Lucci didn't deny it.
"If you already know, then you should understand you're not qualified to be my enemy."
He extended a hand. "Hand over the Casket of Ancient Winters. Maybe you'll get to die a little happier."
"Don't even think about it!!"
Facing death, Laufey's last burst of ferocity was ignited. He roared, drawing out the Casket of Ancient Winters's power with everything he had.
"Freeze!"
An absolute-zero storm—one hundred times stronger than before—howled toward Lucci!
Lucci looked at the blizzard that could freeze even an asteroid, and shook his head with disdain. He didn't even bother to ignite his true primordial flame. Instead, he pointed a finger like a sword and flicked lightly toward Laufey.
An invisible karmic sword force flashed—and vanished.
At the peak of his power, Laufey froze instantly: his movement, his roar, even his expression locked in place.
Then, while his body was still poised to attack, his very existence began to crumble into ash from the soles of his feet upward, dispersing into nothingness…
He tried to lower his head and stare at his disappearing body in horror, but no sound would come.
In the end, amid endless terror, he vanished from this world completely.
Only the Casket of Ancient Winters remained, dropping to the ground.
Lucci nodded faintly. "Not bad. The power of karmic sword force."
"At least it's being used to erase Laufey's existence, so there's no problem."
With a casual motion, the Casket of Ancient Winters flew into his hand. He took a step forward—and disappeared as if he had never been there at all.
…
Asgard, the Royal Palace of Valaskjalf
Odin had just finished dealing with the fallout from the interrupted coronation. He sat upon the throne, fatigue lingering on his face.
Exiling Thor was a necessary punishment—also a trial Thor had to endure to truly grow.
But as a father, Odin felt the same pain.
"Heimdall…" Odin murmured inwardly, preparing to have Heimdall check Thor's situation on Midgard—and, in passing, keep an eye on Lucci's progress.
But before Odin could reach Heimdall, a familiar figure quietly appeared in the center of the Royal Palace of Valaskjalf.
It was Lucci.
He was back.
Odin was startled, surprise flashing in his eye.
Back… so soon?
He glanced toward the hourglass outside the hall. From Lucci's departure to his return, not even half an hourglass had passed.
An involuntary thought rose in Odin's mind.
Could it be…
Failure?
Thinking that, Odin stepped down from the throne, ready to comfort him.
"Don't take it to heart," Odin said gently, with authority. "That old Laufey is not weak. With the Casket of Ancient Winters in hand, and in an environment like Jotunheim, his power would surge to its limit."
"Even if you missed, it's no big deal. We can plan long-term."
In Odin's view, Lucci was young. No matter how strong, suffering a small loss against a veteran king forged over countless years was natural—especially with less experience.
But Lucci looked at him calmly, then turned his palm.
Buzz—
An ancient chest carved with intricate frost patterns, exuding endless cold, appeared in midair above his hand.
It was the Casket of Ancient Winters.
"Father, the Casket of Ancient Winters has been recovered."
The entire Royal Palace of Valaskjalf fell into dead silence.
Odin's expression shifted—from consolation to shock, from disbelief to deep upheaval.
"This… so fast?"
His voice trembled slightly from the impact.
"Could it be… it took you that little time to take it back from Laufey?"
Lucci nodded, indifferent. "Yes, Father."
"And from now on, the name 'Laufey' will never appear in the Nine Realms again."
Boom!
It felt as though a star exploded in Odin's mind.
He understood what Lucci meant: a king who had ruled for millennia, a former rival and old enemy—had been uprooted and erased entirely in that short instant.
This was no longer merely "powerful"…
It was a crushing disparity on the level of existence itself.
It took Odin a long time to recover. He stared at Lucci, eyes complicated.
Just as he was about to have someone return the Casket of Ancient Winters to the vault, Heimdall's voice rang in both their minds:
"Your Majesty! Your Highness! The situation has changed! There is… a Destroyer armor heading toward Midgard!"
"What?!" Odin's expression changed dramatically.
