Chapter 90: A Choice Bound by Fate — The Summons From the Heian Shadows
Grey noticed the melancholy flicker in her sister Brunhilde's gaze but couldn't bring herself to speak. The silence between them held a weight too profound for words.
After confirming the third human representative in the celestial war, Brunhilde continued browsing the annals of human history—heroes, sovereigns, martyrs of forgotten ages—until her eyes lingered on a particular figure. Upon seeing the name, her expression grew distant, as if recalling a wound not yet healed.
Grey recognized the individual too. Someone tightly interwoven with her elder sister's past. Someone complex, someone controversial. A man worthy of being one of the thirteen chosen warriors... yet veiled in uncertainties.
Rumor had it that the Valkyries' divine ability to forge weaponry—known as the Sacred Armament Technique—was tied to this very man.
"Horyst," Brunhilde called.
"I'm here, Sister," came the reply.
A striking silhouette shimmered into view. Clad in ornate armor reminiscent of medieval knights, yet with ethereal elegance—a charismatic figure, none other than Horyst, the second eldest among the thirteen Valkyrie sisters.
"Horyst. You and Grey must descend to this time, this place... to witness him."
Brunhilde enlarged the dossier. A mortal whose timeline intersected with chaos, mystery, and dark lore.
"Yes, Sister," Horyst replied calmly.
"Wait, me too?" Grey gasped. Having already endured the divine tumult of the Hero King and Solomon, she was far from enthusiastic about another plunge into history's maw.
This time, the era to be visited was infamous—a land swarming with demons, spirits, and unspeakable creatures: Japan's Heian Period.
Her sister had chosen a representative from this very age.
Was she truly to witness the man herself?
No—she was to observe someone else of that period. A name more famous, more shadowed by legend.
Horyst's voice softened. "Don't worry. I'll protect you, alright?"
And in the next breath, her tone snapped into a harsh edge.
With an almost comedic violence, she began to squish Grey's cheeks with commanding fingers.
"Just listen to your elder sister. I'll make sure you don't wet yourself."
"I won't wet my pants!" Grey protested, flustered.
Was she really being treated like a toddler?
"Then off you go!" Brunhilde declared.
"R-right..."
Grey barely had time to react before she was gone—dispatched from Akasha in a blink.
"What just happened?" Horyst muttered, glancing around. She was still in the divine realm, but Grey had vanished.
"This time, Grey will go alone," Brunhilde explained coldly. "She's far too timid. Needs the experience. I've set a return delay—she can't come back until she's seen enough."
Whether or not anything tragic occurred... that was fate's decision. Valkyries could not be shielded forever, especially in a war that demanded both strength and sacrifice.
"You'll stay here, Horyst," Brunhilde instructed.
As she dismissed the dozens of historical profiles flashing across her screen, only one remained—the chosen warrior for the third match.
Could he, like the Hero King and Solomon before him, stand against gods on his own strength, without divine support?
She had already assigned a compatible Valkyrie partner.
When she reached out, however, the reply was unusual:
"I understand. I'll meet you there."
Instead of coming to Akasha, the younger sister chose to wait directly in the arena passageway.
Something felt wrong.
Not the voice itself—but the tempo, the inflection… different.
Was she displeased by the choice of warrior?
No. She would never abandon the cause. But the unease lingered.
Brunhilde decided to join her at the arena.
Chapter 91: The Third Match Begins — Seven Gods, One Stage
The arena had changed.
Where once the divine audience brimmed with arrogance and triumph, now gloom prevailed. Having lost two rounds, the gods sat subdued.
It was humiliation.
What made it worse—the crisis that erupted in the second match had been resolved by humans. Without their intervention, Heaven itself might have crumbled. Countless gods could've perished.
The realization struck deep: they had been saved by mortals.
"Lord Zeus... are you sure about sending this one?" Hermes asked warily.
"I believe he's perfect," Zeus replied.
"But we've lost two rounds. If the third ends in defeat—"
It would be a disgrace. A third loss would mean pressure to deploy their most powerful gods. But Zeus, ever composed, waved it off.
"A loss is a loss. Ten battles remain. We only need to reclaim seven."
Even so, Zeus yearned for redemption. But this was not the time to act on sentiment.
The first two matches had proved that mortals were not to be underestimated. Humanity had shown unthinkable strength, demanding true respect.
Which was why Zeus refused to send a heavyweight god.
To deploy a top-tier warrior now would be a strategic error. Too much risk. Too early.
The god assigned to fight might not be as weak as presumed—there were subtle signs, quiet gestures from high deities suggesting deeper considerations.
"I understand," Hermes said, albeit reluctantly.
He knew the truth: Zeus wanted to send a powerhouse. But Odin's rational analysis prevailed.
They needed to accept Brunhilde's thirteen warriors as equals.
This war wasn't just muscle and magic—it was chess.
"Representing the divine side in the third match is—"
Heimdall raised his hand.
From the clouds above, not the traditional gateway, came a thunderous chant:
"Tenchu! Tenchu! Tenchu!"
Divine retribution.
Then, cutting through the sky, a ship descended.
Seven figures emerged.
The Seven Lucky Gods:
Daikokuten, god of fortune and harvest Ebisu, patron of commerce Benzaiten, goddess of eloquence and arts Fukurokuju, deity of happiness and longevity Jurojin, god of eternal youth Hotei, bringer of contentment and mirth Bishamonten, god of wisdom and warriors
Of these, Bishamonten stepped forward as the divine representative.
The others… came merely to cheer.
Heimdall's voice echoed: "Representing the gods—Bishamonten!"
From her private observatory, Brunhilde frowned, biting her thumb.
They had chosen Bishamonten. So... they'd anticipated her move?
She had assumed the gods, desperate to win, would deploy a major figure. That was her trap—send a deliberately weaker human champion and force the gods to waste a heavyweight.
It was classic misdirection, like the ancient Tian Ji horse racing strategy.
Brunhilde couldn't afford to use all her elites. Solomon, the Hero King, Emperor Qin... these were irreplaceable. She had to rotate her selections wisely.
This war wasn't just a clash of strength—it was a contest of minds.
Yet the gods had read her bluff.
"Wrong. We're all fighting," Daikokuten interrupted.
Stunned silence fell.
"What?! All seven of you are entering the match?"
Heimdall was thrown off.
Seven gods versus one mortal?
"That's against the rules. Please—return to your seats."
To stage such shameless overkill in front of countless divine and mortal spectators... it was appalling.
Boos erupted from the human crowd.
Even some gods were embarrassed.
"Really? How cowardly can you be?"
"They're planning a group ambush?"
"What is this? Has dignity vanished with their pride?"
Disgust festered across both factions.
The gods were losing more than battles—they were losing the respect of creation itself.