Gin stood, slipping through the shattered cell wall, head bowed, trailing Su Ming.
"Boss, you don't blame me?"
"For this? It's nothing. Asgard's at fault for snatching you, not you," Su Ming said, eyeing the bizarre creatures in the cells. This dungeon felt more like a museum or zoo.
He handed Gin a small badge, a magical trinket from the Ancient One to cloak her from detection.
Each cell door listed the prisoner's name, race, and habits—oddly detailed.
Thanks to these plaques, Su Ming learned Gin's true name and her mythic role.
A Valkyrie, one of Odin's honor guard, tasked with ferrying brave souls to Valhalla, titled "Mist."
No wonder she handled corpses so calmly during their early days. She'd seen plenty.
Gin, still looking down, tucked away her bottle. "Not that. I mean hiding my identity."
"Your boss knows everything. That's no issue either," Su Ming said, smirking. He hadn't guessed she was a woman, but it wasn't a big deal. "I don't care what you're called here. You're Gin to me. Mine since I found you. But why did the three Mothers recall the Valkyries? Aren't they worried Hela's secret will leak?"
Gin lifted her head, regaining her usual calm. Though her voice and face had changed, her tone and habits were back.
She relaxed, a faint smile appearing.
"I don't know why they recalled us. I got thrown in here before I could find out. But it feels serious."
"Hmm. So the Mothers know the details. Who's the most annoying? I'll grab one, interrogate her, and vent your anger."
Gin gave a wry smile, shaking her head. Her boss treated gods and mortals the same, tossing out terrible jokes.
"…We can find my comrades for info. No need to interrogate anyone."
"Let's go." Su Ming patted her shoulder, leading her out of the dungeon. "I set the World Tree ablaze. All Asgard's drinking around it now. Makes moving easy."
No choice. Though strong, Su Ming couldn't face Asgard's million-strong army head-on. Strategy was key.
Concentrating Asgardians in one spot cleared the way.
Gin's eyes nearly popped out, her mouth making a "huh" sound. Su Ming patted her back.
She gasped, staring at him. "Boss, Asgard needs the World Tree. It's vital, linking the Nine Realms. Without it, order collapses, and Ragnarök comes."
Su Ming shrugged, leading her from the dungeon beneath the Golden Palace, where lesser offenders were held.
Asgard had executions. "Scourge," the bald axeman who'd later dual-wield M16s, was the headsman. His title came from beheading Frost Giants in battle, but off the field, he handled dirty work.
Executing prisoners brought no glory, yet he followed Odin's orders.
Odin's rule was lenient now. In his youth, he killed freely; now, executions were rare.
"The World Tree's divine, full of energy. Napalm's good but won't kill it. Once someone sees through the trick, the fire's out fast," Su Ming said, striding through the opulent Golden Palace, its Nordic decor stunning.
Vases overflowed with flowers, gold-rimmed drinking horns, oversized golden plates, and gilded weapons littered the halls like trash.
Thor and Loki were working hard on their orders—no one was around.
"The World Tree's flames signal much to the Nine Realms. It'll show Asgard how many enemies they have. They should stop eyeing Earth," Su Ming said, pocketing a few bottles of Asgardian wine. Good stuff to reverse-engineer.
Gin, rattled by the World Tree's fire, calmed at the mention of napalm. A simple spell could douse it.
The Tree was crucial to Asgard. Thor might not get it, but she did.
The Nine Realms, tethered by the Tree, followed a cosmic rhythm, never overlapping or colliding. Disruption meant chaos.
Every few millennia, the realms aligned, their weakest moment, allowing free travel of energy or armies.
The Tree powered the Bifrost. Without it, Asgard couldn't deploy its millions, and its rule was hollow.
In prophecy, the Tree's burning heralded Asgard's fall, but only if Odin was dead.
Lighting it now mimicked the prophecy but lacked that condition, so Ragnarök wouldn't trigger.
Instead, it could lure Asgard's enemies, thinking opportunity knocked, ready to exploit a false Ragnarök.
Asgard would take losses but clear future threats. A net gain.
Later, Su Ming could play hero, aiding Asgard in crisis, securing Gin's freedom and other perks.
Publicly, Asgard and Odin were Earth's shield, easing the Ancient One's burden.
Privately, Asgard was Gin's home, likely with friends or kin. She wanted to leave, but her eyes held worry.
For both reasons, Asgard had to stand.
So, he'd watch the fire draw out enemies, preparing to step in.
A balanced Asgard—not too strong, not too weak—suited him and the Ancient One.
Deep in enemy territory, playing double agent, he needed an exit plan.
Getting here was easy; leaving was trickier. Asgard's magic shielded it. The Ancient One locking onto him would draw attention.
He hadn't planned to portal back. He had three options:
Convince Heimdall to use the Bifrost—too loud, exposing him. Steal a golden skiff, letting Gin pilot it to Earth. Snag a Valkyrie's silver pegasus. A Valkyrie on her steed could teleport to Midgard's bloodiest battlefield—likely Iwo Jima at this time.
The Golden Palace lacked even gate guards. Gin, amazed, asked how Su Ming pulled it off. He just credited the princes' "help."
"You know Asgard better. We need deeper intel from someone trustworthy. I don't want to be sold out to Odin," Su Ming said, leaning against a tower wall outside, lighting a cigar.
Gin racked her brain for allies. Most were dead, and Valhalla's spirits knew nothing of the outside, too busy drinking, fighting, and chasing women.
As a Valkyrie, she knew Odin's great hall was a pocket dimension. Souls entered, reshaped into their living forms for endless revelry, never leaving.
Valkyries once escorted brave souls from Midgard's battlefields to Valhalla, a glorious duty. Compared to Earth's vibrant life, it now seemed dull.
She pitied the spirits. What kind of fun was that? No movies.
Frowning, she pondered, then tentatively suggested, "What about Sif? We're close. She was a Valkyrie for a bit."
Su Ming exhaled a smoke ring, voice cold. "Let me guess: Odin pulled her from the Valkyries, then sent you to fight Hela?"
"Uh… yeah," Gin said, face stiffening.
Sif was unreliable.
Odin wanted Sif to marry Thor, her brother Heimdall being his most trusted guard and ally.
No other Asgardian woman had such a pedigree.
Gin lowered her head, rubbing her chin, then lit up. "Let's find Brunnhilde. She was our captain, fiercely loyal. She's back, but I'm not sure how much she knows."
"The Valkyrie herself? Could work. If she's not locked up, she'll know more than us," Su Ming said, stubbing out his cigar and signaling her to lead.
Brunnhilde, reeking of wine, dragged her weary body to her modest home.
Asgard had changed too much. She felt overwhelmed, body and soul.
The World Tree burned, yet no one fought the fire. Thor and Loki, on Odin's orders, held a feast, preaching a "Will of Fire."
They seemed insane. From others' eyes, she wasn't alone in thinking so.
Even the three Mothers didn't object. What could a lowly Valkyrie say?
She joined the crowd, raising glasses, praising Odin's wisdom.
Unlike Mist, she lacked the courage to defy the Mothers.
Her boss, the Grandmaster, wouldn't cross realms to save her.
She envied and worried for Mist—lucky for her great boss, but what would become of her in the dungeon?
Abandoned by Asgard, her feelings were tangled. Given a choice, she'd never have returned.
But here she was, in silver armor and blue cloak, trudging back to her long-empty home. Reality didn't care for her wishes.
In Asgard's iron grip, her thoughts meant nothing.