Chapter 118: The Trickster's Trial and the Valkyrie's Curse
It was a reversal of cause and effect.
Brunhilde stood in the ruins of her own certainty, staring into the abyss that Loki had so artfully carved. The evil dragon's attacks on mortals—elderly, children, innocents—had never been real. They were illusions. Every monstrous claw, every bloodied fang, every cry for help had been Loki in disguise, weaving a tapestry of deception so intricate that even a demigod could not see the threads.
And now, he stood before her, righteous and smug.
"This was your trial," he declared, as if the pain he'd orchestrated were a divine lesson. "You failed to see the truth. You failed to trust. That is your sin."
Odin agreed.
Brunhilde's heart shattered. She finally understood how gods viewed humanity—not as companions, not as inheritors of divine wisdom, but as vessels of blood, fuel for their eternal games.
And what could she do? She was only half a god.
When she had stabbed him—her beloved dragon slayer—he hadn't died immediately. Instead, he turned to face Loki, and in the final flicker of his life, he struck twice.
The first blow was futile. Loki shattered his weapon with ease.
But the second…
He touched Brunhilde's trembling hand, and in that instant, transformed her into a weapon.
A true divine weapon.
With her body forged into steel and soul ignited by grief, he struck Loki with a force that sent the Trickster God flying, blood spraying across the chamber.
It was no ambush. It was a direct blow. And it was the only one he had left.
That moment changed everything.
Brunhilde saw the possibility of slaying gods. She began researching the art of forging Valkyries into divine weapons. Her twelve sisters learned the technique. And she waited—waited for the moment when she could strike not from the shadows, but in the light.
Two thousand years passed.
Then came the Council of the Gods.
What began as a jest—a mockery of mortals—became a binding contract. The gods, too proud to retract their own rules, agreed to Ragnarok.
Brunhilde began her search for worthy human champions.
And he… he was always on her list.
The technique of forging Valkyries into weapons had been born from his magic. His mastery of runes—taught to him by Brunhilde herself—had laid the foundation. She found remnants of his work and learned quickly. If he returned, if he fought again, the power they could unleash together would be unimaginable.
He had once slain Fafnir, a beast that troubled even the high gods. Now, summoned in his prime, he could face Loki again.
But—
"Brunhilde, are you really going to let him fight like this?" Reginleif asked, her voice trembling.
Brunhilde had summoned the man who haunted her heart. But he refused to forge her into a weapon.
Was it resentment? Or something deeper?
The Akasha system allowed summoning from any point in a person's life. She could summon him as a youth, unaware of future betrayals. Or summon him with full memory of his life.
She chose the former.
She couldn't face the man who knew everything. Not yet.
Her betrayal—however manipulated—had broken something sacred. If she had trusted him, if she had spoken to him, Loki's scheme might have failed.
"Let's believe in him," she said, forcing a smile.
Perhaps even in this state, he could kill Loki.
He had slain Fafnir. He had faced gods.
And though his final battle had been fought while dying, he had still struck Loki down.
Now, summoned in his prime, he was whole. He was ready.
Chapter 119: Round Five – Dragon Slayer vs. Trickster God
The arena trembled with anticipation.
Round Five of Ragnarok was about to begin.
"Damn it, it's already the fifth round!"
"If we lose again, only two rounds remain!"
"Are we heading for a seven-match defeat?!"
"Shut your cursed mouth! That won't happen!"
The gods' supporters were losing faith. Four consecutive losses had shattered their confidence.
"But Zeus, Odin, and Shiva haven't fought yet!"
"Humans can't possibly defeat them!"
Speculation swirled. Who would represent the gods in this round?
Most believed it would be one of the three remaining pillars—Zeus, Odin, or Shiva.
"Shiva, you seem awfully calm," said Rudra, the storm god of India and Shiva's old rival.
"I'm waiting for Round Seven," Shiva replied, eyes gleaming.
If humans won the next two rounds, Round Seven would be decisive. Brunhilde would surely send her strongest warrior.
That was the dish Shiva wanted to savor.
"So you think we'll lose Round Five and Six?"
"Who knows? But if we do, Round Seven will be glorious."
"Who's fighting this round? You know, don't you?"
"The one who loves tricks and schemes."
Rudra blinked. Then he understood.
Loki.
The Trickster God.
"But… can he fight?"
"This is a battle of strength. What's he going to do—prank them to death?"
Two ravens squawked in protest. They couldn't understand why the gods would send Loki, a master of deception, into a direct duel.
"Are they trying to waste a powerful human champion?"
"This isn't the first round! If humans win again, they'll only need two more victories!"
"Silence!"
Odin's voice cut through the noise. The ravens fell silent, cowed by his gaze.
In truth, Odin believed this round was their best chance.
If Loki fought, Brunhilde would summon him—the dragon slayer.
Many gods dismissed the man's strength. He had killed Fafnir, yes, but Loki was cunning, evasive, not a brute.
But Odin knew the truth.
Loki's power rivaled that of the chief gods.
"Four victories for humanity," Heimdall announced from the arena. "Four consecutive wins. The gods have yet to taste victory."
He paused, letting the silence settle.
"Do you remember the day Brunhilde proposed Ragnarok? How the gods laughed?"
The divine audience shifted uncomfortably. Some lowered their heads in shame. Others scowled at Heimdall, wondering whose side he was on.
"And now, Round Five. Can the gods halt humanity's advance? Or will they suffer a fifth defeat?"
Heimdall felt the stares. He knew he was pushing his luck.
But he wasn't biased. He was doing his job.
The gods simply couldn't stomach the truth.
Once, they had been bold. Honest. Proud.
But centuries of peace had dulled their edge. Vanity had replaced valor.
Now, the introductions began.
"He is cunning and deceitful," Heimdall declared. "His words are sharp, his pranks cruel."
The crowd murmured.
"Cunning? Deceitful?"
"Who in human history fits that description?"
Most assumed Heimdall was introducing the human fighter.
They were annoyed. The gods should be introduced first.
But who among humans matched that profile?
"He is also tied to many treasures," Heimdall added.
Still, no one could guess.
The arena held its breath.
The Trickster God was about to enter.
And somewhere, in the human corridor, the dragon slayer prepared to face him.