Chapter 726

Evenson had a problem.

Actually, he had several.

He had somehow stumbled into a prison without knowing how he’d gotten there. Worse, he’d discovered that its sole prisoner was Hela, Odin’s eldest daughter and the older sister of Thor and Loki.

The family drama was bad enough. Asgardian royal affairs were none of his business, and he had no intention of getting involved.

Unfortunately, Hela was terrifyingly powerful.

She had single-handedly annihilated the entire Valkyrie army. Judging by that little feat, she was probably even stronger than Thor.

Evenson wasn’t remotely qualified to fight someone like that.

Fortunately, being a Warlock had taught him a few useful lessons about dealing with opponents who could turn him into a smear on the floor.

For a Warlock, strength was relative.

If a demon was weaker than you, you enslaved it. If it was stronger, you negotiated, flattered, deceived, and offered carefully worded bargains until you found a way to get what you wanted without losing your soul.

Or, at the very least, without losing it immediately.

Evenson had never neglected the art of talking his way out of trouble. The moment Hela had appeared and begun striking her dramatic queenly poses, he’d quietly rehearsed a couple of tongue-twisting patter routines to get his mouth warmed up.

Now it was time to put those skills to work.

A glance at the murals decorating the throne room’s ceiling, combined with a few things Hela had said, had been enough for Evenson to piece together much of her predicament.

He’d opened with a simple observation that seemed to strike a chord with her.

The kingdom was won by the general, yet the general was denied his kingdom.

It was an old injustice, and apparently one Hela understood all too well.

For a moment, things had looked promising. Evenson had been preparing to build on that initial goodwill and, if all went well, raise Hela’s opinion of him from stranger to tolerable acquaintance.

Then the Goddess of Death ordered him to kneel.

Excuse me?

Evenson hadn’t knelt before anyone in this life. What made Hela think he would start now?

So she was a queen. Big deal. Did that mean everyone had to bow and scrape before her?

He had two Eredar Twins back home who were queens in their own right, and he didn’t kneel before them.

Well, not in the traditional sense. At most, he’d occasionally ended up flat on his face.

Ahem.

That was beside the point.

He and the Eredar Twins had known each other rather intimately on several occasions. Hela, on the other hand, was practically a stranger.

What exactly had he done to deserve this treatment?

Faced with Hela’s imperious demand, Evenson straightened his back and gave her a cold look.

"Envoy of Earth. I do not kneel before kings."

"Good. You’ve got spirit."

Hela didn’t seem offended by his refusal. If anything, she appeared amused. She even offered a faint, approving smile.

Her eyes, however, glittered with unmistakably dangerous intent.

Nearby, Sigrun remained pinned to the wall, watching the exchange in astonishment.

She hadn’t expected her benefactor to be so unyielding.

The Asgardian royal family had already proven itself unworthy of her loyalty. Evenson, meanwhile, had saved her life and demonstrated considerable courage and integrity.

Perhaps, once this ordeal was over, she could even consider swearing herself to him.

Assuming, of course, that either of them survived.

Before Sigrun could finish contemplating her future, Evenson spoke again.

His voice had lost some of its earlier conviction.

"However, if I refuse to kneel outright, you’ll lose face. And I’d rather avoid making this more awkward than it needs to be. How about a compromise? I’ll bow instead. Surely that’s reasonable?"

Sigrun froze.

Had she been too hasty in judging him?

She’d only just been brought back from the dead, so perhaps the resurrection had temporarily damaged her eyesight. Because how else could she have mistaken this shameless necromancer for a courageous, honorable man?

Hela shook her head.

"I don’t think so."

She lifted both hands and swept her long black hair away from her face.

The strands shifted and hardened, transforming into a magnificent black helmet crowned with enormous horns. They grew outward in every direction, each one larger and more extravagant than the last.

With horns like those, she could probably hang an entire rack of cured meat from her head.

Hela rolled her wrists. A long, black sword appeared in each hand.

Then she began walking toward Evenson.

"Why is everyone in Asgard so unreasonable?!" Evenson protested, immediately abandoning his diplomatic composure. "We’re supposed to be negotiating! Can’t you make even the smallest concession? Shadowfury!"

His expression remained one of nervous agitation. He was still pointing at Hela, his voice rising in exasperation.

Then his hand abruptly turned downward.

Shadow magic erupted.

Dark energy enveloped Hela before exploding in a concentrated burst.

Her body jerked.

For the first time, the Goddess of Death seemed genuinely disoriented.

The moment Hela had summoned her helmet and drawn her twin blades, Evenson had realized that peaceful negotiations were probably off the table.

So he’d changed tactics.

While pretending to panic, he’d deliberately kept Hela talking and encouraged her to believe that he was too frightened to attack. That way, she would continue approaching at a leisurely pace instead of charging him outright.

All the while, he’d been quietly gathering power.

