Chapter 56
Loki watched with absolute satisfaction as the boy staggered, blood seeping between his fingers where he pressed against the wound. The sight of that golden glow flickering and dimming in Leon's eyes was almost better than wine.
Perfect. The performance is flawless.
"Surprised?" Loki let amusement color his voice as he studied Leon's face. "I would be too, if I were you.
Leon turned to face him, his movements slow and labored. Blood was spreading across his shirt, darker than it should be.
"What... what did you do to me?" Leon's voice carried weakness now, and Loki relished every tremor in it.
The fear is setting in. Good. Let him understand just how outmatched he truly was.
"Oh, that would be the poison." Loki allowed his grin to widen, drinking in the boy's growing desperation. "Allow me to educate you. This particular dagger has been coated with Eitr, the most potent venom in all the nine realms."
He watched as recognition dawned in those golden eyes. The terror was beautiful to behold.
Eitr attacks the very concept of life itself. It doesn't just poison the body, it poisons the soul. The mana. The divine protections. Everything that you have becomes corrupted and twisted against you.
The boy was clearly fighting to stay conscious now. Loki could see the way he swayed on his feet, the look creeping into his eyes as the poison worked its way through his system.
He's weaker than I thought. I expected someone with his power to last longer against Eitr.
Leon struggled to lift his head, his golden eyes dulled but still burning with desperate concern. "What... what happened to Alessia?" His voice was barely a whisper. "What did you do to her?"
Loki's grin widened at the desperation in the boy's voice. Even dying, still worried about others. How pathetically noble.
"The valkyrie?" Loki mocked, enjoying the expression on Leon's face. "She's alive, if that's what you're asking. But how long? I'm not sure about that."
The boy's golden eyes blazed with fury despite his weakening state. "You bastard..."
Kokabiel pushed himself up from the crater, spitting blood and debris. His face was a mask of rage and humiliation as he stared at Leon's crumpled form.
"Look at him now," the fallen angel wheezed, his voice thick with venom. "Crawling in the dirt like the pathetic mortal he is meant to be."
Loki chuckled, his pale eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "I must admit, I expected more of a struggle. All those stories about his incredible power, and he falls to a single well-placed blade."
Kokabiel whirled on Loki, his eyes blazing with fury. "Why did you wait so long?" he snarled. "Do you have any idea what that little bastard put me through? He humiliated me in front of my followers! Made me look like a weak fool!"
Loki chuckled, his pale eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Oh, my dear Kokabiel, that beating was all part of the plan."
"Part of the plan?" Kokabiel's voice rose to a near shriek. "The bastard almost killed me!"
"And because of that, his guard was completely down when I struck." Loki's tone was maddeningly calm. "If I had attacked immediately, he might have been suspicious. But after dominating you so thoroughly, he believed himself invincible. Untouchable."
The trickster god gestured at Leon's writhing form. "Pride, my friend. It makes even the wisest warriors stupid. I needed him drunk on victory, completely focused on you, so he wouldn't notice the real threat standing right beside him."
"Pathetic," Kokabiel snarled, limping closer. "You made me look like a fool in front of my followers. Me? Kokabiel."
Leon tried to push himself up, his arms shaking violently before giving out. He collapsed back to the rocky ground, gasping for breath.
"That's for my humiliation," Kokabiel spat, then kicked again. "And that's for making me bleed."
Leon curled in on himself, coughing up blood.
"Now, now," Loki said, waving his hand dismissively. "Try to be gentle. We're not done with him yet."
Kokabiel's eyes lit up with malicious satisfaction as he spotted movement at the edge of the battlefield.
"Ah, the pathetic priest." Kokabiel called out, his voice dripping with mock politeness. "How kind of you to join us. I was wondering when you'd show yourself."
The priest's throat worked soundlessly, his gaze fixed on Leon's prone form.
Loki said conversationally, gesturing toward the priest. "The sole survivor of that delightful massacre. Remember that night, Kokabiel? Such artistry."
Kokabiel's grin widened as he savored the memory. "Of course I remember. Such screams they made."
"I particularly enjoyed the young woman," Loki mused, his pale eyes glittering with malice. "Rebecca, wasn't it? The way she begged for her life when you pressed that blade to her throat."
Father Dante's face went white as the memories crashed over him. "You... both of you..."
"Why spare me?!!"
"Dead martyrs inspire others to fight back. But broken survivors? They spread fear. They tell stories of what happens to those who oppose us."
"Plus," Loki added with theatrical flair, "we needed him to lure him here. Can't spring a proper trap without the right bait walking into it willingly."
Father Dante's face crumpled, realization dawning in his eyes. "You... you used me."
"Precisely." Kokabiel smiled maliciously.
Father Dante fell to his knees, his hands covering his face. "My team...It's my fault."
