"Uncle, now that Aunt Shuri can be brought back, I doubt Akeno will hold anything against you. You should visit her sometime."
Shuo's reminder was gentle, sincere—spoken straight from the heart.
Baraqiel, usually the picture of stoic restraint, broke into a rare, genuine smile.
"Thank you. I will."
Odin clapped Baraqiel on the shoulder, voice booming with warmth.
"Congratulations on getting your family back together, Baraqiel. But first, let's seal the peace agreement."
He turned to the document, ready to sign the accord between the Norse realm and the three great Biblical factions.
A thunderous crash shook the palace.
Stone trembled. The air itself seemed to crack.
A figure hovered above the palace—draped in pale, ornate robes, blue hair flowing wild, eyes burning with venomous intent.
Odin's face darkened.
"Loki. Do you realize what you're doing? Return to the Norse realm now, and I might let this go."
It was him—the infamous evil god of the North.
Loki, champion of Ragnarok, the one who'd always despised Odin's diplomacy with other pantheons.
He wanted war. He wanted the end of gods.
Odin had seen this coming. Last time he'd returned to the Norse realm and proposed peace with the Biblical factions, Loki had nearly torn the place apart.
Now, with Odin abroad, Loki had seized his chance—just as in the legends, just as in the stories.
Odin could handle Loki. But killing him was out of the question.
Loki held a trump card, one that terrified even the Allfather.
Fenrir—the God-Slaying Demon Wolf.
A monster among monsters, one of the world's ten greatest threats.
Created by Loki himself, Fenrir could rival the Two Heavenly Dragons at their peak.
With Fenrir at his side, Loki had the power to trigger Ragnarok.
Odin had endured countless attacks from Loki, even covert strikes against other pantheons.
He had the strength to end Loki—but dared not.
Because only Loki could keep Fenrir in check.
If Loki died, Fenrir's seal would break. Ragnarok would begin. The Norse world would be destroyed.
A vicious cycle. Odin dreamt of killing Loki, but Fenrir's existence held him back.
Loki sneered, eyes glittering with malice.
"Hmph! Odin, you call yourself the chief god of the North, yet you fraternize with outsiders and sign pathetic peace treaties? You're a disgrace to our pantheon!"
"I'll kill you here, take your throne, and bring about Ragnarok!"
Odin's reply was weary, but his warning was real.
"Loki, have you lost your mind? You're facing the three great factions and a host of powerful beings. If you die here, there'll be no one left to mourn you. Stand down, while you still can."
Loki scoffed, contempt dripping from every word.
"A pack of ants, huddling together for warmth. You think I came here empty-handed?"
He raised his hand. Blue light crackled, shooting skyward.
With a bone-chilling hum, magic circles blossomed in the sky—six gigantic figures emerged.
Three enormous serpents uncoiled in the air—Midgardsormr, the End Dragon, one of Loki's Five Dragon Kings.
But their size and aura betrayed them—mass-produced shadows of the real thing.
Far more terrifying were the three wolves beneath them.
Huge, horned, their eyes burning with primal hunger—Fenrir, the God-Slaying Demon Wolf, flanked by its offspring: Sköll and Hati.
Odin's eyes widened in shock.
"Fenrir… Loki, you actually brought that monster here!"
Sirzechs and the other leaders exchanged grim looks, a silent question passing between them.
How many more crises can one world handle?
Fallen Angel rebellion. Khaos Brigade attacks. Devil civil war. Old Satan Faction and Khaos Brigade teaming up. Now Norse betrayal.
Was the world on a roll, or just bored out of its mind?
Couldn't anyone choose love over terror, just once?
Sirzechs turned to Shuo, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.
"Shuo-kun, do you think you can handle this?"
They could probably take Loki. But Fenrir was another story.
Fenrir—world-class threat, top ten monster.
Its fangs could kill gods, ignoring almost any defense. Even the strongest deities would be lucky to escape with their lives.
Worse, Fenrir's power rivaled the Two Heavenly Dragons. Most magic was useless against it—only the highest forbidden arts could even scratch it.
Even if they won, the cost would be steep.
That's why they turned to Shuo.
He smiled, eyes locked on Fenrir, confidence radiating from every pore.
"No problem. You and Odin just set up a barrier around us. Leave the rest to me."
Sirzechs and the others nodded, scattering to weave a fortress of magical wards.
Loki glared, voice low and venomous.
"I know you, Shuo Nangong. You've been making waves lately, but don't think a little power makes you untouchable."
"Tch. Strutting around with your pets—enough talk. Prepare to die."
Shuo ignored Loki's bluster. He was focused on Fenrir—and the mission that came with it.
Check-in Character: Fenrir. Purple Tier: Defeat.
Check-in Character: Loki. Black Tier: Defeat.
Fenrir, rival to the Heavenly Dragons, deserved its purple-tier status.
Shuo felt a rush of excitement—it had been ages since a mission of this level had come his way.
Loki snarled, unable to contain his bloodlust.
"Ants who dare defy the gods… Unforgivable!"
The battle lines were drawn.
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