The Destroyer?
Asgard's strongest war machine—an ultimate weapon to suppress rebellion and raze kingdoms.
"How did this happen?" Odin thundered. "I did not dispatch the Destroyer!"
Lucci sighed, realizing the story was inevitably reaching this point. He looked at Odin's furious face and said steadily, "Father, clearly someone in Asgard is making moves."
"Who?!" Odin roared unconsciously.
His rage hit its peak. First the vault was breached, and now even the Destroyer had been taken.
It was as if someone was grinding his face into the ground again and again.
Lucci thought for a moment. "Father, hearing is false—seeing is believing."
"…Let's go to the vault," he continued. "Use the power of time to review what happened in the past. We'll know at a glance."
Odin nodded coldly. "Fine. I want to see who has the nerve!"
They left at once for Odin's vault.
When they entered, the Destroyer's oppressive aura still lingered.
Lucci arrived at the place where the Destroyer armor had been kept. With a shift of thought, a shimmer of light carrying the laws of time began to flicker.
"Turn back time!"
As he spoke, the surrounding space became like a rewinding tape. Countless fractured lights and shadows rapidly reversed, then reassembled.
A clear, three-dimensional projection formed before them.
In the image, Loki held a scepter and activated the Destroyer armor. With sick fanaticism and cold cruelty, he gave an order:
"Kill Thor."
Odin's body went rigid.
His single eye filled with shock, grief—and a monstrous rage born from betrayal by the one he trusted most.
"So that's why… it went so smoothly…"
"Loki?!"
Odin's roar shook with pain and fury.
He could accept enemies at the gate.
But he could not accept that his other son had been plotting behind his back—using such ruthless means to kill his brother.
"Guards!" Odin's rage could no longer be contained. "Bring Loki here immediately!"
…
Loki's Palace
Loki lounged on an exquisite sofa. A magical water-mirror hovered before him, clearly showing New Mexico.
He watched Thor being treated like a madman. He watched Thor devour food just to fill his stomach, humiliated by the loss of his power.
"Heh… dear brother. Without power, you're nothing."
A sinister pleasure curled on Loki's face. He lifted his wineglass and took a slow sip.
"Soon, the Destroyer will arrive."
"Then you'll be stripped of even the right to be human."
"And Father—after that blow—may fall into the Odinsleep from grief. Then I'll find a way to deal with Lucci…"
"And the throne of Asgard will be mine."
As he indulged in the sweet dream of his perfect plan, the palace doors were slammed open.
Heavily armed guards stormed in with grim expressions.
"Prince Loki!" the captain declared, leaving no room for doubt. "The All-Father commands you to go to the treasury immediately!"
Loki's heart sank.
The treasury—why?
Could it be… Father discovered the Destroyer is missing?
A flash of panic rose—but he crushed it.
So what?
He'd acted with extreme stealth. He'd deployed the Destroyer without leaving traces.
At worst, Father was calling him to ask questions.
Reassured, Loki set down his glass, straightened his collar, and put on his signature innocent smile.
"Very well. Let's go."
He followed them to the treasury.
But the moment he stepped inside, all his confidence—and every prepared line—collapsed completely.
What did he see?
In midair, a three-dimensional projection made of time-power was looping endlessly, replaying again and again the exact scene of him activating the Destroyer and ordering Thor's death.
Every detail was unmistakable: expression, words, timing. Impossible to deny.
Loki went blank.
His mind turned white noise. His prepared explanations became meaningless trash, stuck in his throat.
"This… this can't be…" he whispered, face pale as paper.
"LOKI!"
A roar filled with monstrous fury snapped him back.
Odin gripped Gungnir, the Eternal Spear, and stared at him with blazing eyes.
"Tell me. What is going on?!"
Loki flinched—but the instinct to survive drove one last resistance.
"No! That's not it!"
He pointed at the projection, babbling, "It's an illusion! Lucci did this! Father, his illusion skills are stronger than mine!"
"He could easily fabricate a fake image of me and frame me!"