"Why?.." Leon's response was barely audible.
Already guessing Leon's question, Loki sneered. "Why?"
"This is about your grandmother." The words came out like venom. "Astrid Mishima. That insufferable, arrogant witch who thought she could humiliate me and get away with it."
Loki snarled, his composed mask slipping completely. "Your precious grandmother made me look like a fool in front of the entire Norse pantheon. She made me the laughingstock of Asgard."
Kokabiel watched the exchange with growing interest, finally understanding the true motivation behind Loki's involvement.
"When she died," Loki continued, his voice filled with old rage, "I thought I'd finally have my revenge. I went after her descendants, starting with your father. But Frigga and Odin stopped me. Threatened me!"
The trickster god crouched down beside Leon, his eyes burning with hatred. "I've been waiting decades for this!"
Leon curled in on himself, coughing up blood. The golden glow in his eyes was barely a flicker now.
The Star of God grabbed Leon by the hair and yanked his head up as he turned to his remaining followers, who were watching the scene with a mixture of satisfaction and hatred.
"Let this be a lesson!" Kokabiel called out, his voice carrying across the mountaintop. "This is what happens to those who dare oppose us! The great Leon Mishima, reduced to nothing more than a dying animal!"
Leon's eyes fluttered, his consciousness clearly fading. The Eitr was doing its work, spreading through his system like liquid death.
"Any last words?" Loki asked, tilting his head.
Leon remained silent for a long moment, his breathing shallow and labored. The silence stretched across the mountaintop.
Loki leaned closer, studying the boy's face. "Nothing to say? How disappointing."
The fallen angels behind them murmured amongst themselves, satisfaction evident in their voices. Their leader had been avenged. The boy who had humiliated them was finally broken.
But then something changed.
Leon's lips curved into a smirk.
Before anyone could react, Leon's form shimmered and vanished in a puff of white smoke.
"What—" Kokabiel stumbled backward, his eyes wide with shock.
Loki stared at the empty space where Leon had been lying just moments before. No body. No blood. Nothing but dissipating smoke and the lingering scent of mana.
"A clone," Loki whispered, realization hitting him. "It was a clone!"
The trickster god's face twisted with rage and humiliation. "This whole time... we were fighting a mere clone."
Kokabiel's voice cracked with disbelief. "But the blood, the poison, he was dying—"
"All an illusion," Loki snarled, his hands clenching into fists. "The little bastard played us. He's been playing us from the very beginning."
The fallen angels looked around nervously, suddenly understanding that their victory had been nothing but fake.
"Where is he?" Kokabiel demanded, his voice rising to a near shriek. "Where is he?!"
As if on cue, a voice resounded across the mountaintop, clear and strong and laced with amusement.
"Looking for me?"
Every head snapped upward. High above them, floating in the sky like some warrior deity descended from the heavens, was perhaps the real Leon Mishima.
The golden armor of Kavacha and Kundala blazed around him like captured sunlight, each plate gleaming with divine radiance. The armor didn't just cover him, it seemed to emanate from him, as if he had become the very essence of the sun given form.
His golden eyes burned with an intensity that made the sun seem dim by comparison.
The Arcanum Grimoire hovered in perfect stillness beside him, its pages fluttering not from wind, but the sheer power emanating from it.. Mana crackled around the tome like lightning, and Loki could feel the raw power radiating from it even at this distance.
But it was what Leon held in his right hand that made Loki's blood run cold.
Laevateinn. The World-Ender. The Flame-Sword of Surtr. The sword of the Sun. The weapon prophesied to burn Yggdrasil itself at Ragnarök. In Leon's grip, the blade flickered with licking heat that could reduce everything it touched to ash.
The mortals had gotten it wrong in their myths, of course. They thought he had forged the sword, that it was his creation. Foolish. The truth was far more humiliating. He had been obsessed with Laevateinn, coveted it with every fiber of his being. He had schemed and plotted for centuries to claim it, only to fail again and again. The myths attributed its creation to him simply because his name had become so intertwined with his desperate desire to possess it.
And now this boy, this insignificant human, wielded the sword that had rejected Loki for centuries.
The rage that filled him was beyond fury. Beyond hatred. It was pure, burning envy that threatened to consume him whole.
The fallen angels below took instinctive steps backward, their earlier confidence evaporating like morning mist. Even Kokabiel, the Star of God himself, stared up at Leon with terror.
This was no mere mortal boy. This was a force of nature. A walking catastrophe.
This was the worst case scenario. The entire plan, all the scheming and manipulation, had been designed to prevent exactly this moment. They needed to keep Leon away from using Laevateinn, to stop him from ever drawing the blade.
They had failed completely.
Loki's hands trembled as he looked up at Leon, finally understanding exactly what kind of monster they had tried to trap.
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