There was no swagger or defiance, no scheming or calculation, no hatred or disgust.
When Odin spoke the words welcoming his big brother, he was stunned to find an uncanny calm in his heart.
The words felt as ordinary as eating and drinking.
And yet a moment earlier he'd still been fretting about the pile of lies he'd told his subordinates and how he'd ever explain them.
What if big brother turned on him, butchered his people—Ah Puch and the like? Then what?
But both his reason and his feelings told him his brother wasn't that petty.
If Thalos really kept score like that, Odin's soul would have been snuffed long ago.
Well! Blessing or curse, there's no dodging it. Having thought it through, Odin simply lay flat.
Seeing the look in Odin's eyes—having thought things through and resigned himself to the chopping block—Thalos actually felt amused. Even with a previous life behind him, after a century-plus of the two brothers targeting and outmaneuvering each other, it ended with Odin completely yielding.
This plastic brotherhood really was full of drama!
"Odin, everything in the past will be remembered. The Aesir will not shortchange any meritorious subject." To any bystander it was a flawless platitude, but it carried Thalos's promise.
Merit is merit, fault is fault.
Since Thalos hadn't slapped a "sin-god" label on him at the first opportunity, Odin knew he was probably in the clear.
He let out a long breath inside. Even so, when he tried to smile, a century of being hunted down by Thalos, of repeated failed bids to found his own system, left him too stifled to look natural.
"My (damnable) big brother! Long time no see." Odin's mouth-shape and his god-voice differed by a shade.
"My (foolish) little brother! Long time no see." Thalos likewise.
And Odin had no temper left at being called a fool.
Foolish? Yes—every time he reflected, Odin felt he'd been monstrously foolish back then, taking in massive chaotic power for the sake of ambition, raising the rebel banner so recklessly.
The laughable part was that in a hundred postmortems, he knew his past self wouldn't have listened to anyone.
He fancied himself stronger than his big brother, the one who should command the Aesir and bag all the beautiful goddesses!
Run the review a hundred times, and Odin still felt there was no way his past self could have grasped his brother's strength—not just divine might, but strength in every sense.
Had Odin not risen again and again only to be used as Thalos's gun, tormented in every fashion to grind off his edge—by his nature, even today he wouldn't submit.
A god taught by gods never learns.
A god taught by events learns in one lesson.
Only after losing to Zeus, being captured, having his consort taken—after utter humiliation, then stirring the Titans' rebellion—did Odin understand how meaningless all his years of struggle had been.
If he could never best his big brother, then he could only… lie down.
To stumble in his brother's hands, to caper like a clown in his palm, and in the end to see the truth—then he could only… lie at his brother's feet.
Looking at Thalos's figure—bearing still dazzling, divine power boundless beyond bounds—Odin was filled with feeling.
"Big brother, I don't want anything anymore. I only want…"
"Hera, isn't it?" Thalos made a face every god understood, even threw him a wink.
After a stunned beat, Odin burst into genuine laughter. "Hahaha! Worthy of my big brother—you really get me!"
Though they were only projections, they shared a sincere embrace in the void.
Projections had no sensation, but Odin felt all his grievances soothed.
"My (foolish) little brother got bullied. As the elder brother, I can't just pretend not to see, can I?"
"Everything's in your hands, big brother." At that moment Odin even felt: having laid everything out, he wanted to do nothing at all—just quietly await the moment Zeus walked to his doom.
"Mm. Leave it to me."
What followed had a touch of the formal.
Odin summoned old and new subordinates to introduce to Thalos.
With Thalos's exalted station as it was, who truly merited Odin's personal introduction were only the dozen-odd old Maya gods led by Ah Puch, plus a few newly surrendered former god-kings.
Thalos gave Odin face—offering Ah Puch a few words of reassurance and giving the other god-kings a nod apiece.
In the next few days, to Odin's uneasy anticipation, the Aesir side arrived first.
Thalos sent Gilgamesh forward with part of the host, riding the Fusang World to link up with Odin.
That not only greatly strengthened Odin's side, it also brought Odin a batch of goddesses.
Most were low-value sea goddesses; truly high-born among them were only the goddess of Sunrise, Anatole, and the goddess of Prayer, Elete—both true gods who had been swept along when Athena surrendered.
Such goddesses, who didn't shine in Greek myth, were no "add" in Thalos's eyes.
Originally they were to be allotted after Zeus was defeated. Since Odin had scurried back, they might as well be used to placate him.
Odin knew the moment; after handing those former slave god-kings over to Gilgamesh, he took Ah Puch and the old retainers to drink and make merry day after day in the temple Thalos had given him on the Fusang World—showing not the slightest intent to snatch merit from the new god-kings.
With Odin playing the god this well, the Aesir god-kings one and all held a decent opinion of him.
Only the true old-guard Aesir kept wary and distant—even Loki, Odin's old buddy, only came for a single drink.
Seven days later, with Ginnungagap bearing the Aesir main host into the theater of the final battle, Odin finally let go of the heart he'd been holding aloft.
"Ah Puch, let's toast to Zeus's end."
"Glory to our God-Emperor!" Ah Puch knew how to play his part, leading the toast.
The other gods—Maya and newly defected Greek goddesses alike—raised their cups in "high spirits."
Mm. Only those who had been thrashed by the Aesir knew how strong and terrible they were.
They were most thankful that, at least, they'd caught the last train bound for eternal victory!
From here on, it was up to Thalos and his people to perform.
Ginnungagap, Asgard, the Silver Palace.
The Aesir gods had long since been limbering up, waiting by the Rainbow Bridge to sally forth at any time.
Only Thalos and his consorts still remained in the Silver Palace.
Until the moment of decision, Thalos had no reason to leave his own temple.
Athena frowned. "The Greek world is late."
To keep Zeus from intercepting Odin, Thalos had, after all, sped Ginnungagap for a few days. By rights, Ginnungagap should have arrived only a day ahead.
Instead, the Greek world was three days late.
There was only one explanation: Zeus had pushed the great world in reverse to slow its advance.