Frigga's gaze drifted toward Sif, who was still clamped awkwardly around Lock's waist. Her brow arched.
"And this is…?"
Sif startled, wriggling like a trapped fish. "Idiot, put me down!" she hissed under her breath.
"Ahem—sorry, I forgot." Lock quickly set her on her feet.
Flustered, Sif straightened her armor, then dropped to one knee before the Queen of Asgard.
"Your Majesty!"
"Rise," Frigga said warmly.
Lock inclined his head. "Queen of the Gods… there is something I don't understand."
It was hardly surprising that Frigga had sensed he was not of this world. In the tales of fate, she had once recognized Thor instantly when he traveled back from the future.
"I have some knowledge of witchcraft," Frigga explained, her voice calm. "I can glimpse fragments of what lies ahead. The last time you faced Odin, your presence appeared in the tapestry of Asgard like an indelible mark. A change so profound it could not be ignored. That is why I urged Odin to welcome you."
Lock understood. No wonder Odin's pressure had first struck him like a storm when he lifted Mjolnir, only for the All-Father's attitude to shift so abruptly. Frigga had intervened.
"Then… can you see my future?" Lock asked.
Frigga shook her head. "No. My sight only reaches Asgard. And the moment you touched Odin, the river of fate changed course. Everything I had glimpsed before was overturned."
She turned to Thor. "Your brother comes from another realm, bearing a noble essence. He will be of great aid to Asgard. You must treat him with respect."
Thor grinned, brushing it off. "He is my brother. Of course, I'll stand with him. Still… noble? I don't see it."
Sif frowned thoughtfully. "Could Lock be of the Eastern Pantheon?"
Frigga gave her a knowing glance. "No. He bears not the Taoist charm of the Eastern gods. His essence is nobler than any race I have ever encountered."
The others exchanged confused looks.
Frigga continued, "The Eastern Pantheon follows a path called cultivation. True cultivation does not pursue raw strength—strength is only a side effect. Their creed is to use illusion to refine truth, to seek immortality, and to transcend.
"Most beings live shackled by appearances, blind to what lies beneath. Even this world may be nothing but a veil. Cultivators spend lifetimes pursuing even a fragment of truth. Yet Lock—his very being is more genuine than any I have seen. If he is jade, then what we call truth is only smoke."
Lock shifted uneasily under her praise. "Am I so great? I couldn't even kill the Destroyer."
Still, her words stirred something within him. This world—once a two-dimensional fiction in his past life—now felt undeniably real. Yet in that former world, scientists had long suspected that reality was only a simulation: a higher-dimensional program. The constants, the elegance of the universe's design—it seemed too precise to be chance.
If that was true, then a false self had crossed into a false world. And yet, here, he was the most real. What, then, was truth? What was falsehood? If one could return to a previous life, which world would be the "real" one?
Sages had said, "The universe is my heart, and my heart is the universe." Perhaps they had glimpsed the same truth—that existence itself was a simulation.
Countless cultivators had chased this essence. Some could scarcely defend themselves in battle, yet devoted lifetimes to searching for it.
Lock rubbed his temples. His head spun. These were not questions fit for an otaku.
Frigga smiled. "Do not trouble yourself. Cultivation teaches that strength follows essence. With your nature, power will come easily. More than that, your very presence will ripple across the universe. Alas, my sight cannot follow where those ripples lead."
Lock pressed, "If you can glimpse the future, why not act sooner? You know what awaits: Odin's death, your assassination, Hela's return… Surtur is reducing Asgard to ash. Our people scattered, only to fall into Thanos's grasp. Loki dead. Thor, scarred and broken. The realm that once ruled the Nine Realms was reduced to a handful of survivors."
Frigga's eyes softened with sorrow. "And yet… destruction is not the end. Without it, there can be no new beginning. If you mean those disasters—yes, they are the best outcome."
Lock frowned. "So, even you believe in fate?"
"Many think foresight means power to change," Frigga said. "But forcing change only brings greater ruin. And sometimes… greater powers intervene."
Lock thought of the TVA, the shadowed keepers of time he had heard whispers of. Were they such a force? If the timeline could never be altered, then what was the point of Doctor Strange seeking the one chance in millions? And if it could be altered, why should such authorities exist at all?
The contradictions tangled in his mind until he let them go.
At least he knew this: even seers were not omniscient. Like Frigga, he could only glimpse fragments. The rest was guesswork, not certainty.
Thor, restless at their riddling words, finally burst out. "Mother, all of this—it's Loki's scheme!"
At the mention of his name, Lock stiffened. Something was wrong.
He and Frigga had spoken at length, yet Loki had not uttered a single word. Too quiet. That was never his way.
Lock snatched Sif's sword and hurled it with a sharp clang.
"Brother!" Thor shouted in alarm. "What are you—"
The blade passed clean through Loki's body and pinned the wall. The Trickster shimmered, then dissolved into nothing.
An illusion.
Of course. With both Lock and Thor here, Loki would never simply wait. He must have slipped away as soon as they entered.
At that moment, brilliant light poured through the palace windows. The prismatic glow of the Bifröst split the sky, flooding the chamber with rainbow fire.
Lock's face paled.
"Damn it—he's using the Rainbow Bridge… to destroy Jotunheim."
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