Chapter 713

"I’m sorry. We had nothing against each other personally, but... I trust the dead more."

Evenson bowed his head and observed a brief moment of silence for the fallen warriors.

Two seconds later, he raised his head.

A large handful of Soul Shards went straight into his bag.

If he was going to commit murder to silence witnesses, he might as well finish the job properly. Who knew what happened to the souls of Asgardians after death? For all he knew, these self-proclaimed gods might return as pale, floating ghosts and drift into Odin’s bedroom to complain about the injustice of it all.

Better safe than haunted.

"Wow!"

Evenson had barely turned around when a massive sword came to rest against his neck. He stopped so abruptly that he nearly walked straight into the blade.

Sif stood behind him, sword in hand, glaring at him with undisguised fury.

"What have you done, Evenson?"

Everything he had just done had happened so quickly that she hadn’t even had time to react, much less intervene. Now that she’d regained her composure, she still couldn’t understand his motives.

She knew Evenson’s methods were ruthless. His spells could hurt allies as easily as enemies, and he had little patience for fighting fair.

But the battle was over. Why had he murdered Asgardian soldiers who had fought alongside them?

Unless he intended to defect to the Dark Elves. Perhaps he’d been their agent from the beginning.

Except he’d also slaughtered every Dark Elf in the throne room.

What was this man trying to accomplish? Did he intend to fight Asgard single-handedly?

Evenson glanced at Sif, then at the enormous sword resting against his throat.

He sighed.

The blade is currently 0.01 centimeters from my neck. In approximately two minutes, its owner will forgive me completely. The reason? I’ve decided to tell her the truth.

I’ve told countless truths in my life, of course. But this one might be my finest work.

"Take one more step, and I’ll kill you!" Sif warned, twitching her sword when she noticed him move.

Evenson rolled his eyes.

With your sword pointed at my throat from this distance, taking one more step would technically be suicide.

Still, he quickly rearranged his expression, lowered his voice, and adopted a suitably mournful tone.

"I had no grudge against them. I didn’t want to do this, either. But I had no choice."

"Why?" Sif demanded. "Since when is murder something you simply have no choice but to do?"

"Because of that."

Evenson pointed toward the enormous mural on the ceiling.

"I saw it. They knew I’d seen it. I was afraid they’d spread the story until it reached Odin’s ears, so I had to eliminate them before they could talk."

Sif hesitated.

For once, she didn’t immediately dismiss his explanation.

The mural had been concealed beneath another painting. That alone suggested Odin hadn’t wanted anyone to see it. And its contents had revealed a side of the All-Father that she had never known existed.

Evenson was an outsider who had stumbled upon a secret Odin had gone to considerable lengths to hide. It wasn’t difficult to understand why he’d panicked.

If he didn’t silence the witnesses, he might become the next person someone decided needed silencing.

Understanding his reasoning, however, didn’t mean she accepted it.

Everyone had reasons for their actions. Everyone could construct a justification that made their own survival seem more important than someone else’s.

From Evenson’s perspective, the choice was simple: better for the soldiers to die than for him to die.

From Sif’s perspective, those soldiers had been her comrades. Some had fought beside her for years. She knew their faces, their voices, and the kind of warriors they were.

And Evenson hadn’t been forced to kill them.

"Was there really no other way?" she demanded. "You’d already convinced them to keep quiet! They agreed not to mention that you’d been here!"

"A promise?"

Evenson shook his head with a cold smile.

"I’ve never put much faith in those."

He had indeed promised to erase himself from the official account of the battle, allowing the royal guards to claim all the credit for defending the throne room. But Sif should have understood Asgardians better than anyone.

"Can you guarantee that none of them would eventually crack? What if one of those men turned out to be especially honorable? He’d realize he’d accepted credit he didn’t deserve, feel guilty about it, and march straight to Odin to confess everything."

Evenson raised his hand and pointed sharply at the mural.

"And there’s something else. They saw what they weren’t supposed to see! Do you honestly believe Odin would spare them simply because they’re Asgardians? What happens when this secret becomes a threat to his reign? Who’s to say one of them wouldn’t reveal everything in a desperate attempt to save his own life, even at the last possible moment?"

