Three Weapons

The voice rang out, rough and savage, cutting into the meeting room.

The heated discussion fell silent at once.

Everyone turned toward the voice.

A man in a trench coat and beret walked in, a little pale blond hair showing beneath the edge of his hat.

His features were rugged, and his gray-blue eyes were piercing. His short, thick beard twitched twice. "Since when did we Norsemen become such cowards?"

The newcomer was, of course, an avatar controlled by Jiang Hao. Mindful of cultural differences, he had made it look like a Norseman to help steer events in the direction he wanted.

Anderson Streicher stared at the man, bewildered. Who was he? How had he gotten in? Where were the guards at the door?

Once he heard what the man said, Anderson Streicher was even more confused.

Norsemen? Northerners? Wasn't that a term from the Middle Ages? People said Icelanders or Norwegians now. Who still called themselves Norsemen?

Anderson Streicher was about to challenge him when Vice President Jacob's face darkened. "Guards! Guards—"

He had barely called out twice when the man glanced at him. A sharp, overwhelming pressure no mortal could resist radiated from him, crushing the rest of Jacob's words in his throat.

"Since when can an outsider command us Norsemen?"

The man's voice was cold.

He waved a hand. An invisible force hurled Vice President Jacob into the wall, smashing through it and sending him flying onward.

Anderson Streicher sucked in a breath. He looked at the human-shaped hole in the wall, then through it at Vice President Jacob, who had flown so far he was almost out of sight. Suddenly, he thought he knew what had happened to the guards.

As if reading Anderson Streicher's mind, the man softened his voice. "Don't worry. I won't harm brave members of my own people."

"For having the courage to face me, once they die, I'll ask the Valkyries to guide them into Valhalla. There they can hone their skills through endless combat and fight for the gods."

Valhalla—the hall where the great god Odin welcomed warriors fallen in battle... Anderson Streicher's heart shook. Between what the man had just done and what he was saying now, even Anderson Streicher could tell he was a hidden supernatural being.

And a Norse one at that.

After gods and monsters appeared in the Eastern Isles, governments around the world had begun investigating supernatural forces within their borders. Iceland's government was among the most eager.

Iceland might be small and sparsely populated, with only three hundred thousand people, but its ancestors had once known glory.

According to myth, the blood of the Norsemen flowed through every living Icelander. Legend said the great god Odin and his brothers Ve and Vili had created the Norsemen with their own hands.

As Odin's creations, the Norsemen were beloved by the gods. Gods had descended to earth to teach them martial arts and magic, and their warriors entered Valhalla after death to become heroic spirits and enjoy the gods' hospitality.

If supernatural powers truly existed in Iceland, its standing in the world would rise.

A supernatural being might not be able to withstand a nuclear bomb head-on, but who could defend against one sent to assassinate them?

Yet the government had searched everywhere without finding anyone who seemed to have supernatural powers.

Now one had appeared on his own.

And he was a Norseman.

Looking at him, Anderson Streicher understood why the man had asked, "Since when do we Norsemen seek help from other peoples when we face trouble?"

The Norsemen had possessed the courage to charge the Frost Giants, mortal enemies of the Norse gods, with spears in hand. Their approach was simple: no talking, just charge.

"As for that outsider." The man's voice turned cold. "Since when have we Norsemen taken orders from outsiders? This time was a warning. Next time, I'll send him straight to the Underworld."

The sun was shining brightly, and the meeting room had air conditioning, but everyone inside felt a chill run through them.

In Norse mythology, being sent to the Underworld meant not eternal rest, but eternal torment.

Anderson Streicher felt sorry for his vice president.

The Norsemen bowed to no one but the Norse gods. An outsider had tried to order them around; Vice President Jacob was lucky he was still alive.

"Sir, are you here to help us kill the serpent monster?" Anderson Streicher asked, lowering his bearing without realizing it. His tone was respectful.

The man nodded. "The gods despised Jormungandr for its ugliness. And because Odin had prophesied that Jormungandr would oppose the gods during Ragnarok, he ordered Thor to throw it into the sea and leave it to its fate."

"I didn't expect it to awaken before Ragnarok."

Anderson Streicher's expression changed. That serpent monster was Jormungandr?

No wonder it was so enormous.

But unease stirred in his heart. Jormungandr was the child of Loki, god of fire, and an enemy of the Norse gods. Could this supernatural being really defeat it?

"...Fortunately, Jormungandr has only just awakened from its slumber and hasn't fully grown. And since it didn't eat your rescue personnel, it must have fed well in the ocean. Its urge to fight should be lower."

Anderson Streicher nodded as he listened. He wasn't a biologist, but he knew a snake's fighting ability dropped sharply after a meal.

He hadn't expected Jormungandr to follow the same rule.

"Even so, defeating Jormungandr will be difficult. I need three weapons to fight it."

"Which three?" Anderson Streicher asked at once. If it would drive Jormungandr out of the northern fishing grounds, he would find this supernatural gentleman thirty weapons, let alone three.

"First, Fragarach, the Sword of Vengeance!"

"Second, Longinus, the God-Slaying Spear!"

"Third, Gungnir, the Eternal Spear!"

Anderson Streicher's face had stiffened at the first weapon. With each name, his expression grew more strained. By the time the man named Gungnir, the Eternal Spear, his face had fallen completely.

"Sir, please ask for something else."