Chapter 32 — The Monster Arrives
Scene 1 — Odin
"Hahaha, I didn't think it'd work."
I laughed as they rolled my bed toward the exit.
The scientists and techs peeled off in the opposite direction, faces tight, muttering under their breath. Still upset they couldn't reverse-engineer my notebook through the cameras.
They'd really thought I was dumb enough to write a step-by-step guide and hand it to them.
All I'd done was use basic rune theory to game their own system—craft a new set of words and patterns meant only for the future divine families who would uphold the core pillars. The runes only ever appeared on camera in pieces, scattered across pages and angles. Anyone trying to decode them from footage would have to manually stitch them together, forced into doing the work themselves.
They moved my trial date up thinking they had me pinned on everything. Instead, they broke their own system.
Even some of the soldiers pushing my bed laughed with me when the scientists stalked away. For all that most of the last year had been spent asleep, moments like this made staying alive worth it.
"You know this is the end, right?" one of the soldiers asked quietly, easing the bed to a stop without jarring me.
"Yes," I said. "And that's the point."
I didn't need to look at him to feel his nerves. The faint, minuscule flicker of astral energy in him shook like a candle in a draft.
"I assumed I was painted to be a villain," I went on. "That held true. But do I need to be the monster they need me to be? No. That's the best part about expectations. The second you stop caring about metrics that don't produce results, you become something those same people can't measure."
I watched recognition flicker across his eyes.
"So what's the point for us?" he asked, voice rough. "Just because we don't care doesn't mean they can't force us to. Family, friends—our lives depend on hitting these metrics."
His buddies slowed, then stopped entirely. The four of them stood between me and the transport, caught in the gravity of a question they'd never been allowed to say out loud.
"That's for you to find out," I said. "My return will bring more horrors than miracles. After all, I'm not the holy son."
Their grips tightened on the bed rails.
"Yet if I could make an impact even the Astral Gods felt," I continued, "then maybe the answer was never external. Maybe it's what happens when you're faced with a question only you can answer."
I nudged my chin toward the loading-bay doors. Outside, I could feel them: Travelers sent by Baldur to protect the transport, signatures sharp and bright. No doubt he and Artemis were in the area as well, watching the clock run out.
"Baldur and Artemis will have answers you can't get from a camera feed," I told them. "Go out and ask. Quit being idiots who think they already know it all. Research my books if you think it'll help. Go to their guilds and see what's offered—and what's demanded of you. If you can't uphold their terms, then don't agree."
They didn't reply, but they started moving again.
The doors to the bay slid open on a wash of cold air and distant shouting. They rolled me straight into the waiting transport, letting me keep the hospital bed instead of forcing me into one of the harsh metal chairs bolted to the walls.
Small mercy.
The hatch slammed shut behind us.
Scene 2 — Crow
"How long do we have to wait?"
I leaned over the balcony rail, looking down at the street below as we waited for Odin's arrival. The Society had even pulled us back from clearing low-rank dungeons for smaller nations to be here.
Apparently, watching the trial of the man our academy was named after counted as "mandatory education."
They didn't let every student come in person, though. Astral Studies was stuck watching from campus, getting a direct live feed beamed into the lecture hall. Only the top combat classes and a few political-studies brats made the cut for the courthouse seats.
"It shouldn't take long," Alexis said. He tossed a bag of chips at Thomas, who almost dropped it. "Odin's trial is kind of a big deal."
"What about you, Ms. Lily?" Thomas asked, mouth already full. "Do you think this is a show trial, or does it actually hold any weight?"
Lily had been assigned as our chaperone, an A-rank Traveler sitting where most teachers would've gladly taken her place if they could. Anyone over twenty-one got promoted to glorified babysitter for the day.
"It's important," she said, eyes on the street instead of us, "but his crimes aren't anything new."
We all went quiet.
"The real question was always whether he'd return," she continued. "The world's been living off that uncertainty for the last ten years. Now that he's here, we need to shift focus."
"Focus on what?" Alexis asked.
"On the masked one from that dungeon two years ago," she said. "On what followed him back."
I nodded slowly. That was what mattered to me, too. The charges, the press conferences, the speeches—they were props compared to the thing I'd seen stepping through the Tear, and what I'd felt when it looked our way.
In the end, it was the question behind all of this that carried more weight than the verdict ever could.
"Hmm," I muttered.
A prickling ran down my spine. I straightened, scanning the street. The noise of the crowd blurred into a single low hum as the air changed—heavier, thicker, like a storm front your body sensed before your mind caught up.
"Something's coming," I said.
Lily's hand tightened on the rail.
Scene 3 — Reporter
"Coming to you li—"
"Excuse us. Please step back for your own sake. Unless an S-class Traveler is covering you, you and your crew are standing in a kill zone."
The camera guy cursed as we were cut off mid-intro.
I turned, already annoyed, then actually saw who had interrupted us.
Yeah. Fair enough.
A whole line of Travelers in Society black stood between us and the street, armor humming faintly, astral signatures making the air feel heavier. My vitals spiked on the HUD at my wrist just standing near them.
A deployment like this was rare, even for the Society.
If they were nervous, the rest of us should've been terrified.
"You're Cowboy Boop, right? One of the First Generation?" I asked, pushing my mic up closer. "Can you explain why everyone needs to step back?"
The million-dollar question earned me nothing but an annoyed glance.
Before I could try again, the man beside him grabbed my shoulder hard enough to make my knees wobble.
"He—"
"Shut up," Cowboy Boop said. "He's here."
Every head turned toward the street.
A heavy armored transport rolled into view, engine growling, each rotation of the treads like a slow heartbeat. Extra plating covered the sides, and more S-rank Travelers rode its flanks, all stamped with Baldur's crest.
The transport halted.
A hiss of pressure escaped as the rear hatch started to lower.
It was like watching a dragon open its mouth.
Pressure rolled out in a silent wave, thick and absolute. I watched people closest to the barricades stagger, some collapsing to their knees, cameras tilting or falling as their legs gave out like someone had cut their strings.
"What the fuck is goi—"
"That's his presence," Cowboy Boop said, voice flat, eyes never leaving the transport. "If Baldur and Artemis weren't holding it down, everyone here B-rank or lower would already be talking to Death."
The hatch finished swinging open.
He walked out.
No chains.
For everything they'd called him, everything they'd accused him of on the broadcasts, there were no cuffs, no shackles. Just a thin, rune-etched collar at his throat, silver lines trailing down into his skin like they'd been burned into his body. Even that looked more ceremonial than restraining.
He was still in the plain prisoner clothes from the hospital, bare feet touching the metal ramp like it was his own floor.
Artemis and Baldur flanked him, one on each side, both of them resting a hand on his shoulders—not to comfort him, but to steer him. Not giving him a chance to exchange words with any of us.
One glance from Baldur swept across the press line and killed every question in our throats before they formed.
For all that they stood beside him, Odin's presence erased the illusion of who was in charge.
In that moment, with a single step onto the courthouse steps, it was obvious:
The Society, the government, the world itself—
—we were all just trying not to get burned by a dying sun.