Chapter 730

If Evenson’s deductions were correct, Odin had intended to absorb the Frost Giant kingdom through gradual assimilation rather than outright conquest. A few small wars here and there, the occasional assassination to eliminate troublesome dissidents, and perhaps a little manipulation of the royal succession. No grand invasion, no rivers of blood. Just a quiet transformation that would leave the Frost Giants under Asgardian control before they even realized what had happened.

It was an elegant plan. Ruthless, certainly, but undeniably clever.

There was only one problem.

It might have worked on a short-lived species. Against immortals, it was a gamble on an almost incomprehensible scale.

Asgardians and Frost Giants of noble blood could live for thousands of years. With proper care, some might even survive for tens of thousands. As Hela had pointed out, she could have led armies against the Frost Giants for generations and conquered their kingdom thousands of times over before Odin’s plan had run its course.

Short lifespans made gradual assimilation practical. Each generation arrived, lived its life, and passed on, allowing a society to change within a relatively manageable span of time. The longer the process continued, the more likely it was to succeed.

Immortals were another matter. A plan stretching across thousands of years left an enormous amount of room for something to go wrong. How could anyone guarantee that every stage would proceed as intended? How could Odin possibly account for every unexpected development over such an absurd length of time?

As things stood, his grand design had already collapsed.

Perhaps that explained why Odin had been so devastated when Loki’s rebellion unfolded. It wasn’t merely the shock of discovering his son’s disloyalty. After centuries of careful maneuvering, Odin had been on the verge of achieving his ultimate goal, only to watch the entire scheme fall apart.

Perhaps Laufey had sent agents into the Golden Palace to steal the Casket of Ancient Winters because he had uncovered Odin’s intentions. If so, stealing the Casket might have been a desperate attempt to expose Loki’s true parentage and shatter Odin’s plans before the assimilation of the Frost Giants became irreversible.

But that was all speculation now. Whatever had happened in the past, the consequences were already unfolding.

Meanwhile, Evenson had more immediate concerns.

"Mm... harder. A little higher. Yes, right there. Oh, that’s much better..."

Hela reclined with her eyes closed, a look of pure contentment on her face.

Evenson, meanwhile, was sweating.

He had both hands wrapped around one of her legs, working the muscles with the practiced skill of a professional masseur.

"Not bad, boy," Hela remarked lazily. "You know what you’re doing."

"I’m all right, I suppose."

All right? I’ve practically earned a professional license.

In his previous life, Ryan Mercer had been an ordinary American office worker with a long-standing devotion to World of Warcraft. Unfortunately, being a Warlock main had apparently cursed him with a lifetime of bad luck, and his new existence hadn’t exactly improved his fortunes.

Even now, as Evenson Richter, his standing in his own household remained somewhere near the bottom of the food chain. He could manage things with Creya, but the Eredar Twins had their own ideas about how a useful subordinate ought to behave. Back massages, sore muscles, aching backs, and the occasional demand for a thorough rubdown had become routine.

Naturally, his massage technique had reached an exceptional level.

Usually, such hard work came with certain perks.

This time, he suspected he was working for free.

"So you see," Hela continued, enjoying his ministrations while airing her grievances, "my father really is an idiot."

She shifted slightly, giving him better access to her leg.

"Asgard once made the entire cosmos tremble. Then Odin stopped at the Nine Realms and called it a day. Ruling a kingdom is like rowing against a current. Stop moving forward, and you start drifting backward. Look at what he’s accomplished since he got rid of me. Practically nothing!"

She scoffed.

"And the most ridiculous part? He sent the Valkyrie legions to die alongside me. Those two blades were among Asgard’s greatest weapons. Losing them was practically an act of self-sabotage. I imagine he’s regretted it ever since."

Hela changed legs and continued her tirade.

"Back in our day, we crushed rebellious kingdoms until they knew their place. Now people dare to rebel against Asgard? Fine, I suppose that much can be tolerated. But the Dark Elves? A race that nearly went extinct? Those pathetic survivors managed to fight their way into the throne room and wound Mother—Frigga!"

For an instant, Evenson felt the muscles beneath his hands tense.

He couldn’t tell whether Hela was angrier about Asgard’s lost prestige or Frigga’s near-fatal injury.

"It’s laughable," she went on. "The rebellion was nothing more than a bunch of clowns jumping around. Everything was part of Odin’s plan. He was drawing the snakes out of their holes, letting every would-be traitor reveal themselves before cutting them down. Then he’d have a clear path to the throne’s eventual succession."

Hela’s expression soured. She shot Evenson a cold look.

"Where exactly do you think you’re putting your hands?"

Evenson froze.

He had been working his way a little higher up her leg.

Come on. I’ve been giving you a full-service massage, and I don’t even get a tip. Is a little extra coverage really too much to ask?

He withdrew his hands with an innocent expression.

Hela’s gaze drifted away. The anger in her face faded, replaced by something quieter and more painful.

"Clearing the way for that little golden-haired brat, Thor," she muttered. "Father never once thought about doing the same for me."

"Why would he?"

