Chapter 731

Misery loved company.

People rarely admitted it, of course. Most of us liked to believe we were decent human beings, above petty jealousy and spite. Yet when life dealt us a particularly rotten hand, some small, ugly part of us wanted everyone else to suffer, too.

Imagine losing everything overnight, only for someone to clap you on the shoulder and announce that they’d just won the lottery. Would you congratulate them with a smile, or secretly hope they got hit by a bus on their way to collect the money?

Or imagine spending your last ten pulls in a gacha game getting nothing but three-star trash, only to have the person sitting beside you pull five SSR characters in a row. Then, just to rub it in, they turn their phone around and show you.

Would you congratulate them?

Or would you briefly contemplate murder?

Everyone knew these thoughts were petty, irrational, and morally questionable. Most people kept them to themselves.

Hela, however, was not most people.

She had spent ages alone in this lightless prison. Now, at long last, she had acquired a cellmate. Someone to play cards with. Someone to break the monotony.

They hadn’t even finished shuffling the deck before her new companion started planning his escape.

Worse, he intended to leave without her.

Absolutely not.

As far as Hela was concerned, this was unacceptable.

Evenson could claim all he liked that escaping would allow him to serve her more effectively. She wasn’t buying it. He was a slippery, self-serving little schemer who had invented a convenient excuse to abandon her.

Evenson knew a few reassuring words wouldn’t be enough to change her mind. Fortunately, his magic hadn’t recovered yet, leaving him plenty of time to make his case.

"The hole Sargeras’s Scepter punched through the dimensional barrier won’t close easily," he explained. "Even after I leave, it’ll remain open. It might stay that way until the prison itself collapses."

Hela watched him without speaking.

"Now, you won’t be able to escape through it yourself. But you will be able to use it to establish contact with the outside world."

"Hmm."

Hela tilted her head, then shook it with an amused smile.

"How do I know that’s true? What happens if the hole closes the moment you pass through?"

Evenson pressed a hand to his chest, looking wounded.

"Are you accusing me of deceiving you? They say true power allows warriors to understand one another’s hearts through battle. After everything we’ve been through, I thought we’d established at least a little trust."

Hela considered this for a moment.

"Dishonest. Deceitful. A coward who hides whenever danger appears and rushes forward whenever there’s something to gain. Also, spectacularly unlucky."

She paused, apparently searching her memory.

"That’s my current assessment of you. Let me know if I’ve overlooked anything."

Evenson’s face twitched.

What the hell? Is that really how you see me? Am I that bad?

He decided not to dignify the accusation with a response.

"Is deceiving you really worth the trouble?" he asked instead. "How much longer can Odin possibly live? And how much longer can this prison hold you? Three years? Five?"

He spread his hands.

"If you were going to remain imprisoned for another few centuries, perhaps I’d consider the risk. But I have absolutely no desire to spend the next several years living in fear of the Goddess of Death’s wrath."

Hela slowly nodded.

Annoyingly, the argument made sense.

She still wasn’t convinced, though.

"Even if you’re telling the truth, I don’t see how having a way to contact the outside world benefits me all that much. It sounds practically useless."

"On the contrary." Evenson’s tone turned confident. He studied her with a faint, knowing smile. "You claim to be the rightful commander of Asgard’s armies. So tell me, where is your Hela-gar?"

Hela blinked.

"My what?"

"Your army," he clarified. "The legions you commanded. And, of course, the Naglfar, the warship supposedly constructed from the fingernails and hair of the dead."

"My army is still sleeping beneath the Golden Palace," Hela replied. "As for that ship..."

She shuddered.

"I’ve never heard of it. I’d rather nail my own tongue to a table with a rusty fork than spend a single second aboard something made from dead people’s fingernails and hair."

She grimaced.

"Who comes up with this stuff?"

Evenson gave a small shrug.

"Fine. Your army is asleep. But you also call yourself the Goddess of Death, and goddesses are supposed to receive worship. Which brings me to my next question. Who is your high priest? Where is he?"

Hela raised an eyebrow and turned slightly away.

"Naturally, the office of high priest is one of tremendous importance. Such a position requires careful consideration. Therefore, I have concluded that appointing my First Chosen as high priest would be a perfectly reasonable arrangement."

"Congratulations, Your Divinity. A few hours ago, you finally acquired your first Chosen and your high priest."

Evenson smiled without warmth.

"What about your assistant priests?"

Hela’s lips tightened. Her eyes drifted toward him.

