The streets of the city were empty, just as Su Ming had anticipated. Only a handful of elderly and children remained, and a strange scent lingered in the air, like a mix of seawater and honey.
The civilians' reactions to Odin were starkly different from those in Asgard. They scurried into hiding, peeking through door cracks as if watching some monstrous beast.
Su Ming glanced toward the distant port, where the azure sea churned with waves, but Zemo was not in that direction.
It was said that within Hydra, Viper was the master of guerrilla tactics, her sewer warfare deemed world-class. Yet Zemo's stealth abilities were proving just as troublesome.
Whether it was invisibility or illusion, these powers, when wielded by someone as cunning as Zemo, made him blend into the city like a drop of water in the ocean. Finding him in an unfamiliar place was near impossible.
"The craftsmen are likely the most valuable among the elderly, so they should still be in the city," Su Ming mused.
Gin dismounted, scanning the shop signs along the street. The area they'd landed in was lined with stores selling trinkets and ornaments.
Monarch, unable to help in this unfamiliar setting, took advantage of the lull in combat to start strangling rabbits. Their eyes red, their fur snow-white, he pulled them from his top hat and pockets, tears streaming as he killed them and tossed them onto the street.
No matter how deep the bond, he couldn't bury the rabbits. Doing so would lessen the pain, weakening the cost's effect.
Unbeknownst to him, his unhinged actions caused the spying civilians to quietly shut their doors.
They knew the queen had gone to face Asgard, but with her absent and Odin arriving—along with a mage obsessively killing rabbits—it looked like a massacre was imminent.
Shops closed, and people hid behind counters or in basements.
Gin studied the streets for a moment, less familiar with them than she'd like, but soon pointed to a shop. "Boss, over there. That old store's been around since I was born."
Without hesitation, Su Ming strode to the door and knocked. The red wooden door, though slightly weathered, was beautifully crafted, exuding a rustic solidity.
Bang bang bang. Bang bang.
"Friend, open the door! I'm Odin, god-king, and I won't take a single thread from Vanaheim!"
As he knocked, Su Ming shouted sincerely into the house, peering through the door's crack to check for signs of life.
"Boss, they won't understand that," Gin said, scratching her chin. Her Chinese had only been learned after following Su Ming to Earth.
Su Ming glanced at her. He rarely knocked in his operations—usually, his greatsword did the talking. Should he say "demo team, prepare" instead of "friend, open the door"?
Gin stepped forward, taking over the knocking to demonstrate. First, don't use the back of your knuckles—slap the door with your palm for a loud, resonant sound. Second, call unfamiliar men "brother" and women "sister" to seem bold and friendly. Finally, convey urgency through the rhythm of your knocks. If needed, kick the door or strike it with a weapon, but never climb through a window—that's for thieves, scorned and punished.
The door opened.
Gin pulled her leg back from the splintered hole in the door, smiling as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gestured for Su Ming to enter.
Su Ming sighed and stepped inside.
Contrary to the exterior, the room was surprisingly modern. The workbench was littered with gold and gemstone fragments, alongside a high-tech-looking mini-lathe. Naturally, as a goldsmith's workshop, it also had traditional tools like a furnace and crucible, capable of turning raw ore into exquisite art.
"No signs of intrusion on the floor except ours," Su Ming said, scanning the room and memorizing every detail while speaking softly to Stranglehold. "The furnace is still lit. Find the person."
Stranglehold took control of the host's body, moving to a bookshelf. After sniffing briefly, it pulled a few parchment scrolls in sequence, and the bookshelf popped open, revealing a hidden room.
Sweat on the scrolls allowed Stranglehold to analyze the oil and salt in the fingerprints, cracking the code like a keypad.
Control returned to Su Ming, who stepped into the hidden room.
A frail old man cowered in the corner, trembling, wearing glasses too small for his face. The room held an array of finely crafted ornaments, far more intricate than those outside.
This was a small treasure vault. No safe, no cellar—coastal cities weren't suited for those—just a hidden room.
But the old man wasn't hiding from frost giants or Zemo. He was hiding from Odin.
Su Ming saw the familiar fear in his eyes—fear of something known, not a foreign enemy.
The mercenary tilted his chin at the old man, and Gin nodded, stepping forward to question him.
As Su Ming expected, the old man spilled everything, down to the color of his underwear. Not just him—all the city's craftsmen were safe. Zemo hadn't targeted them.
"Sorry for the disturbance. Rest well."
Su Ming exited the hidden room, pushing the bookshelf back until he heard the click of the mechanism locking. Satisfied, he left the shop.
Back on the street, he gazed at the empty market, grabbing a fruit from a shop's doorstep and biting into it as he pondered. If Zemo's goal wasn't the craftsmen, then what was it?
At that moment, the mage, lost in grief over his rabbits, suddenly stopped sobbing. He turned his face toward the horizon, stunned.
The star in the sky, like an egg yolk poured into a funnel, formed a thin golden line streaming toward the ground.
Before Monarch could even alert Deathstroke to the sky, the brightness vanished. The burning fireball disappeared in an instant.
Vanaheim plunged into darkness.
Even someone as magically dull as Su Ming noticed the sudden blackout. He immediately turned to the team's mysticism expert: "Cause? Direction?"
"The star was stolen. That way." Monarch steadied his breathing, shook his head, and pointed.
"After it!"
Gin and Monarch mounted their pegasi, while Su Ming took flight, racing toward the spot where the golden line had appeared when the sun vanished.
Darkness cloaked everything, and the sudden change sparked panic in the city. Those hiding at home spilled onto the streets, kneeling to pray that the dead Frey would protect his people.
But the prayers seemed to backfire. Under cover of darkness, hordes of frost giants surged from unknown corners, flooding the streets.