Perseus?
Nero squinted slightly. She hadn't expected Kriemhild to peg this Greek hero with just one glance.
But, to be fair, it wasn't a tough call. Wielding a scythe and pulling off that invisibility trick earlier? It's not hard to connect the dots. Perseus had a stash of god-given goodies: a scythe-sword that could slay immortals, winged shoes for flying, a helmet that made him invisible, a bag for trapping monsters, and a bronze shield that reflected like a mirror.
With those toys, Perseus made short work of the snake-haired Medusa, snagging her head. Then he used it to turn the sea monster Kraken into a stone mountain, saved Princess Andromeda, and tied the knot with her.
Like Kriemhild said, Perseus had a charmed life—smooth sailing, no real bumps in the road.
And that's exactly why… hearing her whine about her fate lit a fire under Kriemhild's already burning rage.
"So, you're gonna keep hiding? Fine by me," Kriemhild sneered. "Nero, give me a hand.
"I'm gonna flatten this punk, stomp her, rip her apart, tear her to shreds—till she's dead! And then? I'll do it a hundred more times!"
"Whoa, ease up on the 'kill' part," Nero said, brushing a lock of hair from her face with a sigh. "We still need her to deal with Pavone. But…"
But this Heroic Spirit was seriously getting on her nerves. Fighting Pavone was about the future of humanity, and dodging it with some flimsy "I don't wanna follow fate" excuse? That's not what legendary heroes do.
Nero flicked her wrist, and her serpent-blade materialized in her hand. "Dragging her out and smacking her around? Yeah, I'm down for that."
No way was Nero letting Perseus slip away. Forget the whole "future of humanity" spiel—Nero needed Pavone gone to get back home, and Perseus was key.
Easier said than done, though. Perseus' invisibility was the real deal, a divine Noble Phantasm. It didn't just hide her body—it erased her sound, scent, even her magical signature. Not only did it fool the three of them, but it also had Chaldea's scanners completely stumped.
No wonder they hadn't spotted her until now. If Sphinx hadn't pointed them here, they might've never known a Heroic Spirit was lurking in this backwater corner.
This wasn't gonna fly. Talking big about roughing someone up and then not even finding them? That's just embarrassing.
Kriemhild swung her sword, and black flames surged like a tidal wave, swallowing everything in front of her. Those flames? Once they caught, they never stopped burning—just like the unquenchable hatred in her heart.
Thing is, if you go by the legends, Kriemhild wasn't summoned as an Avenger, so she shouldn't have this kind of terrifying grudge. At the end of her story, she avenged herself: killed her brother, slaughtered the Burgundian army, and beheaded Hagen, the guy who betrayed her beloved.
Her revenge was done… or it should've been.
But in another story, things went down differently.
The air warped in the black flames, but Perseus didn't show. Probably used those winged shoes to zip into the sky. Keep this up, and she might actually get away.
"No… you… DON'T!" Kriemhild roared.
She thrust out her left hand, back facing outward, flashing a golden ring on her ring finger, gleaming over her black lace glove.
"Get down here and show yourself!"
Her voice carried a mind-bending magical compulsion. And just like that, Perseus appeared mid-air, plummeting straight down, her face a mask of shock.
Nero and Ritsuka were just as stunned. Why? That golden ring on Kriemhild's hand, the one bending minds, was none other than the Ring of the Nibelung!
Forged from the Rhinegold, that cursed ring once belonged to the great hero Siegfried before the Burgundian king and his scheming jester Hagen stole it. But in that story, there's no "Kriemhild." Instead, the king's sister is Gudrun—a pitiful, hateful woman who used magic to trick Siegfried's love and got him killed.
That woman wasn't Kriemhild, and Kriemhild didn't see herself in her. So how the hell did that ring end up on her finger?
To Kriemhild, it didn't matter. She didn't remember, and she didn't care. The moment that ring appeared, a black, venomous fire erupted in her heart, torching everything. Love, hate, memories, her past—all of it became fuel for the blaze. This fire of vengeance would never die, could never die, because the ring whispered one truth:
This is fate.
Killing Gunther? Hagen? Thinking that was revenge? Bullshit.
Hagen dies. Gunther dies. Siegfried dies. But not because someone killed them. It's just fate—woven by the three Norns, a destiny even they couldn't escape.
In the end, Kriemhild's life amounted to nothing.
So, keep avenging. That's what she told herself.
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If fate was spun on a loom, she'd burn the loom. If the gods ordained it, she'd torch Asgard. If the world demanded this fate, she'd set the whole Yggdrasil ablaze.
With these eternal, pitch-black flames.
As Perseus plummeted toward that infernal sea of fire, she hurled her scythe, aiming to hook a tree and yank herself clear. That's when Nero, who'd been watching this whole time, finally made her move.
Her serpent-blade lashed out, snagging the scythe mid-air. With a quick tug, Nero sent Perseus tumbling toward her.
"No running, big hero," Nero grinned. She released the blade, and it coiled around Perseus like a living thing, binding her tight and dropping her to the ground.
Thud!
Kriemhild flipped her sword, slamming it blade-down into the earth with a deafening crash. The flames on the blade and ground snuffed out. The black-clad woman clenched her fist and stalked toward Perseus, draped in white.
"You—"
Perseus barely got a word out before Kriemhild's fist smashed into her face, cutting her off. She hit the dirt, swallowing whatever she was gonna say.
Bound by Nero's blade, Perseus rolled on the ground like a wriggling white grub.