Chapter 116: The Conqueror God of Greece Descends
The corridors leading to the Akasha Chamber were eerily quiet.
The Valkyrie sisters moved swiftly, their footsteps light but deliberate. The chamber, once a neutral zone, had become their sanctum—a place of strategy, secrecy, and survival.
Gray clung close to her sisters, her nerves frayed. Even the usually composed Reginleif, Alvette, and Herlock were tense, their bodies taut with anticipation. They were prepared for ambush. After all, Hades—one of the most revered gods—had fallen. And that kind of loss could drive some deities to madness.
"Hey."
"Waaah!"
"Yaaah!"
"Uwaaah!"
The shrieks echoed down the corridor. Gray and her sisters spun around, weapons half-drawn—only to find a familiar figure munching on snacks with a mischievous grin.
"Lord Shakyamuni…" Brunhilde bowed respectfully.
"Didn't expect you to pull out a human like that," he said casually, crunching on a rice cracker. "But now that Hades is dead, you'd better watch your backs."
His tone darkened, eyes narrowing. "Some gods won't care about Ragnarok's rules. They might come for you anyway."
"W-what? Who?" Gray asked, voice trembling.
"How should I know?" Shakyamuni shrugged, strolling past them.
Then he paused.
"Oh, one more thing." He turned, his gaze suddenly sharp. "Brunhilde, this whole Ragnarok proposal… it's really just to prevent humanity's extinction, right? No hidden agenda?"
The question, though spoken lightly, hit Brunhilde like a mountain crashing down. Her knees nearly buckled under the weight of his gaze.
"You're not… the enemy, are you?"
The words echoed. She'd heard them before.
After the first match, Xiang Yu had asked her something similar—suspecting her motives, questioning whether Ragnarok was truly for humanity's salvation.
She opened her mouth to respond—
"Never mind," Shakyamuni waved her off. "You look too dumb to be scheming."
"Phew… I thought he was really angry," Gray whispered, clutching her chest.
Brunhilde said nothing. She walked toward the Akasha Chamber, her mind spinning.
Why did they all suspect her?
If this were still the first round, she might have dismissed it. But now… after the second and third matches, after the anomalies and unexpected outcomes… she couldn't ignore the possibility.
Was someone manipulating events from the shadows?
Was Ragnarok being used to plunge the heavens into chaos?
Her phone buzzed.
Not the Akasha terminal—just a regular phone.
She glanced at the caller ID and sighed. It was Shakyamuni. He hadn't even walked far.
Turning, she saw him waving.
"Oh, and one last thing," he said through the receiver. "The blood that bathed the Old Man of the Mountain… it belonged to the Titans."
Her pupils contracted.
"Wait—Titan—"
The call ended.
She fell silent.
The Titans were supposed to be extinct.
Where had Hassan-i-Sabbah slaughtered them?
Suddenly, she remembered a fragment from the Akasha archives—two gods speaking in hushed tones. One had mentioned "Primordial," and the other had panicked, silencing him.
Primordial gods.
A forbidden name.
Now she understood why Shakyamuni had asked if she was the enemy.
He must have sensed it too.
That Ragnarok was being used to drain the gods' strongest warriors.
And the humans… were they being aided by the Primordials?
No. If that were true, Xiang Yu wouldn't have questioned her. And Hassan wouldn't have butchered the Titans.
But Xiang Yu's suspicion still lingered.
He believed she was using Ragnarok to mask a deeper conspiracy.
And that conspiracy… might be the return of the Primordial gods—those ancient forces once repelled, now stirring again.
Brunhilde's heart sank.
Something terrible was coming.
Chapter 117: The Arrival of the Greek Conqueror
Inside the Akasha Chamber.
"Is Sister okay?" Gray whispered to Reginleif.
Ever since that phone call, Brunhilde had been acting strangely.
She was now devouring her infamous licorice-salt pie—a culinary abomination she only consumed when punishing herself.
Gray couldn't understand it.
They had won four consecutive rounds. Why did her sister look like she'd lost everything?
"I don't know," Reginleif replied. "She won't tell me."
This was the time to prepare for the next match. But Brunhilde seemed… detached.
Then the chamber doors opened.
A figure stepped in—tall, metallic, almost cybernetic.
The moment he saw them, a wave of killing intent surged through the room.
Gray and her sisters froze.
Only Brunhilde remained calm.
"Lord Adamas," she said, bowing.
She knew why he had come.
Hades was dead.
And Adamas—his brother—had arrived in fury.
"Adamas? Who's that?" Gray asked, confused.
"He's Lord Zeus's elder brother," Brunhilde explained.
Few knew of him. The world believed the Greek pantheon had three brothers.
But there were four.
Adamas, the second-born, had been erased from history.
Why?
Because when Zeus became the leader of the Greek gods, Adamas couldn't accept it.
During the Titan War, Adamas betrayed Olympus. He opened the gates of Tartarus, allowing the Titans to invade.
Hades had fought them alone—no reinforcements, no support. He had nearly died.
Adamas, consumed by guilt, had been rescued and revived by Beelzebub, the mad scientist of divine biology.
Since then, Adamas had guarded the abyss.
But now, with Hades gone, he had returned.
Brunhilde's face paled.
"Lord Adamas… you didn't open Tartarus again, did you?"
He grinned, twisted and cruel.
"Open Tartarus? Hmm… tempting."
Then his expression shifted.
"But I made a promise to my brother. I won't break it."
Brunhilde relaxed—until she saw his eyes.
He wasn't here to talk.
He was here to kill.
And his target… was her sister.
"I'll start with her."
He vanished.
In an instant, he appeared beside Herlock, hand raised to crush her skull.
But before he could strike—
A pressure descended.
A force so cold, so sharp, it froze the air.
Adamas recoiled like a startled animal, leaping away.
A new figure stood in the chamber.
Another Greek god.
Poseidon.
His voice was devoid of emotion.
"You disgrace yourself, Adamas. You act like a beast, not a god. You shame our brother's memory. I will execute you before you can dishonor him further."
Adamas trembled.
Poseidon's presence was overwhelming.
And the chamber, once filled with tension, now held something far more dangerous.
Judgment.