Hela’s leg twitched. For a moment, Evenson thought she might pull it back and kick him.

Then he continued.

"Odin was in his prime back then. Why would he spend his time worrying about succession? Besides, you were so powerful that you hardly needed him to pave the way for you. If he’d spent too much time thinking about the future, you might have decided he was becoming a nuisance and killed him yourself."

Hela considered that.

Then her expression brightened with unmistakable self-satisfaction.

"True. With my abilities, why would I need anyone to build a bridge for me? I can take care of everything myself!"

And there it is. Compliment the goddess, and the goddess is happy.

Hela withdrew her leg and extended an arm toward him.

"Now, tell me something. The Dark Elves have invaded Asgard, and the Aether has resurfaced. What does my foolish father intend to do about it?"

Evenson took her arm and began working on the muscles below her elbow. He was careful not to venture any farther.

"Hold the Golden Palace and wait for events to unfold."

For once, Hela didn’t immediately mock the strategy.

"That isn’t unreasonable," she admitted. "Given the current situation, it’s probably the most sensible course of action. Still, how humiliating. Someone attacks your kingdom, and all you can do is hide behind your walls."

She raised her chin.

"If the Valkyrie legions and I were still there, things would be different. I’d personally defend Asgard, and not a single enemy would escape. Their heads would hang above the Golden Palace gates before the day was out."

Her eyes gleamed as she elaborated.

"Then we’d use the Aether as bait. Once the Dark Elves took it, the Valkyries would strike and wipe them out. This time, we would finish the job and make certain the Dark Elves never threatened Asgard again."

"Sounds great," Evenson said, shrugging. "But it doesn’t accomplish much when neither you nor the Valkyries are there."

It was easy to devise brilliant strategies after the battle had already begun. Unfortunately, hindsight wasn’t a particularly useful military resource.

Hela flung her arm away, withdrawing it from his grasp.

"I was making myself feel better. Must you ruin everything?"

She folded her arms.

"This is what happens when I’m not around. Asgard has become pathetic."

Across the room, Sigrun suddenly turned around.

Until now, she had deliberately sat with her back to the pair. Evenson was her benefactor, and watching him massage the legs of the woman she regarded as a monstrous tyrant had been an uncomfortable experience. She would have preferred to preserve her memories of him without that particular image attached.

But Hela’s latest declaration had gone too far.

Sigrun almost spoke.

You were exiled because you wanted to overthrow Odin!

The words rose to her lips, but she swallowed them.

The entire Valkyrie legion had become a casualty of the royal family’s struggle for power. They had sacrificed themselves for Asgard, only to be discarded when their deaths became convenient.

The realization had left Sigrun bitter and disillusioned. She had no desire to become involved in another royal power struggle, regardless of who claimed to be in the right.

So she turned away again and kept her thoughts to herself.

Evenson, meanwhile, had resumed massaging Hela’s arm.

I’m not letting you get comfortable for free. I’ve already put in this much work.

"Your plan has two parts," he said. "Hold the Golden Palace while drawing the enemy into a trap. Unfortunately, someone’s already put that plan into action. Thor and Loki have taken the Aether and headed for the Dark World."

Hela opened her mouth as though she intended to laugh, but the sound never came.

"...Father hasn’t had a stroke, has he?"

"Hard to say. Wouldn’t surprise me."

Evenson gestured for her to lie facedown.

She did so, and he began pressing along her spine. Each movement produced a series of sharp cracks.

While Hela hummed contentedly, Evenson silently cursed himself.

Damn this bodysuit. I don’t even have to ask her to take it off for a back massage.

If only he’d thought to bring a couple of bottles of massage oil.

"Mm..." Hela murmured, closing her eyes. "A plan like that requires elite troops and capable commanders. Given the current circumstances, holding the palace is the only sensible option. Yet my two idiot brothers have decided to go charging into danger. Did they leave their brains in Mother’s womb when they were born?"

"Speaking frankly, I can’t say either of them inspires much confidence," Evenson replied. "Odin is practically tearing his hair out over them."

"Exactly!" Hela laughed contemptuously. "One of them rushes into everything with his head full of hot air. The other..."

She paused, considering Loki.

"From your description, I initially thought he might take after Father. Perhaps even me, a little. But no. He has a small mind, relies on petty tricks, and somehow manages to turn every situation into a joke at his own expense. The title God of Mischief suits him perfectly."

She let out a cold chuckle.

"Still, it doesn’t matter. Neither of them will inherit the throne. Once Father finally dies, I’ll leave this prison and claim my crown."

For a moment, she looked genuinely pleased with the prospect.

Then her expression faltered.

"Assuming those two can actually get the job done this time," she added. "For the first time in a very long while, I sincerely hope they succeed. I might even pray for them."

"Loki’s abilities are... well, let’s not get into that," Evenson said diplomatically. "But Thor isn’t weak. He should be able to handle himself. Besides, I might be able to give them a hand, so things probably won’t go too badly."

Hela made a dismissive sound.

"You helping them? What could you possibly—"

She stopped.

Her eyes widened.

