The crisis had barely passed, and no one had recovered their senses yet.
A petite figure suddenly dropped onto the battlefield from high above, so fast it came without warning!
"I'm fucking here! The king descends from the heavens!"
Rimuru landed with pinpoint accuracy, settling firmly astride Loki's neck!
He clamped his legs around Loki and sat tight, both hands gripping the horns on either side of Loki's helmet!
The entire area fell deathly silent.
All the panic, tension, murderous tension, and sense of crisis shattered in an instant.
Rimuru's eyes lit up. He had been eyeing the horns on Loki's helmet for a long time, eager to yank off his "crown," and now he had finally gotten his wish.
He grabbed both horns and tugged upward with all his might, muttering a stream of complaints under his breath, full of resentment.
"I finally got my hands on you!"
"You're the guy from the base in the State of Mexico last time!"
"You provoked me and mocked me with all that snide sarcasm!"
"And now you're giving a speech? Who do you think you are, someone I used to know? You're a lot worse at speeches than he was."
"Now that you've fallen into my hands, you're in for it!"
As he shouted, he rocked back and forth on Loki's neck, his little hands pawing wildly at Loki's cheeks, tugging at his helmet and yanking his horns with practiced abandon.
The mighty God of Mischief of Asgard, a noble prince of the Nine Realms, was now being ridden by a Midgard brat who pressed down on his face and rubbed and played with it wildly.
The battlefield's tense atmosphere, with everyone poised to fight and lives hanging by a thread, was swept away by the absurd, comical scene.
The fleeing