He tried to smear Lucci.
But Odin gave a cold, bitter laugh.
"Illusion?"
His voice was drenched in endless disappointment. "Are you saying that I—Odin, the Father of Gods of the Nine Realms—cannot distinguish truth from falsehood, even with time's power laid bare?"
Loki choked, words failing. Cold sweat soaked his vest.
Still, he struggled. "No! Father, listen! You know I have no access to the treasury at all!"
"Besides you and Lucci, who can come and go freely? Something must be wrong!"
He tried to retreat.
But Lucci, standing to the side, sighed softly.
With a casual motion, an inconspicuous ornament from the corner of the treasury flew into his hand.
"Loki," Lucci said, calm and lethal. "Last time you came to the treasury, you left traces of illusion on this ornament."
"If I'm right, you used that mark as a coordinate—sneaking past the treasury's defenses."
"And the three Frost Giants who stole the Casket before… entered the same way, didn't they?"
Each word smashed into Loki like a heavy hammer, shattering his luck.
Odin's fury detonated.
"Loki!"
Gungnir blazed with radiant light as Odin thrust it forward.
"Do you have anything else to say?"
Faced with ironclad evidence and inescapable reasoning, Loki finally dropped the act.
A smile uglier than tears twisted his face. Years of resentment, jealousy, and unwillingness erupted like a volcano.
"What else is there to say?!"
He pointed at Odin, laughing with bitterness and despair.
"Why don't you ask yourself, Odin—the great All-Father!"
"Why did you deceive me? Why hide that I'm a Frost Giant? Why bring me—the monster—from Jotunheim?"
"In your eyes there's only your tall, brave eldest son Thor—and this perfect Lucci!"
"What about me? What am I?"
"Just a shadow beneath their brilliance? A clown meant to stop them?"
Odin's body trembled. The anger on his face gradually shifted into deep pain and exhaustion.
But it was too late for words.
"Enough!"
Odin raised Gungnir. Chains of divine power manifested in midair and bound Loki tightly.
"Guards!"
"Throw Loki into the dungeons!"
"Without my order, he is never to be released!"
"Yes!"
Several captains rushed forward, dragging away the roaring Loki to imprisonment.
After it was over, Odin—once so radiant and imposing—looked as though he had aged thousands of years in an instant.
His posture wavered; his eye brimmed with profound fatigue and heartache.
Even a god-king as strong as Odin could not endure, again and again, betrayal and disappointment from his sons without suffering immense spiritual blows.
His divine power showed signs of instability—an omen of the coming Odinsleep.
Lucci stepped forward, placing a hand gently on Odin's shoulder.
Pure, vast, life-filled divine power flowed into Odin like a warm stream.
Nourished by it, Odin's scattered spirit-force condensed again, and color returned to his pale face.
Odin waved a hand, sighing. "I'm fine, Lucci."
His voice was hoarse. He forced himself to look toward Midgard, worry filling his eye.
"What matters now is Thor's safety."
"That fool Loki actually sent the Destroyer…"
"That power is something Thor cannot resist now."
He looked at Lucci, almost pleading.
"Lucci, please."
"Go to Midgard and stop the Destroyer armor!"
Lucci nodded solemnly. "Father, don't worry. With me there, Thor will be fine."
Odin nodded and summoned several palace maids.
"Help me… back to the sleeping chamber."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
They hurried forward, supporting the exhausted god-king out of the treasury.
Watching Odin's retreating back, Lucci knew that in the time to come, Asgard's burdens would fall upon his shoulders.
When the treasury doors closed again, Lucci did not take the Bifrost to Midgard.
For him now, the Bifrost was already… too slow.
He extended a hand, and the "Path of Flame" sword appeared quietly in his grip.
He stared into the void ahead, as if he could lock onto the New Mexico desert through layers of cosmic barriers.
Then, holding the Path of Flame sword, he slashed lightly through the space before him.
A dark, stable spatial rift opened abruptly.
…
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