Casket of Ancient Winters

Before Leon could make a move, Odin grabbed his arm.

"Please wait a little longer, Lord Leon. Loki may be mischievous, but he knows where to draw the line."

Loki knew where to draw the line? That was not funny.

Leon studied Odin's expression.

The aging God King's face was lined with deeply etched wrinkles.

Odin looked very old, always carrying a faint, ever-present weariness.

Yet beneath that tired expression, his weathered eye remained as sharp as a blade.

Leon knew that although the old man claimed Ragnarok was unavoidable,

he would certainly still do everything in his power to leave hope for his children and his people.

Those warriors carrying gift boxes had deliberately taken a detour to the edge of the Divine Realm. Odin must have arranged it.

After all, no normal route would pass through there.

Surely they would not circle the entire Divine Realm just to show how solemn they were about delivering an artifact.

Asgardians, who valued strength above all else, had no use for such needless ceremony.

The moment Loki arrived with the Frost Giants, Odin sent the Casket of Ancient Winters over.

What was he trying to do?

Leon looked toward Loki again.

The scene unfolded clearly before his eyes—

The procession carrying the gift boxes passed in front of Loki and the others.

Loki stopped the Frost Giants and signaled for them to remain quiet.

He intended to lead them directly into Asgard.

But the transport team had not gone far.

The bottom of one gift box seemed unable to bear the artifact's weight and suddenly broke apart.

The frost-glowing casket inside hit the ground with a thud and rolled several times.

The casket radiated a bone-piercing chill, spreading rings of eerie ice-blue light.

Ordinary people might have thought it was merely