Chapter 728

Nothing in this world happened without a reason.

Love had its reasons. So did hatred. Fairness wasn’t freely given, and neither was respect.

When Hela had first ordered Evenson to kneel, she hadn’t bothered to consider whether he had any reason to obey her. Why would she? To her, the matter was self-evident. The strong issued commands, and the weak followed them. The weak knelt before the strong. What was there to discuss?

As for personal dignity and pride, those were the weaker party’s problems. Why should she concern herself with them?

If Evenson wanted her respect, he was welcome to earn it.

And that was precisely what had happened.

Their recent battle had ended in a stalemate. Hela had unleashed every weapon she’d stored in this world, yet she’d failed to defeat him. Evenson, meanwhile, had relied on the terrifying power of the Scepter of Sargeras to withstand her ultimate attack, but he hadn’t managed to injure her, either.

In Hela’s eyes, that was enough.

Evenson had demonstrated that he possessed strength worthy of her respect. If he wanted a little concession in return, she saw no reason to refuse.

After all, they had no history of personal enmity, nor did they have any irreconcilable conflict of interest. There was no point in fighting to the death simply for the sake of pride.

There was another consideration, too.

Hela had no idea how Evenson had entered her prison, but she knew one thing for certain: getting in was easy compared with getting out.

Her own release remained a distant dream.

For ages, she’d been trapped here with nothing but memories and the occasional opportunity to talk to herself. It was a miserable existence.

Now, at last, an interesting little fellow had appeared to keep her company.

It would be a shame to kill him.

Hela raised a hand, and one of the long swords floating nearby returned to her grasp. At the same time, Sigrun was released from the wall where she’d been pinned.

The Valkyrie immediately rushed forward.

Then she stopped several paces from Hela, staring at her in confusion.

Something felt wrong.

Hela seemed weaker than Sigrun remembered, yet somehow stronger at the same time. The contradictory impression left her uncertain whether approaching would be wise.

Besides, a Valkyrie’s oath to Asgard’s royal family had already cost Sigrun one life. Surely that counted as sufficient service.

Now that she’d somehow been brought back from the dead, this second life belonged to her. She intended to keep it, if only to find the person she loved.

With that thought firmly in mind, Sigrun slowly retreated.

Hela noticed and chuckled.

"Looks like you’ve finally learned your lesson. Do you know what I hate most? Watching brave warriors die for absolutely nothing."

She tilted her head, studying the Valkyrie.

"Don’t you miss the days when we fought side by side?"

Sigrun lowered her head and remained silent.

Hela smiled.

Silence was answer enough.

She wandered over to a nearby rock and settled against it, lounging with the casual confidence of a queen on her throne. She even patted the stone beside her as if inviting someone to admire her magnificent seat.

Then she turned toward Evenson.

"Your turn. Come pay your respects."

Evenson knew there was no escaping it.

With considerable effort, he pushed himself off the ground and staggered upright.

All that trouble, all that fighting, and I still have to bow?

It hardly seemed worth the effort.

Still, he’d fought tooth and nail to negotiate this compromise. He wasn’t about to ruin it now. He would bow with effortless dignity, demonstrating neither submission nor resentment. Graceful. Composed. Entirely unbothered.

He gathered himself, arranged his face into an expression of solemn respect, and began preparing for the perfect bow.

Then he suddenly found himself several inches shorter.

He froze.

For a moment, the chamber fell utterly silent.

Evenson stared at the ground.

Hela stared at Evenson.

Even Sigrun stared at Evenson.

He was on his knees.

After everything they’d just been through, after their exhausting battle and all the trouble they’d taken to settle the matter, he’d somehow ended up kneeling anyway.

Hela’s expression was particularly difficult to describe.

Hadn’t they agreed on a bow? What was the point of fighting so hard for that compromise if he was just going to kneel in the end?

Evenson’s soul briefly left his body.

