Ever since Loki had offered up several treasures, Asgard had no longer been peaceful.
First, the Ring of the Nibelung was stolen. It was said to have later fallen into the hands of a giant from the Vanir. Then Balder, the god of light, was murdered—and the thing that killed him was actually an arrow made of mistletoe. After that, the sun goddess Sól nearly got eaten by a monster like a vicious hound. Finally, the gods all heard that shocking news—
A Valkyrie had been seduced into depravity by a demigod. Through a series of tragedies, they finally obtained the ring, but the Valkyrie used the ring to curse the gods, cursing that Ragnarok was about to arrive.
It was only a Valkyrie's curse, nothing more. It had merely relied on the lingering obsession of the two who had been buried with the dead to ignite a wildfire in the mountains and forests of Asgard, so at first it did not draw the gods' attention.
But soon, when the gods discovered that no matter what methods they used, they could not put out that wildfire, they finally felt a trace of fear.
The fire burned larger and larger, fiercer and fiercer, with an air that suggested it would not stop until it had burned Asgard into barren white ash.
"This is a ritual." The tall god whose face was painted with a skull pattern sat upon a pitch-black warship. Behind him was a rolling bank of dense fog that had extended from who knew where.
Another god wrapped in black robes had a gloomy face. "Was this fire your doing, Loki?"
"It was me, but not only me." Beneath Loki's facial markings, an inscrutable smile appeared.
"This is a ritual, a long ritual. Its vessel is a story—or perhaps