Two statuesque women stood in a charged silence, their gazes locked in an uneasy standoff. Despite their attempts at smiling, the tension between them spoke volumes of the deep-seated disagreement and animosity they harbored. Sensing the fragility of their relationship, they cautiously sought to divert the conversation and lighten the mood.
"How are you...?" they both began simultaneously, their words overlapping in an awkward interruption. They exchanged fleeting glances before faltering, "Do you like...?" But before either could finish their sentences, Lilith, a demoness, swiftly interjected, recognizing the need to change the subject.
"Let's focus on business instead!" Lilith exclaimed, breaking the tense silence. She positioned herself between the two women, extending her hands in a friendly gesture towards Ulfrun. A wide smile graced Lilith's face as she introduced herself, "My name is Lilith. A pleasure to meet you!"
Accepting the handshake, Ulfrun replied, "I'm Ulfrun." There was a hint of curiosity in her voice as she raised an eyebrow and asked, "So, you're Lilith?"
"Is there another Lilith?" Lilith responded, her tone carrying a soft smile.
Hel, adjusting her disheveled hair, couldn't resist a venomous remark, "True, you're much more talkative than they say." The palpable tension between them grew thicker.
"And this coming from a woman who gave birth to...!" Lilith's words were abruptly cut off as Hel delivered a powerful slap across her face, sending Lilith crashing to the ground. Hel couldn't help but mock, "Ha-ha, see, I told you that you're a chatterbox!" A strained smile adorned Hel's face as if it could crumble at any moment.
In that fleeting moment, as Lilith struggled to regain composure and stand up, Hel's gaze shifted to the demoness. There was a flicker of anger and resentment in her eyes as she quietly cursed, her grip tightening around the black chain in her hand. In her mind, she threatened Lilith, relishing the thought of tearing the still-beating red heart from the chest of the red-haired devil, vowing revenge for the humiliation she had endured.
"I hope you're not planning on doing this," Ulfrun declared coldly, her piercing purple eyes fixed on Hel's soul.
"What are you talking about? You must be delusional from old age...?" The queen's initial happiness faded abruptly as she noticed the mesmerizing purple glow emanating from Ulfrun's eyes. Hel stood frozen, mouth agape, as she pointed first at the warrior and then at her own eyes, trembling with disbelief. "Your... your... eyes!?" Her voice quivered with astonishment as if she were witnessing an impossible dream come true.
"Ha-ha, yes, I'm back in action. And what's with the habit of speaking with your mouth wide open? Close it, or a fly might find its way in," Ulfrun joyfully remarked, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips.
"But how did you manage this? Heimdall would never have dared to give them back to you!" Hel hissed, her hand instinctively covering her mouth. Her eyes, filled with contempt, carefully surveyed Ulfrun from head to toe.
Ulfrun's response carried a hint of pride intertwined with affection, intensifying Hel's disdain. "My friend, who also happened to be the cause of my imprisonment in this wretched place, is the one to thank for the return of my sight," she explained.
Ulfrun closed her cosmic eyes for a brief moment, savoring the sensation, before taking a deep breath and reopening them, reveling in the pleasure of her newfound vision.
"Friend? You dare to speak of a friend?" Hel questioned skeptically, her exquisite lips slightly pouting. "You mean my beloved Olympian, don't you?" The Valkyrie began to adopt a smug posture, crossing her arms over her chest, but Hel swiftly closed the distance between them, their faces nearly touching. "You speak of mine! I repeat, my beloved husband!" Hel's breath grew heavy, and her eyes burned with madness.
"Ha-ha, does your husband truly know the extent of your actions during the fourth war?" Ulfrun spat, her words laced with venom. Her hands clenched into fists with such intensity that the sound of bones cracking filled the air.
"And what of you!? Have you revealed to him the reasons behind our losses in the third and fourth wars?" the queen retorted instantly, conjuring several black chains behind her. Dark green fire ignited in her eyes, and the veins on her face pulsed with fury.
"Do you truly believe he deserves someone like you? Someone who mercilessly slays innocent mothers and children in their sleep!?" the Valkyrie taunted, baring her teeth in a mocking display.
