noticed Odin's party flying out of Tartarus. Seeing that they ignored the main battlefield entirely and went straight for portals to slip away—heading for the homelands of Zeus's slave gods—Thalos laughed for once.
"Pfft!"
Artemis asked, puzzled, "Your Majesty, what makes you so happy?"
"Nothing, I thought of something amusing." Thalos couldn't suppress his smile.
In the great hall, Loki's eyes were the sharpest.
As Odin's former bosom friend, Loki knew best the love and hate between Thalos and Odin. He seized the moment. "Your Majesty, since 'he' has rendered service…"
Thalos knew what Loki meant. He didn't hide it from the other gods and said offhandedly, "The Æsir will not tolerate any betrayal, but neither will we slight anyone who renders meritorious service. Let him be."
This riddling exchange between Thalos and Loki left the gods yet to march brimming with curiosity, ears pricked for gossip.
In the past, some new gods might not have known much about "Ragnarök" and would have had to quietly ask an old-timer via divine thought. Ever since Ginnungagap took the Lyranca world, even ninth-rate sub-gods knew that rather taboo ancient tale…
So the gods either let their eyes go unfocused or lowered their heads to count the ants that weren't on the floor.
Ahem, compared to the present situation, a mere Odin wasn't all that important.
Very soon, everyone's focus returned to that massive Titan legion.
Not one or two, but a full twelve giants clambered out of the fiery abyss. The shortest of them, by the look of it, was still thirty or forty stories tall. In each Titan's eyes burned the flames of revenge.
With every step they took forward, the curses pouring from their mouths never ceased!
"Zeus, you wretch!"
"Shameless bastard!"
"You're as vile and base as your brats!"
Mm, very spirited!
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