Chapter 149: The Lonely Clown Laughs Madly in the Heart of the Sea
Whether Rowe intended it or not, everything he did after entering the Norse world was, in truth, accelerating Ragnarok's arrival.
Seizing the identity of the Wild Hunt that belonged to the Great God Odin on the side of death weakened Odin's strength on the side of chaos, and in turn strengthened Ragnarok itself.
Using the Spear That Shines at the End to tear open the curtain of the Age of Gods, then piercing the passage between Jötunheimr and Midgard so the Storm Legion could march into Midgard, also amplified the influence of chaos. Whether in the present or the future, the giants of that era were always beings aligned with chaos.
Even the severe injury dealt to Thor, and the seizure of the Snow Mountain Goddess's Authority, intentionally or unintentionally pushed the world toward an earlier Ragnarok.
Because only by entering Ragnarok would the divine power of Asgard be continuously weakened.
Only then could Rowe draw the kindled sparks back to the side of order.
From death to life.
He would use fragments of Divine Cores, condensed from the concepts of gods, to achieve that step.
Perhaps precisely because of this, the process of Ragnarok's arrival also changed. The three winters Odin had "foretold," and the era where mortals were plagued by endless war and slaughter, vanished as if they had never existed.
"Skaði, next… I leave it to you." Rowe turned his gaze toward the Snow Mountain Goddess behind him.
Skaði held the secrets of the gods, controlling the outflow of the greatest mysteries in the Norse world. Only she could drive these fragments of Divine Core condensed from divine concepts.
"You do not need to tell me. I know what to do." Skaði muttered, voice low, purple hair swaying as she rose atop her mount.
Her dress fluttered. Legs wrapped in black stockings planted themselves in the storm. A staff carved from dark wood appeared in her hand. Brilliant light and shadow gathered in her eyes as she stared at the fragments Fafnir had spat out.
Skaði lifted the staff.
Compared to the martial arts she learned from Scathach, her magecraft made Rowe's eyes brighten.
Dark purple radiance flowed, peeling away the Divine Core's outer shell. The goddess who commanded the secrets of the gods, and who possessed formidable magical attainments, dismantled every layer of defense without damaging the core itself.
Points of light drifted out, like brilliant fireflies.
Skaði raised her hand.
"Go."
Rowe's voice joined hers, calm and sharp.
"Go and ignite that fire."
Their eyes met.
Skaði smiled, genuinely, brightly.
Rowe smiled as well.
The Storm Legion advanced, step by step, and the specks of Divine Core fell upon them. The sparks burning in their chests swelled violently, like suns erupting to life, reflecting endless brilliance through the storm.
Earth.
Ocean.
Ice.
Harvest.
Battle.
Hearth.
One Divine Core after another descended onto the giants. The roars that had once dominated the storm began to fade. As they advanced, their towering bodies shrank.
From giants, they transformed into gods.
Chaos, moving toward a new shape of primordial order.
"Is this your answer?" Ymir witnessed it, and the remaining will of the progenitor giant shook with shock and rage. "You steal divine authority and become new gods?"
"That is right. This is my choice."
Rowe's smile widened behind his mask, voice carrying across Midgard.
"Ymir, the era of giants has passed. Chaos will not disappear, but order is the body that rules the world."
"The Storm Gods are my people."
From today onward, Rowe's voice rose higher, as if declaring it to the Nine Realms themselves.
"I am the Great God of the Norse world."
"Great God!"
"Great God!"
"Great God!"
Those who had been giants only moments ago, now gods, shouted in unison.
They were no longer crude silhouettes carved from storm and hunger. Among them were men and women. The men ranged from burly to lean, the women from youthful and beautiful to plump and noble. Others could not grasp the significance, but Skaði could.
They looked like the gods of Asgard.
Not only had Rowe seized their Authority, he intended to replace their very existence.
Only one thing remained unchanged.
The storm coiling around their bodies.
That was their emblem.
The line dividing new from old.
They were not the Aesir and Vanir of the Asgard divine realm.
They were the Storm Gods Stepden.
"The succession of old and new is right before our eyes."
Wild winds swept in all directions. The Storm Legion stepped onto the stage of the Age of Gods.
Wherever they passed, the divine curtain of the Nine Realms, born from the World Tree, was torn apart and burned to ash.
What replaced it was the planet itself.
Not gods of the Age of Gods.
Gods of the planet.
The storms clinging to them were not imitation. They were the true planetary winds, extracted from the primordial storm itself.
They were Star Gods.
Gods who could resonate with the celestial bodies directly, without relying on the World Tree's "nature."
"Our power…"
"Divinity is draining, our divine status is declining…"
"Great God Odin, why do you not act?"
In the sky above Asgard, the gods felt their power collapsing the moment the Storm Gods appeared. They began to retreat in disarray.
