"Saitama…?"
Saitama studied Hela as a status panel popped up.
Name: Hela
Hero Class: Shinigami (Goddess of Death)
Intelligence: 6
Strength: 7
Speed: 7
Endurance: 7
Energy Projection: 7
Fighting Skills: 7
Justice Value: 0
Note: The Death Goddess of Asgard. All Asgardian souls are harvested by Hela. When anchored to Asgard, she's an invincible existence who continually grows stronger.
An outrageously gorgeous set of stats. Aside from Intelligence not quite hitting "7," everything else was "7"—beyond measurable limits. Reaching this level meant Hela belonged among the Heavenly Father tier. After all, many of Saitama's own stats were also just "7," an unquantifiable "level seventeen."
"Odin's firstborn, Hela. They call me the Goddess of Death, but I prefer the title Shinigami," Hela smiled, a wicked charm on her lips. Behind her, the undead mount Fenris rumbled, spilling a crushing aura.
Once upon a time, this was the woman who stood shoulder to shoulder with Odin and conquered the chaotic Nine Realms.
"Oh, Hela, the Tenth Realm is my turf. Odin's in charge of keeping watch here for me. You injured him—so please pay his medical bills, and… emotional damages, public works repair fees, warrior death gratuities… All told… Loki, tally up the total, would you?"
Saitama blinked and muttered under his breath.
Valkyrie stared at him like he was a freak, eyes glued to the bald head in disbelief. He—he was asking Hela to pay compensation?
Even if Odin came back to life, he wouldn't say something like that, would he? Didn't this guy get that the situation was oil and water now? Or had beating the Grandmaster on Sakaar made him so cocky he'd lost his mind?
But the Grandmaster wasn't anywhere near Hela's level! The two weren't the same class at all. Hela stood at the pinnacle of the Marvel world; the Grandmaster at best was first-rate, nothing more.
Hela also blinked at Saitama, clearly not expecting that line. Even her Executioner, Skurge, gaped in utter confusion.
"Are you… feverish?" Hela chuckled.
"Lord Saitama, the total comes to… thirty-seven million, six hundred and fifty thousand gold."
Loki dutifully pulled out a little notebook, calculating gratuities for the fallen, and even disturbance fees for neighbors terrified by Hela's arrival.
Since working with Saitama, he'd picked up a healthy habit: no matter how absurd Saitama's requests sounded, just do them. Experience said those ridiculous things had a way of coming true.
When Saitama was present, Loki immediately turned into a well-behaved third princess—a diligent administrator.
"Heh-heh-heh-heh…"
Hela's smile didn't reach her eyes as she looked at Loki. The same man she had just crushed under her heel still had the nerve to say such things?
"Hey, hey, hey! Loki! Don't forget to add my eye. That's non-negotiable!"
Thor whooped. As for the Asgardians who died… he figured that was a debt he'd have to repay personally.
"Fine. With Thor's eye—ten million gold—the total is…"
Loki kept counting.
"What kind of joke is that? My eye is only ten million gold?! Loki!" Thor yelped, offended that a prince's eye was worth so little.
"Thor, don't tell me your eye can't be restored. It's temporary. Want me to mark it at a million?"
Loki rolled his eyes.
"For the Asgardians, lost limbs and even organs can be regenerated with magic or energy. For example—in that future with 'fat Thor'—his eye got fixed up. Odin kept his ruined eye as a reminder of shame and vigilance, not because he couldn't heal it."
"…Let's keep it at ten million, Loki."
Thor scratched his cheek and, for good measure, waggled his brows at Valkyrie—flirting like: See? I, Thor, the pride of the North, can squeeze money out of the Goddess of Death!
"Interesting. Very interesting."
Hela's smile grew colder even as it widened. "Have you caught your father's stupidity from Odin's two sons?"
Aside from idiots, she couldn't imagine where they found the courage to face her like this.
"So when do you plan to pay? I don't want to fight you—and I don't want to defeat you," Saitama said.
Hela might have killed many Asgardians, but her Justice Value was 0.
In the eyes of Asgard, she was a demonic reaper. Yet to her own followers, she might be a supreme war-goddess worthy of devotion. Justice… was often a matter of stance. As for the dead—survival of the fittest, the natural law of the world…
In short, weakness was the original sin.
Of course, if Hela started butchering people right in front of him, Saitama might get interested enough to pound her flat—Justice Value 0 or not. If it looked unpleasant, he'd squash it.
"You think I'll compensate you?" Hela smiled.
"You will," Saitama replied mildly.
"Say that again once you're under my heel."
Her voice snapped cold. She tightened her grip on Saitama's hand and suddenly poured strength into it—time to teach the bald man some manners, or he'd never understand the situation. Power flooded down her arm; she was fully prepared to smash Saitama into the ground.
But…
…Gah?!
An awkward scene unfolded. Hela set up the throw—hip drop, shoulder turn, the whole motion perfect to slam him headfirst.
Result…
Saitama just stood there, calmly holding her hand. She couldn't budge him an inch.
Valkyrie: "…"
Skurge: "…"
Thor: "You… Hela, were you just trying to slam Saitama into the ground? Huh? Hahahahahahahaha… Loki, did I see that right? Hela actually tried to—"
Boom!
A razor shot of power lanced out, nailing the laughing Thor and blasting him across the plaza. He crashed through the Tenth Realm's royal hall; the building collapsed with a thunderous roar. The ground itself shook. The force was terrifying.
And yet… this embarrassing tableau remained.
"What… are you doing?"
Saitama scratched his nose, curious. After Sakaar and the Grandmaster, he'd decided he should stop getting planted in the dirt all the time. Such a hassle. Better to just… stand here.
A storm surged in Hela's heart. This wasn't Asgard; she wasn't at her absolute peak. But even so… in pure strength… the bald man seemed faintly above her?
"Let go. Let go of me!" she hissed through clenched teeth.
"Okay."
Saitama released her hand. Maybe she'd been struggling too hard; maybe he let go too suddenly—but Hela stumbled, flailed, and shot backward in a distinctly undignified arc, smashing herself into a nearby building.
"Forty thousand gold," Loki said as he flipped open the notebook and carefully added a new line.
Valkyrie was speechless.
(End of Chapter)
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