Chapter 630: All Sides Deploy

Musi Beierheim, the realm of flame.

Here there is no ice or snow, no darkness, only ever‑burning fierce fire!

The sky is dark‑red, like a metal sheet scorched through.

The ground is charred, every inch covered with cracked fissures, within which searing magma churns.

The air is thick with the scent of sulfur, choking the throat and making the eyes gritty.

Flame Giant Shierte stands atop the highest volcano.

His stature is taller than mountains, taller than clouds, taller than any being in the Nine Realms.

Formed from condensed flame, his skin is cracked lava, each fissure pulsing with blazing white light.

His eyes are two blazing white fireballs; in his hand he grips the Flame Giant Sword, its blade's flames licking the sky, carving a huge hole through the clouds.

He has waited in Musi Beierheim for countless years.

Since the moment of his birth, he has been waiting.

Waiting for the moment of total annihilation to arrive!

That destined, irreversible moment that will turn everything to ash!

He saw it.

Darkness fell upon the Nine Realms, the sun and moon were devoured, the World Tree's roots were gnawed off, and the sea overturned the coast.

He knows the time has come!!

Shierte raised the great sword and swung it toward the sky.

Flame erupted from the tip, like a burning waterfall, illuminating all of Musi Beierheim.

"Set out!"

The Fire Giant Army stepped out of the flames.

Their forms are far larger than humans; even the smallest are three or four people tall, bodies formed of lava and flame, wielding weapons condensed from fire.

Shierte led the way, his strides huge, each step spanning the distance of several mountains.

Where he passes, the ground burns, rivers dry up, ice and snow melt.

Heading toward Asgard.

Loki stands at the entrance to Mingjie.

He walks to Haila's palace.

He pushes the door open and steps inside.

Haila sits on the Throne, one hand propping her chin, languid, watching Loki without speaking.

The father and daughter have not seen each other for a long time.

When was the last meeting? Loki can't recall.

"I need to borrow your ship," Loki says.

He offers no small talk, no greeting, no "long time no see".

Haila doesn't ask why, rises from the Throne, her robe dragging on the floor with a rustle.

She walks deeper into the palace, and after a while emerges holding a boat.

The boat is tiny, small enough to rest in the palm, its hull gray, as if pieced together from dried bone and nails.

She hands it to Loki.

"This is my last help for you, father."

"Hmm."

Loki takes it, turns, and walks away.

Reaching the doorway, he stops, not looking back.

"Thank you."

Haila stands before the Throne, watching his silhouette, silent.

Loki exits the palace and walks to the sea.

He places the boat on the water; the boat expands as it meets the water.

First the bow lifts, higher than his head.

Then the hull spreads to both sides, wider than his shoulders.

Finally the stern sinks, drawing deep water. It grows larger and larger, until the bow pierces the clouds and the stern still rests on the shore.

Nazhgilfa, a massive ship crafted from the nails of the dead.

Its hull is gray‑white, like ancient bone.

The sails are pitch‑black, like solidified night.

The prow bears a carved skull, its hollow eye sockets glowing with eerie green fire.

Loki jumps onto the ship, stands on the bow, and grasps the tiller.

The tiller is thick, icy cold in his hand, like holding a block of ice.

He turns the tiller, and the ship moves.

The bow cuts the water, the hull rolls over waves, the stern leaving a long white wake.

Loki steers the ship northward, toward Jotunheim!

Jotunheim has already been half‑submerged by floodwaters.

Sea water surges from Midejierte, spilling over glaciers, valleys, and the low hills.

Frost Giants stand on high ground, atop the peaks that remain unflooded.

Their forms are towering, even the smallest twice as tall as a human, skin icy‑blue like a winter lake.

Wearing beast skins and coarse hemp, with an axe and a hammer hanging at the waist, some also held long spears in their hands.

The leader at the front was called Daheim.

Their size was almost as big as Shierte!

Loki steered the ship to the foot of the mountain, lifted his head, and looked at those giants.

"Daheim, the time has come, board the ship!"

"Alright!"

Following Daheim, they jumped down.

Other giants came one after another—ten, a hundred, a thousand.

The ship kept shaking, the hull nearly touching the water's surface, yet it did not capsize, only swaying and pitching like a beast tamed by its rider.

The deck instantly filled with giants.

Loki turned the bow toward Heerhaimu.

Haila stood on the shore, with her Dead Army behind her.

Those dead wore the armor they had in life; some were rusted, some still gleamed, and they held the weapons they once wielded.

Their faces were gray‑white, like dried wax statues, eyes hollow, without pupils or whites, only two bottomless black pits.

They stood there silently, like a mute forest.

Haila turned around and looked at them.

She said only two words:

"Deploy!"

The Dead Army moved.

Standing on the deck, standing beside the giants.

Giants and the dead stood side by side, ice‑blue skin against gray‑white skin, the living's breath pressed against the dead's silence.

Loki stood at the bow, gripping the helm.

His fingers trembled, not from cold but from excitement!

He had waited too long for this day.

From the day he was locked on those three sharp stones, from the day venom first dripped on his face, from the moment Siguen sat beside him holding a bowl, he had been waiting.

What he waited for was this moment, the end of the Gods, the collapse of Asgard, the sight of those lofty beings kneeling before him, begging for mercy!!

"You........... hm!"

Golden Palace.

Aoding sat on the Supreme Throne.

Two crows, Hu Jin and Mu Ning, perched on his shoulder.

They had just flown back from the Nine Realms, whispering something in his ear.

Hu Jin said that the flames of Musi Beierheim were shifting, Shierte led his army out of the volcano, the ground beneath them burned, and the rivers beneath them dried up.

Mu Ning said that the flood of Jotunheim was rising, Loki piloted the Nagilfa to retrieve the Frost Giants, and the bow pointed toward Asgard.

Hu Jin said that the dead of Heerhaimu were also stirring, Haila stood at the bow, with endless silence behind her.

Mu Ning said the World Tree was moaning, its roots gnawed off, its branches withering.

Aoding listened, then spoke:

"Prepare to fight."