And along with the great serpent's roar, from the southern realm of fire - Muspelheim - came countless massive warships made from the nails of the dead, the sky-darkening dreadnoughts sailing in an immense and brooding swarm from the southern realm of fire into the great sea.
These warships were filled with fire giants clad in armor, and at the helm of the ship of destiny, Naglfar, stood the progenitor of the fire giants - Surtr - and his many mighty sons.
When was Surtr born? No one knows.
For long before the progenitor of the frost giants, Ymir, was born, this progenitor of the fire giants had already come into existence. In a world of utter chaos, this progenitor of the fire giants was already fulfilling his mission. He resided in the realm of fire, Muspelheim, silently swinging his flaming sword to ceaselessly hack at the glaciers in the chaotic world. The chunks of ice struck from those glaciers mixed with the flames, forming scorching steam, and the frost giant Ymir was born from this steam.
The strength of this progenitor of the fire giants was immeasurable, yet he was naturally indifferent, not vying with the king of the gods for dominion over the world, nor interested in expanding his power. He only independently propagated his descendants in the realm of fire, having no dealings with the gods. But now, this progenitor of the fire giants unprecedentedly led his progeny out from the realm of fire.
This massive fire giant taciturnly raised his head. Before him, heaven and earth were gloomy, the ocean submerging everything. In the dark world, torrential rain poured down, the excessively fierce downpour making everything indistinct, the entire world appearing blurry.
And in this world of raging wind and rain, one could vaguely see through the hazy curtain of rain the magnificent sight of a colossal, heaven-spanning beast in an ocean-filled world, roaring at the vault of the sky.
That immense size, and that resounding roar, made this progenitor of the fire giants feel as if he were glimpsing a once invincible figure.
"Loki, is that your child? Truly as powerful as Ymir…"
The progenitor of the fire giants said, while beside him, Loki watched in silence.
His once handsome visage was now corroded beyond recognition by the venom of the serpent, his lean frame turned nearly emaciated to the bone under the torment of thousands of years. Just rescued by the fire giants, he wore only a thin hemp robe to cover his body, nothing else. Those exposed parts of his chest and twisted limbs had not an inch of good skin, everywhere covered in horrific scars from the corrosion of the venom.
Rather than a former god, he was more like a hideous and ghastly specter. Surely, no matter who was told that this was the once carefree and unrestrained fire god Loki, they would hardly believe it.
And in response to Surtr's words, Loki only calmly said,
"Surtr, all you need to do is help me kill the gods. The rest is none of your concern."
His voice was hoarse, the venom not only destroying his appearance but also corroding his vocal cords, making his voice no longer able to be as carefree and natural as before. He gazed at the overcast sky above, his indifferent serpentine eyes carrying a hint of inexpressible resentment.
"What a dull god. So be it. You are the god of fire, we are the fire giants. As long as you fulfill your promise, we will not interfere in anything else."
The nonchalant voice of the progenitor of the fire giants rang out. What exactly the promise was between this progenitor of the fire giants and Loki, perhaps no one would ever know.
…
On the sea filled with endless ocean waters, the sky-eclipsing fleet of ships advanced unceasingly. Wherever they passed, the seawater boiled from the fierce flames on the bodies of these fire giants. Scorching flames burned upon the great sea, nothing able to obstruct the advance of this immense fleet.
And along with the pace of this vast fleet's advance, suddenly, from the northern realm of fog, an equally immense fleet also sailed forth. Upon those ghost ships made of dead men's bones and shattered skulls, an endless silent and frigid aura of the netherworld emanated, painting the northern sky with utter deathly stillness.
And in the seawater, those myriad, countless, innumerable weaker ghosts and wandering souls without the means to board the ships were submerged in the ocean, swarming around these netherworldly vessels. The ignorant and senseless wandering souls wailed, instinctively surrounding these ghost warships. The silent whispers and wails of the dead filled the entire sea, gradually transforming this world of the living into a realm of death.
If no one stopped it, perhaps one day, the entire world would be dragged into the land of the dead by these ghosts.
And on the leading ghost ship, the death goddess Hel, half her body fair and lovely, half her body pale as a corpse, indifferently observed the fire giant army before her.
She swept her gaze over the sky-darkening immense fleet before her, then flew through the air to the ship of destiny, Naglfar, at the head of the fleet. Faced with her father who now appeared as a ghost, her face showed not the slightest emotion, only slightly bowing and saying,
"Father."
And looking at this youngest daughter of his, the feeble Loki managed to reveal a smile, trying to stand up, but his overly weak body stumbled, nearly falling over.
Hel stepped forward, supporting her father. Unlike her two brothers who only liked to speak with their strength, the most complex-minded Hel was far clearer than anyone else about just how much wisdom her father possessed. His intellect and rationality far surpassed that of any other god or giant.
And it was precisely because of this, out of respect for wisdom, that Hel was especially reverent towards her father.
After struggling to stand up, Loki panted, raising his head to gaze at the overcast sky above, his eyes seeming to pierce straight into that divine realm, cryptically saying,
"It's time… Fenrir!"
At the end, his voice suddenly rose, as if summoning something.
…
Gjöll, this massive boulder was deeply rooted in the World Tree, used to bind that demon wolf capable of devouring the gods.
"Hmph…"
At this moment, a black aura shrouded the area around this boulder, only the occasional fearsome growl from within the black mist proving that a monster was bound inside.
But suddenly, the sound of chains breaking rang out from within…
The demon wolf broke free of the chains made of intangible things binding its body. It raised its head, gazing at the sky, its brutal pupils filled with unquenchable hatred. Ten thousand years, it had been imprisoned for over ten thousand years, enduring the torment and agony of blades piercing its throat. Now, it was time to take vengeance on those gods.
It abruptly howled, its body suddenly swelling up.
"AWOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"
Its fur grew wildly, its originally human-height frame rapidly enlarging, growing larger than those mountain peaks, larger than the ocean, until finally, this demon wolf became nearly as immense as its sibling.
It opened its gaping, blood-red maw, its upper jaw touching the sky, its lower jaw touching the ground, one forepaw stepping on the world of the living, one hind paw already striding into the realm of the dead.
The entire universe seemed to become cramped, one wolf and one serpent each occupying half the world. The serpent's immense body coiled around the entire world, while the demon wolf trod upon this world, howling at this universe in a shrill pitch, venting the fury of its imprisonment for over ten thousand years.
And at the same time, in that divine realm of Asgard above, the watchman of the gods - Heimdallr - who had seen everything happening below, hesitated no longer and finally blew that war horn to summon the gods.
"AWUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!"
The war horn resounded through the entire universe, proclaiming to the entire universe the arrival of this ultimate, cataclysmic decisive battle.