Hela's voice cracked like lightning through the frost.
"Don't think that just because you're the so-called God of Gods, I'll bow before you, Odin! This is my realm—you have no right to lecture me!"
Odin slammed the butt of his spear against the ground. "You are the ruler of the dead! It is your duty to ensure no soul leaves your domain! I am not using my title to threaten you, Hela—only to remind you of your oath!"
Hela scoffed, eyes gleaming with venomous amusement. "Oh, spare me your righteous father act. You're only angry because Loki's soul slipped through your fingers. Are you hoping I'll tidy up your mess and send your son's ghost home to Asgard for a family reunion?"
Her mocking grin deepened. "No one steals from me, Odin. No one."
"Yet a mortal did," Odin growled. "Loki's soul was taken—by a human."
Hela's expression froze. Then a slow, dangerous smile spread across her lips.
"A mortal, huh? Then I'll pay this thief a visit myself. Let's see who dares snatch a soul from under my nose."
Before Odin could reply, her form dissolved into black mist.
Meanwhile, in Midgard, Ryuuto sat in the backyard with Natasha Romanoff and Katie Dee, crunching on apples beneath the lazy afternoon sun. It was almost peaceful… until a small figure appeared at the edge of the garden.
A girl—no older than seven, maybe eight—stood watching them. Her eyes were far too calm for her age.
Ryuuto frowned and set his apple aside. "Hey, kid. You lost?"
The girl tilted her head. "Are you Ryuuto?"
That tone—sharp, cold, and entirely un-childlike—made Ryuuto's instincts flare. He straightened, wary. "...Depends who's asking."
"I'll be direct." The girl clasped her hands behind her back, eyes glinting dark green. "I am Hela. Queen of the Underworld."
Ryuuto blinked. Then laughed.
"Right. And I'm the Emperor of Ikea. Cute cosplay, though."
Before he could finish his joke, the girl's body rippled—melting like shadow. When the illusion fell, the real Hela stood before him: tall, lethal, beautiful in a way that felt dangerous. Her long black dress clung to her frame like liquid night, and her eyes gleamed with eternal cold.
One second, she'd been a child. The next, a goddess.
Ryuuto froze, then muttered under his breath, "...Okay, that's new."
It wasn't that she wasn't attractive—just that he preferred the kind of "cute" that didn't radiate 'death energy.'
(Still, Katie Dee was his weakness for a reason.)
Hela smiled faintly. "So, tell me, mortal—still think I'm joking?"
A chill swept through the air, biting into Ryuuto's skin like open freezer air. He took two steps back, hands raised in mock surrender.
"Alright, Miss Drama Queen. What do you want?"
"I want to know how you stole a soul from my realm," she said coldly. "Odin claims you summoned Loki's spirit back to Midgard. Normally, anyone who does that must earn my permission—and pay a price. You'll tell me how you did it, or I'll drag you back to Niflheim myself as my eternal slave."
Ryuuto's lips curled. "You sure you have that kind of pull?"
The insult was like a spark in gasoline. Hela's eyes flashed.
"You're the first human to speak to me like that."
In her hand, darkness coalesced—forming a massive scythe dripping with black mist. The Scythe of Souls. Its blade gleamed with a deathly chill.
Before Ryuuto could move, she swung.
He barely dodged, the blade carving through where he'd stood a second ago. The air split apart with a shriek.
"So fast…" Hela murmured, momentarily impressed.
Ryuuto raised his right hand—and crimson energy surged. In a shimmer of bloodlight, his own weapon appeared: the Crimson March Scythe, triple-bladed and wickedly curved. Each edge pulsed with violent chakra energy.
Two scythes.
Two gods of death.
The tension was sharp enough to cut the world.
Hela's eyes narrowed. "What are you?"
Ryuuto grinned. "Eighteen, Japanese, single—"
"I'm not asking for your dating profile!" she snapped.
"Oh. My bad."
"You mock me?!" Her fury erupted. "Fine! Then I'll bring you to the Underworld myself!"
She vanished in an instant—teleporting behind him.
"Ryuuto, behind you!" Natasha shouted.
He spun, but too late.
The Scythe of Souls grazed his arm—
—and for a heartbeat, he felt nothing.
He looked down. His left arm was still there. But he couldn't feel it.
"What the hell…?"
He remembered the blade cutting through him—he saw it. It should've sliced his limb clean off. But it hadn't. His body was fine.
No pain. No blood.
Just a dead, heavy numbness crawling up his arm.
Then he understood.
"It doesn't cut flesh," he muttered. "It cuts souls…"
Hela smirked. "You catch on fast. My scythe reaps the spirit. It won't leave a mark on your body—but a few more strikes, and your soul will start to unravel."
Ryuuto clicked his tongue. "Guess I'm not immortal after all."
She raised her weapon again, her voice calm and cold. "I used to visit your world when I was bored. Harvested a few souls here and there—kept me entertained. Don't make the mistake of thinking you're different."
Ryuuto clenched his remaining fist. His arm was still numb, but—
There. He felt a faint spark return.
Regeneration. Even his soul was recovering.
His lips curved into a crooked grin. "Bad news, Queenie. I don't break that easy."