At the sa ti, in an unknown location.
Inside a room resembling a stone castle, the fireplace was ablaze, and the emblem of a spreading-wing eagle clutched the wreath beneath its feet, within which a ’swastika’ symbol continued to shimr in the firelight.
The Third Empire was defeated, but not everyone perished on the battlefield.
Xiaohuzi shot himself, dying in his bunker. Yet so still held hope for the nation, fleeing and hiding.
A bespectacled man was working at his desk; his fingers were as wooden sticks, not obeying his commands in the chilly office.
Yet he adeptly signed nas and endorsed opinions on docunts.
With Xiaohuzi dead, he beca the new Imperial Leader, and his choice now was to huddle together with Hydra, bereft of Red Skull, for warmth.
And see if there’s a way to get through this freezing winter.
The sound of military boots echoed down the corridor, as a short-statured man entered the office, his head covered by a purple mask, resembling an accessory on a lampshade.
No one dared underestimate him now.
For the rumor was that he had tricked Red Skull to his death, relying on both injuring others and himself by divulging intelligence, using SSR and Captain Arica to eliminate Schmidt.
No one held evidence, and even the loyal remnants of Red Skull couldn’t topple Baron Zemo on re speculation.
"A hundred thousand soldiers, do you even know what you’re saying? We have two hundred thousand troops, yet you demand half for a covert mission... Baron, are you testing my patience."
The younger Zemo was entirely masked, revealing none of his expressions, yet by his tone, it seed he was fully prepared.
He placed a wooden box on the desk, pushing open the lid to showcase its contents to the glasses-wearing man.
"Luckily, you are a patient man; Himmler, this is our fortune..."
Inside the box were small flat stones like chess pieces, initially appearing all pitch-black, but under the firelight reflection, their surfaces were uneven.
Symbols like bird claws were intricately etched onto these stones.
"My God, this is..." Himmler stood up, attempting a better view of the items within the box.
Zemo took one stone into his hand so Himmler could examine it thoroughly.
"Yes, Commander, this is a legendary item."
Himmler adjusted his glasses, ticulously inspecting the small stone: "Indeed, it’s a cipher from the Epic Edda, likely matched with a spatial access point from the scripture records... without which, these runes alone are useless."
Zemo took back the rune returned by Himmler, placed it back, and covered the box, the firelight revealing his hood to be entirely red.
"I ntioned fortune earlier because I just happened to find a spatial access point..."
Previously, Himmler had not been sparing in collecting mystic items for Xiaohuzi, making him quite the expert; upon hearing Zemo’s response, he imdiately understood the significance.
He returned to his seat, almost without hesitation, grabbing the phone from the desk.
"Deploy the troops, assemble a hundred thousand Ard SS at once, prepare to receive orders from Helmut Zemo, the Baron."
After speaking, he set down the phone, looking at the person before him, the newly risen Baron Zemo was excessively youthful but far sharper than his father.
A flicker of firelight crossed Himmler’s round glasses, as if seeing so form of hope.
"Baron, the army you asked for is yours, but you do understand... what this ans?"
Zemo raised a hand, clenched it into a fist in front of him, swearing allegiance to the nation in Hydra’s manner.
"Of course... Long live Germany!"
...................
Where the flas burned fiercely, the air was filled with cries of lantation, a shriveled and tiny figure crouched on his throne, watching the souls in his Eternal Kingdom suffer endless tornt.
Hell’s flas flowed into these Soul Bodies, turning them into giant blisters, and as each blister burst, new ones would form.
The crackling sounds resembled rhythmic music; he rocked his head to the symphony that always brought him joy.
"Your Majesty, your letter."
A round monster like a ball of flesh hopped across several lava streams, sweating profusely as it handed a parchnt to the one upon the throne.
"Fool, this isn’t a letter! It’s a contract, let see... Oh? Quite interesting..."
The King scolded his subordinate sharply; he casually covered the fool’s head with a glob of lava, watching him squirm across the ground, but quickly refocused on the letter.
After pondering a while, a smile appeared on his red face.
"Mobilize the Destruction Maidens, give them the army, I need these little wenches of Bor to do sothing proper for ."
The crawling demon rose up and fled into the distance.
"As you command, my supre majesty."
.................
"The World Tree is on fire."
In a pitch-black palace, only ghostly fire provided illumination, and in the vast empty room, there were just two silhouettes present.
The woman was leaning against the throne, while the long-haired man stood below the steps.
He received the ssage brought by the Ghost; the flas signified the arrival of the Twilight of the Gods. He imdiately inford his Queen of this news.
