Chapter 860: We’re going to steal the Bifröst.

Brynhildr remained still for several seconds after Heimdall was taken away from the platform. The other Valkyries still held their weapons, but the tension had changed. They were no longer surrounding an immediate enemy.

They were waiting for an answer.

Vergil noticed before Freya did.

Their silence was not hesitation.

It was expectation.

Brynhildr then turned fully toward him, held her spear close to her body, and lowered her head. The movement was slow, deliberate, and heavy enough to make every other Valkyrie pay attention. Then she placed one knee against the golden stone of the platform.

One by one, the warriors around her did the same.

Weapons were held close to their chests. Shields rested against the ground. Heads bowed before Vergil, not like defeated prisoners, but like an army that had made a collective decision and was now accepting the consequences.

Freya went pale.

Vergil merely watched.

Brynhildr raised her face just enough to speak.

"If you free us from this burden, if you allow us to abandon an existence built upon servitude, silence, and orders we never chose, then we will swear loyalty to you."

Her voice crossed the platform with firmness.

There was no desperation.

There was no empty submission.

It was a proposal.

An agreement made by warriors who understood they were offering something far greater than military strength.

Brynhildr continued:

"Not as tools. Not as property. Not as souls bound to an endless oath. We will swear as warriors, under clear conditions, with the right to a voice, rest, and choice. If Sparda receives us that way, then the Demon King will have our spears, our shields, and our loyalty."

The other Valkyries struck the shafts of their weapons against the ground.

The impact crossed the platform like a short burst of thunder.

Freya stepped forward.

"Stand up."

No one moved.

She looked at Brynhildr, then at the others, becoming increasingly desperate at what she was seeing.

"Raise your heads. You should not be doing this."

Brynhildr remained kneeling.

Freya continued, her voice becoming firmer.

"You cannot simply bow before another king because you are furious with Odin. That is not freedom. It is trading one master for another."

"No."

The voice came from Brynhildr’s side.

Another Valkyrie emerged from the formation with quick, controlled steps. Her armor was darker, marked by reinforced plates on the shoulders and command runes near the chest. She carried a sword and shield, but neither was raised. Her eyes constantly moved across the towers, the sky, and the entrances to the platform, like someone who did not trust the situation to remain peaceful for much longer.

Sigrun stopped beside Brynhildr.

"We are not trading one master for another," she said. "We are choosing a ruler under terms we defined ourselves."

Freya looked at her.

"Sigrun."

The Valkyrie did not look away.

"Thor may be returning," Sigrun said. "The western sentinels sensed approaching divine energy. He may still be far away, but we do not have much time."

Brynhildr raised her eyes toward Freya.

"You were once our queen."

The sentence made Freya go still.

The Valkyries around them remained kneeling, but several discreetly raised their faces to watch the former Vanir goddess. There was history in that relationship. Freya was not merely another Norse deity. In earlier ages, she had been a figure of power, war, magic, and authority. Some of those warriors had served under her decisions. Others had heard stories about her as someone who, despite her own mistakes, understood better than most the price paid by women used in the agreements of gods.

Brynhildr continued:

"You know our history better than almost anyone alive. You know the wars we were sent to. You know the sisters who never returned. You know the oaths that were changed without our consent and the way our victories were always recorded beneath the names of men."

Freya tightened her fingers.

"That does not mean you should kneel."

"It means you should not pretend this decision was born from an impulse."

Brynhildr did not raise her voice.

She did not need to.

"We have thought about this for a long time. Some of us for centuries. Others only found the courage when the routes to Helheim began to fail and Odin decided preserving his image was more important than rescuing our sisters. We are not fleeing because one mission went wrong. We are leaving because we finally understood that this realm will never treat us as anything more than a resource."

Freya opened her mouth, but Brynhildr continued before she could respond.

"You suffered at the hands of the Norse gods. You were used in agreements, disputes, marriages, wars, and games of authority. You distanced yourself from them for reasons you know better than we do. So do not try to convince us that staying here is the responsible choice merely because our departure may break the balance of the Nine Realms."

Freya’s energy stirred.

