Spreading the Bible was practically the Church's mission across the entire world. Naturally, it was unavoidable that other mythologies would take offense, so Azazel wisely chose not to dwell on the matter.
"No matter the reason, having the chief god Odin personally negotiate with the Far Eastern gods is the problem. This is something that must be purged. That senile chief god will drag the Norse gods straight into Ragnarok."
"In that case, tell me—does this action have any connection to the Khaos Brigade? Or is it on Ophis's orders?" Azazel asked.
The young evil god replied with a clear lack of interest.
"Comparing me to those terrorist fools is beyond insulting. I came here entirely of my own will—this has nothing to do with Ophis."
"…Not the Khaos Brigade, huh? Still, this is a troublesome situation. I see, old man—this is the 'northern problem' you mentioned?"
Hearing Azazel and the evil god's exchange, the shameless chief god stepped down from the carriage, bringing Valkyrie Rossweisse with him. Magic circles spread beneath their feet, allowing them to stand in midair.
"Sigh… I figured this would happen. There are always stubborn fools who won't listen—and this one actually chased us down," Odin muttered, not the least bit surprised.
"Lord Loki! This is an abuse of authority! Baring your fangs at the chief god is unacceptable—you should voice your objections in the proper forum!" Rossweisse snapped, clad now in armor.
"Hmph, a mere battle-maiden shouldn't meddle in my affairs. I came to ask Odin—do you intend to keep doing things outside the scope of Norse mythology?"
"That's right. Compared to you, speaking with Sirzechs and Azazel is ten thousand times more interesting. I want to learn about Japan's Shinto, and they're curious about our World Tree. If these peace talks bear fruit, we could exchange ambassadors and foster cultural exchange."
"…I see. What a foolish idea. In that case… I won't hold back, Chief God."
BOOM—!
An overwhelming aura erupted, black power surging—his Demon King–level might on full display.
At the same time, Yoru confirmed exactly what kind of power Loki possessed.
This World's Evil—just as Yoru had suspected, a manifestation of the world's will of malice. Naturally, it wasn't strange for each world to have its own.
It seemed Loki had grasped a portion of that power. But as someone who also bore This World's Evil, Yoru could tell immediately—Loki had only scratched the surface; he had yet to fully make it his own.
"That gnawing of malice on your soul doesn't feel pleasant, does it? I wonder—how do you vent it?"
While Azazel and Odin remained tense, facing Loki head-on, a light, almost casual voice came from within the carriage.
Azazel and Odin were momentarily confused by Yoru's words—but Loki's expression twisted at once, his confidence faltering.
"Who are you? How do you know about that?!"
Suspicion and unease flickered in Loki's eyes. Aside from the Governor of the Fallen Angels and that old fool, was there someone else here? Could this be a demon king of the Underworld?
Wearing a confident smile, Yoru stepped down from the carriage. No magic circle appeared beneath his feet—only thin sheets of ice forming in the air to hold him aloft.
Loki's eyes narrowed. Unlike the magic circles under Odin or Azazel's feet, this display gave off almost no magical energy—but that only highlighted Yoru's precise control and strength.
"Who exactly are you?!" Loki demanded, his tone shifting.
"Azazel, take the old man and leave. This one's mine," Yoru said without even looking at Loki.
"…Understood." Seeing the seriousness in Yoru's eyes, Azazel didn't press further and retreated into the carriage with Odin.
Loki made no move to stop them—his gaze was locked solely on Yoru.
"Who the hell are you?!" Loki bared his teeth in a snarl.
"What am I? I think you already know the answer."
Yoru let his power flow freely—biting cold mixed with an evil aura that chilled the soul.
Since coming to this world, this was the first time he had unleashed the full extent of This World's Evil within him. Even he wasn't sure if he had truly mastered it yet—but something about facing another bearer of that same curse stirred the impulse to let it out.
"This… this is…" Loki's eyes went wide in disbelief.
"Impossible! How can you possess this power?! I'm the evil god Loki—the only one who should have it in this world!"
To Loki, self-proclaimed incarnation of evil, wielder of all malice in existence, the idea of someone else holding such power was incomprehensible.
Yoru's answer came as a fierce slash. Frostmourne descended with soul-freezing cold.
BOOM!
A torrent of malevolence erupted as Loki roared and met the blow head-on.
Even as he pushed his power to the limit, Loki found himself helpless—his strength was devoured the instant it touched Yoru's, as if meeting its natural predator.
It was the feeling of lesser malice bowing to greater evil.
Damn it! Impossible! I am the true god of evil! How can there be an evil power in this world that forces me to submit?!
A twisted snarl spread across Loki's face—then the sound of shattering space rang out.
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