"It’s not ti yet. The ti of the Dead’s rise is when the black rain falls from the sky."
The Queen was barefoot, wearing only a thin green veil, and she seed not in the least bit anxious.
A massive, furry head erged from behind her throne. Its eyes glowed green in the darkness, indicating it was a giant wolf.
She reached her hand into the wolf’s mouth, stroking its teeth. The wolf’s mouth was the only place in this kingdom with a different temperature.
It was colder there.
Her gaze passed through the palace gates, looking out at her dark kingdom, her eyes calm and distant.
It was not yet ti. Fenrir should appear during the Winter of the Wolf. This eruption of fire was quite strange.
She could wait, as she had already waited for a long ti.
The man had one hand made of Uru Alloy; his left hand was purely chanical, bearing the Dwarves’ craftsmanship, square like a cuboid gauntlet.
But he, being a man—or rather, a ghost after death—was quite smooth in his actions; he understood the Queen’s intentions.
"I will go and prepare the army first."
"Go ahead, awaken the warriors first. Be ready at all tis. You don’t need to step in personally, do you?"
"Of course not. I haven’t seen my two dear brothers in a long ti and miss them terribly..."
"Hehehe...rember to send my regards to them."
The Black Stone palace resonated with the Goddess’s clear laughter. On reflection, those two fools still didn’t know of their big sister’s existence...
................
Warnerheim.
Queen Gullveig was eting the ssenger of Surtur in the magnificent white marble royal palace. The ssenger’s red robe was as conspicuous as blood on snow.
"His Majesty Surtur has shown his sincerity, so Your Majesty the Queen, about the alliance?"
Gullveig was Frigga’s younger sister, and their father was killed by Odin long ago, an event the Aesir Race referred to as peace.
Odin had taken her sister, forcibly marrying Frigga. Had Gullveig not been too young then, and the Vanir Race needed a puppet leader, her fate might not have been much better.
But now, the fire of the World Tree was visible to every kingdom. It was, without a doubt, a signal of the Twilight of the Gods.
Even if the sequence of events did not match the prophecy, that was just a minor issue.
The ssenger of Surtur had co to her, saying that the King of Flas was willing to provide the Fire Seed, granting the Vanir Race the power to wield fire. In return, both sides would form an alliance to muster a great army to overthrow Odin’s rule.
Gullveig did not hesitate. She had seen the flas; the ti had co, and she was set on avenging her father and sister.
In her heart, her sister was already dead.
The one now in the Golden Palace had completely forgotten about the won of the Vanir Race, rely Odin’s plaything, her enemy.
"Notify everyone, man or woman, to take up arms and mount their horses!" Gullveig stood up from the throne, and the maidens draped her in silver armor. "Go back and tell your master that Warnerheim has joined the war. We will launch a surprise attack on Asgard from behind."
"A wise choice, Your Majesty the Queen."
..........
In the dark cosmos, several colossal space battleships were silently advancing. They saw the fire; they had returned.
"Leader, we just crossed paths with the Kree Fleet," a humanoid creature with ghastly white skin and blood-red eyes reported to the leader on the bridge.
The bridge was completely dark, yet they seed able to see in the darkness.
"The Kree Fleet appears to be heading towards Nidavillir, the Dwarves’ kingdom?"
The leader rely looked ahead calmly. Their target was not there.
"If my directional judgnt is correct, yes. They haven’t detected us. Should we ambush them to seize so resources?" the Adjutant replied, the distant stars swiftly passing by.
"No need. The Kree are like seeds with spikes, while our current target is soft fruit... Adjust course for Alfheim; we shall pay a visit to our distant relatives."
The leader gave a slight smile, but even a fool could discern the coldness in it.
"The World Tree is on fire, Odin has fallen into slumber. It’s an excellent opportunity; shall we launch a surprise attack on Asgard?"
"No, let’s wait a bit longer. I am not the only one bearing hatred for Odin; the crows will feast on the corpse. Until all Cursed Warriors are ready, a surprise attack on Asgard would be paving the road for others with our own bones."
"As you command, Leader."
.................
At the root of the World Tree, in an indistinguishable space, the sun shone brightly, and the air was filled with the scent of flowers.
The flas had not spread here; everything was as it always was.
Under the tree lay a vast adow and a small pool. Blooming lotuses floated on the water’s surface. As a gentle breeze passed by, the petals quivered slightly, and only a faint fragrance lingered.
Three won were here weaving threads, from which endless Destiny erged.
Reviews
All reviews (0)