His face went blank. His lips trembled as he tried to process what had happened.

After a long, painful pause, he managed to speak.

"I... I wasn’t trying to kneel."

He swallowed.

"I tripped. I stepped on my own clothes and fell. These ridiculous robes are too long!"

Hela’s mouth twitched.

She seemed genuinely uncertain how to respond.

"Well... be careful next time."

Evenson turned his head toward Sigrun.

"What are you standing there for? Give me a hand!"

That finally snapped the Valkyrie out of her stupor. She hurried over and helped him up.

Unfortunately, she kept her face turned away, apparently unwilling to look him in the eye.

Evenson clung to her arm and struggled to his feet.

He almost made it.

Then his legs gave out, and he toppled backward onto the ground.

The problem was simple: he had nothing left in the tank.

He’d spent everything attacking Hela, then everything defending himself, and finally he’d pushed his body through Metamorphosis while wielding the Scepter of Sargeras.

His stamina was utterly depleted. His legs felt like overcooked noodles.

He sat there in abject misery, covering his face with both hands.

He’d fought for his life, exhausted himself to the point of collapse, and somehow ended up making a fool of himself over a bow.

"Maybe we should put the whole bowing thing on hold," he mumbled through his hands. "I swear I’m not trying to disrespect you."

Hela looked torn between laughter and disbelief.

"No, no. Forget about it. You’ve already shown me plenty of respect."

For the first time in ages, she genuinely felt that this might be the happiest day she’d experienced since being imprisoned.

She’d had a whole speech prepared, but Evenson’s spectacular collapse had thoroughly derailed her train of thought.

It took her a while to compose herself.

Finally, she straightened and resumed speaking.

"Let me explain something. I’m not a queen, and I’m not a monster. I’m the Goddess of Death."

"The Goddess of Death," Evenson repeated from his seat on the floor.

He was eager to move past the humiliating incident, so he interrupted before she could continue.

"There’s something I’ve always wondered about that title. Are you a goddess who governs death as a cosmic concept? Or are you called the Goddess of Death because you’ve killed so many enemies that you leave a trail of corpses wherever you go?"

"The second one," Hela replied. "But that’s beside the point."

She seemed unwilling to dwell on the distinction.

"Whatever the reason, I am a goddess."

"Right..." Evenson said.

He wasn’t entirely sure where she was going with this.

Hela hesitated.

For the first time since he’d met her, she seemed almost embarrassed.

"A goddess..."

She paused again.

"...is entitled to offerings from her worshippers."

"Oh."

Evenson nodded.

Was she asking for tribute? Money? Weapons? Some sort of ritual sacrifice?

He could probably manage something, although he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about handing over his belongings to a woman who had just tried to turn him into a pincushion.

Hela bit her lip and continued.

"Mortal offerings to the gods come in many forms. Most commonly, they’re food..."

She trailed off.

"You see, it’s..."

"Ah."

Evenson stroked his chin, beginning to suspect that she was trying to tell him something without actually saying it.

Then he noticed her eyes repeatedly drifting toward something off to one side.

She was practically pointing with her gaze.

Evenson followed it.

And suddenly everything made sense.

Lying on the ground among the rocks was a round, reddish container.

His discarded instant-noodle cup.

Oh, for crying out loud.

So that was why she’d been so eager to appear after he’d finished eating.

She’d smelled the noodles.

And now she wanted some.

Evenson glanced at Hela, then at the empty cup.

It was difficult to blame her entirely.

Hela had been imprisoned for an unimaginable length of time, almost certainly thousands of years. The environment here offered precious little in the way of food. If she’d wanted a meal, she might literally have had to chew on rocks.

And then he’d arrived with instant noodles.

There was something almost supernatural about their aroma. Even someone who’d just eaten a huge meal could catch the scent and suddenly feel hungry again.

For someone who’d gone without food for thousands of years?

The smell alone might have been enough to drive them mad.

