Upon seeing the blue box in Loki's hand, a look of excitement immediately appeared in Loren's eyes.
Because that was exactly the Casket of Ancient Winters—the Ice Box he'd been seeking: the legendary treasure of the Frost Giants of Jotunheim.
This artifact was extraordinary—a divine relic capable of freezing an entire planet, its power rivaling even the Eternal Flame of Muspelheim.
Long ago, Laufey, chieftain of the Frost Giants, had wielded it to lay waste to worlds, transforming them into frozen wastelands fit for his people.
But Odin of Asgard eventually defeated Laufey, forcing the Frost Giants to sign a peace treaty. As part of the terms, Odin confiscated the Casket and sealed it within the royal vaults of Asgard.
For over a thousand years, it remained there—untouched, yet never forgotten. Laufey never abandoned his desire to reclaim it.
It was precisely to recover this treasure that Laufey later conspired with Loki—unaware that Loki was, in fact, his own abandoned son—to assassinate Odin.
But during that scheme, Loki discovered the truth: he was not Odin's biological son, but a Frost Giant, secretly adopted as an infant.
The revelation struck like a thunderbolt, shattering his sense of identity. Refusing to accept it, he blamed Odin's favoritism toward Thor—and his own perceived inadequacy—entirely on this hidden lineage.
Determined to prove himself worthy and seize the throne, Loki orchestrated Thor's downfall, stripping him of Mjolnir and banishing him to Earth.
Everything had gone according to plan… until he was outmaneuvered by the very humans he despised.
Now, forced to surrender the Casket—a humiliating necessity—he regarded it as a temporary loss. Once back in Asgard, he'd find a way to retaliate. He'd make Loren regret this humiliation tenfold.
Besides, without Frost Giant blood, the Casket was useless to outsiders. Let Loren keep it—it was nothing but ornate ice.
"This is all I have," Loki said, shrugging with feigned indifference. "Take it if you like. If not… well, there's nothing else I can offer."
He glanced at Loren with a "what's the point?" expression.
Loren chuckled and extended his hand. With a flick of telekinetic energy, the Casket floated into his grasp.
"This is a fine prize! Of course I want it." He examined it closely, then asked curiously, "By the way—how does one even use this thing? Is there a spell? A command phrase? Leave the instructions with you, would you?"
Loki smirked inwardly. Exactly as expected. Since Loren clearly couldn't activate it, Loki felt reassured. Leaving it behind was no real loss.
He shook his head, feigning regret. "I'm sorry, but this is a relic of the Frost Giants. Only those of their bloodline can awaken its power. There are no spells, no incantations—just lineage."
"Then it's useless to us," 2B snapped, her voice cold. "What's the point of handing over junk? Are you mocking our boss? Do you want to die?"
She stepped forward, hand resting on the hilt of her adamantium sword—not a "Miao sword" (a term from Chinese wuxia, which clashes with her Nier: Automata aesthetic).
Loki paled. "Everything I said is true! It's not my fault you lack Frost Giant blood. Killing me won't change that!"
Loren tilted his head, then mused aloud, "Then what if we cut off your hand and use it to hold the Casket? Would that work?"
Loki's blood ran cold. This lunatic actually considered it?!
"Brilliant!" 2B instantly drew her blade, eyes gleaming. "Hold out your hand. My strike will be so clean, you won't even feel it."
Loki flinched. With anyone else, he'd assume bluff—but 2B's icy resolve told him she meant every word.
"No, no, no!" he stammered. "Even a severed hand won't work! The Casket senses living bloodline—not detached flesh! It's not that simple!"
"How do we know unless we try?" 2B countered with a chilling smile, stepping closer.
Furious and cornered, Loki snapped, "Enough! You heartless maniacs! I've told you the truth—do your worst and be done with it!"
He braced himself, eyes shut tight.
But just as 2B raised her sword, Loren chuckled. "Relax. If they're begging for death so readily, they probably are telling the truth."
Loren's threat had been a bluff—a calculated test. Loki, the God of Lies, rarely spoke plainly… unless pushed to his limits. His resigned fury confirmed it.
"Alright," Loren said. "2B, stand down. Open the cell."
2B sheathed her sword and released the lock.
Loki exhaled in silent relief—foolish mortal. Once free, he'd return with an army and reduce this place to ashes. He'd lock Loren and these silver-haired executioners in his deepest dungeon and make them beg for mercy.
He bolted for the exit, one foot already on free soil. Turning back, he sneered at Loren:
"Mark my words, boy—you'll regret letting me go. This is the greatest mistake of your life. When next we meet, it will be your last day."
And with that, he turned to leave—
—only for a fist to crack against the side of his skull.
Stars exploded behind his eyes. He collapsed, unconscious before he hit the ground.
A2 stepped out from the shadows near the gate, cracking her knuckles. "Is this guy really Odin's son? He acts like a spoiled brat."
"He's not Odin's biological son," Loren corrected with a smile.
"Ah. No wonder."
"Though," A2 added dryly, "the real son seems even more mentally challenged."
"..."
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