The seven-colored radiance slowly faded, revealing hundreds of towering figures standing upon the frozen plains.
At their head stood a man clad in resplendent golden armor, a divine helmet gleaming under the dim light. His eyes—cold, piercing, and blue as ice—betrayed no trace of emotion.
He was none other than Aiolia, the Leo Gold Saint.
Behind him stretched a vast host of Heroic Spirits. Among them were Cú Chulainn, the famed hero of Ulster, the "Child of Light";
Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the unmatched champion of the Fianna, called the "Radiant One";
Lancelot, the strongest of the Round Table, the "Knight of the Lake";
Gawain, the White Knight, blessed by the Sun;
Tristan, the "Son of Sorrow";
Mordred, the rebellious knight;
and Agravain, the stern advisor.
Even Sasaki Kojiro stood among them, his deep blue hair tied back neatly, his presence sharp as a blade—an existence that by all rights should not have been possible in this world.
Hundreds of Heroic Spirits stood in silence, their divine auras pressing heavily against the snow-covered land.
Seeing their arrival, Thor's eyes lit up. "Perfect timing! Aiolia! Come with me—we'll crush them all!" he shouted, excitement burning in his voice.
The Warriors Three, Sif, and even Loki showed expressions of relief and delight upon recognizing the familiar golden glow.
But their joy was short-lived.
"Forgive me, but I cannot obey that order."
Aiolia's eyes opened fully, the reflection of Thor's face flickering in his icy pupils. His calm words struck like thunder.
"W–What?" Thor froze. "Why? I am the prince of Asgard! To see me is to see Gilgamesh himself! You are bound to obey!"
Aiolia's voice was steady, unyielding.
"But you are not Lord Gilgamesh."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Even Thor, the proud God of Thunder, found himself speechless.
Everyone in Asgard knew the truth—aside from Odin and Gilgamesh, no one could command the Gold Saints. Not even Thor.
At that moment, a deep, resonant voice broke the tension.
"Your Highness Aiolia, Laufey, King of the Frost Giants, greets you!"
Sensing that Aiolia had not come as an enemy, Laufey quickly seized the chance to speak. Though Jotunheim had long been Asgard's rival, the rise of Gilgamesh—the God of Light—and his twelve Gold Saints had nearly wiped the Frost Giants from existence.
If Odin hadn't intervened back then, Jotunheim would have been nothing more than a frozen graveyard.
Laufey himself still remembered the terror of those days—the blinding fists of Aiolia that struck faster than light. For the Frost Giant King to personally bow his head was already an act of great humility.
Yet Aiolia did not so much as glance at him. His expression remained cold and distant, as though addressing an inferior species.
For all of Laufey's royal status, his strength was nothing before the might of a Saint.
"Laufey," Aiolia said at last, his tone calm yet heavy with authority, "I am here under Lord Gilgamesh's command—to escort the two princes of Asgard. Do you have any objections?"
Laufey bowed deeply. "Since it is Lord Gilgamesh's direct order, the Frost Giants will fully comply." His voice trembled with sincerity.
None of the surrounding trolls dared to speak.
A joke—object? Who would dare defy that name?
The massacre of that year remained burned into their memories. The God of Light, Gilgamesh, had slain every Frost Giant over one meter tall. The ground had been painted red with their blood.
Even now, the mere mention of that name could silence any young troll in terror.
Laufey dared to negotiate with the God-King only because he knew Odin had no desire to wage another war.
But before Gilgamesh, he wouldn't even dare to breathe too loudly—this was a man who would annihilate an entire nation over the slightest provocation.
The Dark Elves were proof of that. Gilgamesh had slaughtered them to the brink of extinction; those few who survived were now hiding in some dark corner of the cosmos, clinging desperately to life.
"Very good," Aiolia nodded, his tone flat, his golden eyes reflecting nothing but cold authority. "Lord Gilgamesh said that if you obediently release the captives, he will share the rest of his words."
"The rest of his words?" Laufey was dumbstruck. So that's why he brought an army... If I had refused earlier, I wouldn't even have been allowed to hear the rest?
"Does Lord Gilgamesh have any further instructions? The Frost Trolls will cooperate fully."
Aiolia's expression didn't change. "You disrupted his brother's coronation and attempted to steal the Casket of Ancient Winters…"
"Wait—this was the act of a few reckless Frost Giants!" Laufey quickly interjected, his voice trembling. He knew he couldn't admit to it—doing so would doom his entire race.
Aiolia's gaze sharpened, a faint glint flashing across his eyes. "You're pragmatic… but a little too naïve. That excuse might fool His Majesty Odin, but it won't work on Lord Gilgamesh."
"If he believes you did it… then you did it. Understand?"
"Y-yes…" Laufey stammered. Surrounded by hundreds of Heroic Spirits and Saints, all radiating silent menace, he could only bow his head in submission.
It was the classic case—reason meant nothing before power.
"As the price for invading Asgard and interrupting Thor's coronation, from this day forth, every five years, the Frost Trolls shall offer five hundred elite warriors and five hundred Frost Witches as tribute—slaves of Asgard."
"But... according to the alliance between our realms…" Laufey began weakly, but when his eyes met Aiolia's calm, merciless gaze, the rest of his words froze in his throat.
"…Very well. The Frost Trolls accept these terms."
Aiolia gave a brief nod, signaling Heimdall to prepare for departure—
—but Thor suddenly stepped forward, his hammer in hand. "Wait! Tell me—how did you bypass Heimdall's sight and reach Asgard?"
Laufey froze. His gaze flickered, landing for a fleeting moment on Loki, who stood behind the crowd, visibly tense.
For a moment, Laufey was tempted to tell the truth, hoping to spark discord within Asgard. But then he reconsidered.
If the two princes fought... the one who benefited most would undoubtedly be Gilgamesh.
That monster was already terrifying enough without the crown—what would happen once he became God-King? The Frost Trolls would have no future.
So Laufey swallowed the truth and lied. "That passage was an accidental discovery—a spatial node formed when the Nine Realms aligned. A fragment of overlapping space was left behind, and we simply found it."
Thor frowned, then slowly nodded. The explanation made sense. Once the location of the passage was confirmed, he said nothing more.
The Frost Trolls had already been reduced to a pitiful state, offering a thousand slaves every five years. Continuing to demand blood would be beneath Asgard's dignity.
Loki exhaled quietly, relief washing over him as Laufey kept his secret. Yet deep inside, turmoil brewed.
The Frost Trolls' bodies were so cold that mere contact could freeze anything solid. During the earlier battle, Loki had been captured by one of them—but strangely, he hadn't been harmed. Instead, his skin had taken on the same pale-blue hue as theirs.
For the first time, doubt took root in his heart.
Was I truly born of Asgard?
Why are Thor and Gilgamesh so powerful... while I am so weak?