IBHJ Chapter 827

It's a simple truth: when enemies rejoice, loved ones suffer; when enemies suffer, loved ones rejoice. To protect something, one must destroy something else. Even a savior can't escape this cruel reality.

Besides, how could there be a savior in this world capable of resolving all contradictions and saving everything? Such a savior doesn't exist. And if one did, they would surely be the greatest evil!

Therefore, Skadi took an attacking stance. She might have been a naive young girl once, but those days were long gone. Sure, she'd grown a little foolish after transforming into Scáthach-Skadi, but that didn't mean she couldn't recognize her position. In war, anything goes when it comes to achieving victory.

But unlike her, Shirou lowered his lance and said, "Go."

Skadi looked at him in surprise.

"Thank you, Eternal King," Surtr bowed his head gratefully and, wasting no time, rushed down towards Asgard.

Skadi moved to chase after him, but Shirou stretched out his hand to stop her. She looked at him, confusion written on her face. "Why?"

"Because he is Shirou," a soft voice sounded from behind them. Both turned to see Scathach, who had regained control of her body, slowly rising from the snow. Her eyes were gentle as she gazed at him. "And he is the Eternal King."

"We won in a pretty ungraceful way, but in the end, we still won." Shirou closed his eyes. "If he wants to leave, then let him go."

...

Surtr landed on the ground, surrounded by the mangled remains of the destroyed giants. Guts and organs were strewn all around him, bones jutting out, fresh blood pooling at his feet.

Bergelmir rode in on the massive Kraken, towering over Surtr's pathetic figure. Looking down at him from atop the sea monster, the old giant let out a hearty laugh. "How's it feel to see this tragedy, Surtr?"

"My vision's blurred, thoughts all messed up. I've nearly lost my mind," Surtr said in unnaturally calm voice.

"That's it! Exactly!" Bergelmir's eyes were bloodshot, his words manic, like a madman who'd finally found clarity after ages of torment. "Now you finally understand how I feel! We're equals at last!"

Surtr could no longer hold back, gritting his teeth and tightening his grip on his sword without realizing it.

"You want to kill me? Ridiculous! I'll kill you first! Kraken, attack!" Bergelmir shouted.

A loud roar could be heard as countless tentacles rained down from the sky, swarming toward Surtr like a relentless plague. The blazing sword in his hand pulsed with primal flames. "Levateinn," Surtr uttered the forbidden name, and his whole body erupted in fire. Ancient inscriptions slowly etched their way along the blade, revealing its true nature - the apocalyptic sword, the very blade that once brought down the old gods to make way for a new world.

Bergelmir stared in shock. "Surtr, you actually ignited that thing..!" Before he could finish, the legendary sword of calamity unleashed its true power, a force unseen since the dawn of time itself.

Rumble, rumble, rumble. The concentrated flames coalesced into a piercing sphere that tore through the Kraken's body like it was nothing. The monster didn't even have a chance to scream before Levateinn's world-ending strike turned it to ash. But the blast didn't stop there - it kept going until it crashed into the ground, erupting in a massive pillar of fire that ripped apart the foundations of Asgard itself. With a boom that shook the world, the gods' home, standing proud for thousands of years, came crashing down.

Statues of gods and goddesses crumbled to dust. Grand temples reduced to rubble. Eons of glory turned to dust in the blink of an eye. It was a sight no one could've ever dreamed of seeing, let alone actually witnessing.

A little way from the explosion, a bone-chilling killing intent cut through the air. The next moment, Bergelmir charged forward at blinding speed, appearing before Surtr in a flash and driving his spear straight through Surtr's body. With a casual laugh, Bergelmir stared at Surtr's face with twisted glee, expecting a mournful and despairing expression. But unlike his expectation, Surtr's expression wasn't one of pain, as if the spear hadn't actually pierced his body.

Surtr grabbed Bergelmir's arm and flooded it with the immense might granted by Levateinn, a force far beyond godly strength.

"Let go!" Bergelmir cried out, agony twisting his face as he tried to wrench his arm free from Surtr's grip. But Surtr's power was too overwhelming for him to break away.

"Kill me then, put more force into it," Bergelmir snarled.

