Chapter 132: Who Am I? I've Left Many Names in Human History
Contrary to what some might believe, Odin's death was not a loss—it was, in fact, a remarkable gain.
Odin would never truly submit to the Master's will. Their relationship had always been one of mutual exploitation, laced with constant probing and manipulative games. Each feigned alliance masked their true intentions.
And so, Odin had long stood as one of the greatest obstacles to the Master's return and reclamation. With his death, that impediment vanished. Now, there was nothing left to fear.
Several days passed.
A mysterious visitor arrived—one who sought a... partnership.
Escorting this enigmatic figure was none other than Njord, the god of the seas, now acting as the interim chief deity of the Nordic pantheon.
"You refuse to reveal your true face?" one of the assembled gods barked with irritation. "Daring to mask yourself before beings of our grandeur—is this some kind of joke?"
The air was thick with divine disdain. Their guest's secrecy irked them, grating on the pride of entities unused to being denied.
"What's the rush~?" the mysterious one replied with a teasing drawl.
The tone—a blend of mockery and mischief—sent a ripple of annoyance through the divine assembly. Several gods clenched their fists, bristling at the perceived disrespect.
And then... the guest revealed their true face.
Shock cascaded through the hall.
"No way—how can this be?!"
"Weren't you dead?!"
"Was it… all a fake?"
"But the Akasha System confirmed his death!"
They stood dumbfounded before the figure who should have belonged to the grave.
The motive was clear. The resurrected soul had come to join their ranks—but not out of goodwill. Vengeance brewed in his heart, aimed squarely at the gods of the opposing faction.
Yet, without Fenrir and Jörmungandr—his former allies—he was but a shell of power.
One of the gods sneered, stepping forward with malicious intent. This ghost had once wronged him. A lesson was long overdue.
He raised his fist—ready to strike.
But then—wait.
What happened to his arm?
He looked down in horror. It had been ripped away.
The culprit: a wolf, barely one and a half meters tall.
No—two wolves. One lunged from behind.
And now—something cold tightened around his neck.
A snake. Not just any snake, but one brimming with lethal venom. Death danced on its scales.
"Lady Gaia," the revenant whispered, "may I be permitted to return?"
Nearly two millennia before the gods would pass final judgment on humanity…
A lone figure worked within a vast workshop, surrounded by the remains of long-dead giants. His hands danced over the cadavers, refining ancient mechanisms buried in bone and flesh.
Suddenly, his body jolted.
Another memory. Unbidden. Burned into him.
How troublesome.
This added recollection—was it planted to push forth Ragnarok? If so, it was undeniably sinister.
The flames around him wavered, casting odd flickers across the chamber. One wall grew slightly brighter. Another subtly dimmed.
To the average observer, it would appear as nothing more than a stray breeze sneaking through the cracks—flame shiver, nothing more.
But he noticed. He always noticed.
Without hesitation, he thrust a short dagger into a shadow where light did not reach. The blade sank into the stone as though it were tofu—smooth, silent, complete.
The darkness recoiled.
It moved—writhed—coalesced into a humanoid shape.
A figure applauded, stepping forth from the black.
"You sensed me? Impressive."
But before the figure could continue, the researcher named them aloud.
A mischievous smirk played across his lips. "Let's go bully the Valkyries," he said, "and make a little wager while we're at it."
Elsewhere, within the depths of the Akasha dimension...
A beautiful woman gobbled down her final bite of a repulsively salty licorice pie. Once the last morsel vanished between her lips, she swept all the trays off the table with dramatic disdain. The crash startled her younger sister standing outside the chamber.
With a flick of her fingers, she summoned the Akasha System and loaded a character profile.
Her slender index finger jabbed the call button repeatedly.
No response.
"Damn it!"
Bang!
She slammed her fist down and buried her face in her arms.
"Sister Brunhild—it's broken!"
Grey's panicked voice echoed behind her.
Broken? At a time like this?
"I don't care. Leave me alone before I break you."
"Wait—break me? That's not the issue! You just broke the Akasha System!"
Brunhild raised her head, blinking in confusion.
On the interface, static erupted. The screen glitched like an old-world analog display. As if the whole system was... crumbling.
She stared, eyes wide.
Could the Akasha really be so fragile?
The next second, the entire window turned into a warped mess—like one of humanity's archaic black-and-white televisions, completely snowed out.
No signal.
No feedback.
"What do we do now?" Grey whimpered. "What if the upcoming confrontation depends on it?"
Then Brunhild raised her hand again—about to strike the console once more.
"STOP!" Grey cried.
"Back in the old days," Brunhild said innocently, "you just had to smack those TVs and they'd start working."
…Really?
Grey almost bought it, caught in the absurdity.
"No wait! That was human tech. The Akasha System is not a TV!"
She leapt in front of her sister, hands spread to intercept any more reckless violence.
"Stand aside. Let me hit it again."
"No way!"
"Horust sister! Everyone! Come stop her!"
At last, the elder sister was restrained by her siblings.
Brunhild exhaled slowly, her fury cooling.
Just as peace began to settle, she locked eyes with Grey. Her gaze sharpened. Unfriendly. Predator-like.
And not just Brunhild—all the sisters turned to stare at Grey.
What was going on?
What had she done wrong?
Then a voice spoke from behind her.
"No need to be so tense. We're not your enemies… Brunhild."
Grey jumped, startled like a kitten struck by lightning.
The speaker wore a black cloak, yet beneath it was… nothing. As though all visible flesh had been painted out, leaving only clothes behind. A void in human shape.
The being reached out to pat Grey's head.
"Eeep!"
She squealed.
But wait—there was no sensation. The hand had passed through her?
Was that… a hologram?
She froze. Eyes wide.
Could it be? The Akasha System wasn't damaged—it had been hacked?
"Who are you?" Brunhild demanded, her voice low and guarded.
"Who am I?" the figure mused playfully. "I've left many names in human history. And we've met more than once already."
Brunhild frowned. She had no memory of him.
"At least twice," the figure continued. "Once in the 27th century BCE... and again in the 10th century BCE."
Her breath caught.
"You're the one who led me to those kings?"
Those kings—so exceptional—might not have reached such heights alone. Perhaps this man had been behind them all along. A servant. An advisor. A shadow.
Who was he, really?
Was he a Primordial?
He answered her thoughts before she could speak.
"No. Quite the opposite. I stand against the Primordials."
His eyes gleamed.
"And now, I need your help. Among the divine races, the Valkyries are the only ones untouched by the gaze of the Primordial Gods. In the coming moment, I need you to open the gate between the pantheons and the human realm... the Celestial Gates that link all divine systems."
"All divine systems?" Brunhild echoed.
Her voice trembled.
For if those gates were to open... everything would change.