Not because she was angry with the Valkyries.

Because the sentence had struck a point she could not deny.

Brynhildr lowered her head slightly.

"A balance that depends on the enslavement of an entire group is not balance. It is convenience."

The silence that formed was heavier than before.

Freya looked at Vergil, but he did not interfere. This was not a conversation that belonged to him. The Valkyries were confronting someone who knew the system from within, someone who still carried enough guilt to try preserving a structure that had already failed all of them.

Sigrun stepped forward.

"We are warriors, Freya. Not idiots."

She pointed her chin toward the towers of Asgard.

"We know what leaving means. We know Odin will call us traitors. We know Thor may come after us, that the Einherjar may be mobilized, that Asgard may turn this into a war."

Her expression hardened.

"And we are willing."

Freya stared at her.

Sigrun continued:

"If we need to bring a war to this realm for a single chance to live far away from this misery, then we will do it."

Several Valkyries struck their fists against their shields in agreement.

The sound spread across the platform.

"We no longer want halls where we are remembered only when a king needs more dead," Sigrun said. "We no longer want sisters sent to die because of contradictory orders. We no longer want our entire existence reduced to collecting warriors for Odin’s army."

She looked at Vergil.

"Sparda does not need to be perfect. We do not expect that. It only needs to offer us a life that belongs to us."

Vergil held her gaze.

"I do not need slaves."

The answer was simple.

The Valkyries remained silent.

He continued:

"If you go to Sparda, you will have your own territory, your own command, and the right to refuse any mission not connected to the defense of the realm or agreements you willingly accept. You will not be forced to collect the dead, serve men, or kneel because of tradition."

Brynhildr lowered her head slightly.

"And the oath?"

"Loyalty is not servitude."

Vergil looked around.

"You may swear to protect Sparda and those who live within it. You may swear not to betray the realm and to respect its laws. But you will not swear that your lives belong to me."

The impact of that sentence was subtle, but clear.

Several Valkyries exchanged glances.

One closed her eyes for an instant.

Another pressed her shield against her chest.

Brynhildr breathed slowly.

"Then that is exactly why we chose you."

Freya turned toward Vergil.

Now she understood better.

He had not convinced Brynhildr through power, threats, or promises of revenge. He had offered something Asgard had never truly offered.

A way out without new chains.

Several meters away, Heimdall had heard everything.

Runic chains still bound his arms, and the Valkyries responsible for his custody remained nearby, but he no longer tried to argue. His face was growing paler. Not because he believed he would be killed.

Because he was slowly understanding the scale of the failure he was witnessing.

An entire army.

Not a dissatisfied unit.

Not a few rebels.

The Valkyries.

One of Asgard’s oldest structures was so dissatisfied that it preferred to abandon its realm and offer loyalty to another ruler. Not for a promise of gold. Not out of fear. Not because of corruption.

Because they hated the lives they had.

Heimdall looked at Brynhildr.

Then at Sigrun.

Then at the dozens of kneeling warriors.

"Where did the All-Father go wrong?" he asked, almost to himself.

Sigrun heard him.

"In many places."

Heimdall raised his eyes toward her.

"He protected Asgard."

"He protected his power," Sigrun corrected.

"He built order."

"He built an order in which everyone around him had a function, but few had a choice."

"You had honor."

Brynhildr turned toward Heimdall.

"Honor given by whom?"

He remained silent.

"By Odin?" she continued. "By poets who barely remembered our names? By warriors who arrived in Valhalla and believed we existed only to serve them, train with them, and fill their cups?"

Heimdall clenched his jaw.

Brynhildr slowly stood.

The other Valkyries did the same.

"Honor without freedom is only a beautiful word placed over a chain."

Heimdall found no answer.

Perhaps because he still did not completely believe it.

Perhaps because, for the first time, he was being forced to look at something his eyes, capable of observing the Nine Realms, had never seen.

The resentment that had accumulated directly in front of him.

A smaller Valkyrie crossed the formation with quick steps. Her armor was lighter, and there was clear urgency on her face. Goll approached Sigrun and whispered something into her ear.

Sigrun immediately became serious.

