Chapter 865

Hela’s confession was, to put it mildly, impressive.

For one thing, she had casually revealed that Odin himself might have seized the throne through bloodshed. Apparently, the old rule about keeping family scandals behind closed doors had never occurred to her.

Then again, considering she had just described her own rebellion as one of the proudest accomplishments of her life, perhaps Evenson shouldn’t have been surprised.

Her position was perfectly clear.

Royal authority wasn’t something granted by law, tradition, or divine right. It was something you seized with your own hands.

If you wanted the throne?

Challenge her.

Beat her.

Take it.

Sif found the whole idea ridiculous.

Asgard might have been founded through conquest, but it was still one of the most advanced civilizations in the universe. Was something as important as the succession really supposed to be decided by a duel?

Even Midgard had moved past settling royal succession by stripping naked and fighting beside a waterfall.

That was how monkeys chose their alpha.

Sif turned toward Evenson and shook her head.

"You really intend to support this lunatic?"

"Heh."

Evenson gave a dry laugh.

"You’re giving me far too much credit. I already told you. Does my support actually matter? The succession of the Asgardian royal family isn’t something an outsider like me gets to decide."

He was doing his best to distance himself from the whole affair.

At first, he’d only submitted to Hela because circumstances had left him with no better option. He couldn’t beat her, and he couldn’t escape her.

Then he’d considered another possibility.

If Hela really did return to Asgard one day and become its ruler, it wouldn’t hurt to have established some goodwill beforehand.

Better to make a friend now than an enemy later.

But that was where he drew the line.

He had no intention of throwing himself into the royal family’s struggle for power and becoming Hela’s loyal champion.

Their original agreement had been simple.

He would help her establish a system of worship.

He would provide offerings on a regular basis.

And, yes, perhaps "offerings" occasionally involved food.

That was it.

There had never been any agreement about helping her conquer Asgard.

Sif, however, wasn’t letting him off that easily.

"The important thing isn’t how much you’ve done. It’s what you’ve actually done."

"Come on."

Evenson spread his hands.

"Are you seriously asking me to declare a political allegiance? I’m a guy from Earth. If I have a position, it’s that I intend to remain on friendly terms with the Asgardian royal family."

"So you don’t care who sits on the throne?"

Sif nodded slowly.

"Fine."

Evenson saw no point in pretending anymore.

"I know what you’re trying to do. You want me to stand on your side."

He pointed at the space beside Sif.

"But you’re going to have to make room first."

Sif gave him a cold look.

"Hmph."

She’d known this man long enough to remember exactly what sort of person he was. Somehow, she’d forgotten.

"Name your price."

"Three tons of gold—"

Evenson stopped himself.

"No. That’s not what I meant."

He sighed.

"I’m saying that if you want me on your side, who exactly am I supposed to support?"

"Hm?"

Sif blinked.

Evenson continued.

"You’re this worked up because you’re worried Hela will take Thor’s throne. I understand that. But there’s a small problem."

"If you’re refusing to let Hela take the throne, then someone else has to take it."

"And right now, you know as well as I do that nobody is actually fighting her for it."

Sif’s expression slowly collapsed.

"Oh."

She had been so focused on preventing Hela from becoming queen that she’d overlooked the most obvious problem.

If Hela wasn’t allowed to take the throne, who was supposed to replace her?

The obvious answer was Thor.

He was the legitimate heir. Tradition supported him. The law supported him. Sif’s own feelings certainly supported him.

There was just one problem.

Thor didn’t want the throne.

It was practically unheard of.

Across history, countless heirs had spent their entire lives waiting for the crown. They had watched their hair turn gray, their health deteriorate, and their chances disappear. Some had even died without ever seeing the throne, only for the succession to pass directly to their grandchildren.

And yet Thor?

He was doing everything possible to avoid becoming king.

If Thor knew he had an older sister willing to take the crown, Sif could easily imagine him saying:

Sis, the kingdom’s yours. I’ll stay on Earth and enjoy myself.

And knowing Thor, he probably would.

Sif suddenly felt exhausted.

I want to support you, but you won’t even give me the chance.

For the first time, she understood exactly why Evenson was trying so hard to stay out of this.

"The prince is hopeless."

Sigrun suddenly gave a cold laugh.

"Odin really did produce a remarkable pair. One of them wants the throne badly enough to go mad over it. The other would throw it away without a second thought."

She glanced toward Hela with a faint smile.

"Tell me, Hela. Did Odin’s obsession with power all go to you?"

Sif rubbed her forehead.

"And who exactly are you?"

She’d been curious about Sigrun from the beginning. The woman’s familiarity with Hela only made that curiosity stronger.

From the way she fought, Sif had already guessed she was Asgardian.

But speaking about the royal family so casually?

How could she possibly dare?

"Hm?"

Hela smiled.

