Prologue

"Defeated and imprisoned," Bor looks at me with a malicious grin. "That's what happens to anyone who dares challenge the gods."

"If it happens to everyone, I'm surprised Asgard is still standing. Oh, wait — I destroyed it," I throw these harsh words right in his face. It's all I can do.

The blow to the head was swift, precise, and monstrously strong. But, as usual, futile. It didn't even wipe off my feigned smile, full of hidden rage.

"Savage beast," Bor spat disdainfully. "Come, Odin, we still have much work to do."

The tall, powerful man turned his back on me, but his son didn't move. Odin's gaze burned with anger, causing a biting smirk to tug at my lips, ready to slip out at any moment.

"I think he should know what's going to happen," Odin said seriously. "Please, father!"

A youth from the Aesir, whom my kin once called gods. What did they turn out to be? Despicable insects — the same as everyone else!

"To strip him of hope before his imprisonment?" Bor laughed. "A good idea!"

The lord of the storm stepped close and looked directly at me. I didn't avert my gaze, staring intently at his even, masculine features. He was handsome, this Aesir, I'll admit that. There's no point in denying the obvious. All the Aesir were physically attractive, mighty, and smart, which they used to make the people of Midgard see them as something more than just another race. To see them as gods.

And considering that they wielded incomparably more powerful weapons and were sorcerers, compared to whom the mages of my legion seemed like snot-nosed novices, it became clear why no one ever even thought of rebelling. Until me.

Against my will, I feel my face contort with rage, turning it into a mask of fury and madness. My hands itch to grab Bor by the throat, to hold on and never let go. To tear until I slit his throat and bathe in his "divine" blood. To tear until I break his bones, split open his belly, and rip out his guts, which are just as red, just as hot and soft, as those of the despised Midgardians in their eyes!

But I was powerless. And the lord of Asgard knew this, otherwise, he would never have dared to lean in so close. It's easy to be brave when your opponent is bound in the strongest steel, forged in Nidavellir, the world of the dwarves. They say it's impossible to break.

"I hope," Bor said with satisfaction, "you'll feel this way throughout your entire imprisonment. For eternity!"

I force my anger to subside. The second blow is useless without the first. This bastard is right: now is not the time for it.

"I cannot be killed, Bor," I begin to speak calmly, but I can't contain myself. Each word comes out more contemptuous and arrogant. "Neither by magic nor by weapons. Nothing can hold Zariaks! The King of Kings will return and bring Asgard down! He'll finish what he started! He'll free Midgard, restore its independence, and destroy all his enemies! Nothing can defeat eternity!"

Contemptuous laughter — that's what I hear in response!

"Nonsense," the Aesir replies slowly. "So what if you're invulnerable, if neither magic nor curses nor honest steel can harm you. Even foreign artifacts or foresight…" I notice a flicker of regret on Bor's face. And it's no wonder — after all, this man relied heavily on magic. And what came of it? It didn't help him with me, but rather hindered him. By relying too much on prophecy, the Aesir missed the start of the uprising. "But fate had a good laugh at your expense! Giving you absolute defense, it didn't grant you even a hint of attack! The strength of an ordinary, simple Midgardian! It's just ridiculous!"

"Without the Eradicator, he's powerless," Odin added. "He might as well serve as a shield for a real warrior."

"I haven't decided yet," Bor scratched his head thoughtfully, "whether I'll destroy the weapon you used to kill my soldiers and other gods, or keep it as a trophy — but either way, you'll never see it again."

"Time is on my side, 'god.'" I close my eyes. "Go ahead, pour your steel over me, drown me in it, but know this — it won't help you."

I really wanted to spit in his face, especially since the lord of Asgard was so close. But what would stop him from spitting back at me? Or even pissing on me? No, as long as I'm immobilized by tons of dwarf-forged steel, molten and poured over me, it's better to temper my fire. But when our roles are reversed… I'll get my revenge for everything!

"Excuses of the defeated," he waved me off. "Every one of Asgard's vanquished foes keeps whining, but who are they trying to fool? If you lost now, at the peak of your power and strength, exploiting the fact that our seers didn't know about this plot, playing on our weaknesses and my," — Bor struck his chest with a dull thud, — "underestimation, what will happen later, when we already know of your existence?"

"Moreover, the Aesir will be the only ones who will remember you," Odin smiled more calmly now. "Be proud, 'king,'" he imbued the last word with all his contempt.

"Ordinary Midgardians under my command reached the very gates of Asgard. We nearly destroyed you, 'gods.' Do you really think no one will rise in my place? Look at your city! All that's left of it are ruins!" The words of this beardless youth struck a nerve. Without realizing it, I shouted my own words and only then angrily furrowed my brow. I had fallen for the provocation. Just like back then, with Bor's palace and wife...