Shadowfury was one of his strongest offensive spells, and he’d spent the entire conversation preparing it.

The resulting explosion was surprisingly small. It barely disturbed the surrounding environment. Not even the sand on the floor had been blown away.

That was entirely intentional.

Shadowfury was normally an area-of-effect spell, but Evenson had concentrated every scrap of its destructive force on Hela alone. Not a single spark of energy had been wasted on the surroundings.

The effect was immediate.

Hela staggered in place, bracing one sword against the ground while pressing her free hand to her forehead. She shook her head repeatedly, struggling to regain her bearings.

The world was spinning. Her thoughts were a disorganized jumble, and a persistent ringing filled her ears.

Evenson didn’t give her time to recover.

Conflagrate!

Green flames engulfed Hela in an instant.

For several seconds, the Goddess of Death looked like a towering green torch.

Evenson rose slightly into the air. Dozens of fel fireballs materialized around him, each one streaking toward Hela at tremendous speed.

They struck like artillery shells.

Explosions battered her from every direction, filling the prison with flashes of emerald light.

Incinerate!

Before the first wave of explosions had even faded, a second, more violent barrage struck.

Flames surged. Smoke billowed outward, swallowing Hela’s entire figure.

Evenson didn’t relax.

Not for a second.

He knew better than to assume an enemy was dead just because he couldn’t see them anymore.

There was a universal law of combat that every experienced adventurer eventually learned: if an explosion produced a great deal of smoke, the person caught inside it was probably about to emerge completely unharmed.

The stronger the opponent, the more reliable the rule.

"Hmm. Hahaha!"

A woman’s laughter rang out from within the flames.

Hela’s silhouette gradually emerged, accompanied by laughter that sounded equal parts delighted and unhinged.

"So this is what it feels like to be hurt," she murmured. "Pain. How interesting. It’s been so very long since I’ve experienced it."

She sounded positively thrilled.

Whether she’d actually suffered any meaningful damage was difficult to determine while she remained obscured by fire and smoke. Her silhouette offered few clues, though the enormous helmet atop her head appeared to have lost several horns.

Then, before Evenson could decide whether to celebrate that minor victory, the broken horns began growing back.

Hela examined him through the flames.

"You attacked without warning. You struck first, aimed to kill, and didn’t hesitate for a moment." Her smile widened. "How ruthless. I like your style."

Evenson clasped his hands behind his back.

"Then perhaps we can agree that there’s no need to continue fighting?"

Hela answered by raising both swords and bringing them down in a powerful slash.

A violent gust exploded outward from her position, sweeping across the chamber and scattering the flames in every direction.

"No," she said. "I’ve decided to take this a little more seriously."

"Could we perhaps discuss that decision first? Chaos Bolt!"

Evenson repeated his earlier trick.

He kept talking to buy himself another moment, all while secretly preparing his next spell. Then he thrust his hands forward.

A projectile of swirling fel energy shot toward Hela.

It resembled a bolt of liquid fire, its dark green surface rippling around a grotesque dragon-shaped head. The thing tore through the air directly toward her.

Hela barely reacted.

"Such a straightforward attack."

The projectile’s trajectory was obvious. She could have dodged it with ease, but there seemed little reason to bother.

She casually swung one sword at the incoming spell, intending to cut it apart.

"What?"

The blade dissolved the instant it touched the dark green projectile.

Hela’s expression changed.

The Chaos Bolt was already inches from her head, and her own carelessness had left her almost no time to react.

Fortunately, she was no stranger to desperate situations. Countless battles had taught her how to respond when a plan went wrong at the worst possible moment.

Hela bent backward in a sudden, astonishingly deep backbend.

The Chaos Bolt passed over her face.

Evenson shouted.

The projectile abruptly stopped in midair.

A pulse of unstable energy radiated from its surface.

Hela’s eyes narrowed.

"Interesting..."

She didn’t straighten up. Instead, she remained bent backward as the Chaos Bolt detonated.

Dozens of enormous swords appeared in front of her face, overlapping in a dense formation that formed a protective wall.

The explosion slammed into the barrier.

For an instant, the chamber blazed with green light.

Then the summoned swords crumbled into ash.

Hela slowly straightened, supporting her lower back with one hand as she groaned.

"Good grief. It’s been ages since I’ve done that. My flexibility has definitely declined." She rubbed her back thoughtfully. "I’ll have to work on that. And no, I don’t need anyone to remind me."

Evenson stared at her.

He was beginning to suspect that Hela enjoyed hearing herself talk almost as much as he did.

Hey. Stop stealing my bit.

Unfortunately, he’d made the mistake of letting his attention wander.

The moment Hela finished speaking, she drove forward with explosive speed, twin swords in hand.

She’d used her own chatter to distract him.

The nerve.

"Damn it!"

Evenson tried to cast a spell to halt her advance, but she was moving far too quickly.

Then something even stranger happened.

Hela suddenly hurled both swords away.

