His face was filled with deep weariness and bewilderment. Looking at the new king of gods before him, the wise giant calmly put down the parchment in his hand, then gazed at him and slowly said,
"Everything is fate."
"Ragnarok is fate, you becoming the king of gods is also fate, Odin's death is fate. Everything in the universe has long been arranged by the inscrutable workings of fate. Gods, mortals, none can break free from the shackles of this destined fate."
"Before Ragnarok, Odin once asked me if what he had in mind could succeed. I knew he was asking if he could reshape a new world after the old one was destroyed. At that time, I said I could not say. He thought it was because there was a possibility, but in fact… it was because the future king of gods would not allow me to speak it aloud, to speak of that ending where the universe is annihilated."
He spoke softly.
Before this wise giant who could know all possibilities, past, future, and present were one, with no distinction.
But before him, Loki's face gradually darkened.
"Why do you think I would not allow you to speak it aloud?"
"Because I have already seen it, seen that fated future."
"What if I allow you to speak?"
Loki said, enunciating each word.
"You cannot."
But Mimir shook his head. His tone was absolutely certain. He raised his head to look at the new king of gods before him and said,
"Just like Ragnarok. You and Odin both did your utmost to try to prevent the coming of Ragnarok, but it still came in the end, because this is fate… Loki, tell me, do you truly allow me to speak it aloud?"
Looking at the wise giant before him, Loki's face turned grim. His fists slowly clenched, his long nails digging into his flesh without him even noticing.
"Then why did Odin and I first meet?"
"Because of fate."
"And why did Ymir die?"
"Because of fate."
"Why did Ragnarok happen?"
"Because of fate."
"…"
"Then why am I here questioning you?"
"You being here to question me is also because of fate."
No matter what Loki asked, Mimir only closed his eyes and calmly answered like a mechanical puppet.
And obviously, Mimir's answers could not satisfy Loki in the slightest. His fists were clenched tightly, unspeakable fury filling his heart.
"Fate… fate? Ha… hahahahaha…"
He laughed bitterly. This new king of gods looked at the wise giant before him, his anger reaching its peak.
"Mimir, why don't you just tell me directly that I am nothing but a puppet dancing on fate's strings?"
Hearing this, the aged wise giant slowly opened his eyes, then looked at the king of gods before him. His ancient eyes were as still as a lake. He said, emphasizing each word,
"Loki… what makes you think you are not a prisoner of fate?"
The wise giant's words were not loud, but they made Loki freeze for a moment.
Looking at Loki before him, the wise giant quietly said,
"You tried to use a soul from another domain to interfere with fate, but… have you not considered that your very attempt to resist fate was itself fated?"
"Birth is fate, death is fate, going with the flow is fate, going against it is fate. All is fate, and all has long been destined in the unfathomable mystery."
"Your struggle is far from the first time. In all the pasts and futures, you have been striving to defy fate. I have seen you personally bring about reconciliation with Odin, extending that golden age for a million years, but still, one day, Yggdrasil withered, the gods aged and died, and the world ultimately could not escape the coming of Ragnarok."
"I have seen you become the king of gods, doing your utmost to lead the remaining gods to start a new world anew, propping up the World Tree again, shaping a new world, but after a mere ten thousand years, the new young gods also fell into decadence and decay once more. This time, your offspring and those giants were itching to act in the realm of death. The Midgard Serpent crawled out of the abyss of death again. The Fenris Wolf, magnificent and terrible, wanted to completely devour the gods… All of it merely delayed things by ten thousand years."
"You are fated to resist fate, fated to overturn the fate imposed upon you. Loki, you are a prisoner to begin with, just like Odin, just like this world, all merely prisoners confined by fate."
"A traveler setting out, no matter what paths he walks or what sights he sees along the way, in the end, his destination can still be determined… This destination is the fated destiny."
Mimir looked at Loki before him who was clenching his fists tightly, only sighing. Then, he gently picked up the parchment he had placed beside him and said,
"This is what I wrote before you came. Take a look."
With that, he tossed the parchment to Loki.
Loki reached out to catch it. Then, he lowered his head, and with just the first glance… this king of gods' pupils contracted.
"Loki: 'Mimir.'"
"Me: 'Your Majesty… you have betrayed Odin's trust.'"
"Loki: 'Mimir, tell me, what is fate.'"
"…"
On the light parchment, their every exchange was clearly written, every line of dialogue without any omission. Looking at these exchanges, Loki bit his lip tightly. The hand holding the parchment was trembling uncontrollably.
He seemed to see a formless, vast thing surging out from the parchment in his hand…
That absolute existence that dominates all things, named "fate".
"This… this is merely a trick, an illusion you conjured."
Although Loki was trying his best to hide it, his seemingly calm voice still could not conceal that trembling tone and that shaken heart.
Mimir shook his head and said softly,
"Loki, you are also well-versed in magic. You should be able to tell I did not use any illusion to deceive you."
Hearing Mimir's words, a hint of conflict flashed through Loki's eyes.
He understood that Mimir indeed had not used any trickery to deceive him, but it was precisely because of this that he found it even harder to accept.
"I do not believe in fate…"
After a long while, he took a deep breath and said, stressing each word. Then he resolutely let the parchment in his hand fall to the ground, no longer looking at that parchment that spelled out his fate. Looking at the wise giant quietly sitting by the Well of Wisdom before him, his gaze held a certain inexplicable complexity, as if sitting there was not an old man, but fate itself…
Then, he slowly extended his fist towards Mimir. In his fist, it seemed he was holding something.
"Mimir, answer me this. In my hand there is a young bird. Tell me, is it dead or alive?"