"And we will rebuild it, even better than before!" thundered the lord of Asgard. "And you, Zariaks, will be forgotten. After our conversation ends, you will be completely entombed in the strongest, finest steel of Nidavellir, from which the greatest weapons and armor of all time are forged. With your strength reduced to that of an ordinary man, even with infinite endurance and invulnerability, you won't be able to damage it in any way. Try, scratch with your nails, gnaw with your teeth, ha-ha, and then continue to sit there and go mad."

Bor looked at his son, who nodded and continued in his father's place:

"We will punish Midgard. No one dares to rise against the gods, not even one who united all their peoples by force and cunning. A Great Flood will be unleashed upon the land, destroying all your followers, generals, fanatics, companions... All the children, wives, relatives, friends, and acquaintances. Only a handful of people chosen by us will survive, to repopulate the world."

I was silent as if struck by lightning. Though it would have been better if it were lightning. It wouldn't have harmed me anyway. But these words...

"That is the price," Bor said seriously and without a smile. "You knew what you were getting into when you declared war on the gods; when you slaughtered all the Aesir in Midgard; when you allied with Malekith and the dark elves; when you killed Bestla, my wife and Odin's mother; when you destroyed Asgard; when you brutally killed my friends, comrades, and brothers-in-arms. You will be punished for all of it."

Tears welled up in the corners of Bor's eyes, but he did not look away or try to shamefully hide his weakness. No, he continued to stare directly at me with a hard gaze.

"The mighty 'King of Kings' is defeated, trampled into the ground." Odin stomped his sandals, and I was showered with dust from beneath his feet. "This is the fate of all who challenge the existing order."

He continued speaking, but I was no longer listening. The words spoken earlier had shocked me, and I couldn't shake them off. I had long since stopped fearing for my own life. Back when I realized my uniqueness, my invulnerability, which allowed me not to worry about protection. But it was all external. My spirit could still be destroyed, the part that affects the soul. And I don't mean the useless magic, none of which worked on me, despite the Aesir's efforts, scouring the universe for anything they could find. The only thing that can reach me is this — the spirit, which these two are trying so hard to break. And they might just succeed!

Despite the many vows I made to myself, I continued to form attachments to people: my people, my friends, comrades, beloved women, and children who, unfortunately, did not inherit even a fraction of my uniqueness. They were completely ordinary, but no less loved by me.

And now… all of them… all of them!

"So don't expect," the young Aesir hissed venomously, "that you'll be found and freed. Without a doubt, you've drawn attention to yourself, Zariaks, and Asgard's enemies will try to rescue you. Malekith and his dark elves, or the Dás Cult, or someone else — there are too many of them! But no one will ever think to look for you in Midgard, on your own homeland."

I remained silent, but his words struck a chord of unpleasant truth… They really wouldn't search for me in Midgard, especially after what the Aesir had done. Flood the entire land! What a vile way to destroy life!

And at the same time, any of my allies, who have now betrayed me and made deals with Asgard — the same dark elves from Svartalfheim and their leader, Malekith — will be convinced that I'm imprisoned somewhere under Bor's palace, so he can always check on the reliability of my tomb. Or in the lands of Nidavellir, under the dwarves' control. Perhaps in Niflheim, the desolate dead world... But to place me in Midgard itself?

Ha-ha-ha! It sounds like madness, but if I recall the earlier words about the death of all my people — both close and not so close — then... it all starts to make sense. No one will be able to find me simply because there will be no one left…

But maybe... maybe he's lying? That arrogant fool and weakling Odin? Daddy's little boy! How I'd love to face him one-on-one with the Eradicator in my hand! Oh, cutting him to pieces would be pure bliss!

I calm my thoughts. I'll have time to think about this later. Yes, Zar, don't rack your brain over it now. The bastards managed to win, but this was just a battle, not the entire war. As long as I'm alive, nothing is over. Nothing.

I say the last sentence out loud, but all I get in return is a shrug.

"Maybe someday we'll find a way to kill you for good, Zariaks, self-proclaimed king of kings and ruler of all Midgard," Bor crossed his arms over his chest. His anger had already dissipated, and the Aesir's gaze was more often directed behind him, at the ruins of the destroyed Asgard. "At least you'll get some sleep," he smirked one last time, signaling the servants to resume pouring steel over me.

"I don't need sleep!" I shout at him angrily, letting a drop of my emotions show, only to hear mocking laughter in response.

I can sleep if I want to, but I haven't seen much point in it over the last few years.

"I know…" I managed to hear before the molten metal filled my ears and eyes.