The weapons spun through the air, disappearing from his immediate field of vision.

Evenson’s head turned instinctively, searching for their trajectories.

Nothing.

Was that a feint?

The realization came a fraction of a second too late.

Hela was already upon him.

A slender, straight-bladed sword had appeared in her hand. Wearing a wicked smile, she drove its point toward his chest.

Clang!

Metal struck an invisible barrier.

The blade stopped half a meter from Evenson’s body.

Only then did a dark purple sphere gradually reveal itself around him.

Void Protection.

After everything he’d suffered in the past, Evenson had developed the habit of keeping this spell active whenever possible. Why would he deactivate it just because a fight had started?

Still, that had been far too close.

He’d pushed Void Protection to its maximum strength, accepting the considerable mana cost. Had he relied on his usual level of protection, Hela might have broken through with that strike.

Wait.

A sharp whistle cut through the air behind his head.

The two swords Hela had thrown away earlier came spinning toward him from behind.

They struck the purple barrier in quick succession.

Neither blade penetrated.

Evenson looked from the weapons to Hela, who stood directly in front of him.

"Now I see. That’s a nasty little trick."

His expression grew thoughtful.

"If your opponent concentrates on the attack coming from the front, the flying blades strike from behind and kill him. But if he turns to defend against the blades, you finish him off with the sword in your hand."

He glanced down at the barrier surrounding him.

"Good thing my Void Protection forms a complete sphere. Otherwise, that would’ve been a real headache."

Hela sprang backward, landing lightly several meters away.

She flicked her sword through the air twice.

Nothing appeared to happen, yet the chamber filled with the eerie cries of tormented spirits.

Evenson immediately recognized what had happened.

His earlier applications of Phantom Singularity and Unstable Affliction had been dispelled.

Hela had dealt with them so casually that she might as well have been brushing dust off her clothes.

"Let’s try this one."

She raised a hand.

A streak of black light shot toward Evenson.

It was a remarkably thin, needle-shaped sword, moving so quickly that he barely registered its existence before it struck his barrier.

The impact made his stomach drop.

Perhaps the weapon’s shape allowed it to concentrate its force into a smaller area. Perhaps Hela had simply put more strength behind this attack.

Whatever the reason, the needle-like blade didn’t bounce off the barrier.

It embedded itself in the purple surface, its tip penetrating partway through.

Not all the way.

But far enough to make Evenson break out in a cold sweat.

And Hela wasn’t finished.

She charged again, drawing another long sword. Her strike landed precisely on the pommel of the embedded needle.

The impact drove the smaller weapon forward.

The needle punched straight through Void Protection.

"Oh, come on!"

Hela sounded almost disappointed.

Her clever attack had successfully breached Evenson’s defensive barrier, but just as the needle was about to reach his body, layers of purple chains suddenly materialized around him.

A circular purple magic formation appeared behind his head.

The chains tightened around the incoming weapon, arresting its momentum before it could pierce his flesh.

Resolute Barrier.

One of a Warlock’s many defensive spells.

Evenson silently thanked every painful lesson that had taught him to prepare a backup for his backup.

Hela lowered her sword and regarded him with open amusement.

"How many defensive abilities do you have? Are you always this terrified of dying?"

Evenson wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Staying alive is generally considered a good idea. And I have plenty more where those came from."

He’d come within a hair’s breadth of being impaled. If Resolute Barrier had activated even a fraction of a second later, he’d have been bleeding all over the floor.

Hela could mock him all she wanted. He wasn’t going to apologize for having a sensible approach to survival.

"If I were a Discipline Priest, I’d have enough defensive tricks to make you cry from sheer frustration."

He spread his hands.

"Look, I admit that I can’t beat you in a straight fight. But you haven’t managed to break through my defenses, either. Why don’t we call it a draw and go our separate ways?"

Hela considered the proposal with surprising seriousness.

"Hmm..."

Evenson held his breath.

Then she smiled.

"No. I’m not finished playing. I’ll give you one last attack."

Before he could object, Hela placed one hand against her chest.

Swords began appearing all around her.

They emerged from the ground at her feet, materialized across the surrounding terrain, and filled the space behind her. Every kind of blade imaginable seemed to answer her summons.

Longswords. Greatswords. Curved blades. Narrow thrusting swords.

The weapons multiplied until Evenson could no longer begin to count them.

A vast sea of steel stretched around the Goddess of Death.

For a fleeting instant, the spectacle brought a very particular fantasy to mind.

The body is made of swords.

Blood is iron, and the heart is glass.

Countless battlefields crossed without defeat, yet victory forever beyond reach.

Alone upon a hill of swords, the warrior forges an endless armory.

This body shall become an infinite sword domain.

Evenson stared at the impossible arsenal surrounding Hela.

Then every sword in the vast collection turned toward him.

The blades surged forward from every direction.

And the Goddess of Death unleashed her final attack.