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Chapter 78 - Chapter 078

The God of Deceit, regaining partial composure, wiped the blood from his lips with a wicked grin contorting his face. With eerie calm, he raised his hand, palm aimed squarely at the Dragon Slayer.

From the pitch-black vortex swirling in his palm, a chain of light erupted—and in that instant, a pure beam, white as concentrated lightning, flashed forth like a razor-thin laser. It should have been impossible to dodge.

But dodge it he did.

Yet—what followed defied all logic.

If it had been a simple energy attack, then after Siegfried's dodge, the beam should've slammed cleanly into the wall behind him. Instead, the streak of light arced mid-air, turned sharply, and shot back toward him—faster, more menacing.

One of the divine spectators who understood what that light truly was gasped in horror.

It wasn't a beam.

It wasn't magic.

It was a weapon—a divine spear, forged not of ordinary material but of celestial essence. And not just any spear. The gods recognized its form at once.

"Gungnir?!"

The cry rang out from Grettir's elder sister, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Gungnir—the legendary spear of Odin himself. A weapon of absolute precision and devastating might. Why… why was Loki wielding it?

Cries of protest flared across the human faction.

"That's Odin's weapon, isn't it?!"

"Isn't that a violation of the rules?!"

"Why would Odin give his weapon to Loki?"

The gods fired back immediately, mocking the humans' outrage.

"Violation? The rules never said a god can't borrow another's artifact."

"Didn't your Valkyries just transform into weapons for humans? Isn't that two-on-one?"

"That was only in the first match!"

"Later, Lord Xiang Yu fought entirely on his own!"

"Tch, who knows what you mortals are hiding. Those weapons of yours… they're practically divine!"

"Don't tell us you're not getting external sponsorship."

The crowd erupted into uproar, divine and mortal voices colliding in a storm of accusation and defense.

In the eye of that storm, Heimdallr, the referee and announcer, could only maintain neutrality—rules offered no clause against borrowing divine weapons, so he remained silent.

Until—

"Eh?!"

A cry of disbelief escaped Heimdallr's lips.

Siegfried had just crushed Gungnir—with his bare hand.

The weapon of a Supreme God shattered like brittle glass. The impossible had become real.

Before the gods could process this blasphemy, Loki unleashed two more beams of white light—two more Gungnirs soaring through the air with piercing screams.

"Two Gungnirs?!"

Heimdallr blinked, stunned.

In the chaos, Loki surged forward, seizing the moment. He wasn't just hurling spears. No—this time he wielded a sword. And it wasn't ordinary.

Laevateinn.

Another divine weapon, forged for ruin.

Siegfried was pinned between threats. Two spears curving behind him. A god lunging from the front with Laevateinn poised to cleave. No dodge would save him. He had to choose—defend against the blade or risk being impaled.

"Die!"

Loki's roar echoed like thunder as the cursed sword descended.

CLANG—!

Steel rang against steel. Siegfried had raised his own sword to meet the attack.

But at that instant, both Gungnirs struck his knees—one in each leg. The tips pierced through the soft flesh just beneath the kneecaps and jutted out behind him.

A collective gasp swept through the arena.

His legs… they were done for.

Or so it seemed.

Loki pressed down harder with Laevateinn, trying to force Siegfried to his knees. He sneered—

"Bow before me!"

THUMP—!

A brutal kick to the chest sent Loki flying like a comet into the cratered wall.

Heimdallr blinked again. What just happened?

The Dragon Slayer was supposed to have crippled knees—yet he still had the strength to kick a god through stone.

"Ah... now I understand."

He explained to the audience what even the gods had missed:

Siegfried hadn't been truly impaled. At the crucial instant, he twisted his legs just enough that the Gungnirs only grazed the outer muscle, digging into flesh but missing bone. Shallow wounds. Painful, yes—but not disabling.

Since they'd connected, the Gungnirs ceased pursuit. Their purpose was served.

Loki pulled himself from the rubble, bleeding heavily but grinning maniacally.

"Well then… let's end this properly!"

He reached toward his own abdomen, fingers clawing into the flesh. And with grotesque force, he tore open a rift—a pocket of swirling void inside his body.

"Kill him—Gungnir!"

From that fissure flew a storm.

Dozens.

No—hundreds of spears, all white-hot and furious, surged outward like arrows fired from a divine battalion. The sky rained blades.

The youngest Valkyrie screamed, unable to bear the sight. Her older sister scolded gently.

"You must witness every battle fully. Look—do not shy away."

Forced to watch, she opened her eyes just in time to witness—

"Eh?!"

Blue.

Beams of cerulean light erupted from Siegfried's side, intercepting the divine barrage.

Sparks erupted.

Metal clashed with metal.

By the time the dust settled, the battlefield was littered with shattered fragments.

None of Loki's spears had survived.

Heimdallr narrowed his eyes. They weren't real.

"Cheap imitations," someone muttered. "Disposable replicas."

Indeed, true Gungnirs would never shatter so easily. These must have been defective—the remnants of failed craftsmanship. Word had long spread that Loki, for all his mischief, was also a creator. It was said that many divine weapons—including Odin's own—had been forged under his command. These knockoffs must've been rejects.

"Well... is that all?"

Siegfried's voice, cold and unimpressed, carried across the field.

He summoned the projectiles that had countered Loki's attack—multiple spearheads flew back into place, locking into the sharp points of his armor.

His armor, it turned out, was made from weapons.

A terrifying aesthetic.

"Is this all a son of the giants can do? No wonder your kind abandoned you."

His tone sharpened into a blade of ridicule.

Loki's face contorted—not with rage, but with humiliation. The deepest kind.

"Wait—giants?"

Gretel's face paled. She turned to her sister.

"Siegfried just called Loki a giant."

"That can't be true," Brunnhilde said, shaken. "Loki is of the Aesir… Odin's nephew."

But Loki didn't deny it. Not a word. His expression said everything.

"How do you know?" Gretel whispered.

"Was this revenge… for a past betrayal?"

Speculation flew.

If Loki was truly a giant—that truth would be worse than a scandal. It would be betrayal incarnate.

The gods had suffered immeasurable loss in the war against the giants. Hatred ran deep. And Loki, already disliked for his tricks and cruelty, would be cast out entirely.

He would not merely be ignored, like Beelzebub.

He would be hated.

Despised.

"This can't be real… is Loki actually from the giants' bloodline?"

"No wonder he always felt… off."

"Did Odin know? Why would he accept such a creature?!"

Thus the audience trembled. Mortals and gods alike. As the curtain lifted on a truth no one was prepared to accept.

And Loki?

He stood amid the ruin, bleeding, breathing heavily—but silent.

So very silent.

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