It burns, but just barely. If I detach myself from it, I could almost mistake it for warm, fresh milk. I once took baths in it—not very convenient, really. After the milk, you absolutely have to rinse off in regular water. But over the last ten years, I've grown fond of the "fire bath," where I'd immerse myself in a massive furnace heated to a red-hot state, and my mages would pour streams of fire over me. It perfectly cleansed my entire body, and the smell afterward was... pleasant...

It also burned off the hair on my head, though only up to a certain point—about two fingers' width. The rest was invulnerable, just like the rest of my body. Fortunately, this annoying trait (the inability to cut or remove my hair entirely) was only present on my head. Everything else burned away without a trace. My eyelashes and eyebrows also remained untouched, but they never grew, just like my beard, mustache, and nails, which greatly pleased me.

Now, the sensation of molten metal pouring over my head didn't register much at all. I could barely feel it. Moreover, if I wanted to, I could completely block out the feeling. Yes... that's one of my body's unique features. Total invulnerability to everything. I cannot die or even sustain any wounds. They simply don't appear on my body! Nothing known to me, or the Aesir, has been able to inflict even the slightest scratch. And the "gods" certainly knew their weapons. There were lightning bolts, fire, the volcanoes of Muspelheim—the land of fire... Of course, there were also conventional weapons. Ha-ha, and "unconventional" ones too! But none of it mattered. As for magic, as I mentioned earlier, it refused to touch my body. It simply slid off. And whatever did manage to reach me caused no harm.

I was perfect, if not for one "but": my physical strength was that of an ordinary man. I never tired, never got sick, and didn't need sleep, food, or air. But I was powerless in magic. Just as it slipped off me, I couldn't grasp it either.

Because of this, I constantly had to rely on weapons to kill strong opponents whom I couldn't even touch otherwise. "The Eradicator"—my sword, whose power allowed it to wound even these self-proclaimed gods. How much blood has it spilled in this war?

A great artifact... Forged by the greatest craftsmen of Midgard, though the material didn't come from our world, that's true. Some of it was acquired through the dark elves, enemies of Asgard; some from demons and their slaves; a few pieces through the Dás cult...

The result, "The Eradicator," allowed me to harm both the inhabitants of the "upper world" and energy beings like spirits and certain types of demons. Although those like ghosts and similar "spiritual" creatures were easily killed by my fists. My anti-magic body left holes and gaps in their essence.

But the outcome didn't change. The war was long and bloody. We initially slaughtered all the Aesir's strongholds in Midgard, then penetrated Asgard. The path there turned out to be surprisingly easy. Traitors among the Aesir managed to use Bifrost, the so-called Rainbow Bridge, to bring my army right into the heart of Bor's empire.

Ha-ha! How did Bifrost transport me? Easily, since magic only doesn't affect my body, but it works just fine on everything around it.

And what was the result of the combined attack by everyone we could gather? Not enough!

I grind my teeth, feeling the molten metal seeping into my mouth. It doesn't matter: I'll chew through it, no matter what Bor and his little brat claim.

It's a shame. To lose when I had already reached the enemy's capital… And to lose completely, utterly. And now, because of my mistakes, Midgard will be destroyed.

I couldn't scream in rage, but my body still thrashed within my "sarcophagus," like an insect caught in resin. Do they think I'll give up? Think I'll forget? That I'll go mad from the silence and the inability to speak to anyone?

Fools! I'll be back... Even the Aesir are mortal, unlike me. So they, or their descendants, have every chance of witnessing my return! I'll impale the heads of those bastards on spikes, and then I'll do the same to all the inhabitants of the city. All the warriors of their race will be handed over for desecration, then killed. The civilians will be taken as slaves... Each of them will become a pathetic parody of themselves!

The men will be turned into eunuchs and sold to other peoples, while the women will be left to satisfy my soldiers, for I wasn't lying when I mentioned their beauty. But one way or another, the entire race of the Aesir will fall into oblivion.

They wanted to destroy me? I will destroy them! I will free the world from tyranny! I will crush the despicable "gods!"

Vicious thoughts buzzed in my head like red-hot hornets, while my body continuously jerked, trying to force the solidifying metal to yield even a little. But even in its still-soft state, it refused to budge.

No matter, I'll get out of here anyway. Even steel can "tire," but I cannot!

My nails tried to scratch at everything they could reach, though their limit was a pathetic, hair-thin distance that I could "hide" in my fist until the metal became viscous enough. My teeth gnawed at the solidifying flow inside my own mouth.

I could feel the steel in my nose and ears. I sensed it wrapping around me entirely, like a cocoon or Diaphia, my six-armed slave, whom I bought from the dark elves. They either captured her from some underdeveloped planet or purchased her from space pirates. That remained unknown to me.

And yet, eternity lay ahead. Even if I just slept, sooner or later, my prison would fall. But will I sleep? No!