"I don't know if he truly deserves someone like me! But I'll say this—I simply don't care whether he deserves anything or not! My own happiness is all that matters. And if, in the pursuit of it, I have to hurt or destroy lives, so be it!" Hel spoke with unwavering conviction, her words reflecting the heavy burden that had weighed upon her black heart for so long. For a fleeting moment, she felt a peculiar sense of relief, but that fragile lightness was shattered when a tall figure appeared at the door.
All three women, including Hel, turned their heads toward the entrance, their attention drawn to Haemon's presence. He struggled to maintain his footing, his breathing labored, and his body trembling uncontrollably. His clothes were drenched in blood, and Haemon's once-long, disheveled black hair now bore a reddish hue from the copious amount of blood that clung to each strand, continuously dripping onto the ground and staining it a deep crimson. His hair nearly obscured his face, save for his mouth and beard. Clutched tightly in his hand was a silver spear, upon which he leaned, much like an old man would rely on a cane to support his weary legs.
In his other hand, held aloft like a macabre trophy, Haemon tightly grasped the severed head of none other than Heimdall. The lifeless face of the Asgardian bore a haunting expression of pain and horror, a stark testament to the brutality of his demise. "Haemon, are you alright?" Hel asked, her voice brimming with concern and sadness, as she attempted to approach her husband and offer assistance. However, he abruptly halted her, gesturing for her to take Heimdall's head. "If you can, resurrect him! Find out where your father is and inform me!" Haemon struggled to speak through his clenched teeth, black fluid dripping from his mouth. Hel accepted the head without looking at it and promptly passed it into the hands of the Valkyrie. She then refocused her attention on her husband, attempting to help him, but he resisted her efforts. All she desired was to provide her shoulder for him to lean on, to be a source of support. Yet, when she reached out to hold his hand, he instinctively pulled away, nearly losing his balance.
"Haemon, you should sit down," the Valkyrie urged, her voice tinged with fear and concern, as she moved closer to offer assistance. However, the warrior remained resolute, refusing to allow the two caring women, who genuinely worried about him, to attend to him even in the slightest manner.
Twisting in excruciating pain, the Olympian collapsed to one knee, expelling a mixture of blood and stomach contents. The entire floor was grotesquely stained and corroded by the corrosive stomach acid, filling the air with a repulsive stench. Unaware of the smell, the Valkyrie instinctively covered her nose with her hand. Hel motioned for passing servants to swiftly take the child to another room, but she herself chose to remain steadfastly by her husband's side in this trying moment. Gently patting his back, she offered words of reassurance. "Shh, everything will be alright. It could be just indigestion. Relax, my dear, it's normal."
"In my younger days, even stranger things have happened to me!" the Valkyrie interjected, scratching her right cheek. "Who would have doubted it? Especially considering that, in those times, you could eat more than Jormungandr himself!" Hel seized the opportunity to jab at her rival. "Well, someone is renowned for their insatiable appetite for food, not men!" the warrior venomously retorted, glaring at the queen with eyes that seemed capable of reducing her to ashes. "You old hag!" Hel hissed, ready to unleash a lightning bolt from her eyes at her relative at any given moment.
"Go away!" the Olympian growled, his patience with the chaos wearing thin. Clutching his spear even tighter, the warrior attempted to stand, and the women immediately rushed to his aid. They lifted him to his feet, their eyes locked on each other, filled with a burning intensity. "Enough, I beg you, go away!" the warrior whispered, exhausted and weak, distancing himself from them as he limped away. "But, Haemon...!" the women were about to object, but their words were abruptly silenced by the stern gaze of the warrior, whose pupils had turned serpent-like. "You've done enough already!"
Both women exchanged regretful glances, and as they lowered their heads, they were horrified to see that the Olympian was regurgitating body parts of children. "These are the body parts of children!" Ulfrun uttered with disgust. "And not just children!" Hel stated coldly, her gaze sweeping over the scattered flesh, the scene filled with a chilling aura.