Sif stiffened.

Evenson was suggesting that Odin might eliminate even his own people to keep the mural’s contents secret.

"That’s impossible," she said, shaken. "The All-Father would never do such a thing."

"Wouldn’t he?"

Evenson let out a humorless laugh.

"After seeing that mural, do you still believe Odin is nothing but a benevolent, merciful ruler?"

Long ago, Odin had carved out his dominion through conquest, leaving countless bodies in his wake. Was a man who had built an empire through war likely to be softhearted when his reputation was threatened?

Evenson’s recent interactions with Odin had already forced him to reconsider his earlier assumptions. The All-Father wasn’t some indecisive old king who relied entirely on wisdom and compassion. He could be calculating, shrewd, and frighteningly adept at manipulating the people around him.

A ruler like that had spent ages cultivating the image of a loving father to the gods. Now, a secret had surfaced that threatened to undermine the entire illusion.

Would he really hesitate to sacrifice a few lives to preserve it?

Besides, what exactly did All-Father mean?

The title sounded grand and majestic, but strip away the ceremony, and it simply meant father.

Thor and Loki calling Odin their father made perfect sense. Sif and the other Asgardians might use the title out of reverence.

But why did even other kingdoms, including those that had once been Asgard’s enemies, acknowledge him as the father of all?

Evenson had a theory.

Picture Odin leading an army into an enemy stronghold, seizing the opposing king, and beating him senseless.

"Who’s your daddy?"

The enemy king clenched his jaw.

"I’ll never submit!"

Odin hit him again.

"Who’s your daddy?"

The king, now sporting a face that would make a prizefighter wince, finally relented.

"Fine! You’re my father!"

Odin struck him again.

"Doesn’t sound sincere. Still holding a grudge, are you?"

The unfortunate king broke down.

"Please! I submit! You’re my father! My beloved father! Just stop!"

Only then would Odin nod in satisfaction, pat the defeated king on the shoulder, and leave with his army.

There. That makes a lot more sense.

As the realization settled in, Sif began to reconsider everything she had seen.

At first, events had unfolded too quickly for her to process them properly. She’d discovered the mural, watched Evenson kill the guards, and immediately confronted him. There had been no time to think.

Now, however, his words were beginning to sink in.

Evenson noticed her growing uncertainty and quietly reached for the sword at his throat. Using two fingers, he tried to nudge the blade aside.

Sif’s hand twitched.

The sword snapped back into position.

"Damn it!"

"Evenson."

Sif stared directly into his eyes, her expression suddenly serious.

"I saw that mural, too. I know you saw it. So why didn’t you kill me?"

Evenson gave her a cold little smile.

"You think I didn’t consider it?"

He shook his head.

"But we’re friends, aren’t we?"

Sif narrowed her eyes, uncertain whether to believe him.

Before she could respond, the sound of numerous approaching footsteps echoed through the corridors.

Someone was coming.

Sif immediately turned toward the noise.

Evenson seized her hand and slipped past the point of her sword.

"We don’t have time to leave. Find somewhere to hide."

They hurried behind one of the throne room’s massive pillars and activated the concealment spell Evenson had learned from Mephisto, suppressing their presence as completely as possible.

Moments later, a squad of fully armed Einherjar entered the hall, escorting a towering figure clad in golden armor.

Odin.

The All-Father carried Gungnir, his mighty spear, and strode into the throne room with the authority of a king accustomed to absolute obedience.

His single eye went first to the throne.

It remained untouched, still standing in all its imposing glory.

Only then did Odin relax slightly.

His attention shifted to the battlefield.

The scattered corpses. The wreckage. The bodies of the royal guards intermingled with those of the Dark Elves.

Then he noticed the grisly tableau Evenson had arranged.

The guards had apparently died fighting to the last man, their blades still buried in their enemies.

Odin silently counted the fallen.

They took each other down.

He raised his head and released a long, weary sigh, preparing to offer the appropriate words of remembrance.

Then he looked up.

The hidden mural had been exposed.

The secret he’d spent so long concealing was now on full display above his throne.

Odin’s expression darkened. In a sudden burst of anger, he slammed Gungnir against the floor.