Surtr's overpowering heat washed over Bergelmir, causing even his frost armor to begin melting away.

Bergelmir coughed up a gout of fresh blood, but he laughed madly. "My spear's in your gut; your sword's in mine. Frost Giants and Fire Giants are natural enemies with centuries of bad blood. Let's see who bleeds out from these killing blows first."

"There was never any deep-seated hatred between frost and fire giants,-"

Bergelmir cut him off. "You still trying to feed me lies? All I want now is to watch the life bleed out of you with my own eyes. My resentment isn't just towards your kind, but all giants. Those who once aided me, only to betray me!"

"I never betrayed the frost giants," Surtr said evenly. "Two thousand years ago, when I made you lead them to invade Pan-Human History, it was because your kind wasn't as powerful. Sooner or later, you would've been annihilated by the fire giants. My goal was ensuring all giants survived, not just benefiting my tribe or yours alone. Unfortunately, I didn't create this world or its inhabitants. I never could've foreseen someone like Saver intervening."

But Bergelmir wasn't listening. His outstretched hand trembled halfway to Surtr, nails glinting in his dimming eyes, as if determined to tear off a piece of Surtr's flesh even in death. However...

"Surtr..." he rasped.

Leaving behind those last resentful, unwilling words, the light faded from Bergelmir's eyes. His body dispersed, scattering like snow over the blood-soaked land.

A powerful neigh rang out around Surtr as the human army encircled him. Surtr slowly turned, his eyes reflecting the images of the mounted soldiers closing in, their banners whipping in the wind. The thundering of hooves filled the air as the human forces converged, a living sea of soldiers sworn to the King's service surrounding Surtr from all sides.

...

In a far-off era, the ultimate artifact Laevatein was forged in the primordial cosmic sea to suppress Yggdrasil. But with Yggdrasil's destruction, Laevatein lost its purpose. Rejected by the gods and the Nine Realms, it was cast out.

"Gramps, what's that?" the youth asked, pointing up at a bird perched in the trees.

The old man followed his gaze with a warm smile. "That's a seagull, my boy."

The youth nodded, though moments later, he pointed again. "Gramps, what 's that?"

With endless patience, the elder replied, "That's another seagull."

The young life possessed extremely limited intelligence, far below that of a normal sentient being - around the level of a three-year-old child. He needed every lesson repeated over thirty times before it would take hold. Year after year, the old man gently guided his understanding of the world.

Though incapable of comprehending human speech or behavior, the youth formed an inexplicable connection over their prolonged interactions, even nicknaming his caretaker "Gramps." It wasn't true self-awareness, but an instinctive attachment born from constant exposure.

The old man was his entire clan, his family, the only father he had ever had. And that simple home, that cozy little world, was enough to satisfy the youth. He never asked for more. But when tribal wars erupted, threatening everything he held dear, he became a soldier to protect his father figure and their way of life.

He thought winning the conflict would preserve his little family, but reality proved unbearably cruel. Victory only provoked larger feuds between the tribes. To protect his family, he had to march again, rising through the ranks, becoming a commander, a tribal chieftain, until finally he united all the fire giants.

With his full might, he resisted the gods' invasions, revered as a king by his fellow giants. He battled and waged war, driven by the need to protect everything he valued.

Life and death came again and again, leaving him utterly weary. But whenever he felt too exhausted to go on, he remembered the kind old man's eyes and his words: "Child, you're destined for greatness."

That safe place, that sanctuary, was all he had left. And in the end, even that was lost. So he shed his weakness – wasn't that natural? Before leading his armies, he had been just a frail, weary child. But for his people, he had to be a king – flawless, bearing all burdens. How could he have weaknesses? How could he be incomplete? But now, seeing even those he had protected become a pool of blood and gore, all his struggles over tens of thousands of years had become meaningless.

Surtr's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hoofbeats approaching. He raised his head to see the soldiers surrounding him part like a wave. A youth in kingly armor, his cloak billowing behind him, rode on a warhorse, its chestnut coat glistening with snow, nostrils flaring.

With a gesture, the King of Men brought the warhorse to a halt, clouds of dust swirling around its armored feet. He glanced at the dying King of Giants and said, "Do you want to do it yourself, or should I send you on your way?"