Nidhogg swaggered through the chaos.
Fenrir swallowed the twin sun and moon gods.
Midgard's sky turned pitch black in an instant, and yet the sparks flickering within the Storm Gods became the only remaining light.
"Gods. What an exciting scene."
On a distant mountain, Beowulf roared wildly and laughed as if the world itself were wine.
He joined the Storm Legion, becoming one of its warriors while still wearing a living human body.
"The malice and chaos that cling to the world should be swept clean."
A voice whispered, and the greatsword within the Storm Legion erupted with shining majesty.
"This is my destiny."
Sigurd's destiny.
A Valkyrie, falling from the sky, was swept along into the Storm Legion, bewildered, carried past the hero who held the greatsword.
Destiny twisted.
Then cracked.
Then shattered.
Change in the heavens brought turmoil to the human world.
The Storm Gods did not join the slaughter. They protected Midgard's mortals. The surging storm wrapped humanity in the eye of its vortex, sheltering them in the only calm left.
Giants and beasts instinctively avoided that storm ring.
At that same moment, Odin's wife, Frigg, Queen of Heaven and Goddess of Love, finally forced open the door to the inner hall where the Great God Odin had secluded himself.
Within the splendid golden palace, towering pillars surrounded a throne carved from jade.
And on that throne…
There was only a skeleton.
The enormous skeleton still shimmered with golden divine light. The scepter beside its hand and the crown upon its skull spoke of its former status.
The Great God Odin…
Was dead.
Rumble. Rumble. Rumble.
At the edge of the Nine Realms, thunder roared above the colossal Jörmungandr. Thor, the strongest Norse god of war, had grown even stronger after his battle with Rowe.
Sefar's nature was infinite growth. Thor's body, born from the Star Hunter's legacy, carried that characteristic.
Not all of it.
Only one aspect.
He fed on the concept of battle.
As long as he fought strong enemies, he became stronger. That was why he had defied the King of the Gods before. That was why he had sought Rowe, not for justice, but for the hunger that lived inside him.
He craved battle.
And beyond that, he craved strength.
So now, relying on that instantaneous growth, he finally suppressed Jörmungandr, the fated mortal enemy Odin had spoken of.
Jörmungandr roared, its enormous head colliding again and again with lightning, and yet it could not break through.
The Norse sea churned. Lightning spread through the water like countless swords, piercing the serpent's body.
Heavy rain surged. The world dimmed as if a curtain had dropped over it.
Thor raised his hammer.
Jörmungandr raged, roared, shrieked.
But it could not change the fact that it was losing.
It was only a step away from being driven back into the abyss of the seabed by Thor.
If he defeated Jörmungandr without injury, Thor could turn and deal with the giants, deal with Nidhogg, deal with Fenrir.
He had that strength now.
But only if everything proceeded as he expected.
Clang.
Thor's arm froze in midair.
Lightning itself seemed to hesitate.
Thor's Divine Core was draining.
The sudden change caused a momentary delay in his mind, as if his personality stuttered.
Jörmungandr seized the gap.
Its raised tail crashed into Thor with the force of ten thousand mountains.
The sea split. An endless volume of water flung into the sky.
Thor smashed into a massive iceberg with a thunderous boom, dust and ice erupting.
"What… is going on?"
Cracks spidered across his pale armor. The rotating cubes embedded in his chest and arms slowed drastically.
Thor's eyes widened.
And laughter answered him.
"Excellent. Excellent. Truly well done."
"Thor, you are indeed the Tree's last survival instinct. Ho ha ha ha."
A wild, almost comical voice slipped into Thor's ears. He narrowed his eyes behind the pale mask and looked at the figure that had appeared.
A slender clown slid across the ice, then raised a hand and bowed with exaggerated courtesy.
"Loki?" Thor's voice rumbled with thunder. "Is this your doing, you scoundrel?"
Lightning flared again. The friction of electric arcs melted a vast stretch of ice as Thor tore himself free and stood upright.
He moved to strike.
"Yes, and no." Loki's grin did not falter. "I told you, I like a changing world. I like sparks."
"But there is one more thing I never said."
Loki's voice sharpened, and the smile on his painted face looked suddenly cruel.
"I hate alien things."
Thor's anger stalled.
Alien…
"You mean the World Tree?" Thor's voice dropped, filled with confusion.
The World Tree was an alien power, yes, but it had also been the support allowing the gods to exist to this day. Thor disliked Loki, but he could not deny the God of Sophistry's intelligence.
How could Loki not understand that?
And if he understood, how could he resent it?
"Ho ha ha ha. Exactly." Loki spread his arms. "I mean the World Tree."
"What a ridiculous thing. It manipulates the gods' power, manipulates the gods' very existence."