"She’s far more qualified than you are, little girl."

Then she looked at Sigrun.

"Well? Do you ever miss the days when we fought side by side?"

"I think about them often."

Sigrun’s smile was bitter.

"Mostly I think about why I didn’t stab you in the back when I had the chance."

"That wouldn’t have killed me, darling."

Hela sounded almost affectionate, as though they were old friends reminiscing over better days.

"If you’ve changed your mind, I’d be willing to put the past behind us."

"You can keep dreaming."

Sigrun’s voice was full of contempt.

"Perhaps being imprisoned for so long has finally scrambled your brain."

"Hmm."

Hela actually seemed to take the insult as a joke.

Then her expression grew serious.

"Joking aside, I wasn’t happy when I fought you."

Sigrun’s hardened expression softened.

"Really?"

"How many times did we fight side by side?" Sigrun said quietly. "How many times did we trust each other with our lives?"

"And then one royal command came down, and suddenly we were forced to raise our weapons against you."

"When we charged you, it hurt more than you ever knew."

"Haha."

Sigrun touched her chest.

"You simply turned that pain into something physical."

She smiled.

"Believe me. If I ever get the chance, I’ll still kill you."

"Good."

Hela settled back onto her throne.

"As the future queen, I hereby grant the Valkyrie Order permission to attack me whenever it wishes, so long as it still exists."

Her smile vanished.

"But next time, I won’t hold back."

"I won’t let any of you walk away."

Sigrun lowered her eyes.

Is that so...?

Given what had happened back then, even if she’d thrown her life into protecting Brunnhilde, she probably wouldn’t have survived that assault.

Not unless Hela had deliberately spared her.

Sigrun wanted to thank her.

But somehow, the words wouldn’t come.

"You were a Valkyrie?"

Sif stared at her.

The conversation had finally made something click.

Earlier, when Sif had announced that the Valkyrie Order had been reestablished and that she had been appointed its commander, Sigrun’s reaction had been unusually strong.

Now Sif understood why.

The title she’d been given had once belonged to Sigrun.

"Once."

Sigrun’s expression was unexpectedly calm.

She removed the armor covering her left arm, revealing the tattoo that marked her former rank.

Sif stared.

It was real.

For a moment, admiration flickered across her face.

Then confusion returned.

"Why are you on Earth? The Valkyries swore to protect the royal family."

"I did."

Sigrun calmly replaced the armor.

"And I died doing it."

She paused.

"Because of the royal family’s struggle for power."

Sif didn’t understand.

Sigrun suddenly took her hand and pressed it against her chest.

"Do you still not see?"

"I’m not alive."

Sif’s fingers remained against the cold, motionless flesh.

"Whatever this is..."

Sigrun’s voice became distant.

"If it can even be called life anymore, it belongs only to me."

Sif concentrated.

There was no heartbeat.

Of course, that could have been because Sigrun’s armor was rather substantial, but there was no denying the unnatural pallor of her skin.

She looked almost bloodless.

"The Valkyrie Order was wiped out during a campaign against evil."

Sif slowly looked toward Hela.

"But they weren’t really fighting evil."

"They were fighting their own princess."

"They were casualties of a struggle for power."

"Correct."

Sigrun brushed Sif’s hand aside.

"But she really was evil."

Sif hesitated.

"Then how did you...?"

She had almost asked how Sigrun had been resurrected.

Then she remembered what she was looking at.

This wasn’t resurrection.

"What kind of dark magic..."

Sif’s eyes suddenly shifted toward Evenson.

"You did this, didn’t you?"

"Heh."

Evenson nodded.

"That would be me."

Then he frowned.

"But why is it that every time you hear the words ’dark magic,’ you immediately think of me?"

He gestured toward himself.

"How much experience do you think I have with this stuff?"

"Like you said."

Sif raised an eyebrow.

"What magic do you have that isn’t evil?"

Evenson opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

He couldn’t exactly argue with that.

Sigrun used the opportunity to change the subject.

"You’re the commander of the new Valkyrie Order."

Her voice became solemn.

"That makes you my successor in a sense."

She looked directly at Sif.

"So I’ll give you some advice."

"Don’t get involved in the royal family’s struggle for power."

Her gaze shifted toward Hela.

"As this madwoman said, the transfer of royal power is always accompanied by blood."

"It never ends well."

"But I’m already involved."

Sif’s answer came quietly.

She felt a deep sympathy for what Sigrun had endured.

She also felt a growing chill whenever she thought about Odin’s actions.

But Odin had placed her beside Thor.

And somewhere along the way, she’d fallen hopelessly in love with that idiot.

There was no longer any way for her to pull herself out of this mess.

Still, she didn’t regret it.

If there was one person she could truly hate for everything that had happened, it wasn’t Thor.

It was the man who had arranged the entire game from the beginning.

Odin.

...