"This was such an obvious diversionary tactic. Why didn't I realize it?"
Flying shoulder to shoulder with Thor, Loki somehow pulled out a dog-eared copy of The Art of War and tugged at his long hair in frustration.
"The key is still Yggdrasil. Perhaps the missing items are a problem too, but compared to the importance of Yggdrasil, they are insignificant."
Thor used to fly while holding a hammer. Now he flew while holding an axe. There was not much difference in posture.
His golden hair streamed through the air, and The Big Mustache drooped with the downward curve of his mouth. His voice carried a hint of sorrow through the howling wind.
"What will The Serpent do to Yggdrasil? That blue fire, perhaps—"
There was no perhaps. They had still been one step too late. Winter descended while the two of them were leading the army toward Yggdrasil.
Asgard, which had been bright and sunny moments ago, was suddenly engulfed by a blizzard. The biting cold seemed capable of freezing a person's very soul.
Wind came from nowhere, carrying terrifying malice within it. Even Asgardian warriors hardened by countless battles felt every hair on their bodies stand on end.
The sky had changed. Unlike the storm clouds Thor summoned with Thunderbolt, those upright black clouds filled with electric current inspired, at most, a sense of majesty. But the gray masses now hanging in the sky, like rotting cotton, shed black goose-feather snow while spreading an emotion known as fear.
"Heimdall, tell everyone to prepare for battle!"
Thor shouted to his loyal guardian, but the burly man following close behind them wore a bewildered expression.
"But, Thor, what are we fighting?"
Yes, the ever-vigilant guardian had raised the crucial question. Where was the enemy?
Were the warriors supposed to fight