A series of brisk yet measured footsteps echoed through the hall.
The owner of those footsteps was a woman exuding an air of solemnity.
Her jet-black, lustrous hair was adorned with a wing-shaped hairpin, and her naturally striking, valiant face required no makeup. Her tall frame was clad in attire reminiscent of a knight's garb.
She carried herself like someone who had weathered the brutality of battle, her entire being radiating an intimidating, battle-hardened aura.
She resembled the legendary Valkyrie—because she was the legendary Valkyrie.
She was the eldest of the thirteen Valkyrie sisters in Norse mythology, known as Brunhilde.
Behind her, another set of footsteps followed—quicker, almost hurried, as if the person was struggling to keep up.
Trailing behind was a girl who appeared to be around thirteen or fourteen, with short lavender hair, large emerald-green eyes, and delicate cherry-blossom lips.
Her petite, adorable frame was dressed in casual clothing, though one slender leg sported a black thigh-high sock, as if she were trying to stand out.
This small, charming girl was also one of the Valkyries—the youngest sister, named Göll.
The two were heading toward a grand and solemn structure ahead: the Valhalla Council assembly hall.
"Lady Brunhilde..."
Göll clenched her tiny fists against her chest, a sense of unease creeping over her.
She had a feeling that her most admired elder sister might be planning something reckless.
After all, the members of the Valhalla Council were of a different status than theirs. In a way, the Valkyrie sisters weren't even qualified to enter.
Because this was a council of gods—and the thirteen sisters were merely demigods.
Today, the Valhalla Council was convening its once-in-a-millennium meeting, one that would decide the future of humanity.
It seemed her elder sister was truly heading there for that very reason.
Göll had heard whispers—this time, the council might actually pass its judgment.
As a Valkyrie, and one with ties to humanity, her sister clearly couldn't stand idly by.
Of course, Göll herself didn't want that judgment to be passed either—but what could she do?
She was just a demigod, the youngest and weakest of the Valkyries—a trainee Valkyrie. Powerless, she could do nothing.
As the Valhalla Council assembly hall drew nearer, her anxiety only grew. Inside were figures of immense importance.
"Huh? The elder sister walked into the passageway without hesitation."
Biting her lip, she quickly followed.
And what was happening inside the Valhalla Council's assembly hall at this moment?
Inside the grand hall.
"Esteemed ones, it has been a thousand years since our last gathering,"
A frail, elderly voice echoed through the chamber. The speaker was a gaunt old man draped in white robes, looking as though a gust of wind might topple him over.
Yet this very elder was presiding over the assembly of gods—he was none other than the chairman of the Valhalla Council, the chief deity of Greek mythology, Zeus.
"Let us now commence this meeting—the conference where deities from across the world shall decide the fate of humanity!"
As he spoke these words, his eyes—previously narrowed and hidden beneath bushy eyebrows—snapped open, revealing an unusually sharp gaze.
"So, shall we permit humanity to continue for another millennium? Or shall we bring about their end?"
This was the central theme of today's gathering.
Every thousand years, the gods convened for this very purpose, casting their votes to determine whether to grant humanity another thousand years of existence.
Thus, the potential causes of mankind's extinction weren't limited to asteroid impacts, nuclear war, or alien invasions—there was also the threat of divine annihilation.
"Now, gods and goddesses, please voice your opinions."
Following Zeus's invitation, the chamber didn't erupt into immediate debate. Instead, an air of listless indifference permeated the space.
"Weeeell~ let's just end them,"
The first to respond did so with an utterly languid tone. The speaker reclined lazily—this was one of Hinduism's Trimurti, the god of destruction and creation: Shiva.
Two of his four arms lazily raised a sign marked with an ×, symbolizing termination.
"In my view, they've shown no remorse over this past millennium. Might as well wipe them all out."
"As Lord Shiva says, the world has grown increasingly hideous these thousand years. The oceans are choked with trash and..."
The second deity to chime in was a goddess whose entire being radiated sensual allure—Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty.
She too advocated for humanity's destruction, disgusted by how they'd defiled the world.
One after another, the remaining gods voiced their criticisms of humankind. Not a single deity rose to humanity's defense—each cast their vote for annihilation.
"Humankind is this world's scourge."
"Let them go extinct."
"They're nothing but vermin!"
"I've grown weary of guiding them."
"They're beyond redemption—destroy them all."
The gods had clearly reached their limit of disappointment with humanity. No longer willing to grant another millennium's reprieve, they prepared to decree mankind's termination within this very chamber.
"It appears we've reached our conclusion,"
Zeus raised his gavel of judgment, poised to deliver humanity's death sentence.
"Then this assembly unanimously agrees to terminate huma—"
At that very instant!
"Please wait!"
A dissenting voice rang out—it was the Valkyrie Brunhilde, who had just arrived.
Undeterred by the numerous gods' rebukes, she stood tall and resolute, determined to halt the divine decree of mankind's destruction.
She invoked a special provision from Article 62, Clause 15 of Valhalla's constitution—one-on-one duels between gods and humans—proposing a "Final Battle of Gods vs. Humans" featuring 13 deities pitted against 13 mortals in individual combat.
If humans secured seven victories first, they would survive until the next "Human Survival Conference."
Thus, with malicious provocation, she insinuated that if the gods dared not hold such an event, wouldn't it prove they feared losing to humans?
The result, of course, was the gods' furious acceptance of her proposal, intent on making her witness firsthand how humans would be crushed.
Then, it fell to her to select the 13 human participants.
"Thirteen humans…?"
These thirteen would bear the fate of humanity's survival—she couldn't afford to make a single mistake in her choices.
For the first candidate, Brunhilde already had someone in mind: Adam, the man blessed by God at birth.
Just as Brunhilde prepared to summon him, she passed by a group of gods from the Babylonian pantheon and overheard a secret unknown even to the divine—one that left her stunned.
Someone had once succeeded in deicide.
And the slain god was no ordinary deity!