The flame beasts were massive, their inner fires spraying wildly, exuding terrifying presence.
Their heat and sturdy shells gave them fearsome power, driven by some unknown force granting immense strength and speed.
But the Maids of Destruction were no less formidable. Veterans of countless battles, they handled oversized foes with ease.
Su Ming noticed something odd: the Maids barely glanced at him before turning to fight the beasts.
Strange. Despite their ghastly appearance, they had sharp minds and tactical sense.
Choosing beasts over Odin—what did it mean?
As they danced around the beasts with swords and shields, Su Ming withdrew from the fray. How long they'd fight was anyone's guess.
On one side, flame-powered juggernauts clad in Uru metal, with no visible weaknesses, impervious to normal weapons.
On the other, half-undead, half-demon creatures, skilled in combat, transforming into fire or smoke, unkillable.
This could drag on until Ragnarök.
Let them fight. The more chaotic the battlefield, the better. Su Ming's second goal was to cut Asgard's forces by over fifty percent.
Weakening other factions in the process? No harm there.
Mounted on Sleipnir, his crimson cloak billowing, Su Ming slashed left and right, chasing the Vanir's retreat.
Soon, Vanir cavalry blocked his path.
"Halt, Odin! To harm the queen, you'll have to get through us!" a wiry Vanir leader shouted, posturing boldly. The Vanir were slender, likely malnourished.
Blood and smoke cloaked the battlefield. Sleipnir pawed the ground restlessly.
Su Ming flicked blood from his spear, its tip pointed down as he sat astride. He spotted Gullveig behind their lines.
"Thanks," he called to the Vanir, patting Sleipnir's neck. "Fly over."
Sleipnir's hooves stamped, launching them airborne, soaring over the Vanir line.
The cavalry stared at their earthbound horses and spears, helpless.
No match for a flying steed, with no ranged weapons, they could only watch Sleipnir streak past like a white shadow.
Vanir skiffs in the distance were too slow to react.
Fireballs and water magic targeted him, but a flick of his cloak scattered them.
"Cloak, check for invisibility magic," Su Ming ordered.
The Vanir excelled at water and wind magic. After witnessing mages battle at Kamar-Taj, Su Ming knew water magic created illusions.
Loki's ice talent stemmed from water, taught by Freya's Vanir illusion magic.
If magic was used, the Cloak of Levitation would sense it.
The crimson cloth lifted a corner, sniffing like a dog, then formed an arrow, nudging his shoulder.
"Good." Su Ming pointed, and Sleipnir dove toward a hilltop. "Gullveig, I'm here to negotiate."
The hill had sparse trees and boulders, untouched by war, with soft, thick grass.
He dismounted, waving Sleipnir to wander.
No response came. Vanir cavalry and skiffs approached, thunderous and dark as storm clouds.
Su Ming wasn't rushed. He sighed. "Cloak, grab her."
The cloak detached, stretching and wrapping around something invisible, rolling it up like a giant cigar, floating before him.
It absorbed Gullveig's magic, revealing her. She glared at Su Ming, weapon in hand.
But from shoulders down, the cloak pinned her, making her the filling in a spring roll.
"You're not Odin!" she spat, struggling.
"Then who am I?" Su Ming grinned. As her guards dropped their invisibility and closed in, he tapped his chest. "Stranglehold!"
Black tendrils erupted, seizing the guards. Fanged mouths sprouted from the tendrils, ready to feast.
The question stumped Gullveig. Not Odin, but who? The eerie cloak and tentacle powers weren't Asgardian.
Su Ming wasn't worried about exposure far from the main battle. Sleipnir wouldn't snitch, and it seemed thrilled to be in combat, unconcerned with details. It wasn't that smart.
He planted the Godslayer in the ground, eyeing Gullveig's face, not waiting for her answer.
"So, Queen of Vanaheim, why bring your people to Asgard?"
"To overthrow Odin, even if it means mutual destruction," she replied, still writhing against the cloak's grip.
Su Ming touched her face, tilting her chin. "So you don't fear death, yet you fled. Scared of being demon chow? Interesting."
Gullveig jerked her head, spitting at him. "You're not Asgardian. If you knew what's in the Golden Palace's vault, you'd know the multiverse could fall if demons get it. Our feud with Asgard can't cost the universe."
She'd bought time, letting Asgard face the demons before resuming their fight.
"I see. The demons are after the vault, to destroy and devour all in their path. Mephisto wants the Eye of Agamotto, doesn't he? All hell-lords crave it."
A giant yellow eyeball, fixed on a metal tray, alive, staring at vault visitors like they were specks of dust.
It sat alongside the Orb of Agamotto, the Tablet of Life and Time, the Casket of Ancient Winters, the Infinity Gauntlet—a hoard of dangerous relics, locked away.
Hell-lords, like Cytorak, coveted the Eye. Used right, it could reduce the multiverse to a hellish plane.
Gullveig didn't reply. She didn't know the demons' exact target. Even the Tablet could evolve a slug into a godlike being in seconds. Demons wielding it? Unthinkable.
"Freyr and you are good people, thinking of the universe even in revenge. I admire that. But it's why you lost to Odin. War spares no means. Being queen too long made you think you're a general, but you lack the talent to lead armies or the resolve to destroy everything."
Su Ming sighed, patting her head like a pet. Her thick golden hair felt nice.
"Don't touch me, filthy shapeshifter! I have resolve, not madness!" she snapped.
"Your father never saw how mad Odin was. Only a madman can fight a madman." Su Ming withdrew his hand, sitting cross-legged on the grass amidst the guards' murderous glares.
The cloak lowered the "spring roll," keeping Gullveig facing him.
"We die with honor. Death keeps us from becoming like Odin. Kill me if you must!" she declared.
Su Ming shook his head. Honor was too subjective to debate.
"Calm down. I'm from Midgard. I sympathize with your plight and understand your rebellion, but Surtur's played you."
He glanced at the guards' fiery eyes—clearly possessed, a bad sign.
"He's a hell-lord. I know there's no free mead," Gullveig replied calmly.
"You might beg for death soon." Su Ming had Stranglehold drag a guard over. He checked the guard's eyes, teeth, and throat, drawing blood. "This power's elementalizing your people. You'll become fire itself, part of Surtur's strength. No honor in that."
Gullveig fell silent, watching the guard's blood ignite in the air. It was true.
Surtur used them as pawns. Even if the Vanir fell, he'd gain a world, human-shaped fire monsters, and a crippled Asgard. A sweet deal.
The cloak drained her invisibility magic and Surtur's fire. Without its influence, Gullveig calmed, her rage and destructive urges fading.
She wondered if her earlier fury was an illusion. Now, she felt no desire for mutual destruction.
The flames had driven them to extremes.
"Let me down. Face me as yourself. We need to talk."
"As you wish. Your options are few, but allying with me is smart. I can offer the least costly, most effective way to equalize Vanaheim and Asgard."
Stranglehold receded, revealing Su Ming's true face, beaming with a smile.