"Look at yourself now, Thor."
"Are you still Thor?"
Thor froze.
"Long ago, the gods of Asgard became nothing but tendrils of that so called World Tree."
Thor's breathing faltered. Instinct told him to deny it, to crush Loki under a hammer blow.
But another instinct, a colder one, whispered that it might be true.
What had he been, originally?
Warlike, yes, but straightforward.
Hungry for battle, yes, but not a butcher.
He drank with friends, laughed at feasts, guarded farmers as much as he shattered foes.
He was thunder, but also protection.
And now?
Inside that pale body, only obsession remained.
Obsession with battle.
Obsession with becoming stronger.
Obsession with surviving Ragnarok.
Was it him?
Or was it something wearing his name?
"It is not just you." Loki tilted his head toward the heavens. "The gods above you are the same. Strip away the divine shell, peel back the cover of their Divine Cores, and you will see it."
"Ragnarok? It arrived a long time ago."
"Ho ha ha ha."
Loki threw his head back and laughed, staring up at the violently shaking World Tree, at the terrified gods clinging to its crown.
As their Divine Cores were invaded and their divinity drained, their appearances changed. They should have vanished into nothingness, and yet they remained.
Pale husks.
Rotating, quiet blue cubes.
They looked exactly like Thor.
They were no longer the gods of Asgard.
They were only tendrils of the World Tree, still believing themselves to be gods.
What was happening?
Not only Thor was stunned.
Even Skaði, standing high above within the true Star World, felt a chill run through her.
Those were the gods she once fought beside.
Those were the gods of Asgard.
Or… were they?
"Of course not." Rowe tightened his grip on the Storm Spear, his face behind the iron mask turning solemn.
"The gods of Asgard have been gone for a long time."
Back then, the Great God Odin had attempted to prolong the prosperity of the Norse divine age. He cultivated the remains of a Star Hunter into the World Tree.
But the power of a Star Hunter was not something that could be "used" without consequence.
That residual power, once transformed into the World Tree, continuously corroded the so called Nine Realms and the gods perched upon the tree.
It turned the gods into its tendrils.
And the gods were oblivious.
Among them, only Skaði, born last, had not yet been corroded. That was why she became the purest goddess.
"Odin possessed the wisdom of the world," Loki spat, sliding across the ice with a face that twisted under grotesque paint, "and he never used it. A learned fool."
If someone had insulted Odin like that before, Thor would have smashed them without hesitation.
Now, he could only listen.
"I tried to dissuade him," Loki continued. "It was useless. He insisted on using alien power."
"Thousands of years ago, when he finally understood the heresy, he regretted it."
"But by then, the alien power had permeated too deeply. All gods were already controlled by the World Tree. Breaking free was nearly impossible."
"So, under his instruction, I personally designed this Ragnarok."
Thor's eyes widened.
"You…"
"Surprised? Terrified? Or relieved?" Loki's grin widened. "Only when the gods perish can the alien power be eradicated."
"Only then can the world return to what it was meant to be."
Loki's voice became almost tender, as if he were describing a necessary surgery.
"So I ended Odin's life myself."
"I controlled his messengers. I issued every command in his name."
"I awakened Ymir's consciousness."
"With Ymir's power, I gave birth to Hel, Fenrir, and Jörmungandr, yet made Ymir think he outwitted me."
"I found the celestial body's self defense mechanism against alien powers from the Sea of Stars."
"The black dragon, Nidhogg."
He had orchestrated Ragnarok with his own hands.
Loki, God of Sophistry and God of Wisdom, had always been the most terrifying among the gods.
Because he was both mad and meticulous.
Because he was born a giant, yet walked among gods.
Carrying extreme rational order and extreme chaotic madness in the same heart.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Thor's lightning flared again.
Loki only smiled.
Then laughed.
The mad clown stood at the heart of the sea, and his rampant laughter echoed across the Nine Realms.
Rowe raised the spear in his hand.
The Storm God race had already taken shape.
The God of Sophistry, who calculated everything, made only one miscalculation.
Rowe.
The King of the Wild Hunt who rose with the tide.
The King of Storms who appeared with the tide.
And yet, Rowe's appearance was also within Loki's design.
Loki allowed him to act.
Rowe, by tacit agreement, pushed Loki's plan forward as well.
He knew the North was wrong.
The white crystals mixed into the blood of living beings were never a good sign.
Rowe said nothing.
It was silent cooperation.
A mutual benefit.
A win win that carried both of them toward their goals.
The former sage.
Now the God of Myriad Armies.
King of the Wild Hunt.
The new Great God of the North.
And the God of Sophistry.
"Ho ha ha ha…"
Loki clapped his hands as if applauding a performance.
"Go. Go."
"I will applaud for you here."
"New King of the World."
"New Great God."
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