When the news reached Elbaf,
the entire Giant Kingdom did not erupt in cheers.
Before the royal city,
countless Giant warriors, villagers, and elders gathered together.
They looked up at Loki standing on high ground, their expressions complicated.
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Some clenched their fists.
Some murmured among themselves.
Others stared at the enormous hammer beside Loki, its surface wrapped in lightning patterns, their eyes still filled with undiminished wariness.
Loki had killed two members of God's Knights from the Holy Land and foiled the World Government's plan to abduct Giant children.
That alone was enough to enrage any Giant.
But another, far heavier shadow still hung over Loki.
Patricide.
King Harald's death remained a wound that Elbaf had yet to heal.
Even though many Giants had long suspected there were doubts surrounding what had happened back then.
Even though Loki had only deliberately allowed himself to be imprisoned and had never truly resisted Elbaf.
But Harald was dead, and Loki remained the only one publicly convicted in that disaster.
No Giant could easily move past that wound.
Before the royal city, there was silence.
Loki swept his gaze across the complicated faces below.
He offered no explanation, nor did he ask anyone to cheer for him.
He merely lifted Iron Thunder with one hand.
Boom!
The massive warhammer slammed into the rocky ground before the royal city, cracks spreading in every direction.
Lightning danced along the hammer's handle, drawing every Giant's gaze toward it.
Loki bared his teeth.
"Don't look at me like that."
"I didn't kill those two Holy Land clowns to become king."
A slight commotion stirred through the crowd.
Loki raised his hand and pointed at the Giant children in the distance, sheltered behind their parents.
"Because they wanted to lay hands on Elbaf's children."
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