"But..." Evenson scratched his head thoughtfully. "I’ve only got some rather humble provisions. Surely it wouldn’t be appropriate to present something so ordinary as an offering to a goddess?"

He knew exactly what she wanted.

But after all the humiliation she’d put him through, he wasn’t about to hand it over without making her work for it.

Hela immediately waved both hands.

"That’s perfectly fine! Perfectly fine. The sincerity of the worshipper matters far more than the nature of the offering. We gods are generous enough to accept whatever is given to us in good faith."

"How magnanimous of you."

Evenson sighed, looking deeply troubled.

"Unfortunately, even if the goddess herself doesn’t object, I would feel terribly guilty offering something so meager."

Hela nodded.

This time, she didn’t bother arguing.

Instead, she lifted the enormous sword in her hand, plucked a single strand of hair from her head, and laid it across the blade.

She blew gently.

The hair separated cleanly in two.

A perfect demonstration of a blade sharp enough to cut a hair in half.

"Now that’s a sharp sword!" Evenson exclaimed.

He promptly produced a fresh cup of instant noodles.

He added water, covered it, and waited.

He was exhausted, barely capable of standing, and still recovering from the strain of the battle. But heating a cup of noodles was well within his remaining abilities.

Once it was ready, he intended to figure out some way to deliver it to Hela.

He didn’t get the chance.

She approached on her own.

Evenson held the cup up to her, peeled back the lid, and released a cloud of fragrant steam.

The rich aroma filled the air.

Hela inhaled deeply.

Her expression transformed.

For one brief moment, the aloof Goddess of Death looked utterly entranced. Her eyes half-closed, and a shiver ran through her body as she savored the scent.

She accepted the cup.

Then she used a fork to lift a single noodle into her mouth.

Her eyes flew open.

And then she attacked the meal with the ferocity of a starving animal.

Slurp after slurp echoed through the prison. She devoured the noodles with such enthusiasm that Evenson was reminded of a pig at feeding time.

Only after polishing off the equivalent of half a case of instant noodles did Hela finally slow down.

She wiped her mouth, straightened her back, and effortlessly recovered her queenly bearing.

"Once I conquer Asgard," she declared proudly, "this delicacy shall become a staple of the royal banquet!"

Evenson stared at her.

Now I understand why Odin never wanted you on the throne.

He could practically hear the All-Father rejecting the idea of instant noodles as a royal banquet dish.

Then another thought occurred to him.

If I’d just handed her the noodles at the beginning, would we have avoided that entire fight over the bow?

He’d nearly died, exhausted himself to the point of collapse, and suffered the indignity of kneeling by accident.

All over a cup of instant noodles.

He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

After the meal, Hela seemed to relax considerably. Some of her arrogance softened, and she began talking with the enthusiasm of someone who’d been waiting centuries for a captive audience.

She launched into a long account of her unfortunate circumstances, explaining how she’d ended up imprisoned and recounting everything her father had done to her.

Evenson quickly discovered that Hela wasn’t merely talkative.

She was an outright chatterbox.

Once she got started, stopping her seemed almost impossible.

"My father was never a good man," she complained.

"Kings rarely are," Evenson replied, carefully shifting his legs and massaging his aching muscles. "If a good person becomes king, he’s either a weak ruler who lets everyone walk all over him or a fool who gets his kingdom destroyed. There’s not much middle ground."

"Exactly! You understand."

Hela nodded enthusiastically.

"Not that I need the reminder, of course. And I’m not exactly a good person myself. But I was never as bad as my father. Imagine accusing me of treason and locking me away in this place. Isn’t that outrageous?"

"Outrageous?" Evenson repeated.

He adjusted his position and looked at her thoughtfully.

"Your father spent years conquering territory and expanding Asgard’s dominion. You were his foremost general, the blade he sent ahead of his armies. You personally forged him a bloodstained cloak, one soaked in the tears and blood of the worlds you conquered."