The impact rang through the chamber.

He spun around.

Every soldier who had accompanied him was staring at the ceiling.

They had all seen it.

"You have seen it," Odin said quietly.

The Einherjar lowered their heads in respectful silence.

Then Odin turned Gungnir horizontally and pointed it at them.

Brilliant golden light erupted from the spearhead.

It swept across the soldiers.

One after another, their bodies dissolved into motes of shimmering gold, which scattered through the air and vanished.

The All-Father lowered his head.

"I’m sorry. I have no choice."

He paused for a brief moment of silence, then tapped Gungnir against the floor several times.

The mural changed.

The horrific scenes of war disappeared beneath the familiar, peaceful painting. Odin once again stood at its center, a halo of sacred light above his head and a kindly smile upon his face as he gazed down at his subjects.

The truth was gone.

The legend remained.

Only after Odin had departed did Evenson finally release the breath he’d been holding.

Beside him, Sif was trembling.

The warrior who feared neither battle nor death had gone deathly pale.

It was real.

The All-Father had actually done it.

At first, the thought had been little more than Evenson’s cynical speculation. Now Sif had witnessed the truth with her own eyes. Odin had killed his own soldiers simply because they had learned something he wanted to keep secret.

And she knew that secret, too.

"You saw what happened," Evenson whispered, glancing at her.

"That’s how Odin operates. And now we’re in the same boat. Neither of us benefits from telling anyone what we’ve seen."

Sif nodded slowly.

She had made up her mind. Whatever happened, she would take this secret to her grave.

In fact, the experience had inspired an additional resolution.

Starting today, she was giving up alcohol.

Who knew what she might accidentally reveal after a few drinks? One careless comment in the wrong tavern, and she could end up sharing the fate of those soldiers.

The thought of never again being able to eat, drink, and celebrate freely with her companions was almost enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Still, it was better than being turned into golden dust.

"We should leave," Evenson said after a moment. "We need everyone to believe we were fighting somewhere else and never came anywhere near the throne room."

"Queen Frigga’s chambers!" Sif suddenly exclaimed.

Evenson looked at her.

"Explain."

"Several people saw us running toward the throne room earlier. The corridor we took has a fork. The other branch leads to the queen’s chambers."

She shot him a dissatisfied glance.

After all, Evenson had been dragged along like a sack of potatoes for most of that journey. He’d hardly been subtle.

Frigga’s chambers offered a plausible alternative destination.

"Frigga..."

Evenson narrowed his eyes.

He was an outsider. A man. And now, in the middle of a crisis in Asgard, he was about to rush directly into the queen’s private chambers.

This is going to look terrible.

But he was running out of options, and Sif would be there to explain.

"Fine. Lead the way. I..."

He never finished.

Sif seized his hand and yanked him forward with such force that his feet left the ground.

Wind howled past his ears.

His body streamed behind her like a flag caught in a gale.

This was no longer the brisk run she’d subjected him to earlier. Sif was now charging toward Frigga’s chambers as though distance itself were an enemy she intended to defeat.

Fortunately, the queen genuinely needed help.

Frigga had hidden Jane Foster in her chambers, making her the obvious target for Malekith and the Cursed Warrior.

As Odin’s queen, Frigga was an accomplished fighter in her own right. Malekith had discovered that firsthand.

Despite being the leader of the Dark Elves, he was no match for her in direct combat. Within moments, Frigga had turned the tables on him and placed her blade against his throat.

Unfortunately for her, the Cursed Warrior arrived before she could finish the job.

The transformed Dark Elf overwhelmed her just as quickly, leaving the queen helpless.

Malekith then discovered that the Jane Foster in the room was merely an illusion.

It was the same kind of projection Loki had often used to fool Thor, a trick he’d learned from Frigga herself.

With the deception exposed, Malekith prepared to interrogate the queen about the Aether’s true location.

Then Sif arrived.

She took in the scene at a glance.

The enemy king stood before her. The queen had been captured. The Cursed Warrior loomed nearby.

Rage surged through her.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Sif drew back her arm and hurled Evenson straight at the Cursed Warrior.

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