Evenson immediately held up a hand.

"Don’t look at me. Don’t you think it’s a little strange for a goddess to have only one priest serving her?"

Hela looked away, embarrassed.

"You expect me to monopolize all your favor? Don’t be ridiculous."

Her gaze wandered toward Sigrun, searching for another candidate.

Sigrun shut that idea down before Hela could open her mouth.

"Absolutely not. I’d rather die than become your priestess."

Given their relationship, Sigrun considered it generous enough that she hadn’t already drawn her weapon against Hela. The idea of kneeling before her was out of the question.

Hela had run out of immediate options. She straightened her neck and adopted an air of lofty indifference.

"There will be others eventually."

"Of course. Eventually."

Evenson shrugged.

"But what does your system of faith actually look like? What are the proper rites? What offerings should your followers bring? What constitutes an acceptable sacrifice?"

"Sacrifices..."

Hela’s gaze wandered involuntarily toward the empty instant-noodle cups scattered across the floor.

She caught herself.

"You’re the high priest! Why should I be responsible for organizing these things? What exactly am I keeping you around for?"

For all her arrogance, Hela found herself in an awkward position.

She was a genuine goddess. Surely, she ought to have worshippers.

She had never particularly cared about such things before. Yet the prospect of having absolutely nobody who revered her was humiliating, even if she would rather die than admit it aloud.

Her imprisonment had only made the problem worse. After so long in isolation, she was far more sensitive to rejection and disrespect than she wanted anyone to know.

A proper religious order, complete with rituals and devoted followers, might offer her something she hadn’t realized she needed: reassurance that the world hadn’t forgotten her.

Evenson bowed his head.

"Your Divinity is absolutely right. Organizing the faith is my responsibility."

He allowed a moment for the concession to settle before continuing.

"However, even if I establish the rites and prepare the offerings, where am I supposed to conduct the ceremonies? Where is your temple? Where is your statue?"

"Humph!"

Hela’s expression darkened as she finally understood where he was leading.

"I don’t have any of those things! Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Her eyes narrowed. A dangerous glint appeared in them, and a longsword materialized in her hand.

"What exactly are you getting at, Evenson? Are you making fun of me? Because if you are, you’d better have a very good explanation."

"There’s no need to be upset, Your Divinity."

Evenson lowered his head slightly, adopting the soothing tone of a man attempting to talk a particularly dangerous animal out of eating him.

"If everything were already in place, my appointment as your First Chosen would hardly seem deserved. I’d simply be benefiting from work someone else had done."

Hela’s eyes narrowed further.

"You’re saying..."

"Exactly."

Evenson nodded.

"Once I’m free, I can arrange all of it. Give me a few months, and I guarantee you’ll witness a grand religious ceremony worthy of your name."

Hela said nothing, but her expression shifted.

He had her attention.

Evenson pressed his advantage.

"Consider Odin. His glory has nearly faded into obscurity. At least on Midgard, there are no temples dedicated to him, no statues erected in his honor, and no widespread worship of his name. Most people regard him as a fictional figure."

"Even after Thor came to Earth and proved that the gods of Asgard actually exist, nobody revived the old worship."

He paused to let the point sink in.

"But imagine if you established a proper religious following on Midgard. Temples, dedicated worshippers, regular ceremonies. That would be the clearest possible demonstration that you’ve surpassed Odin."

"My power already surpasses that old fool’s."

Hela frowned at his final remark. "I don’t need anyone to prove it."

"Naturally. Your divine might is beyond comparison with Odin’s fading glory."

Evenson agreed with such effortless sincerity that he almost convinced himself.

"But mortals are ignorant creatures. If you don’t demonstrate your superiority, how are they supposed to recognize it?"

He struck his chest with one hand, his expression suddenly earnest.

"And even if Your Divinity doesn’t care about such matters, surely your First Chosen cannot remain silent! If I fail to spread your glory throughout the realms, what kind of high priest would that make me?"

Since when did you become so devoted?

Hela regarded him suspiciously.

You’re a remarkably convincing actor, I’ll give you that. If I didn’t already know what sort of person you were, I might actually believe you.

"Do you mean that?" she asked.

"Upon Antorus, the source of my power, I swear that my loyalty to Your Divinity is beyond question!"

Evenson raised three fingers. His eyes glistened with tears he had painstakingly summoned, and his expression suggested that if Hela doubted him any further, he might throw himself against the nearest wall.

