Chapter 149: Asgard, If You Keep Losing, There’ll Be Nothing Left to Lose!

Vernon’s side of the operation had gone perfectly. Over the years, all the energy accumulated by Renya Karasuma would gradually be converted into reserve power for the shuttlecraft.

After Karasuma’s death, this world would slowly return to normal as well, breaking free from the path that had been leading it toward the abyss.

The nations of the world had also obtained technology somewhat more advanced than their current level. Many of those affected by the Black Organization had regained their freedom, and their lives were no longer under threat.

In short, it was a win for all three parties. The only one who had suffered a loss had already ascended to heaven, so, strictly speaking, there was no losing side at all.

Although this mission had exceeded everyone’s expectations and could be considered a perfect success, the energy acquired was still a mere drop in the bucket for a battle star.

After all, this small test mission had an obvious ceiling. No matter how well it was completed, at best it could only turn a drop in the bucket into a barrel in the bucket.

What the test represented was the future.

If they wanted to obtain a truly sufficient supply of energy before the war arrived, there was only one solution: learn from the Ancient One and borrow it from someone else!

But do not misunderstand. Yang Qiu was not nearly as reckless as the Ancient One, and the Ancient One had already exhausted Earth’s credit with the demon gods.

Yet if the demon gods would not lend to them, did they not still have an ally—or, to put it less flatteringly, a suzerain state—Asgard?

Allies were allies. Aside from being used on the battlefield to sell each other out—no, to fight side by side—helping one another in ordinary times was part of the arrangement too.

In an Asgardian training arena, Thor raised his hammer. Cheers erupted around him in wave after wave.

One hundred consecutive victories! A completely undisputed triumph!

After savoring the victory and the applause, Thor strode toward the lounge.

Inside, Loki wore an expression of profound discomfort. Yes, Thor had once again dragged him here by force to watch the match.

“Well? Doesn’t it get your blood racing? Feel like stepping into the arena for a round? I can arrange it for you! Ha-ha-ha!”

Thor laughed loudly, slapped Loki on the shoulder, picked up a cup of wine from the table, and drained it in one gulp.

Loki gave an awkward smile. Blood racing? His blood was practically turning to ice.

In his eyes, the arena was nothing more than a place where a bunch of muscle-headed brutes could vent their excess energy.

Opera was far more interesting. Art was filled with an air of mystery; it moved the heart and cleansed the soul.

“Ahh…” Thor exhaled. Fine wine was the finest reward after battle.

“Hey, don’t worry. It’s all right if you can’t win. Just keep practicing, and one day you’ll be as good as me!” Seeing Loki’s unpleasant expression, Thor assumed he was worried about winning or losing and offered him some encouragement in advance.

Loki rolled his eyes. He had no interest in Thor’s antics, but to keep Thor from bothering him any further, he could only remain silent.

“Once I become king, I’m going to build eighty or a hundred arenas. There are still far too few of them. There are too many opera houses instead—keeping one for Mother would be more than enough.”

Thor tugged Loki along as he fantasized about the future.

Loki’s face had darkened until it was nearly the same color as An’s fur. Too many opera houses? In an Asgard this vast, there were not even a hundred of them! Was he joking?

If he became king one day, he would spread opera houses across all of Asgard, abolish every athletic competition, and devote himself to the arts!

While Thor alone indulged in their imagined brotherly camaraderie, Heimdall was reporting to Odin, the supreme leader of Asgard, in the All-Father’s palace.

“After observing them recently, I must admit that the people of Midgard possess the power to influence the All-Seeing Eye, and they did so without borrowing the power of the Time Stone.”

Heimdall spoke in a deep voice, his expression solemn as he held the Bifrost sword. “However, you may rest assured. According to the combat-power rankings, our strength still overwhelms Midgard.”

Odin rose from his throne, paced a few steps beside Heimdall, and then stopped.

“Rankings? Where did the data come from?”

Heimdall fell silent.

“Where did the data come from?”

Odin’s roar reverberated throughout the palace.

“You! The All-Seeing Eye can no longer penetrate the defenses they have constructed! Where did this data come from?”

Under Odin’s fury, Heimdall’s figure wavered slightly. He had not submitted the data, and he had no idea how those people had reached such a conclusion.

At that moment, Frigga approached from the side. Upon seeing his wife, Odin’s temper eased somewhat.

“These figures were probably obtained by first assuming that we completely outclassed them, then adding a little wishful thinking, and finally presenting the result as a conclusion,” Odin said with an extremely dark expression.

Since when had Asgard resorted to such self-deception? Since when had they needed lies to preserve their confidence?

“Do not blame him. These matters are not his responsibility. They were handled by my subordinates. If you must blame someone, blame me.”

Frigga spoke softly.

“You…” Odin was suddenly at a loss for words. He could hardly blame his own wife, and he knew that Frigga had not involved herself in affairs for a long time.

“All right, do not be so anxious. Matters must be dealt with one at a time.” Frigga rested a hand on Odin’s arm. “Besides, the envoys from Midgard have already been here for several days. Shouldn’t you receive them?”

Odin’s breathing grew heavier. It was only after meeting the Midgardians that his anger had begun to rise.

Just look at them! Look at the Ancient One! After retiring, her realm’s strength had not declined but grown even further. Even the envoy she had sent was astonishingly powerful.

That alone showed how outstanding the Ancient One’s successor must be.

And then there were his own heirs. One had a mind that seemed defective, trying to resolve everything through brute force.

The other candidate was full of petty cleverness and had somehow acquired the title of God of Mischief. What a splendid name! He was forever convinced that no one could see through his little tricks.

How could two people like that preserve Asgard’s standing after his death?

Was he supposed to release that rebellious daughter from her seal? Absolutely not!

If this continued, after losing to Thanos, Asgard would lose to Thanos’s vassals—the Chitauri.

Then they would even lose to their former defeated enemies, the Dark Elves and Surtur!

And in the end, would they lose to the people of Midgard as well? Lose to Earth, only to become their vassals?

After that, there would not even be anyone left to lose to!

They would have no dignity left at all!

Fuming, Odin turned toward Heimdall.

“Those two envoys. One-on-one, in the arena. Do you have confidence?”

Heimdall maintained the principle that silence was golden. He could hardly admit that he was not confident against either of them; that would be far too humiliating.

“Enough.” Seeing Heimdall’s expression, Odin’s mood sank to the bottom.

“Where are those two?”

“In the arena.”

Odin drew a deep breath and looked toward Frigga.

“Invite the two envoys to the arena.”