He smiled faintly.

"But when he decided he wanted to become a benevolent All-Father, a ruler whose reign would be remembered for mercy and peace, you couldn’t give him the spotless white robes he wanted. You’d spent your entire career making bloodshed possible."

Evenson tilted his head.

"So let me ask you something. What do you usually do with people you consider useless?"

Hela clicked her tongue and turned away, looking distinctly unimpressed.

Then her eyes shifted toward Sigrun, who stood nearby with a stunned expression.

"Don’t look at me like that," Hela said. "I was Odin’s vanguard. Your Valkyrie corps was his personal execution squad."

She leaned forward slightly.

"When I was already trapped in this prison, Odin still sent every one of you to hunt me down. He knew my strength better than anyone. Do you honestly believe he expected you to come back alive?"

"We were weapons stained with blood," Hela continued. "Weapons that could never become the symbols of peace he wanted. So he discarded us."

Sigrun didn’t appear particularly troubled by the revelation.

"That doesn’t matter anymore," she said calmly. "Don’t think you can hurt me by telling me what we already knew."

She met Hela’s gaze.

"We fought beside you for years. We knew exactly how powerful you were. The moment we received the order to hunt you, we understood that we were being sent to our deaths. We knew the royal family of Asgard was no longer worthy of our loyalty."

Her expression remained steady.

"But we had sworn our oaths. We had to go."

Hela leaned sideways against the rock.

"That’s precisely what I hate most. Brave warriors dying for nothing."

"Sometimes, a king has reasons for doing terrible things," Evenson said.

Hela glanced at him.

"Back then, Odin was still in his prime. You were his eldest child and the first in line to inherit the throne. You’d fought beside him through countless campaigns, helping him build an empire. Your achievements were legendary, and your reputation was immense."

He paused.

"Too immense, perhaps."

Evenson had studied the murals in the throne room. He remembered the image of Hela standing shoulder to shoulder with Odin.

He gave a quiet laugh.

"You were standing beside him as an equal in that painting. And there’s the problem. How many kings are comfortable allowing another person to stand on equal footing with them?"

Hela’s expression grew still.

"I suspect that mural was one of the things that made him start doubting you. Whether you actually intended to seize the throne became irrelevant. In his mind, even if you didn’t rebel today or tomorrow, you’d eventually do it."

Evenson continued, laying out the pieces as he saw them.

"Then Thor came along. A young prince who hadn’t spent his life conquering worlds, a fresh heir without the burden of your reputation. From Odin’s perspective, Thor was the more convenient successor."

Hela scowled.

"I should have moved sooner. If I’d acted first, I could have secured the throne before he had the chance to turn against me. Then it wouldn’t have gone to those two little brats."

Evenson blinked.

"Wait. You’ve actually met Thor and Loki?"

"I have."

Hela’s expression darkened.

"They were still babies back then. I even changed their diapers."

She clenched her teeth.

"They probably don’t remember a thing about me. If I’d known how things would turn out, I should have smothered them with their own diapers while I had the chance."

Evenson stared at her.

That was certainly one way to resolve a succession crisis.

Hela soon recovered her good mood, turning to regard him with renewed interest.

"You have a good head on your shoulders. And I’ve been quite satisfied with your offering."

She gave him an approving nod.

"Here’s what I’ll do. Keep making offerings to me, and I’ll appoint you as my First Chosen. Once I conquer Asgard, you’ll become one of my court officials."

Evenson stared back at her.

Several cups of instant noodles buy you a divine patronage deal and a government job?

He’d never encountered a goddess with such reasonable prices.

Hela considered him for a moment, then offered a final suggestion.

"How does Grand Master of Ceremonies sound?"

Evenson looked at the Goddess of Death.

For the first time since entering her prison, he began to wonder whether he might actually be able to survive this place.

Though if he had to keep feeding her instant noodles to do it, his grocery budget was going to suffer.