Then she sprang upright, her hair erupting into the enormous horned helmet that marked her as the Goddess of Death. She twisted around so quickly that Evenson barely had time to react.

The horns caught him squarely and sent him sprawling across the floor.

"Ow!"

Evenson clutched his face and slowly pushed himself upright.

That helmet is a weapon. Those horns could impale a man!

Hela barely noticed his suffering. She had already leaped to her feet, staring at him with blazing eyes.

"You have a way out of here?!"

"I do," Evenson answered, rubbing his face. "Actually, if you hadn’t shown up when you did, I was planning to use my ultimate option and leave this world altogether."

"Your ultimate option?" Hela demanded. "What are you talking about? I’ve been watching you for quite some time. You tried all sorts of methods, and none of them worked."

"The Scepter of Sargeras," Evenson explained. "Its greatest ability is to punch holes through spatial barriers. I was going to find a weak point in the boundaries of this prison, then use the scepter to open a tiny passage. Something small enough to slip through without attracting anyone’s attention."

He brushed the dust from his clothes.

"I just need to recover a little more magical energy. Then I’ll be able to use it again, at least briefly."

Hela stood perfectly still, studying him. She seemed to be trying to determine whether he was telling the truth or simply enjoying the opportunity to torment her.

Evenson, apparently satisfied that he had her attention, smiled.

"My magic should recover soon, so I won’t be staying here much longer. Which means, Your Divine Majesty, that if you’d like me to finish your massage, now would be an excellent time. Want me to work on the front, too? You might not get another chance."

"Get lost."

Hela’s brow furrowed. She thought for a moment, then narrowed her eyes.

"Wait. From the way you’re talking, you weren’t planning to take me with you?"

Evenson blinked.

"As your First Chosen, you should know better than to abandon your goddess."

"Your Divine Majesty," Evenson said, spreading his hands, "what exactly do you intend to do once you’re out?"

He gestured vaguely toward the prison around them.

"Odin is still alive. As far as I can tell, the only people in Asgard who even know you’re here are Odin and Frigga. If you escape now, you’ll be facing Odin and Thor, along with the Einherjar. Do you honestly think you can win that fight?"

Hela’s expression hardened.

"Do you think you’ve seen the full extent of my power?"

She lifted her chin, refusing to answer his question directly.

"My power is bound to Asgard. Once I return, it will grow stronger with every passing day."

"Can you win?" Evenson repeated.

"She can’t."

This time, the answer came from Sigrun.

Hela’s head snapped toward her.

"Would you like to die a second time?"

Sigrun stiffened, but she didn’t retreat. She gritted her teeth and continued.

"I’ve been wondering about your current condition for a long time. I can clearly feel that your power has diminished, yet your attacks are more vicious than they used to be. Especially that final clash between you and Evenson. The force you unleashed was extraordinary."

She met Hela’s furious gaze.

"But now I understand. During your long imprisonment, you’ve hidden countless swords throughout this prison. You compensate for your diminished strength by drawing on that vast arsenal."

Sigrun paused, allowing the implication to settle.

"But forging so many weapons must have taken an enormous amount of time."

She had reached her conclusion.

"Even if you return to Asgard and your strength begins to recover, you won’t have time to forge another arsenal on that scale. How much stronger could you really become?"

Hela’s face turned livid.

Evenson could practically feel the violence gathering in the air. He hurried to intervene before she decided to demonstrate just how dangerous an angry goddess could be.

"There’s no need to rush," he said. "You should be able to work out the rest yourself. Odin is nearing the end of his life. He probably has only a few years left."

He spread his hands in what he hoped was a soothing gesture.

"You’ve already waited this long. A few more years should be nothing. Just be patient a little longer."

"Patient?"

Hela smiled coldly.

"Then why don’t you both be patient with me?"

She looked from Evenson to Sigrun.

"Being locked up alone is terribly dull. With two companions, at least I’d have someone to talk to."

Her meaning was unmistakable.

If she couldn’t leave, neither could they.

"Hey, that’s unreasonable!" Evenson protested. "You know, being unable to tolerate someone else’s good fortune is a sign of a very narrow mind."

"How fortunate for you, then," Hela replied. "Didn’t you know goddesses are notoriously petty?"

"Who says that? Frigga is very generous."

Evenson thought of the golden bucket and dragon-tooth goblet he’d acquired from her, and shamelessly delivered the compliment.

Hela gave him a knowing look.

"Is that so? And that’s why she’s a queen consort."

She smiled, her confidence returning.

"I, on the other hand, am destined to become queen."

"Right..."

Evenson was beginning to see a problem.

If Hela refused to let him leave, he might genuinely be trapped. The Scepter of Sargeras was in his possession, but using it required absolute concentration. If Hela chose that moment to attack, he would be in serious trouble.

He needed a way to convince her to let him go.

Evenson rolled the possibilities around in his head, searching desperately for an angle. At last, an idea emerged.

He put on his most respectful expression.

"Your Divine Majesty, if you wish me to remain by your side, I would never dare refuse."

Hela looked faintly pleased.

"But I believe," he continued carefully, "that I could serve you far better if you allowed me to leave."

...