Hela had no idea what Antorus was.

She did, however, understand the significance of a spellcaster swearing an oath upon the source of his power. Such an oath carried considerable weight.

For the first time, she felt a flicker of uncertainty.

Could this be one of those legendary bonds where a warrior would die for someone who understood him?

The thought was unfamiliar enough to make her uncomfortable.

"Then tell me," she said, refusing to let sentiment cloud her judgment. "What exactly do you intend to do?"

Anyone could make grand promises. The details were what mattered. If Evenson was lying, this was where he would stumble.

Evenson quietly relaxed.

Hela was asking for specifics because she wanted to test his story. That meant she was at least considering the possibility that he was telling the truth.

"Establishing a following on Midgard shouldn’t be particularly difficult," he said. "I know several people with considerable influence, substantial wealth, and organizations large enough to make the undertaking possible."

Hela nodded thoughtfully.

Starting with powerful people was a sensible approach. If those at the top embraced her worship, their subordinates would be far easier to persuade.

Still, she wasn’t about to accept his assurances without question.

"Will they actually listen to you? I’m not some sheltered princess who’s never seen the world. I’m a goddess, and I understand how seriously mortals take matters of faith."

"They’ll listen because Your Divinity is worthy of their devotion."

Evenson nodded firmly.

"These people are already believers. They have an established faith, and they’ve maintained it with extraordinary dedication for three thousand years."

He deliberately emphasized the length of time.

"Your Divinity must understand what that means for mortals with such short lifespans. Three thousand years of continuous worship is no small achievement."

"I understand."

Hela’s expression grew more thoughtful.

"But if they’re truly that devout, what makes you think they’ll abandon their existing god and worship me instead?"

"Because their faith is already in crisis."

Evenson’s smile turned faintly smug as he recalled certain recent developments.

"They’ve begun to suspect that the god they’ve worshipped all this time isn’t powerful enough."

"Not powerful enough?"

Hela laughed softly.

"Who is this god they’re so disappointed in?"

"Strictly speaking, he isn’t a god at all," Evenson replied with open disdain. "He’s an early experimental subject created by the Kree Empire."

Hela searched her memory.

Then her expression changed to one of incredulous amusement.

"One of those cannon fodder experiments?"

"An unusually powerful specimen of cannon fodder," Evenson conceded.

Hela nearly burst out laughing.

"I almost feel sorry for them. They’ve been bowing to an expendable test subject for three thousand years? Honestly, I don’t even know what to say."

She was familiar with the Kree Empire and acknowledged that it possessed considerable power. Some Kree warriors and creations were strong enough to challenge the gods of Asgard themselves.

Worshipping such beings would at least have been understandable.

But an experimental subject? One of the empire’s expendable creations?

And they had spent three thousand years treating it as a deity?

There were many words for such devotion. Wise was not among them.

"Which is precisely why their faith is in crisis," Evenson explained.

He stepped closer and bowed slightly.

"They’re already considering abandoning their old god. But once they lose their faith, they’ll have nothing to replace it with. They’re confused, directionless, and looking for a new deity to guide them."

He let his gaze settle on Hela.

"Your Divinity needn’t question their capacity for devotion. If they could worship an experimental subject for three thousand years, imagine what they’ll do when they encounter your true power. How could they possibly refuse to kneel before you?"

Hela closed her eyes and considered his proposal.

Then she opened them again.

"The truth is, they only worship what they believe can serve their interests."

Her understanding of faith was as clear-eyed as it was cynical.

"They worship a god because they expect something in return. When that god no longer seems powerful enough to satisfy them, they abandon him."

A faint smile touched her lips.

"But I don’t particularly care. Worshippers aren’t especially useful to me, yet a goddess can hardly have none at all. Their sincerity doesn’t matter, either. All I need is for them to sing my praises, lend their voices to my cause, and make an impressive spectacle of it."

She brought her hands together in a decisive clap.

"Very well. I’ve never had a proper religious organization of my own. I suppose that is something of a deficiency for a goddess."

Hela regarded Evenson with newfound approval.

"If you succeed in establishing one for me, I’ll consider the matter a significant achievement on your part."

Her smile widened.

"And once I regain my freedom, I’ll grant you all of Midgard as your personal fiefdom. The entire realm will belong to you, and your title shall pass to your descendants in perpetuity."

Evenson maintained his respectful expression.

Inside, he was already reconsidering the terms of his employment.

An entire planet.

That was one hell of a signing bonus.