oki sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the dark stone walls of his chambers. Three weeks since Leon Mishima had killed his children. Three weeks since that damn sword had turned everything to ash. It's been weeks stuck in his own realm, hiding like some wounded animal.
Three weeks of replaying that fight over and over. Watching his sons charge in like they were invincible.
And they'd burned. All of them. While he ran away.
Loki laughed, but it came out wrong. Bitter.
All of them dead. All because he had underestimated a mortal child.
His sons. His beautiful, perfect sons. Centuries of careful planning, of nurturing their power, of preparing them for the day they would help him claim his rightful place among the gods. All of it undone in minutes by a mortal child wielding power that should have been his.
Reduced to nothing but screams and ash while their killer stood unmoved above their remains.
Just like her.
Exactly like that witch.
Astrid Mishima. Even decades after her death, that woman's shadow still haunted him. The way she had smiled when she outmaneuvered him in front of the entire Norse pantheon. How she had made him look like a bumbling fool while she danced through his traps like they were children's games.
And now her grandson carried that same maddening confidence. That same ability to see through his carefully laid plans and turn them against him. History repeating itself in the cruelest possible way.
The humiliation was worse than the rage.
Then–
A slow clap echoed through the warehouse.
Loki spun around, divine power crackling around his fingers as he searched for the source. The shadows seemed deeper than they should be, stretching in directions that defied the laws of geometry.
"Bravo," a voice said from the darkness. Rich and cultured, with an accent that spoke of ancient power. "Truly magnificent. I haven't seen a tantrum quite that spectacular since my nephew threw Zeus off Mount Olympus."
The shadows parted like curtains, revealing a figure . Tall and skeletal, draped in ceremonial robes of deepest black trimmed with silver thread that seemed to absorb what little light remained. The garments of a high priest, but twisted, wrong somehow.
Where a face should have been, there was only bone. A skull that gleamed white as fresh snow, perfectly preserved despite its obvious age. Empty sockets stared at him with intelligence, twin voids that suddenly flared with cold fire, creating the illusion of eyes that weren't there.
"Hades." The name tasted like grave dirt in Loki's mouth.
The Lord of the Underworld inclined his skull in a mockery of a bow, and the temperature in the warehouse dropped by several degrees. When he spoke, his jaw moved but the voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. "Hello, Loki. You look terrible."
"What do you want?" Loki snarled.
"Oh, I think you know exactly what I want." Hades stepped closer as his robes rustled with each movement. "The same thing you want. The same thing you've always wanted."
"And what would that be?"
The skull tilted, and those burning eye sockets flared brighter. "Revenge, of course. Sweet, terrible revenge against those who have wronged us."
Loki laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Revenge? Against a boy who just easily killed my children? I'm not suicidal, Hades."
"No," Hades agreed. "You're not. But you are desperate."
"Get to the point." He said.
"Very well." Hades stopped directly in front of him, those terrible eye sockets boring into Loki's. "Your little revenge plot failed spectacularly. Leon Mishima remains not only alive but stronger than ever. His victory over you and your children will only cement his reputation as someone not to be trifled with."
Each word was a knife twist in an already festering wound. "Your point?"
"My point is that you cannot touch him alone. Not anymore."
Hades began pacing "But what if you weren't alone? What if you had allies with power to match his?"
"You're proposing an alliance."
"I'm proposing something far grander than that. I'm proposing that we reshape the supernatural world itself."
Loki stared at him, trying to parse the implications.
"The current order is failing, Loki. The biblical factions are negotiating peace treaties. The various pantheons are forming trade agreements and mutual defense pacts." Hades gestured dismissively with one bone-white hand.
"I want change. I want the natural order restored. I want gods to rule and mortals to serve, not this ridiculous pretense of equality that's been spreading like a plague."
Hades stopped pacing and fixed Loki with those burning sockets. "Leon Mishima represents everything wrong with the current system. A mortal who thinks he can stand as an equal to gods. Who refuses to show proper deference. Who disrupts the natural hierarchy with his arrogance."
"He's become a symbol. A rallying point for every mortal who thinks they can challenge divine authority. Every human with a Sacred Gear who dreams of fighting gods. Every supernatural being who believes the old ways should be forgotten."
The pieces were falling into place in Loki's mind. "You want to make an example of him."
"I want his defeat to herald a new age where gods rule with proper authority and mortals remember their place."
"And in exchange?"
"In exchange, you get your revenge. Against everyone who has ever wronged you. Against the Norse pantheon that cast you out. Against Odin who bound your children. Against every slight, every humiliation, every moment of disrespect you've ever endured."
Loki felt his pulse quicken. The offer was tempting. More than tempting. It was everything he had ever wanted
"What exactly are you proposing?"
The skull's jaw opened in what might have been a smile, if bones could smile. "Annihilation, my dear trickster. Complete and thorough elimination of every corrupted element that poisons our world. No more Devils and Fallen Angels. No more Longinus wielders. No more weak chief gods who've forgotten their place."
"The other mythologies won't stand for it."
"The other mythologies are irrelevant. Devils and Fallen Angels are parasites that don't belong in our world anyway. The Biblical factions are weak pretenders who think they can negotiate with true gods." Hades waved a dismissive hand, the bone gleaming white in the dim light. "As for the other pantheons, their chiefs have grown soft from cooperating with these lesser beings. When they see what happens to those who protect corruption, they'll remember their place quickly enough."
Loki considered this. The death god was right about one thing: the supernatural world had grown comfortable. Peaceful. Predictable. All things that went against his very nature as a trickster deity.
And Leon Mishima... that arrogant brat needed to pay for what he had done. Not just to him, but to his children. To his legacy. To everything he had worked toward for centuries.
"What would you need from me?" Loki asked finally.
"Your knowledge. Your cunning. Your ability to sow discord and turn allies against each other."
Hades extended one bone-white hand, the ceremonial sleeves falling back to reveal arm bones wrapped in shadow.
Loki looked at the offered hand. Thought of his dead children. Thought of Leon Mishima's smug face as Laevateinn had answered his call. Thought of Astrid Mishima's mocking laughter echoing across the decades.
He reached out and clasped Hades's hand. The contact sent ice through his veins, but he didn't flinch. The bones felt like winter itself, cold beyond description.
"Let's burn it all down," he said.
The death god's laughter filled the warehouse, echoing from his empty skull.
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled across a clear sky.
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