"Leave me alone or… DIE."
Five simple words, but with many implications. It was indeed those words that unsettled beings as old as the world itself. No one could really do that, actually, no one should, but someone had come out of retirement and made them remember.
The air inside the bar thickened, pressure building until a nearby glass cracked with a sharp snap. Mortals outside stumbled, one collapsing against the wall as blood trickled from his ear.
"I wish you would use your lips wisely, oh immortal," Loki muttered, his and everyone else's divinity flickering like a bomb ready to explode. "You are a rare species, we don't want you… extinct."
Words and more words. Aron knew the beings who called themselves high and mighty always held their heads even higher. That arrogance was what he hated most.
"Death is Inevitable, Loki. Even for me. But it will come for you sooner if you keep barking like that," Aron muttered back.
Loki grimaced, gritting his teeth. Such vile words, only the Allfather had ever spoken to him that way. It irritated him to his core. He didn't want this man to be the one irritating him. He tried to shift his form to Eve's, just to see Aron's reaction, to see those calm golden eyes finally enraged.
'Don't.'
The single word echoed in his mind before he could even gather his divinity to shapeshift. Don't. The voice was loud and clear. Loki recognized it,ma direct order from her, reminding him not to forget their true intentions. So he obeyed.
"We have not come here to listen to your old ways. We just want you gone from this place. You leave us alone, we leave you alone… or," Loki muttered, a drop of blood falling from his nostril.
"Or…?"
"Or you can work with us. I know you are fond of… missions. One mission, immortal, and then you get whatever you want." He muttered.
Aron watched him wipe the crimson stain, now fully aware they had little time left, their vessels were already breaking. He felt sorry, not for them, but for the humans forced to bear such a heavy burden.
He should say yes, take the deal, pretend to accept the mission, earn some karma, take his herald, and go back. No harm done. No harm taken. That was the reasonable, logical route, the one they would expect. And he knew her very, very well. Better than they knew themselves.
"No," he answered simply.
All of them stepped closer, their divinity rising high and mighty. Even the people outside the bar could feel it—the wooden floor beneath them trembled faintly.
[⚠️Warning⚠️]
[⚠️Warning⚠️]
[⚠️Warning⚠️]
[Karma Stability: CRITICAL — Further provocation may trigger Divine Arbitration]
"Immortal. Even though your karma is the highest among us. Even though the world loves you, you are alone and we are many," Loki threatened. "Be wise, immortal, not foolish."
"The sin of the fool is ignorance of strength. Didn't your father teach you that?" Aron replied. His golden eyes glowed.
At those words, Loki veiled. His spear materialized in his hand, a way of intimidation or... but Freya quickly shoved Loki aside and held him back.
"Control yourself!" she reprimanded. "We are not here to fight!"
Loki's eyes stayed fixed on Aron, finger pointed accusingly.
Aron's screen flashed red again and again. But something was odd. Very odd. He was missing something, he didn't know what, but…
"Say it again?" he asked, acting interested.
Loki, still grumbling, huffed. "Oh, are you interested now?"
Aron nodded, playing along. "Yeah. About the mission."
"The mission is simple. Will you, or will you not, work with us?" Loki asked.
Aron waited a few seconds. Silence reigned. Then he finally understood what was wrong. He couldn't predict fools, but he could predict those who considered themselves geniuses, who prided themselves on wisdom. And he knew exactly who was pulling the strings here.
He stepped closer to Loki, much closer. Tyr moved to intervene, and Baldr snapped out of his drunken haze, suddenly sharp.
"Immortal, you know this is no fighting ground," Tyr muttered.
Aron ignored him and kept walking as Loki stepped back. "Wh-why are you coming closer?" he stammered.
Aron's eyes glowed brighter than before. "You were always the sharp one."
Step.
"Always three steps ahead of every Asgardian god. Your wisdom and mind on par with Odin himself," Aron muttered, gazing straight at Loki, who was now backed against the wall beside Freya.
Step.
He stopped right in front of him. "But I'm afraid I'm on a different level." Aron's hand shot not to Loki's throat, but to Freya's. His attention shifted entirely to her.
"Freya!"
"Freya!"
The others shouted.
"Hands off her!" Loki yelled, still pinned in the corner.
Freya's breath was cut off, her windpipe squeezed like a soft sponge.
Aron smiled. "I already know... You can drop the magic."
"Y…ou…how?" she choked out as Loki, Baldr, and Tyr slowly dissolved like smoke—their faces, their panicked expressions, all snuffed out.
Aron smiled wider. He had gambled, and he had been right. "Neat trick—from the blood drop at Loki's nose to the drunken acting. You are indeed the goddess I remember." He squeezed tighter just as the red screen flashed before him again.
[No violence allowed. If not stopped in 5 seconds, Host will be ejected from this realm.]
[5…4…]
Freya began to panic, unable to breathe. Her life felt like it was draining away with every second.
[3…2…]
Aron did not let go. He didn't want to. A god's life hung by a thread in his hand, the ones who thought themselves greater than all, struggling in his mortal grasp. He savored it… but.
[…1]
He released her. She gasped, heaving and coughing violently. "Cough…! Vessels… cough! Cough!… don't come cheap, you bastard," she rasped, breathing heavily.
Aron's interest vanished instantly. He finally understood the ravens had been illusions too, convincing him from the start that many eyes were on him when it had only ever been her.
She would have had me, he thought, if she hadn't overplayed her hand with the mission offer. Only he knew: when the world issued a true mission, from humans, beasts, or even gods, a notification always appeared. When her illusion spoke of one, nothing did.
He turned to leave, knowing he had wasted his time, when he felt her magic tug at him, trying to hold him back.
"Wait," she called, standing. "Hear me out. I did it because there's a reason."
Aron broke the spell effortlessly and continued toward the door. Khorn and Peter were waiting, and he didn't want to leave them alone too long, given Khorn's condition.
"Your new herald… Peter, was it?" she said softly.
Aron stopped.
Finally, she had his attention. "That human servant of yours, he holds more secrets than you realize."
Aron turned. "Witch, close your foul mouth, you know I won't care about the rules here."
"I'm not lying," she said, stepping closer. "And that's not even the critical issue here. One of your favourite Olympians is coming here, into our jurisdiction… and he has your precious herald in mind."
Aron stepped toward her—this was new. "Which one?" he growled, possessive fury rising at the thought of someone coming for what was his.
"…Hermes," she answered.
"Hermes?" He knew Hermes was coming for the treasure, but for Peter? Was the witch lying? he thought. But her eyes bore truth; he could sense it.
"Why?"
"Don't know, don't care. What I care about is a filthy Olympian setting foot in my land. One of your filthy—" she paused, throat still aching, "—your other herald is already making a mess here. I don't want another piece of garbage adding to it," she finished, folding her arms.
'So she wants me to deal with Hermes,' he thought. But something told him there was more. She wasn't telling him everything and he knew it. Otherwise the entire illusion game would have been pointless.
He knew gods. He knew goddesses. They were relentless, doing whatever it took to reach their endgame. And above all, Freya, she was the most conniving of them all.
"You won't need to worry about my heralds. And as for Hermes—I don't care what his mission is. But if he gets in my way…" His eyes glowed bright, the gaze alone sending chills through Freya.
With that, Aron said nothing more. He grabbed a bottle of ale. "For my troubles," he said, and walked out with it.
Freya watched him go as blood began to drip from her nose. Her vessel had reached its limit.
I will get that treasure, whatever the cost, she thought.