"Are you certain?"

Goll nodded.

"Two major signatures. Thor and at least one other god. There are also Einherjar coming across the eastern bridges."

Sigrun looked toward the towers.

The sky of Asgard was beginning to change. Dark clouds gathered in the distance, and small blue flashes of lightning appeared between them. They were still far away, but Thor’s approach was never subtle. The air already carried the metallic scent of a divine storm.

"We need to leave," Sigrun said, turning toward Vergil. "Thor and the others are coming."

The Valkyries began moving immediately.

There was no panic.

Some formed a perimeter around the platform. Others ran toward the towers to call the remaining units. Goll began distributing orders concerning the wounded, weapons, supplies, and withdrawal routes.

Brynhildr looked at Vergil.

"How many can you take at once?"

"All of them."

She hesitated for an instant.

"Including those at distant posts?"

"If they are inside Asgard and you can mark their locations."

Sigrun looked at Goll.

"Activate the summoning runes. Every unit must return to the main platforms. Those unable to arrive within three minutes will be marked for direct extraction."

Goll nodded and ran.

Freya watched everything as though she were still trying to accept the reality of it.

"You planned to abandon Asgard today?"

Brynhildr answered while adjusting her spear.

"We planned to be prepared if the opportunity appeared."

"And the opportunity is me?" Vergil asked.

"You and Odin not being here," Sigrun replied. "Mostly Odin not being here."

Vergil looked toward the sky.

The clouds were getting closer.

He could feel Thor now. A heavy, violent presence advancing without any attempt at concealment. There was another energy beside him, less direct but equally divine.

Perhaps Tyr.

Perhaps another son of Odin.

Safira would have enjoyed the situation.

Vergil almost smiled at the thought.

Brynhildr spoke:

"We need to open a portal before Thor reaches the platform. If he uses Mjolnir against the Bifröst, he may rupture the routes and scatter all of us between the realms."

Vergil looked at the enormous golden circle beneath his feet.

The runes remained alive, connected to the pathways of Yggdrasil. It was not merely a means of transportation. It was one of the Nine Realms’ most valuable strategic tools. With it, Asgard moved armies, reached worlds, monitored borders, and decided who was allowed to cross.

He remained silent for a moment.

Then he looked at Brynhildr.

"All right."

She waited for him to continue.

"But first..."

Vergil turned his eyes toward the Bifröst.

A small smile appeared on his face.

It was not a pleasant one.

"Let us steal this thing."

Freya went still.

Brynhildr blinked once.

Sigrun looked at the circle, then at Vergil.

"You mean the platform?"

"The Bifröst."

Freya turned toward him.

"Vergil, the Bifröst is not a sword you can pick up and place in your pocket."

"I know."

"It is connected to Asgard, Yggdrasil, and the transit structures of the Nine Realms."

"I know that too."

Sigrun was the first to understand.

"You want to sever the connection to Asgard."

Vergil nodded.

"And reconnect it to another base."

"Sparda."

Brynhildr looked across the entire circle.

"That may destroy the platform."

Vergil placed one hand over Yamato.

"Only if I make a mistake." He smiled. "A shame I have such a great assistant."

Inside Vergil’s body—

"HEHEHE! I HAVE ALWAYS WANTED TO DO THIS!" Qliphoth trembled with excitement. "COME ON, HUSBAND! I, QLIPHOTH, WANT TO DO THE IMPOSSIBLE!"

Crimsaria, Nivara, and Itharine looked at the red-haired woman consumed by madness and sighed together.

"She has gone completely insane."

"She was always a little crazy."

"She lives inside the mind of a lunatic. It is normal for her to be one too."

"HAHAHA! I AM GOING TO MAKE MY MOTHER TREMBLE!" she shouted toward the heavens.

...In the real world.

"Let us see." Vergil smiled as Yamato began to be covered by the energy of the World Tree, Qliphoth.

Heimdall began struggling, trying to free himself from the Valkyries’ grip.

"STOP THIS! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?" he shouted desperately.

Vergil looked at him and smiled.

"You can simply build a new Bifröst. You should be able to do that, right?"